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chiwhorei · 4 years ago

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mouth full

your friends assume tadashi fucks you in missionary with the lights off.

pairing: dom!t. yamaguchi x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: 1.7k

warnings: public fingering, degradation, hair pulling, spit, gagging, humiliation, spanking, rough oral, recording

a/n: this was a birthday piece i started for tadashi that’s now days late. no beta on this, it’s almost 3 am so i’ll die like a man. this is also dedicated to @kyovtani because zade loves hard dom yams just as much as i do. anyway, i hope you enjoy!

hymn: get you by: daniel caesar ft. kali uchis

Vanilla is the night’s flavor.

“You and y/n are great together and that’s all that matters.” Daichi’s comment rings in your ear as a preceding jab settles through the group of old friends. Your cheeks flush bright hot, the glass of red wine in your system makes a broken, awkward laugh fall from your lips.

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes. The comment isn’t shocking, he’s been ribbed for his pliant, soft demeanor since you were all teenagers. Being Tadashi Yamaguchi’s high school sweetheart paints a distinct picture. When volleyball club reunions roll around and the liquor starts flowing, said picture is always outlined in assumptions about your sex life.

“Come on, there’s got to be something you do to have kept y/n around for all these years.” Suga, never one to miss an opportunity, pushes further. Tadashi flashes a watted smile, bringing one hand up to scratch at the back of his neck- a tick he’s adopted over the years when he’s put in the spotlight. It could be assumed he’s nervous, but you know better. Unseen from his seniors position across the table is the bruising hold his other hand has on your bare thigh. His eyes flash to you quickly, his glance holds heavy weight, “Don’t cause trouble, princess.”

You only get one warning.

You know what your next words will create, a resounding fog of anger settling against his usually casual aura, but you can’t seem to help yourself.

“Pfft, Tadashi couldn’t hurt a fly,” you snort and raise the cool glass to your mouth once again, gripping onto the stem tightly to ground yourself. As cabernet meets your lips, you feel deft fingers inching towards your naked cunt. The short black dress Tadashi picked out for you tonight gives you no reprieve from his wandering hand.

Your friends assume Tadashi fucks you in missionary with the lights off. Little do they know your lace panties are tucked away safely in his shirt pocket as they make him the butt of their jokes. Every drunken giggle and sidelong glance brings the tips of pretty fingers closer to the mess he’s made under the satin fabric.

A pathetic squeak escapes your lips, covered up weakly with a cough. Your whole body feels hot, balancing on the pin-sharp tingling feeling of your sweet, vanilla boyfriend’s groping.

You only get one warning with Tadashi, after that, you’re fucked.

The ride back to your shared apartment is suffocating to say the least. Tadashi only acknowledging you when opening the passenger side door, cradling your elbow softly to ease you into the car. The quiet surrounding the two of you is maddening, enough to make you explode in a tantrum, but you hold your tongue and press your thighs tighter together.

“I know your slutty little pussy isn’t dripping on my leather seat, princess.”

An elongated sigh leaves his chest, his hand coming up to card through his hair before finding a tight home against the steering wheel. You mumble an apology and try to find solace in smoothing out the wrinkles in your dress. The drive is only about ten minutes, but each second passing thumps against your restless heartbeat. Your punishment began as soon as the car door closed.

Pulling into the comlex’s driveway, the lump in your throat grows ten-fold. Tadashi cuts the engine, turning to stare down at your form slowly folding into itself.

“Look at me, princess.” His voice is soft and comforting, but when your chin is pulled upwards to meet his gaze, his eyes are wild. Furious.

You always know exactly what to do to piss him off in the most delicious way possible.

“I’m sorry, Tadashi I-” you’re cut off with a sharp tsk, the thumb resting under your bottom lip presses in harshly. Your lips part, tongue lolling out without needing to be told, and you look up dumbly at the brunette as his body leans over the console.

All personal space has disappeared, leaving you captive to his will. He seems to contemplate his next move for a moment before parting his own lips to release a thick trail of spit to fall into your mouth. You swallow obediently, the fire burning in your stomach smoldering at the taste of sugar-free mint gum. Tadashi gifts you a pleased hum, leaning back slightly to fish out your underwear from his pocket.

“You just never know when to keep that pretty mouth closed, huh?” His laugh is curdling, sending a jolt through your veins to wrap around the building tension in your core. An idea sparks in his head, you can tell.

“I know exactly how to shut you up.” Tadashi is on you in an instant, hand finding purchase on your neck and squeezing. You watch as the balled up lace is brought to your face. You look towards the full parking lot. Your front door is only a few yards away, but the idea of walking up to your apartment with your own used underwear shoved in your mouth is enough to make your legs wobbly.

Tadashi, however, has a resolve of steel. He’s got the confidence of a lion in these moments, something only you get to witness. It would be impressive if your mind wasn’t drowning in embarrassment. You feel the fabric against your lips and hurdle towards an emphatic truth.

Tadashi isn’t making a suggestion.

The article is stuffed into your awaiting mouth, and you moan around the intrusion. You’re humiliated and undeniably excited by your boyfriend’s dominant aire.

You clench desperately as Tadashi rounds the front of the car to help you out. Once steady, you feel his fist wrapping around your hair to pull you against his chest.

“My precious girl, it seems like you need to be reminded of your place.” The hold on your hair is tight, causing your scalp to prickle as he begins to drag you towards your shared home. The possibility of an unsuspecting neighbor seeing you in this state bubbles in your stomach but you are, thankfully, spared of any company.

Tadashi’s hot breath fans against your neck while he unlocks the door. He hums casually, turning the knob and pushing you inside and against the nearest facing wall. Your cheek presses against the cool surface.

“What do you think? Should I take you right here? You seemed desperate to get fucked in front of our friends, don’t get shy now.” His teeth nip at your ear to punctuate the sneering comment. You hear the sound your ass makes against his hand before the sting reaches your nerves, fire crackling against the skin.

“Such a little cockslut.” Your dress is hiked up above your hips, exposing your dripping pussy arched into Tadashi’s clothed crotch. The slick sheening your inner thighs cools in the draft. His fingers map out the curve before the calloused digits meet your swollen lips.

A moan reverberates from your chest, bouncing against the hallway walls as two fingers are pushed in with an embarrassing ease. You’re more than ready for anything he has to give you. His other hand pulls down the front of your dress, your tits now free for the brunette’s handling . He pinches your nipple, looking over your shoulder to watch the heaving of soft flesh when he pulls taught and lets go. You wine loudly, tongue pressed against the wet lace as you try to speak.

“It’s rude to talk with your mouth full, princess.” You’re yanked back by your hair once again. Tadashi turns you around to face him, his eyes dance with sadistic anger. He pulls your ruined panties from where they press in between your teeth. His thumb comes up to wipe the streaks of melted makeup and spit from your cheeks.

“Tadashi please, I- I want to make you feel good.” Your comment softens against his steel for a moment, but the dominance you roused awake with your attitude won't be assuaged that easily. His jaw clenches tightly, angled upward so his eyes cast down to look at your quivering form. The sight of your pretty, wobbly bottom lip and disheveled hair makes him want to wreck you even further.

He steps back slightly and you feel your lungs fill with air correctly for the first time in minutes. You’re only given a moment of reprieve though, the familiar feeling of fingers on your scalp returns quickly. Tadashi pushes you down to the floor, marvelling at the sight of your silky dress bunched around your waist. As soon as your knees hit the hardwood, you work to undo his belt and zipper.

His cock hits your nose as it's released from his boxers and slaps against his toned stomach. You take him in your hands, finger running a streak of precum down the path of a prominent vein on the underside.

“Don’t waste my time, princess. Get to work.” Tadashi posits through gritted teeth, throwing his head back at the feeling of your hot mouth. You suck against the reddened tip before relaxing your jaw to accommodate the rest of him. Your wet tongue laves against the heavy shaft, and Tadashi thinks to the snide comments that his friends recycle every opportunity they’re given.

What would they think if they saw you now? Face covered in tears and running mascara, crying for Tadashi’s forgiveness, begging to be punished. The thought has him thrusting against your already sore throat. It’s distinctly hilarious, the knowledge that his old teammates assume you get layed out on the bed and fucked with mediocre intent by a sweet, nervous lover.

“I’m going to cum on that pretty face,” Tadashi pulls out his phone, angling to get the perfect view. The precum on your lips replaces the pink lipstick you wore out to dinner, reflecting off the lights.

It’s a beautiful sight, heavy eyes look up at him, he pulls his cock from your mouth to stroke. Your tongue falls out, awaiting and obedient. Such a perfect little thing, it would be a shame to keep this to himself.

Tadashi presses record, he can’t help the sardonic snicker that escapes him. His friends would never believe this if you told them, they must be visual learners.

“Smile for the camera, princess.”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

#yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi tadashi x reader #yamaguchi smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #yamaguchi tadashi

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waiting4inspiration · 4 years ago

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In the Dark XVI: Plans

Summary: You get back to the compound, explain things to Steve, and tell him what you’re plan is to end the war. Nat goes to Bucky’s coven to look for him.

Warnings: angstish, fluff, strong language, mentions of arranged marriage, vampire/werewolf au, soulmate au, mentions of a war

Word Count: 2,224

In the Dark Masterlist II Marvel Masterlist

“I told Steve the truth. Come home, the pack needs an explanation.”

That was Nat’s message. And though you only saw it hours after you had received it, it got you out the door as quickly as when you left the compound. At least you left with a smile on your face and confidence about your plan. Bucky didn’t expect you to be this excited about knowing that Steve now knows the truth. But before you walked out the door, you told him that this is it, kissed him passionately, and ran down the hall with a happy squeal in your voice, making the vampire laugh.

The pack thinks you’re walking back into the compound in confidence because you’re ready to be the alpha. But that’s not the reason for your confidence. You’re walking in confidence because in your mind if Steve was upset about bonding with Bucky, he would have hunted you down by now. You know he has the capabilities to do it.

And though you expect him to have a furious look on his face when you meet, he doesn’t. You’re not sure what the look is, but it’s not the kind you thought he would have.

Nat stands beside him, a small smile on her face to know that you’re back home safe and sound. And now that you’re out of the packs’ ear and alone with Nat and Steve, and Sam apparently, you’re ready to start telling them the truth.

But before you can open your mouth to start your speech you had been planning on the ride back, Steve holds up his hand to stop you. “Just...put up your hair,” he says, trying not to come off as being angry, but his rough tone shocks you a bit.

Knowing that he wants to see the mark on your neck, you do as he says and exposes the scarred vampire bonding mark on your skin. “So, soulmates do exist,” Sam states as he walks closer.

You look up at Steve as he takes a step closer, his eyes moving from the mark on your neck to the locket. And he still doesn’t seem to get angry by all of this. “You’re taking this extremely well,” you whisper, making his eyes shift up to meet yours and he finds that you’re slightly concerned about that fact.

His smile, however, seems to reassure you a bit more. “I know Bucky. And even though he’s a vampire and things didn’t end well between me and him, I know he’s a good guy,” Steve mentions, reaching out to rest his hands on your shoulders. “And, I have a feeling that after everything he’s been through, he deserves someone like you.”

You smile at his words and nod your head in thanks to him before glancing down to your wrist that still has the bracelet he gave to you. Slowly unclipping it, you bite your lower lip and hand it back to him when he follows your gaze. “Thank you for understanding, Steve,” you whisper, smiling at him as he takes the bracelet and looks up at you again.

“So, what’s your plan now, soulmate?” Nat questions, making you and Steve step away from each other.

Looking up to Steve when he turns his head back down to you, you take in a deep breath and run your tongue over your lips. “I need to know that no matter what, you will support me and my decision,” you speak, needing reassurance that you have another werewolf pack by your side.

“Why? What are you planning?” Sam asks as he steps forward again.

“I want to show everyone that vampires and werewolves can be in one place without biting each other’s heads off,” you sternly state and you turn to face him. Sam stares down at you, folds his arms over his chest and shifts on his feet, waiting for you to carry on. “I want everyone to know the truth about how this war started. I want to prove that our urge to kill vampires and their urge to kill us is all based on false stories and that we can live together in peace, find out what each species wants and set up treaties that actually work,” you carry on, looking between the three werewolves in the room with you. “I want each species to be treated equally.”

Sam, Nat, and Steve glance between each other as smiles grow on their faces. “And what are you going to do about those that disagree with you?” Steve questions.

You smile back at him, a determined glint flickering through your eyes as blink makes him smile even more. “Prove them that I’m right. We won’t be working alone. Everything will be done with vampires. Every meeting will have as many vampires in the room as there are werewolves,” you explain, your words making Nat nod in agreement and think to herself that it’s a good plan. “Those that disagree, I’ll prove them wrong with Bucky at my side.”

“It’s gonna be a lot to explain to Tony when he wakes up,” Nat mentions, and your smile immediately drops.

You should go see him. None of this would have happened, none of this ‘planning to end an age-long war’ would be happening now if he hadn’t been attacked after going for the rogue nest of vampires. You don’t know if you should be grateful about that, or saddened. Still, you should go see him.

Steve knows the look in your eye and smiles as he places his hand on your shoulder. “I’ll take you to see him, if you want.” To that, you nod up at him and turn towards the door.

Nat smiles to herself, proud at how well you’re handling things and taking control. But, she knows that you can’t do this alone. Even though you have her support, as well and Steve’s, you’re going to need more than that.

You need your mate, now than ever before. And she’s going to make sure you get just that.

Sitting on the bed beside Tony, you bite your lower lip as your eyes glance over the bruising on his face. You remember what it was like, having vampire venom in your system. You’re just glad that your father is stable now after having the venom sucked out of his body. But you don’t want to imagine what he could be experiencing now in this coma. What dreams he could be having.

“When you were bitten the other day, in the park. Why weren’t you affected by the venom?” Steve questions, stepping closer to you as you break your stare on Tony’s face and drop your head between your shoulders.

That’s a question you have yet to find the answer to.

With a sigh, you shake your head and slowly look towards him. “My best guess is that because they were newly turned vampires, they didn’t know how to inject venom into a victim,” you state and it seems like the most plausible answer.

But Steve can see that you have another guess. “But sometimes I think that maybe being a vampire’s soulmate changed that.”

“You think you’re immune to vampire venom now?” he asks, making you shrug your shoulders and glance back down to Tony.

“It’s not as complicated as you think,” a voice says from the door of the room, causing yours and Steve’s heads to snap to the side to see who it is.

Steven Strange walks into the room, a comforting smile on his face to you as you stand from the bed and face him. He glances down to Tony for a moment before looking back up to you and Steve. “You were bitten by a vampire who was turned a week ago. They still have a lot to learn. You were lucky,” Strange mentions, confirming your suspensions and informing you that you’re not immune to vampire venom. Just that of your soulmate. “And it seems that your luck has carried on. That you’re now planning to end this war,” he adds, looking over to Steve to check if he supports your decision.

You both nod after looking at each other. “It’s going to be tough. I don’t think a lot of werewolf packs or even members of our own are going to like the idea of working with vampires,” Steve mentions, folding his arms over his chest as he keeps his stare on Strange.

“You might be wrong,” Strange says back, perking your interest and making you take a small step forward. “You werewolves believe a lot in connection like mates. It’s important, a way of life for you, right?” You and Steve nod to that. Mates have a deep connection with each other, which is why it’s rare for mates to split up. “And the vampires want this war to end as much as the next person does. They’re tired of being portrayed as the monsters and if that can end, then they’ll be on any side that will end this war. So, it’s not as complicated as you think.”

“There are some vampires that won’t side with us because we are werewolves. And what about the urge to kill that we all feel for the opposite side?” Steve questions, looking between you and Strange, seeing as how one of you seems to always have an answer. “Asking them to try and push those instincts aside isn’t going to work.”

You know he’s right. It was stupid of you to think that you could ask that werewolves and vampires. You thought it might work and you have yet to test it out, but you do need a back-up plan if it doesn’t work.

“You might be surprised. But, you might want to wait until Full Moon is over before putting these plans into action,” Strange suggests.

Full Moon? So soon? You’re amazed at how quickly time seems to have gone. But you know that Strange is right. Trying to carry out these plans when nerves and emotions are riling up because every werewolf is getting ready to transform won’t be a good idea.

It would probably be a good idea for you to spend Full Moon with your pack, now that you are the alpha, but you’re worried that your wolf won’t allow that to happen. Perhaps if Bucky can be here…

No, that’s a terrible idea. Having a vampire in a compound full of transformed werewolves would be like putting Bucky on death row.

You’ll figure something out. You have to.

To say that Nat is nervous about walking into a coven of vampires is an understatement. She can feel her instincts rising with each step she takes. She has no idea what she’s going to do when she comes across one vampire, or what they’ll even do. But, she’s ready.

The doors swing open, making Nat stop in her tracks so she doesn’t give the impression that she’s here to cause any harm. And when she sees Bucky in front of the group of vampires, she breathes out a relieved sigh and wipes her sweaty palms on her pants as she fights back her instincts.

In her mind, she keeps chanting to herself ‘Don’t attack, don’t attack, don’t attack’, but she can’t help the fact that her eyes flicker a golden color just like Bucky and his company behind him can’t help the red glow that fills their eyes and the fangs that poke out slightly from their lips.

Bucky holds his hand up to stop the others behind him from following as he carries on to near Nat. She’s a bit relieved at that. Talking to one vampire is easier than talking to four.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky asks when he reaches Nat. Respecting his boundaries, he keeps a good amount of distance between him and the werewolf in front of him. “Is (Y/n) okay?” he questions, thinking that’s the only reason she must be here, that something bad has happened to you and she has to break the news to him.

Nat smiles at him and shakes her head “She’s fine. More than fine, actually. She’s determined to get this plan to end the war going,” she says with a chuckle in her voice. And Bucky laughs with her as he nods his head. Nat doesn’t feel a threat anymore, not even with the vampires behind Bucky, so her shoulders relax. She didn’t even realize she was tense. “She’s going to speak to the pack tonight. I think she needs you there with her.”

Those words make Bucky’s head snap up and his smile falls. “You think it’s a good idea for a vampire to walk into a pack of werewolves just like that? How do I know this isn’t a trap?”

“I’m doing this for (Y/n),” Nat snaps at him, making the female vampire behind him shift on her feet. Nat can see that she wants to hiss, but won’t unless her leader does. “I give you my word that you will walk out in one piece,” she mentions, pulling her eyes away from the group behind Bucky to look at him again.

He thinks about it for a moment, glances over his shoulder to Wanda, and sighs. How can he say no to this if you need him?

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Tags in the reblogs

#vampire au #vampire/werewolf AU #Vampire!Bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky x y/n #james bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #the winter soldier #the winter soldier imagines #the winter soldier x reader #in the dark

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scripts4dreamers · 4 years ago

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Just One Drink. pt 3.

Part One, Part Two

AN: Two profilers walk into a bar. Characters: Spencer Reid Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader Spoilers: None Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, drinking, NSFW content.

(It’s basically just smut. Plot relevant smut but smut nonetheless!)

-------------------------

Spencer was roused from his book by a knock on the door that separated your rooms. He frowned, but stood and opened it up.

“Hey, doc,” you greeted with a slightly nervous smile, “you up for a drink?”

Spencer was stunned silent for a moment. You weren’t wearing your traveling clothes anymore, instead you’d slipped into a black dress that toed the line between classy and provocative. It was nothing crazy but, to Spencer, it was like he was twelve again, standing in front of his first real crush with no idea how to handle himself.

“What?” You asked, looking down at yourself, “Too much?”

“No!” He said quickly, “No-you look...you look really nice. I just wasn’t expecting company.”

For a moment you looked almost crestfallen but, before Spencer could be sure, you’d schooled your face back to neutral.

“Sorry, I’m just going crazy in my room. I thought we could maybe-“ your voice tapered off, “it’s cool, I’ll go on my own. See you in the morning, doc.”

You turned and started to walk away. Something in Spencer’s chest pinched and, instinctively, he reached forward to stop you, grabbing your hand.

“Hey, I didn’t say that,” he said, holding your wrist for a moment longer, “just-just, let me grab my stuff.”

You smiled, confused but happy, “Sure thing.”

He let the door close and, the second you were out of sight, he rushed to the bathroom, frantically combing his hair with his fingers and throwing on a loose tie. Suddenly Spencer wished he'd packed nicer clothing for this trip, not that he had anything remotely as nice as what you were wearing. Still he knew you’d appreciate the effort.

“Ready to go, doc?” You asked when he opened the door again.

Spencer rolled his eyes fondly, “Don’t call me that.”

You laughed and grabbed his arm, dragging him through the door as you set off to the hotel bar together.

————————-

“So what is it about whiskey sours?” Spencer asked.

“Hm?”

“Whiskey sours,” Reid pointed out, gesturing to your drink, “why always them?”

“Are you profiling me again, Agent Reid?” You teased.

A shiver ran down Spencer’s spine at the way your voice dropped and rolled over his name. If you weren’t flirting, it certainly felt like you were.

“So what if I am?” He replied, leaning back, “You said I could, right?”

You smiled, your eyes sparking in the dim light, “I did indeed. You gonna take me up on my offer?”

“Maybe.”

You leaned back in your seat, “Okay then, take your best shot.”

Spencer thought for a moment. You’d been down in the bar for a long while, making your way through drinks and squandering your time talking about nothing in a booth tucked into the corner of the room. By now the alcohol was making Spencer’s head fuzzy. He felt warm and light, and far more confident than he usually would with a beautiful woman, and it was showing in the way he talked and held himself. He was bolder than usual, more upfront, willing to take more risks and infer more from your behavior than normal. So he leaned into it.

“You’re a middle child, grew up in a big city with strict parents,” he started, confidently, “you went to private school but your parents weren’t wealthy, you probably got some sort of scholarship.” You leaned forward, keeping your face blank of anything except the vaguest hint of a smile, and Spencer continued, “You throw yourself into your work because it gives you meaning, it helps you feel like you’re making a difference, the way you never felt like you did in your own home. You’re loyal to a fault, you work hard not just because you like your job, but for us, for the team. You’d do-you’d do anything for us.”

You nodded, “I would.”

“But you don’t value yourself the same way,” Spencer said, leaning closer, “you’d take a bullet for us but you don’t really think we’d do the same for you.” You pressed your lips together slightly, breaking eye contact and looking down into your drink, “But we would, Y/N. I would. You belong here.”

“Here? In a bar with you?” You asked teasingly.

Spencer flushed, “With the BAU.”

“I know,” you said with a soft smile, “not bad, Agent Reid. You should be a profiler or something.”

Spencer laughed, “Really? You think I’m that good?”

“I think you’re more than good,” you replied, “you’re exceptional, you hit the nail right on the head.”

You covered his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, which made Spencer’s heart jump into his throat. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died before he could get them out.

“As for the whiskey sours,” you continued, draining your glass in one, “I drink them because they’re delicious. There’s nothing more to it than that.”

“That’s...disappointing,” Spencer replied. You raised an eyebrow at him, but let the matter drop, “what about me?” He continued, “Got any insights I should know about?”

You sighed and Spencer watched with anticipation as the cogs in your mind started turning. He loved the way you looked when you worked, so focused and sharp that it sent a shiver down his spine.

“Low hanging fruit,” you eventually said, “but I can tell that you’re nervous, that you neatened yourself up before we came down here.”

Spencer flushed again, but he kept his face neutral. You were playing a game now, and Spencer hated to lose.

“You think I did it for you?”

You shrugged, “Maybe. You don’t want me calling you ‘doc’ because it’s too impersonal. The others-Morgan-can use nicknames like that, ‘Pretty Boy’, ‘Boy Wonder’, but not me.” You tilted your head to the side, “It’s different with me.”

“It is different with you, Y/N,” he admitted.

“But different how, I wonder?” You postulated, “I mean, there’s just so many possibilities. Protectiveness, a sense of familial love,” you nudged his leg under the table, “attraction.”

“I don’t see you as a sister,” Spencer interrupted, “I can tell you that for certain.”

“But even if you did feel something for me,” you continued, as if he’d said nothing, “you’d never actually act on it.”

Spencer raised his eyebrows, “Why not?”

“Because you’re scared,” you continued, “of what exactly I’m not sure.”

“I thought that part would be obvious.”

You shrugged, “Not to me.”

Spencer looked down, his heart thrumming like a hummingbird against his fragile rib cage. The line was somewhere behind him now, so far behind him that he couldn’t even begin to think of how to get back behind it.

He looked at you again, letting his eyes scan up and down your body as he thought of what to do. The alcohol in his system made it hard to think, hard to focus on anything except how badly he wanted to kiss you. How badly he wanted to pull you close and touch you, press his lips to every inch of available skin and hear you sigh his name like a prayer. It would be so easy. You were so close, all he’d have to do was lean forward and….

“I’m not scared,” he forced himself to say, his eyes clinging to a fragment of exposed collar bone, “I’m cautious.”

“Is there a difference?”

Spencer nodded, “Yes, there is.”

“So tell me what the difference is, Spence.” You replied, your voice rasping over his name again.

You trailed your fingertips over Spencer’s forearm, sending little shocks of electricity through his body.

“You,” Spencer said.

And, with that, he stopped holding himself back. In one fluid movement Spencer was up and cupping your face with his hand. He moved purposefully, giving you lots of time to pull away but instead you leaned in, closing the little bit of space still left between you and pressing your lips to his.

Fuck. Even through the buzz of alcohol in his system Spencer could tell that this was an incredible kiss, the type that turned his legs to jelly and lit a flame in the pit of his stomach. You sighed against his lips, wrapping your hand around his tie and pulling him blissfully, impossibly closer. He held your face in his hands, drinking in the taste of whiskey and sugar on your lips like it was oxygen to a fire as he nipped at your bottom lip and slid his tongue into your mouth.

You allowed him access willingly, feeding the flame in Spencer’s chest with every little touch. It was too much, you were too much. It’s like his senses were in overdrive. His heart beat too fast in his chest, his skin prickled with static electricity, he could smell your perfume and the shampoo in your hair from the shower you’d just taken, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted you, no he needed you. He needed you closer, he needed to keep kissing you and kissing you and kissing you, until the sun burned itself out or the sky fell down and crushed you both flat.

Spencer felt like he was high; high on you, high on himself, high on the fact that, after months of pining and waiting and agonizing over your every interaction, it was finally happening. He’d finally kissed you. He broke away for a second, only long enough to move his lips to the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then underneath your ear, dragging the tip of his tongue against your soft skin teasingly.

“Spence,” you gasped, sliding your fingers into his hair.

Your voice sent a bolt of lust straight through him. God he loved that voice.

“Mhm,” he hummed, trailing his lips down your neck and across that tantalizing stretch of collarbone.

“Spence, we're in public.” You laughed breathlessly.

Say my name again, he wanted to say, but he was still nervous, still just the littlest bit hesitant.

“You want me to stop?” He asked, sliding his hands down to grip your hips.

You shook your head and Spencer felt something in his chest relax, “I never said that. I just think we should settle the tab and...and head back to the room.”

That made him freeze. He felt his heart jump into his throat, and the blood rush to his groin. Oh. Oh.

“Yeah, yeah okay, Y/N/N.”

—————————-

You felt like your skin was melting, and Spencer’s hand on the small of your back as you tried to calmly make your way back up to your room wasn’t helping.

You knew you probably looked like a wreck, all smudged lipstick and blown out pupils, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You charged the drinks to your room, wondering if the quiver in your voice was as noticeable to the waitress as it was to you, and walked straight out of the bar.

As soon as you were alone in the hallway, you felt a pressure on your hip, and Spencer had you up against the nearest wall. Before you could do much more than glance at one another his lips were on yours again, setting every nerve in your body on fire. He tasted like rum and coke and danger, and his fingers dug into your hip bones like you were a lifeline, anchoring you to one another.

“This far enough away?” Spencer whispered into your ear, his breath sending shivers down the back of your neck as his lips ravaged the soft skin at the base of your ear.

You mewled as the pleasure licked through you, making your eyes roll back in your head. You were so overwhelmed by the sensation of Spencer’s lips on your skin contrasted with the cold wall against your back that your brain felt like it was short circuiting.

“The-“ you breathed, “you want me up against the wall in some random hallway?” You laughed, “Way to be romantic, Spence.”

He chuckled against your neck and then pulled you into another breathtaking kiss that made your knees buckle. Spencer’s arm snaking around your waist was the only thing that kept you from falling apart.

“I want you,” he said between kisses, “anywhere you’ll let me have you. Up against this wall, in the room, back in the bar. Everywhere.”

You felt the ache between your legs growing as your need for closeness grew and grew and grew.

“Everywhere?” You asked.

There was no way this was really happening, the small part of your mind that was still functional whispered. There was no way that Spencer Reid, your Spencer Reid, was pressing you up against a wall in a fancy hotel, promising to fuck you any which way you wanted. Things like this didn’t happen to you, they didn’t happen to anyone.

“Everywhere,” Spencer agreed, his voice quivering with suppressed desire as he sucked the soft patch of skin where your neck met your shoulder.

“Let’s-let’s start at the bedroom then, yeah?” You breathed between the shocks of pleasure.

You felt Spencer nod and, reluctantly, pull away, dragging you down the hall behind him. His cheeks were flushed, his dark eyes burning with something you’d never seen before but, when he looked back over his shoulder at you, he was smiling. You smiled back.

Spencer’s hands were shaking as he slid the room key into the door and, without meaning to, you giggled.

“Here,” you started, reaching around his body and sliding the key in smoothly, “let me.”

Spencer gave you a sheepish smile as he pushed the door open, pulling you in behind him. As soon as you heard the door click shut, you expected to be shoved up against it but, instead, Spencer just looked at you, his eyes dragging up your body slowly.

There was something in his eye that made you feel more exposed than if you were naked, a tenderness so complete and gentle that it brought a rush of heat to your cheeks.

“Spence?” You asked.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” He replied, cupping your face gently with one hand and bringing your lips to his.

This time the kiss was slow, languid, like he had all the time in the world, like he was drinking you in. Spencer’s other hand gripped your waist tight, pulling you flush against his body while your hands rested on the plains of his chest.

The creature in the pit of your stomach responded slowly at first but, as Spencer pressed your lips more firmly to his, the intensity ramped up. You felt Spencer’s tongue trail delicately at the seam between your lips, begging for entrance and, when you opened your mouth obligingly, he groaned. The sound was so sinful, so desperately not like Spencer, that you couldn’t help but react, arching your back and sliding your hands up into his hair.

It was silky soft beneath your fingers and, instinctively, you pulled.

“Fuck,” Spencer growled, bucking his hips up against yours as he trailed his lips down your neck and back up to yours.

This time, when he kissed you, it was rough. His tongue swirled against yours, his hands dug into your hip bones, slamming you up against the door like his life depended on it. You gasped as your back hit the door, but tugged on Spencer’s dark curls to pull him closer, desperate for something you could barely verbalize. The kiss was like whiskey, burning it’s way through every nerve in your body, getting you drunk on the rush of it all.

You wanted more. You needed more.

You let your hands drift to Spencer’s belt buckle, never breaking the kiss as you fumbled with it. Spencer made a sound of surprise against your lips and pulled away, keeping one hand on your jaw while the other reached out to stop you. He was shaking, you noticed, his dark eyes blown wide with a combination of lust and...fear?

“Are you nervous?” You asked.

Spencer froze for a moment, then nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact.

“I-you don’t have to-“ Spencer started breathlessly, “I don’t want you to feel pressured or-“

“Pressured?” You laughed, “I’ve been all over you since the night started.”

Spencer looked unsure for a moment longer and, to help calm his mind, you let your hand drift down to the growing bulge in his pants. His eyes fluttered shut and a sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan ripped itself from his throat.

“If you want me, Spencer Reid,” you whispered, “then I’m yours.”

“If I want you,” Spencer repeated with an incredulous laugh, “baby, I can’t think of anything I’ve ever wanted as much as I want you.”

Baby. The nickname made you even more desperate and you physically ached with how badly you wanted Spencer to just take you apart. You slid your thigh in between his legs, pushing against him just enough to make him hiss from the little bit of friction as you leaned forward, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Then take me.”

————————-

Spencer was so beyond wrecked that it was a joke. Your breath was low and raspy and it dragged across his skin like a feather as he chased the friction he so desperately needed.

“Y/N I-“ he wanted to say something, do something to let you know how he was feeling, how badly he wanted to touch you, but the words died in his throat.

“Shh,” you interrupted, detangling your bodies and threading your fingers through his, “come with me.”

You pulled him, by his shaking hands, towards the bed, pushing him down gently onto the mattress and kissing him deeply. From there you stood between his legs and reached behind your back, slowly dragging the zipper keeping your dress fastened down. Spencer watched, in awe, as the slip of black fabric dropped to the floor, leaving more of your skin exposed to him than he’d ever dared to imagine.

He felt the blood rush to his groin so fast he was light headed. By the time his brain had caught up with his body, you’d placed his hand firmly on your lower stomach, and he trailed his thumb along the soft skin beneath your belly button. Spencer traced every curve of your body with his eyes, glancing over every scar, freckle and birthmark, just in case he’d never get the chance to see them again, and making a mental note to kiss each and every one.

Things felt different now, more deliberate. You were both too sober to blame anything that happened next on alcohol induced psychosis but, in that moment, Spencer couldn’t care less about the consequences.

“You alright there, doc?” You asked, worrying at your bottom lip.

Spencer snapped back into the present and tugged you close, “I told you not to call me that.” He teased, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into a kiss.

Fuck tomorrow. Spencer wanted you today.

You collapsed onto his lap, gasping into his mouth as his dick pressed up against your barely covered core. Spencer took the opportunity to slip his tongue back into your mouth, groaning at the taste of your lips against his. You sighed, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, and Spencer felt a lick of confidence shoot through him at the burning desperation he saw in your eyes.

“What do you want, baby?” He asked, dragging his teeth across your collarbone, “tell me what you want me to do.”

“You’re wearing too much,” you explained as the buttons of his shirt came undone one by one, “take this off right now.”

“What, no please?”

“Please, Spencer,” you whined.

“Yes ma’am,” he smiled, shrugging off his shirt.

You traced your fingers over the plains of his chest, feather light, and Spencer’s skin erupted with goosebumps. He shifted you off his lap and onto the bed, laying himself down between your legs and kissing a strip from your lips, down between the valley of your breasts, towards your belly button.

He reached the lace of your underwear and felt his mouth start to water in anticipation. Without really even thinking about it he shifted up so that he was taking up the space between your knees and his face was hovering right above your core, his warm breath dancing across your center.

“Fuck, baby,” he chuckled, running his index finger across your pussy and making you mewl with pleasure, “you’re so wet for me already.”

You nodded, your eyes screwed shut as he traced his fingers back and forth over the soaked strip of fabric and delicious little whimpers and sighs fell from your lips like prayers.

Spencer licked his lips, glancing up at you from his position between your thighs.

“Look at me,” he commanded. Your eyes shot open and Spencer smiled devilishly, “Lift your hips for me baby,” he said more gently.

When you obeyed he slid your underwear down and pressed his lips to your inner thigh, to the crook between your legs and your dripping pussy. You whimpered again, more desperately, as Spencer teased you, trailing his index finger gently between your folds as he kissed all around where you needed him most.

“Spencer,” you gasped, your eyes burning into his like hot coals, “Spencer, please.”

Holy shit, that sent a bolt of desire straight through him, and Spencer couldn’t help but growl, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you down towards his mouth. And when you sighed into the cool air he swallowed it right up, drank in the sound of your pleasure like it was sunlight, and tucked it away somewhere in his brain, somewhere he could store the moment forever and never let it go.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the first moment I saw you,” he admitted, pressing one last kiss to your inner thigh and meeting your eye again, “I’m gonna make you scream for me, Y/N.”

————————-

And that he did. Before your mind could process much more than: fuck, fuck, fuck that’s so hot, Spencer’s mouth was on you, his tongue sliding between your lips like he was trying to devour you whole. It was embarrassing, really, how quickly he had you falling apart, how quickly he managed to have you moaning and gasping out his name as he flicked his tongue over your clit again and again and again. It was embarrassing because you really should have expected it, you should have known that he’d be every bit as good at this as he was at everything else because he’s Spencer and he’s fucking perfect and-

“Fuck,” you cried, twisting your fingers into his hair as he hitched your thighs over his shoulders, changing the angle ever so slightly and sliding a finger inside you, “Spence! God, yes-yes just like that, Spence, please!”

You tugged on his hair, pulling a moan from the back of his throat that went straight to your core, just making you needier and needier as Spencer continued taking you apart piece by piece. He slid in another finger, stretching you out just enough to make you ache for him and you swore you felt him smirk against your pussy as you choked out strings of broken syllables that could’ve been his name. He stuck to a leisurely pace, timing each pump of his fingers to a flick of his tongue across your clit. Slowly the pace increased, drawing out your ecstasy in measured increments that pushed you further and further towards the edge of a cliff.

“Spence I’m-” you whined, “fuck! Fuck, Spencer I’m close!”

The only indication he heard you was an increase in the pace of his tongue, sending pulses of white hot pleasure shooting through your body like lightning bolts. The pressure just kept building and building, taking you closer to the edge with each pump of his fingers and flick of his tongue. He worked another finger inside of you, curled it up, and almost instantly your muscles clenched, your vision went white and you just–

Shattered.

“Spencer!” You cried out, your back arching as your orgasm rolled over you like a tidal wave of pleasure so powerful that you felt your legs turn to jelly and the world vanished into nothing but pleasure and blinding light and Spencer, Spencer, Spencer.

He carried you through it, so gentle and attentive, lapping up every drop of you and stroking his hands gently over your hips and thighs.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he murmured into your hip bone as he lifted himself up.

You sighed, pulling him up and pressing your lips to his. You were wrecked, but blissfully so and, as you tasted yourself on his lips, you felt a lick of hunger rush through your overstimulated sex.

“You’ve said that already,” you smiled, nipping at his bottom lip.

“Only because it’s true,” Spencer breathed, his voice shaky with the effort of holding himself back.

You looked down at his still clothed legs, the hard line of his dick clear as day where it lay against your thigh. He was trembling with desire, his lips red and raw, his hair ruffled and unkempt, like some sort of portrait of a ruined man.

You licked your lips, “Why’re you still wearing these?” You asked, hooking your finger through Spencer’s belt loops and pulling them down over his hips.

Spencer smiled but, before he could come up with some clever retort, you’d flipped him over and straddled his waist. You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth and frantic breaths, as you shimmied off his boxers and ground yourself against his length.

“Y/N-“ Spencer breathed, his hands flying up to support your waist, “you don’t have to-“

“Shut up,” you interrupted, “I want you inside of me, Spencer.”

“Jesus Christ,” he laughed, somewhere between painfully turned on and painfully strung out, “You’re gonna kill me if you keep talking like that, baby.”

“Keep calling me baby and we’ll see what happens,” you teased back, punctuating your sentence with an intentional shift over his dick.

Spencer’s head fell back against the bed, and the sound wrenching itself from the back of his throat was so incredibly needy that you felt your pussy start to ache again. Spencer ran his hands along your thighs, his cock twitching against his stomach as you sighed into his touch.

“Are-fuck-” Spencer groaned as you moved along his length, “are you-?”

“I’m sure.” you whispered.

In one fluid movement you raised yourself up on your knees, captured his lips in a kiss and reached down between your bodies, lining his cock up with your entrance so that when he hissed at the contact and instinctively bucked his hips up-

“Holy shit,” he moaned as the first inch of his dick disappeared into your body, gripping your hips hard, like he couldn’t decide whether he was trying to stop you or just thrust into your body until he came, “You-oh my god, baby-” he gasped.

And you’re forced to sink down onto him slowly because-fuck-he was bigger than you thought he was, and it hurt, but it was electrifying and you wanted to take him more than anything in the world and and and-

You bottomed out and Spencer physically quivered from the effort of holding still, his hands roaming your body like he wanted to touch you everywhere, like he didn’t know what to do with himself. And his eyes were shot and his hair’s a mess and his bottom lip was red and raw where you bit it and, if he’d been more beautiful than he was in that moment you couldn’t remember so you kissed him. You poured every ounce of desire and tenderness and care into that kiss, like somehow he’d be able to understand, to see how important this felt, how absolutely cataclysmic it felt to have him inside of you.

Slowly, and with your lips still connected, you start to move your hips, setting a punishingly slow pace as the sounds of your bodies moving together started to fill the room. Spencer moaned against your lips, snapping his hips up against your and making you gasp as he filled every inch of you. He wanted to take control, to flip you over and pound into you until you were both tired and spent, but you kept it slow, building the foundations of your pleasure every bit as meticulously as he had.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me, Y/N,” he breathed against your lips, chasing you as you pull away, “you feel so fucking good-so-God-so tight for me.”

You nodded, “All for you.”

His answering moan was animalistic as he chased your kiss, pushing himself up so that you were seated in his lap with his one arm around your waist and the other reaching to stroke tight circles around your clit. The change in angle somehow managed to force Spencer deeper inside of you, brushing a patch of skin that made you see stars. Without warning he started to lift you up and slide you back down onto his cock, timing each with a snap of his hips that had you gasping and tugging at his hair like a maniac.

Mania was what it felt like, so intense and all encompassing that the rest of the world had ceased to exist. All that mattered was you and Spencer and the second orgasm you could feel rushing at you with every thrust.

“Spence-” you gasped as the coil in your stomach grew painfully tight, “Spence I’m gonna-I’m so close, please!”

“Come for me, baby,” he grunted, pushing down on your clit as he bottomed out.

Your orgasm was softer this time, less violent and shocking than sweet and deliberate, drawn out to a fine edge and, when you moaned and tossed your head back, losing yourself in the feeling of rightness, you just held him tightly and pulled his hair as the waves of pleasure crashed over you again. His thrusts were getting sloppy now, his breath ragged and desperate but, when you came, he looked into your eyes, and the total bliss in them sent him falling over the edge right behind you.

“Y/N.” he whispered, like it was something sacred, pulling you close as he climaxed, filling you up as his cock pulsed inside of you.

-------------------------

Spencer could tell that you were breathless and exhausted but, even so, you held him until the last shocks of his orgasm had subsided, leaving him tired and strung out as you detangled your bodies. You kissed him softly, vanishing into the bathroom to clean yourself up and leaving Spencer to do the same. He watched the bathroom door, listening as you turned the tap on and wondering what his next move should be.

You were colleagues, work friends, what you’d just done had broken about 10 different rules and would almost definitely mean a lot of trouble for you both if it ever came out. But, by the same token, it had felt so good. You’d wanted him, like really wanted him and he’d wanted you right back. It had been...special, important, more than just a poorly thought out hook up in a hotel, it had meant something. Hadn’t it?

When you reappeared from the bathroom with a robe wrapped around your naked body, Spencer physically felt his heart skip a beat. You. Were. Glorious. With your hair all messed up and just the faintest trace of your lipstick still staining your mouth, you were the closest thing to perfection he’d ever seen and, instinctively, he reached for your hand and pulled you back down onto the mattress beside him. You giggled as you fell, collapsing onto his chest with a sweet smile.

“So,” you started.

“So.” Spencer answered.

“Was all that in your profile, Agent Reid?” You asked teasingly, resting your chin on his chest and looking up at him, something sweet glimmering in your eyes.

“No,” Spencer laughed, shaking his head emphatically, “no, definitely not.”

“Well, it was in mine,” you joked, laying your head down again, “so you’d better up your game.”

“A more accurate profile would require a more intense level of study at this stage,” Spencer said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

You looked up, “Is that your way of saying you’d like to do this again sometime?”

He shook his head, but then nodded, “No-well, yes, but I was actually thinking something more...socially engaging? Something requiring clothes and conversation?”

“You mean like a date?”

Spencer looked down, meeting your gaze head on. The look on your face was so open, so trusting that it sent a flood of emotions straight into his chest and, for a moment, he felt as though he couldn’t breathe. He could love you, he realized. If he went down this road, he definitely would. He would love you and you would hold your heart in his hand and maybe, just maybe, that could be a good thing. Maybe he wanted to give you his heart. Maybe he wanted you to give him yours.

“Yeah, Y/N,” he answered, “exactly like a date.”

--------------

Taglist: @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes

#jordsie #jordsie writes #cm #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid headcanons #spencer x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler x you #mgg

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gothgirlmahi · 5 years ago

Text

Selfish

These tumblr writings have become my one way ticket to hell I hope you guys are happy lmao

Dark!Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

Summary: Steve is your husband’s best friend but with Bucky on a mission, he jumps at the chance to become more.

Warnings: non con

A knock on the door disturbed you from your evening rituals of drinking tea and watching trashy reality TV. You turned the show down and ran to take a peek at your visitor. Steve was standing on your porch, shuffling around with his hands in his pockets.

What was Steve doing here?

Bucky was on a mission and you thought he would know that. Maybe he left something here?

You were puzzled but opened the door to greet him nonetheless.

“Hi, Steve.”

“Hey, uh, can I come in?”

Everything in you was saying no. No you can’t come in. I’m busy doing—what did they call it? Self care. Get off of my porch.

“Yeah, sure.” Stupid. You couldn’t refuse. He was Bucky’s best friend and Captain America. He wouldn’t come over if he didn’t need anything. The sooner in, the sooner out you supposed.

You all walked into the kitchen where you propped yourself against the counter and waited for him to explain himself. When he didn’t, you had to ask.

“Why are you here, Steve?” Your intent wasn’t to sound callous but you wanted to know why he was here. Your anxiety started to build as you hoped he hadn’t come with bad news about Bucky.

“I have to be honest. I came here for you.”

“What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his hair with a nervous laugh.

“This is embarrassing. I don’t know how to put this. I care about you.”

Your heart stopped.

“Okay?” You blinked in confusion, hoping he didn’t mean what you thought. Steve shook his head.

“No, you don’t understand. I have feelings for you. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

Instinctively you took a few steps back.

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s not a joke.” He backed you into the counter, trapping you between his arms.

“I’m married to Bucky, I’m married to your best friend. Steve, I do not have feelings for you.”

He put his head down, sighing deeply.

“I was afraid you’d say that. Are you sure? I thought there were some times we really connected.”

“Steve, you’re scaring me.”

“I know. Your heart is beating fast. You should probably calm down.” “I’ll calm down when you get away from me.”

He was quiet for a moment, just staring at you and smiling. His hand came to caress your cheek and you slapped it away. His face fell, turning quickly to anger.

“Turn around. Right now,” he commanded. You shook your head, adrenaline racing through your veins. Steve had lost it.

“Steve, please. Stop. You’re scaring me.”

Steve ignored you and roughly flipped you so your stomach was laying against the counter. You tried to reach back and hit him, but he firmly held both of your hands at your lower back Steve was much stronger than you were. There was no chance of you getting out of his hold. His hips pushed against yours and you could feel his erection brushing against your ass. Tears welled in your eyes.

“Steve, stop. Please just think about Bucky.”

He groaned and spanked you hard.

“Trust me, Bucky isn’t who I’m thinking about right now.”

You tried to kick at him but his legs held yours in place while he pushed your dress over your ass. He easily ripped your panties off, exposing all of you to him. He rutted against you for a moment before pulling back.

“God, I can’t wait to have you.”

You could barely talk between your sobbing and hiccuping.

“Steve, stop! Why are you doing this?!”

“Hey, shh. It’s all okay. I’ll make it good for you. I promise.”

His hand strayed down to cover your clit and you gasped. He pulled back, licking two of his fingers before putting them back on you and rubbing. You squirmed around in discomfort and Steve pushed you harder into the counter.

Even as he played with you, you were honestly too scared to be aroused. Your husband’s best friend was literally holding you down about to take you against your will. It was fucked up on every level. You were frozen to your spot, your body tense as he dipped between your dry folds. He sighed.

“I see this isn’t working. Are you really not attracted to me?” he asked, sounding a little hurt.

As you were shaking your head, he pulled something out of his pocket. A bottle of lube. You glared at him through your tears and he smirked.

“I told you I didn’t want to hurt you. I need to get you ready for me.”

He let go of your hands and used his body weight to hold you down. Even through his clothes, you could feel how big he was as he rubbed himself against your bare ass. A few more tears fell.

He flipped the cap of the lube open, pouring some out onto his hand before setting it on the counter. His hand came to hold both of yours down again and he let up on his body weight. Two of his fingers were shoved inside you without warning, easily gliding in with the lube. He fingered you quickly, scissoring his fingers and trying to work you open. He added another finger and you cried out, clenching around him. As much as you hated it, you were getting wet for him. You could feel the slickness covering your folds. Steve laughed to himself.

“This is even better than I imagined.”

It was sick. He had imagined this. He had planned this. You had to wonder how long you had been the object of his desire. What was it about you that attracted him? Some days you weren’t even sure why Bucky kept you around so you couldn’t imagine why s man like Steve would want you. He could have any girl on the planet begging for him but he had to choose the one who wasn’t interested. The one woman that should have been off limits for him.

Steve pulled out to focus on your clit and you tried to stifle a moan with your hand. You could feel yourself getting closer. You really didn’t want to come like this but Steve wasn’t exactly asking. He laughed again at the sight of your shaking legs.

“Don’t act like you’re not enjoying it. No one’s here to hear you except me. You can cry and scream all you need to, but you will come for me.”

He was right. You couldn’t stop it. The pleasure building in your core was too much. Even as you were frightened and disgusted of your situation, your body was still reacting to him. You bit into the sleeve of your dress as you came and Steve never let up as you went through it. You bucked against his hand as you came down from your high.

When you heard him undoing his belt, all the fight rushed back into you. You kicked and screamed, trying to push him off of you. Steve was able to quell your rebellion embarrassingly quick, holding you down to the counter like it was nothing. He continued undoing his pants until he was able to pull himself out. When you felt his naked cock against you, a fresh wave of tears hit you. You sobbed and cried and begged him to stop. He wouldn’t have any of it.

Steve pushed his thick length inside of you until he bottomed out. You screamed again, shocked by how big he was and how much it hurt. He leaned to whisper in your ear as he attempted to push even further into you.

“I know it’s selfish but I had to have you. And feeling you around me is worth it. Fuck, Bucky is a lucky man.”

Steve slid you slightly off of the counter to get a better angle. One strong arm wrapped around your waist and the other over your shoulder for leverage. You squirmed and you knew it was futile but you mind kept telling you that you had to try.

He gave a few experimental thrusts inside you before picking up a rhythm. He laid himself over you, kissing at your neck and down your back while he fucked into you. Steve was a bit bigger than Bucky, uncomfortably so and you flinched every time he hit a little too deep.

“I’m being too gentle, aren’t I? You and Bucky like to hate fuck. Isn’t that right?”

You and Bucky had issues sure, and sometimes you worked them out in bed but how did he know that?

Steve tried to concentrate. The feeling of your walls snug around him kept pulling him back in. He knew it was wrong to force you into this, but it felt good. He knew he could make it good for you too. He’d just have to give you more of what you liked. The way you screamed for him only made him want you more.

“Ah, you’re gorgeous. Wish you were mine.”

He pulled you up so your back was to his chest, moving you up and down on his cock. The change in position helped your discomfort move to something else. The friction of his cock against your inner walls had you biting your lip to keep from making any noise. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on you.

His hand slid up to palm your breast and he groaned into the skin of your neck. The tension building in your abdomen burst and you screamed as he rutted into you. You tightened around his length, hating yourself for enjoying what he was doing to you.

Steve leaned close to your ear and whispered.

“This is a dream come true. I’m gonna cum. Gonna cum in that tight little pussy.”

Your mind flew into a panic.

“No! Steve, pull out! Please, pull out!”

“I know you and Buck were trying for a kid, but—fuck—I’m here and he’s not.” Steve buried his face in your hair as he came, filling you completely. Your lip quivered as you thought about the consequences of what he did. About what would happen when Bucky got home. About what would happen if you had a baby that looked a bit too much like the wrong super soldier...

Steve wasn’t proud of what he did, but he had to deal with his attraction to his friend’s wife. Had to have her one good time to get it out of his system. But now that he had her, he only wanted more. More of the moans he was able to draw from you. More of your tight heat clenching around him as you tried to fight your release.

And if he was lucky, you might even make him a father.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark steve x reader #dark fic #dark!fic #marvel x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader

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gustafsnightangel · 4 years ago

Text

Shattered Lives Ch 37 Pt 2

“You’ll get cold.” Gustaf said as he draped her robe over her shoulders as she hauled out the left over Chinese, the nip to her neck causing a shiver to skitter down her spine.

“Any excuse to do that.” She scoffed.

He waited until her hands were empty before he spun her sharply and crushed her against him, devouring that mouth he craved, the small squeak from her making him chuckle wickedly.

“God I love it when you kiss me like that, I can’t think.” She sighed as he let her up for air.

“Precisely. Get your food love.” His finger trailed her jaw, that mischievous glint in his eye telling her she was in for a ride later.

They sat and ate, Gustaf pulling her into his lap, the need to feel her close. Soon there would be months where they’d be apart and these moments would be all he had to cling to. They talked of their vacation away with the kids, both looking forward to time together as a family without work or other obligations cutting into their time. He saw the stifled yawn as he nuzzled her neck, she was still tired, exhausted from earlier.

“Come soak with me again.” He murmured, his fingers lightly skimming over her body, enticing, arousing.

“I’m liable to fall asleep. I’m pretty wiped already.” She chuckled.

“Then fall asleep.” He kissed her on the one spot below her ear. “Nothing wrong with a nap in the tub.” Though what he had planned she wouldn’t be napping, he would completely wreck her so she slept deeply.

He ran the bath while she tidied up the dishes, lighting some candles and making sure everything was close at hand for her ultimate pleasure. She sat the teapot down with the cups and let him strip the robe from her body, fingers and lips blazing a path over her skin. Stepping in the tub he held out his hand for hers and helped her in. Sitting behind her he pulled her into his lap and smirked as she relaxed back against him. They sipped their tea and talked, sensual strokes of fingers against wet skin arousing them both.

“You up for trying something new kitten.” He growled, the light nip to her shoulder making her shudder.

“What did you have in mind?” She asked slyly knowing he wouldn’t give anything away.

“How are you feeling?” His fingers dipped between her folds, over her clit.

“Better after some food.” She sighed, her head falling back against his shoulder with a thud as that talented finger started to destroy her.

“Feel like putting a spin on soft and sleepy?” He grinned against her skin. “Take your mind off the last 24 hours?”

“So cryptic.” Her chuckle only widened the grin on his face.

“Is that a yes kitten?”

She sat up and turned to look at him. “Yes daddy.” She purred and kissed him sinfully. He wanted to play and after Ana had thrown a wrench in their plans last night, she wasn’t going to let her do that again tonight. It was a blip, they needed to move on.

“In that case, on your knees and turn around kitten.” He growled against her lips, eyes searching hers and only finding the playful glint in them before savaging her mouth. All traces of the emotions from the day gone for the moment. Helping her into position he knelt behind her, legs straddling her calves. “Rest your elbows and forearms on the edge of the tub.” He commanded gently, reaching over and laying a rolled up towel there to cushion the edge.

The water felt erotic against her like this, breasts in the water, spine out of it, the heat and feel of it against her slightly parted legs and pussy arousing her further. A million thoughts raced through her mind as to what he’d do to her, how he’d take her. She’d only ever had sex in the bath with him and all this was so new and exciting she was slightly nervous. The feel of soaped up hands gliding over her back and around her ribs to cup her breasts had an unadulterated moan echo off the tiles.

“Mmmm.” He purred. “I love those sounds you make when I touch you kitten.”

“That feels amazing.” She sighed, feeling all the tension melt off her.

He let his hands roam, relaxing the stress from her system, seducing her, arousing her. Coming up on his knees he rinsed his hand, added some lubricant to his hand, and stroked his hardening cock. Water sports needed some added equipment for mutual comfort especially when it was more than grinding. Those same fingers slipped between her folds, coating her, teasing her as they circled her entrance and then her clit.

“Daddy.” She whimpered, pushing back, greedy to feel him inside her.

“You want me kitten?” He purred.

“All of you.” She breathed as he pressed the engorged head of his cock against her opening. “Always.” Waiting there he pressed the jets on and focused them over her nipples and her clit, the added stimulation making her cry out in shock and ecstasy. Kissing his way up her spine he nipped along the nape of her neck, those pretty noises making his cock twitch, eager to take the plunge.

“Such a good girl for me.” He purred. “So patient for daddy’s cock.” His words and that tone always made her tremble. An erotic cocktail flooding her system and priming it for ultimate pleasure. Reaching a hand under the water he pinched her nipples hard, sensitizing them to the hot water now rippling against them.

“Daddy.” She whimpered. “Please.”

“I think you like that.” He murmured as a hand snaked down between her thighs, finger slipping over her clit, exposing it to the jet. Her cry was beautiful as he watched her in the mirror on the wall. His goddess poised to be fucked. Fingers roamed, pinching, caressing, stroking until she was whimpering, begging for him to enter and make her come. Leaning over he placed a hand between hers on the edge of the tub and loomed over her, caging her in, dominating.

She felt so small when he towered over her like this, small and safe, loved. He took care of her, gave her pleasure, took his own, but above all he freed her, the safety and security to relinquish all her control and just feel. This was no exception.

“I’m going to fuck you slow kitten.” He purred at her ear, the sharp bite to the side of her throat making her gasp. “So you feel every inch of me.” He gave his hips the slightest nudge to feed her the tip and her moan was delicious. “And once you’ve come over and over until you’re wrecked.” He nipped the other side of her throat. Trailing his fingers up the column of her throat he gripped it gently and tipped her head back until her crown rested against his chest and he looked down into those crystalline blue eyes. “I’m going to take you hard.” He growled and savaged her mouth from above. “You’re mine kitten. Every inch of you.” He breathed.

His statement rocked her to her core, the possessiveness, the love. It wasn’t to claim her in a way that was demeaning, or unhealthy, it was staking his claim for their relationship, she was his, he was hers, together.

“Look at me.” He breathed. As her eyes flicked to his he thrust inside.

“Daddy.” She choked, somewhere between a gasp, a moan, and a whimper. It was such a sweet sound.

“Kitten you’re so beautiful.” He breathed, and started to find that slow, devastating rhythm that would shatter her. Nothing aroused him or made him harder than watching her eyes as he slid inside her for the first time.

All she could do was hold on, her brain had shut down largely to the jets whipping her system into overdrive, and the cock tormenting every inch of her pussy. Those eyes of sinful blue watched her, the love she saw in them as he gently gripped her throat, her pulse singing to him from under her skin. She lost herself, let go, and let herself feel everything he gave her. Her climax shocked her as it caught her unawares, the gasp as it thundered through her making that smirk ghost his lips. Her body didn’t wait for a long build up, it rolled right into another peak and crashed through her harder than before. His grip at her throat squeezed and released with her orgasms, heightening, buzzing her system even further. She gave herself to it, let her body tremble and tense, the cries and whimpers tumbling from her lips.

He was painfully hard, the multiple orgasms and feeling her pussy grip him like this was incredible, but he wanted more for her tonight. As she came again he gripped her throat and waited until it ebbed before trailing those clever fingers down between her cleavage to ravage her breasts, lips ghosting hers to keep her head back. Reaching back he lubricated his fingers and stroked her puckered hole, the breathy scream into his mouth making him smile against her cheek.

“You like that don’t you kitten? The feel of me there.” He purred. “Knowing that at some point I’m going to fill that pretty little ass.” His teeth grazed the shell of her ear before he nipped it. “Makes you want to come again doesn’t it?” He whispered.

“Yes.” She breathed, as her body tensed.

“You feel it building.” He dipped two fingers in and straight back out, to give her a taste, probing, relaxing. Circling and dipping in and out again he built another rhythm which tipped her over the edge. That soft scream tearing from her as he nipped her jaw. He built another release, three fingers stretching her ready to take the plunge. As she crested, body tensed, he eased those three digits deeply inside her.

“Daddy.” Her scream as she came euphoric, as the rhythm of his fingers alternated with that of his cock. The gentle push and pull, the feeling of being so full of him sent her body into a never ending spiral of pleasure. Orgasm after orgasm crashed through her like waves on a beach with no end in sight.

“Fuck kitten you feel amazing.” He groaned, the fullness of his fingers inside her making her that much tighter to fuck. “So tight.” His growl gravely and claimed her mouth as she came again screaming. “Such beautiful sounds when I fuck you kitten.” He thrust harder, both hips and fingers, the change in rhythm making her whimper. He glanced at the mirror on the wall, his goddess in the throes of erotic passion, his body taking hers. With hips pistoning she came over and over again, a cascade of pleasure coursing through her system, wrecking her. Slowing his fingers he slipped them from her and cleaned them with soap before rinsing them off in the water. Her whimper had him chuckling wickedly in her ear. “Would you like to try that something new kitten?” He nipped her just below the ear.

“Please daddy.” Her mind went into overdrive. Would he, she wondered? Would he give her one of her ultimate fantasies, to feel him there, for him to fuck her there?

“You’re so good to me.” He growled as he pulled out of her gently and gripped his shaft in his lubricated hand. Stroking himself he made sure his tip was well coated and pressed it against her back door, the gentle probing preparing her and turning her gasp to a unbridled moan. He devoured her mouth as he continued, the feel of her tightness at his tip slowly relax for him eliciting his own groan. “Look at me.” He demanded softly, her eyes snapped to his. With a gentle thrust of his hips he gave her the tip, felt her puckered hole grip him so tightly he nearly came, her cry was guttural. “Fuck kitten.” He choked, cheek pressed against hers as he took a breath.

“Daddy please.” She begged, if he stopped now she’d die, he felt so fucking good. “Oh god.” She choked.

“Greedy little girl.” He growled smirking and inched inside her until he was fully seated. The sounds that came from both of them were primal. He swapped hands to support himself and pulled out before thrusting in again slowly. The tightness of her making him hiss. “I’m going to fuck you hard kitten.” He breathed, the only warning she was going to get as his free hand gripped her hip firmly. Starting slowly he plunged deep, filling her with each snap of his hips, the water splashing between her legs arousing her further. She was almost screaming with every thrust as he began to take her, fuck her as he pleased. “Look at me.” He commanded. “I want to watch you come.” He growled and no sooner had her eyes met his it ripped through her, his groan of pleasure at her puckered hole spasming around his cock almost making him blow his load. Reaching over he lubricated his fingers and slipped his hand between them the touch at her entrance and clit causing her to whimper. “You want daddy to fill you up kitten?” He purred as he slammed his cock into her circling her entrance with his fingers.

“Please daddy.” Her whimper more one of surprise at how good it felt.

Easing three digits into her pussy she lost herself to him and the sensations he pulled from her body. His cock pounded her ass, fingers slowly filled and curled, thumb brushing her clit. She was a writhing, bucking mess of erotic pleasure as one orgasm crashed straight into the other.

“You like that kitten? Hmmm?” He purred as he fucked her, the primal animal surging forward, the need to lose control and take his own pleasure.

“Daddy.” Her whimpers only spurred him on, whipping his system into a frenzy of needing to fuck her like it was the last time he ever would. “Please.” She knew how to make him come, what those pleas did to him.

“Sweet girl come for me.” His voice shuddering with his own pending release. He destroyed her, fucking her into the stratosphere, pleasure like she’d never felt before. Her climax was nothing short of earth shattering, pussy and anus contracting around his cock and fingers so tightly he roared as he orgasmed so hard he almost blacked out. He took her roughly as he rode out the release, pent up aggression and primal energy from the past day needing an outlet as he sated them both. Slowing to a stop he kissed her tenderly and rested his head against her shoulder panting. He eased out of her back door, soap already in hand and thoroughly cleaned his member before wrapping an arm around her for support, her arms were shaking violently. “Are you ok kitten?” She nodded. “I need to hear it love.”

“I’m good.” She whispered.

“Let me help you stand so we can get dry and go crash out.”

“I don’t think I can move.” She said her voice eerily quiet. Pulling the plug he washed her down for hygiene and as the tub emptied helped her to her feet. She was shaky as he turned her to face him, wrapping the towel around her.

Hooking a finger under her chin he waited for her to look at him, had he pushed her too far, he wondered? Too much too soon? He kissed her softly, the love he had for her soothing, sweeping her up in a cocoon of security. Stepping out of the tub first he dealt with the candles and scooped her into his arms and carried her to their bed, laying her down like she was made of glass.

“I’m ok.” She said softly as she curled into him, towel discarded, clinging to him as her system leveled out.

“Are you sure?” He pulled the covers around her and snuggled her in as she nodded. “Did you like it?”

She craned her head back to look at him, finger trailing his jaw. “I love what you do to me.” She said simply and kissed him sweetly. “The way you fuck me, wreck me.” She kissed him, lingering. “The way you free me.” She felt him relax, the anxiety that he’d gone too far falling from him.

“I really want to do that again sometime.” He said quietly, fingers stroking the length of her body before he snuggled her in.

“Me too.” Her voice muffled, she was nearly asleep.

“Sleep now love.” He kissed her brow. “I’ll rock your world again tomorrow before the kids get home.”

“Ok.” She yawned. “Gustaf?”

“Mmmm?”

“I love you.” She slurred, wrecked and sleepy.

“Love you too lovely lady.” He let the day go as she crashed out. “Just a blip, now we move on.” He mumbled and let the exhaustion claim him.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden @nandadb

#gustaf skarsgard #shattered lives #gustaf skarsgard fanfiction

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smokahuntis · 5 years ago

Text

Together

Paring: Rey x Reader! Us Pt.2

Warning: torture, flashbacks, Kylo Ren, interrogation, fluffy ending, but there will be a part 3!

Word count: 2,202

Summery: (y/n) and Rey have grown closer over the last few months, and Rey gets scared when she doesn’t return in time.

Authors note: ask me about my tag list!

“I’ll be fine, I promise...” (y/n) spoke to Rey as she zipped up her flight suit. Rey has already braided the pilots hair back into a tight bun so she could wear it under her helmet, so all she had left now was her boots, and she was gone.

“I just don’t think you should go on this one.” Rey said looking at her, her eyes pleading with her best friends.

“I’m the Captain, Rey, I can’t just leave my men because of your suspicions.” She bent down tying her boots tightly before standing up and look at her again, (y/n)’s hand came up caressing her cheek. “Plus, you’ve already made me start training in the force again, if something happens I’ll be okay...”

“Promise?”

“Promise...” she kissed Rey’s forehead before heading out to her TIE.

When the Infiltrators team came back they all landed in the hangar and got out of there ships quietly, all expect one.

Liberty

Rey ran towards the hangar when she heard they arrived, running in she looked for the black TIE that was always stationed near the exit for close leaving. Gone, not returned. She stopped one of the pilots and looked at him. Knowing exactly what she was about to ask, they shook their head, eyes glazed over.

“What do you mean no...” rey asked looking at them. Poe grabbed her arms from behind and pulled her back turning her to look at him.

“We need to talk...” he said looking at her, worry coating his face. She shook her head thinking the worse, He pulled her into a hug and rubbed her back. Once they got to a private place he started telling her about the mission and what they got from the coms. Letting her hear the transmission.

“We’re nearing the Finalizer...” her voice rang threw the coms, quickly checking in on her other pilots. “Spook 2, do you copy?”

“I copy Captain”

“Spook 3,”

“Here captain.”

“Spook 4,”

“Reading cloaking, Captain.”

“Spook 5,”

“Always Captain.”

“Spook 6,”

“Pulling the end Captain.”

She smirked asking one final question before getting into the zone of the Finalizer. “Can you hear me, General and Commander.”

“Loud and Clear, Blue” Poe said nodding his head. General Leia watched the trackers of the TIE on hologram as they entered the Finalizer.

“Loud and clear...” she repeated and looked at Poe.

“Infiltrating now,” Blue spoke threw the coms, before landing in the Finalizer’s Hangar Poe asked one more question.

“You did take out the TIE that were meant to actually return didn’t you?” His voice was concerned and stern.

“You doubt my fleet commander?” She asked chuckling, but the comment answered the question.

Hopping from her TIE and smoothly making it past most of the people’s inside until one stopped her, General Hux. He looked at her and then back at her TIE.

“What happened out there, Captain?” He asked with a stern voice.

“Resistance tracked our fleet, sir, we took some fire. But they are gone now.” She said back, her voiced modulated by the first order helmet she wore. She was in complete disguise.

“Good, I hope to see you in the briefing.” She nodded before walking off, she knew the ships insides and outs because of a blue print they had on base, she would spend night after night airing it into her brain so she couldn’t get lost. She never did get lost either, or caught. Until today.

She was almost done downloading the information from the hard drive she needed when a modulated voice rang from behind her.

“I thought I felt another presence on the ship... another person like me.” His voice was deep, loud, and sent shivers down her spine. She had known of him but never actually met him in person, been close enough to feel his presence yet never see him. This was the worst time for him to find her, her helmet was off so she could see more of the screen, and she was exposed. She had never prepared for this moment, with General Hux maybe, but never him. She turned slowly, loose strained of hair hanging to her face as she did so.

“Kylo Ren” she said, not showing fear, the best she could do was block him from her mind like Rey taught her. She grabbed her gun and stepped forward.

“(Y/n) (y/n)...” he said back to her, she was shocked he knew it, her real name, but what shocked her more was his next move. His hand came up in front of her face and she saw black. The last thing the transmission from the helmet picked up was her body hitting the floor with a loud thud.

“This can’t be real..” Rey said looking at them, tears had streamed her face as she heard it. “She’s smarter then that!”

“Rey, we understand this is hard for you bu-“ Poe started but was cut off.

“We have to save her!” Rey said and they stared at her.

“You need to stay calm Rey, blue is strong, whatever is happening I’m sure she is okay.” General Leia said looking at the training Jedi.

“I’m saving her...”

(Y/n) woke up with a beating pain in her head, ima a dark room, trapped by metal. Interrogation room, was what ran threw her mind as she looked around, her face being met with the masked man across the room, Kylo Ren. He stood and looked at her, towering over her figure as he did so.

“Finally, I was beginning to think I lost you.” He said as he moved over towards her close to her face. If he hadn’t have had the mask on she would feel his breathe on her skin. He started fast with the questions not waisting time.

“Where is, the resistance base?”

“I don’t know, where is it Solo?” She said looking at him, she didn’t know why but making him angry seemed to be how she wanted to go about his. It obviously worked, because his hand came up meeting her left cheek, the take of iron flooring her mouth as she bit her cheek.

“Do not call me that!”

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” She chuckled rolling her eyes and turning her head back to face him. “You kill me you have nothing, and right now, you have nothing.”

“I’ll pry it out of you then...” he said raising his hand in front of her face, he was about to start when she starting laughing, throwing him off.

“Why are you laughing?!” He asked fury running out of his mouth as he looked at her. Her eyes met where she believes his would be in the helmet.

“You’re not scary.” She spit blood at the floor, licking it off her lips. “A man who will not face me with his real eyes, a man who will not use his own name... will never intimidate me.” She snarled out looking at him, the look in her eyes told him she wasn’t bluffing. She had a fire in her eyes and he was ready to destroy it. But he retaliated and walked away from her, hissing noises were heard as he took off his helmet. Setting it down he turned back to look at her, when there eyes met, all she could see was Rey. She couldn’t explain it, but she saw her in his eyes, she couldn’t look at him.

She closed her eyes and later her head back again against the cold metal of the weird chair. He groaned and looked at her. “Do I scare you now?” He asked moving back over to her. She opened her eyes and looked over to him on her left, he was so close, and as their eyes met once me she could see it, she saw it all.

He was asleep but he could feel the presence in his room, roaming threw his mind, showing things he had never felt before. Power and strength he had never seen. Darkness, red darkness, not just black. It was a powerful feeling, but it ended to quickly. The crackling sound of a lightsaber shook him awake, looking up to see his uncle, his master, Luke Skywalker. Standing over his bed with his lightsaber ignited. Fear rushed threw Kylo as he stood quickly using the force to push his uncle away. The walls began to shake and crumble as he fled, leaving Luke to die in the debris. As he existed the temple he saw the red, the red storm of fury and anger in the clouds. The next he knew they’re was an explosion, and she was pulled from his mind.

“He was going to kill you... because he saw what you were...” (y/n) let out as she looked at the taken back man who looked like he just had his heart ripped out. He looked down for a second trying to figure out why someone so weak could pry that from his mind with a look. Looking back up at her and meeting her eyes again he snapped, raising his hand towards her.

A searing pain ran threw her as it felt like all her organs had caught on fire. Her veins felt like they froze over and were dying off as he tortured her. It was all different, but she still worked to block him out. Her back arching off the chair as she screamed out trying to fight it off, sweat racked her body and tears left her eyes. Her nervous system felt like spiders were crawling threw the insides, biting at the ends of her nerve, poisoning her into oblivion. It felt like years but it was only seconds, just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore the door to the room opened and Kylo was thrown against a wall getting knocked out as his ashes and helmet toppled to the floor.

Rey, Rey came to her rescue, Poe and Finn at her side as she undid the metal binds. (Y/n) practically fell forward, not able to hold herself up anymore. Poe caught her, picking her up bridal style before they all left in a hurry. (Y/n) could see resistance men fighting stormtroopers as she looked over Poe’s shoulder. Finally getting back to the Millennial Falcon.

Laying her down on a table one of the nurses they brought with them started working on her instantly. Rey never leaving her side.

—

When she finally woke up, they were almost to base. Rey has her head laying next to (y/n)’s hand as she laid on the table. She moved propping herself up on her elbow as she looked around, taking in her surroundings. She finally looked down at Rey’s sleeping figure and smiled.

“Rey...” she said quietly, Rey shot up from her position and looked at her smiling, hugging her tightly. “Oh,” (y/n) let out as she was taken by surprise before wrapping her arms around Rey and leaning into her embrace. She found herself pulling Rey tightly to her as she sat up, grasping at the fabric of her outfit. She let out a sob into Rey’s shoulder as fear of losing her raked her body, even tho she was the one who almost died, she couldn’t do it without Rey. She couldn’t let her go, not this soon. “I’m so sorry...”

Rey pulled away looking at her, her hands resting on the pilots cheeks. Tears in her eyes as well, Rey smiled that beautiful smile as she looked at her. “Why are you sorry?”

“I was careless...” she replied looking at her best friend.

“I almost lost you... and you’re apologizing.” Rey chuckled “you’re one of a kind you know?” Rey said wiping away her tears, her eyes glancing down at the broken pilots lips. Her thumb coming over to them, grazing the soft bottom lip of the girl. (Y/n) didn’t stop her, enjoying the soft touches and love in Rey’s eyes as she did it.

Rey’s lips parted as she was about to speak, but (y/n) cut her off. Quiet, raspy. “Go ahead...”

Rey moves kissing her, passion and love flooding each other’s senses as they kissed. The pilots hands moved pulling Rey closer, needing to feel her presence. It was different, different then any other kiss she had ever experienced. It wasn’t just a meaningless kiss, that was a goodbye, a welcome home, a comforting hug at the end of a terrible day, An I love you. What she gave back was an I Love you too. It was perfect, specially as they pulled away, their breathes heavy and quick. As they looked back into each other’s eyes, they couldn’t help but giggle at each other. Rey bit her lip and smiled as she looked back at the pilot.

“Wow...” Rey let out in a small breathe.

“That bad huh?” (Y/n) let out chuckling and running her hand threw her mess of hair. Rey reaches up leaving a chest kiss on her lips again.

“It was perfect...”

Tag list: @fanboyswhereare-you @jediminddicks1000

#rey skywalker #Rey #rey palpatine #star wars x reader #rey x reader #kylo ren #Poe #rey fluff #rey angst #rey smut

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my-fanfic-library · 5 years ago

Text

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [32]

Masterlist

A huge thank you to newheart97 for the beach scene ;D also sorry it’s short, I’m just having trouble writing rn and I didn’t want to break my promise to you guys

Warnings: A very jealous Drac, wet Drac, implied oral (f receiving)

~^*^~

Strolling onto the sand, you looked back at Dracula who was taking in the heat of the day. You had opted to buy a black cover-up to conceal your suit before sunbathing, since you weren’t entirely sure how Dracula was going to react. He looked so at peace. He had changed into some beige/green shorts and a black polo shirt. You haven’t ever seen him so casually dressed and you had to admit that you liked it.

Finding a spot a little out of the way, you placed your bag down onto the sand and pulled out your towel. You didn’t know where Dracula had gone, but you didn’t really care. Once your towel was down, you turned your head.

Dracula was staring out to sea, watching the waves lap over each other, the sun sparkle down onto the cyan waters.

You sighed in content. It was already so hot. There wasn’t a cloud in the aquamarine sky. Tugging at the bow on your cover-up, you let the material open and you slipped it off of your shoulders. Your bikini was a simple black and you hack picked something small enough that would give you a lot of skin to catch the sun. Once more you sighed as you settled down on your towel, listening to the waves and the occasional chatter of people a little way down the sand.

It was nice for a moment; the sun heated up your body and you began to truly relax for the first time in a long time. Well, until there was a sudden darkness, blocking out the sun. Your eyes snapped open to see Dracula towering over you, a look of displeasure written across his face. Oh.

“You know, the point of sunbathing is to bathe in the sun, which is what you are stopping me from doing.” You retorted.

“I don’t care what it entails, why are you wearing your undergarments?” He hissed.

“Because I’m sunbathing...?” You pushed yourself up with your elbows, “really, Drac, I thought you were a fast learner.”

“Don’t you think that you’re a little exposed for being in public?”

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, “Dracula, sweetheart,” you began, “this is how people dress at the beach. I’m just following current social protocol.”

“Well, I don’t want anyone seeing you so... so bare. Here. Put it back on.” He was fast to get on to his knees and push your cover-up back into your chest.

“Dracula!” You hissed, “I’m not putting it on!”

“Would you prefer my shirt? No other man can see you so bare. It’s mine. You are my treasure for my eyes only.”

“Ok, first, that’s very sweet, but second, I’m literally in my bikini. Dear god I can’t imagine how you’d react at a nudist beach.” You rolled your eyes.

“Should you ever attend such a beach, I will have no choice but to drink you again and leave another one of my marks on your skin. And mark my words, next time, I won’t be so chaste with the placement of it.” He warned darkly.

“If i want to go to a nudist beach, I will. Now, if you’ll move I want to sunbathe.”

Five minutes later, you were sat up with the deepest scowl on your face. Dracula, who was lying back on his own towel, appeared to be oblivious to your poisonous gaze. His chest was bare, sun practically bouncing off of the pale expanse. You were sat with his much oversized t-shirt pooling around you. He had somehow managed to wrestle it on you and warned you not to take it off. You were so hot!

This was so unfair!

The heat was really beginning to get to you now and you could feel the sheen of sweat building on your skin. Your eyes moved to the sea, which looked so, so inviting. It was as if the waves were beckoning you to come to them.

Would just a quick little dip really hurt? Besides, you were a big girl, you shouldn’t need to be told what to do by anyone. Except maybe your father.

You looked once more at Dracula. His eyes were shut. You looked at the sea. It would take maybe five seconds to sprint to the waves. If you were fast enough, you could whip off the shirt as you ran... Fuck it. You shuffled a little, so that when you stood your shadow wouldn’t cast over him. You rose, pretending to stretch. Your eyes wandered down to him and he seemed to have not bothered in checking up on you.

You ran.

As you did so, you tugged the material off of your body, the feeling of a cool breeze easing your hot body. You heard Dracula call your name, but it was too late. His shirt was discarded, you had made it to the sea and you were laughing victoriously. You turned to look at Dracula who had sat up and was glaring at you. You couldn’t help but stick your tongue out at him.

The water was lukewarm. Not cold enough to cause a shock to your system, but an easing cool that licked your skin and sent pleasurable chills down your spine. The contrast of the hot sun and the cool water was euphoric. You were pleased that you had decided to defy the vampire.

“Come back!” He called.

“No!” You laughed, wading backwards into the water. It slowly creeped up towards your thighs and you shivered when it hit your core.

Dracula didn’t respond again, he simply stood and you immediately knew you were in trouble. His walk was slow, his eyes were locked on you. You looked... well, you looked fucking hot. And he knew other men on the beach were looking directly at you. It drove him crazy. You stood there, watching him near you.

It was like the world had stopped as your eyes locked upon him. It was only him. Him and you. He was by you in an instant, hands grazing over your bare waist.

“I thought I told you to keep the shirt on?” He hummed, voice low and a little gravelly. Immediately, you felt a heat flood your body.

“I was hot.” You whispered, your hands moving up his arms.

“Everyone’s looking at you now. At what’s mine.”

“Let them look, Drac. I’m not with them.”

~^*^~

Walking along the small and winding streets, you marvelled at the beauty of the architecture. Dracula’s hand was in yours. He’d gone with a white shirt and some black trousers, and you had gone for a pale blue knee-length summer dress.

The sky was beginning to darken, a navy slowly spreading from the crown outwards. You had been in Italy for a week now. For the first time in forever, you had been able to just relax. You found yourself often sitting on the balcony of your beautiful Italian villa, just looking out to sea and forgetting all of your troubles for a moment.

You had just been out to eat with Dracula and you were finally making your way back for the evening. There was a nice cool breeze coming in, a nice bite to the end of a hot day.

Dracula was acting a little strange, keeping a little closer to you than usual. You didn’t know what he had planned, but you were a little nervous. It was a slow walk back to the villa and once you crossed the threshold, Dracula had you tight within his arms and seas pressing sweet kisses to your neck. You giggled.

“What’s going on?” You breathed.

“You’ve already eaten your dinner, it’s time for mine.” He pressed more kisses to your neck.

“How about you go onto the balcony and I’ll meet you in a minute?”

You nodded, pulling yourself free from his grasp and making your way upstairs. The sky was bursting with orange when you finally got up, the sun beginning to dip down past the horizon, igniting the bottom of the blue with a hot and fiery mix of colours. You sat down on the table, looking out at the waves which seemed to be frozen in place. You knew they weren’t bevause you could hear them down below.

A few moments passed and you heard Dracula curse followed by a loud bang. He cursed again. You chuckled.

Another minute passed and then you finally heard his footsteps.

“Right,” he began.

You turned and almost chocked when you saw him. He was soaked, raven strands falling into his face, his white shirt see-through and clinging to his body.

“What the hell happened?” You chuckled.

“I may have forgot to put the ice bucket back in the freezer before we left.”

“Ice bucket?”

“I did have some champagne for you, but as you can see, it’s not going to be cold.”

“Forget the champagne. Come here.”

You were drinking in the sight of him, ready to tear the wet cloth off of him the moment he was near enough.

“My goodness, [First], what’s gotten into you?” He tutted.

“Not you.” You playfully mumbled.

“Shall we change that?”

He was quick with his movements, leaning over the table and yanking your legs, spinning you around so that you were facing him. He looked down at your face, looking for any hint of protest in your features. When you displayed none, he leaned down, pressing a very soft and tender kiss to the skin right below your earlobe. You hummed at the contact. Your fingers dipped into the hair at the nape of his neck, bone dry compared to the strands at the front.

It had been too long since he had touched you like this. Fire was burning in your blood and you knew it wouldn't take much for you to completely succumb. The way his lips slowly caressed the skin of your neck, his fingers working at the hem of your dress which had ridden up your thighs, it was unbearable.

“Drac...” you whined quietly, just as his lips ghosted the scar on your neck.

“Yes, darling?”

“Please...”

“Please what?”

“Do something.”

He bit down. Not hard enough to draw blood but the sudden shock that pulsated in your body had you crying out. Your hands pulled him closer, legs flying up to lock around his waist, connecting your cores through thin layers of fabric. You could feel his smirk against your skin. Your hands pulled him closer as his teeth finally gave your skin some mercy, but only for a second. His lips were on yours in a moment. Heat, passion, pure ferocity in his kiss and then you were falling into a dream.

~^*^~

A blistering heat, a burning light. This was not like the other places you had been before. There was no pretence of comfort here. You could feel eyes lingering on you, but where from? It was strangely dark, like the moment of twilight. A little light to guide your eyes, but too many shadows, too many places for things to hide.

You tried to call out, but your voice did not leave your mouth. Something was very wrong.

For a moment, you thought you saw something in the shadows and moved forwards to pursue it. A sound resounded behind you and the shape that loomed over yous familiar... no...

~^*^~

You were gripping onto Dracula’s collar, breathing heavily. He must've mistook your utter fear for the racing a passionate heart, because his lips did not cease on your skin. You tried to push the thought of the dream to the back your mind, but you were certain that your mood was all but deflated.

Well, five minutes later, Dracula found himself devouring you, your sundress strewn aside, body glistening with sweat and glowing with the light of the setting sun. What a sight you were, chest rising and falling, hands threading his hair. Beads of water would occasionally drip from the ends, but he didn’t really mind. He was still fully clothed, though his shirt was open - you had asked him to stay like that, obviously liking the way the material stuck to him.

Your lustful sounds swirled the air, rebounding off of the cliffs and carrying out to sea.

~^taglist^~

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#claes bang #something different #dracula #bbc dracula #netflix dracula #dracula x reader #bbc dracula x reader #netflix dracula x reader #claes bang x reader

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Imagine:

Erik shaves the Reader.

Smutty tease that may or may not drive crazy?

This is Erik in his College days.

You watched between the crack of the bathroom door within the Kappa house at Florida A&M as Erik plugs up his clippers to line up his beard, mustache, and hairline. He said he picked up this skill because it saved him money and most of the niggas who thought they knew how to cut or shape up hair actually didn’t. The only remembrance of Erik spending money to get a shape up was over a year ago by a friend who faded his hair too much around the temples. That was the last time he decided to let anyone but himself put a blade to his hair.

You were supposed to be focusing on your Anatomy and Physiology course work but the constant buzz of the clippers and the sight of him shirtless distracted you. Your vulnerable eyes couldn’t keep away from how broad his shoulders are and how low his sweats sat on his hips. Even the tent in the front of his sweats had you choking on your breath. You wanted to choke on his dick if you were being honest but you were too shy to express that to him. Last night you were the most shy than you’ve ever been around Erik. You had skipped out on shaving last night because you didn’t think you would be getting any dick from Erik until Saturday night. It was a Thursday night and the second you were ready to shave and exfoliate your pussy he shows up at your dorm room asking if you were hungry. Of course you were, all those extra curves didn’t come from eating salads and drinking skinny tea.

“Focus, you have a lab practical coming up,” You whisper to yourself, pulling all of your attention back into your workbook.

“You say something, Y/N?” Erik’s muffled voice spoke from the bathroom. Apparently he was finished, wiping up the hair from his chest and the sink.

“Just talking to myself, trying to study,” You flip to the next page, groaning that it was more information about the Cardiovascular System to absorb.

Erik doesn’t respond as he leaves his bathroom, chest still bare and hair lined up like he just left the shop. He was currently applying castor oil to his sponge curled fro and beard. After applying the oil, his eyes swept over you while he put his phone on the charger at his desk. Erik loved the way you looked in his Kappa hoodie with nothing else on and your curly hair messy like you just woke up. You were very shy and self conscious and Erik was definitely going to fix that. Last night he had to stop you from clenching up in your thighs when he tried pulling them apart to eat your pussy. Erik loved the way you tasted and he didn’t care about pubic hair. Pussy was pussy to him. However, you cared, just like you cared about the stretch marks on your hips and ass, the acne on your back, and the little pooch in your belly when you wore anything too tight. He loved the fuck out of your body, and he wanted you to feel the same.

“Baby Girl, let me ask you something.”

You look up from your workbook placing your pencil down.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

Erik took a seat next to you, placing his hand on your exposed thigh, rubbing with his nails in a circular motion.

“How much do you have left in your work?” He peered down at your book, noticing your scribble while answering multiple choice questions.

“Maybe a page or two, why?”

“You know I’ve taken this course already, right?”

You sigh, “Yes, I know,” You chuckled, “What? you wanna help me?”

“We can do that,” Erik gently takes your book, placing your led pencil in the center to save your spot in the workbook, “Or, I can help you with something else first.”

“What’s that?” You turn towards him slightly, taking your hand to rub into his curls.

“I can shave your pussy for you.”

If you were still drinking your pumpkin spice latte you would have spit it out all over him in shock. You definitely didn’t expect for him to say that or even want to help you with that.

“Shave my WHAT?” Your cheeks began to heat up in embarrassment.

“Your pussy, Y/N.” He spoke nonchalantly.

“Um,” You side eye him before laughing nervously, “Is this your idea of a joke?”

“Why would it be?” The serious look on his face answered that question for you.

“Erik you can’t be for real.”

“I’m dead serious, girl,” He scrunched his face, “Why you always think I’m lying?”

“Because you say shit like that!!!”

“I’m just trying to help you out. I want you to feel more comfortable about that type of shit. This is your body, Baby girl. I don’t care about hair you still taste and look the same to me.”

Your eyes grow wide, mouth hanging open in surprise. This was really happening to you right now. The fact that he even wanted to do it so willingly left you wordless. That was a very intimate thing and even though Erik and you had sex on a regular that didn’t mean you were serious; at least you didn’t think that’s what it meant. He never gave any hint.

“You’re thinking too much. This isn’t school, Y/N.”

Erik stood up from the bed, walking over to your over night bag. Opening the bag he moved some of your clothes out of the way before spotting your razor, shaving cream, home made exfoliating scrub, and body butter. He removed all of those products, taking them to the bathroom and placing them onto the sink. He was really preparing to do this, determination and all.

“You ready?” He looked over at you while seating himself on the edge of the tub.

“You ever did this before?”

“...No,” He says with a slow shake of his head, “You’re gonna be the first girl I ever did this for.”

He did know how to shave. He was completely shaved and smooth in his pubic region and he never had razor bumps. He also knew how to use clippers on his face. If he knew how to do those things then he could definitely shave you.

“You coming?” He asks with a soft look in his eyes.

“Aight,” You lift from the bed, pulling his hoodie down over your thighs before entering the bathroom.

“You got your panties on?” Erik turns the water on in the tub, grabbing the shaving gel and razor from the sink.

“Yes,” you pull the hoodie up to expose your white cotton panties.

“Okay, take those off.”

You pull at the waist band of your panties, moving your hips slowly from side to side until your panties were resting at your ankles. One by one you remove your feet from the fabric, kicking it off. Out of instinct you pull his hood down and around you again, shy to let him see the bush that was growing down there.

“I already saw it last night, girl,” He teases with a slight chuckle.

“Yeah, whatever, you ready?” You snap back at him, mostly because of your nerves.

“Waiting on you.” He gives you a lopsided grin.

Erik puts the lid down on the toilet seat, tapping it for you to sit down. Once you were there he instructed for you to open your legs for him. Bending your upper body back further, you lower your hips, opening your legs slowly. From there, you look up at the ceiling, the fat on your inner thighs shaking with nerves. Luckily, your hair didn’t grow inward as much, more so on your outer mound. Erik takes his fingers to stroke it downward, most likely to find the natural pattern to which your hair grew. His fingertips tickled, causing your hips to jerk. You’d never imagined something like this could be sexy as fuck. You watch as Erik shakes your Veet shaving gel, pressing down to allow a generous amount to cover the top of your pussy. It swirled like whipped cream on a sundae. It was cool against your skin. He placed the gel on the side of the tub, gently dipping the blade under the luke warm water of the tap. You became acutely aware of his left hand placed onto your upper thigh. He’s so close to you, placing himself between your legs and on his knees.

There you were, on your back, legs parted, and trusting him fully. Shaking the excess water from the razor, Erik brings it to your pussy, little droplets of water cascading down your inner thigh. With one hand gripping your leg, Erik takes the first cautious stroke with the razor, and it sends shivers down your leg. He surveyed your pussy, getting as close as possible causing the warm skin on the sides of his chest to rest against your inner thighs. After the first stroke he gently cleans off the razor under the running water.

He’s taking care of you.

The way he’s focused on your body tells you that you made the right decision in agreeing to this. You could tell he was slightly nervous about wielding a sharp blade near your pussy but you fully trusted him. Your breaths began coming out evenly now and your eyes were on his smooth hands. They looked so soft and his nails were perfectly manicured. The way he moves your labia reminded you of art. The deep breaths that ghosted across your clit from him leaning in closer for a sharper stare wasn’t reflective of the task at hand. He knew that shit drove you wild. You were fully under his power, if he stopped now the job wouldn’t be finished.

It was as if he were silently telling you to be a good girl and hold still for Daddy. He won’t speed up for you, he’s way too concerned about damaging your skin. All other background noises around you went unheeded. The sound of his breath was calming and alluring. He’s definitely purposely teasing you. The moment you went to adjust yourself his arm trapped your legs to keep them open as he watches your pussy glisten with moisture. A coy smile on his gorgeous face tells you that he knows exactly what he’s doing while you lie there helplessly with your legs wide.

He cleanses the razor again, preparing for another stroke, a stroke just as soft and delicate as the others.

“Be patient.” He says with dominance.

He only had a few more spots left on you, his thumb rubbing faintly against your half shaved mound, brushing the remainder of your hair downward slowly. He breathes warmly on your clit, both of your eyes glued to the way he shaves the hair away in one clean motion. Your mouth was parted and dry, eyes low and lustful. His eyes matched yours even though he didn’t have anything to say about that.

“There, all finished.”

You let out a breath, watching as Erik lifts to his feet, opening the closet within his bathroom to grab a white hand towel. You stay just as you are, wanting to get a full on view of the finished job. You preferred to have your pussy shaved low. You tried a design once but that was before you were getting any dick for a guy to appreciate. Erik takes the towel and wets it with cool water, squeezing out the excess water before brining it to your pussy. He wipes away the remaining hair, holding your labia apart to make sure he gets all of it. You shudder, eyes closing briefly.

He wanted to do this so bad you were more than happy to give him a treat. Deep down, you knew this was a trick of his to see your pussy. Either way, the entire thing turned you on and now you needed some dick from him.

“We will look at the finishing touches once I exfoliate and rub the pussy down with body butter.”

Your laugh was infectious because now Erik was in a fit of giggles. He shakes his head down at you before grabbing a white rag, wetting it with warm water and wiping you down. Taking the exfoliating scrub with brown sugar, turmeric, almond oil, jojoba oil, and many more natural things, he scrubs in circular motions, practically massaging your pussy. It felt so good. You couldn’t fight biting your lip with the way his smooth arm ribbed with muscles moved in conjunction with his beautiful hands.

He had such beautiful hands for a man.

He scrubbed for at least five minutes until he was satisfied. Taking the same rag and some cool water he wipes away the scrub, taking his hand afterward to rub the smoothness of it. Razor bump free, uneven skin tone subsided since you’ve decided to use natural products, and so soft it felt like a babies bottom.

“Having fun?” You look at him for a second before lowering your head with a shy giggle.

“Fun? This shit just the beginning,” His thumb flicks your clit repeatedly and in the same motion, your hips sliding against the toilet seat.

“Aye, keep still I gotta add the body butter.”

This was going to drive him crazy.

It was the chocolate body butter you had just whipped up last weekend.

1/2 Cup of Shea Butter

1/2 Cup of Coconut Oil

2-3 tbs. of Cocoa Powder.

Grabbing the tiny jar, Erik twisted the top, his eyes blinking rapidly and his eyebrows raised as high as they could go. He brought the butter to his nose, inhaling deeply before rolling his eyes in satisfaction.

“Damn girl. What you put in this, Hershey kisses?”

“Smells good doesn’t it?”

“Shit, you gotta wear this more often,” he gives you a coy smile, “You just want me to eat you that’s what it is.”

“...I mean, you’re not wrong.”

Erik gives you an impressive look before scooping a decent amount of the body butter into his fingers, rubbing his hands together, and placing his warm hands on your mound. He smooths it in gently, causing your pussy to shine and smell like baked chocolate chip cookies. After he finished, he rubs the left over butter from his hands and onto his toned torso.

“Thank you,” you say with a slight whisper.

“Anytime.” He bites his lip, his usual start to some freaky shit, “What you gonna give me in return?”

You snort a laughter, “You had your fun, baby,”

The moment you lowered your tired legs, Erik held you in place firmly, a single brow raised to confirm if you were testing him with a bratty attitude. He loved to see this side of you, this was the relaxed and comfortable you.

“Not so motherfucking shy anymore. But for real, who you talking to, Y/N?”

You open your mouth to speak before closing it again, turning away from him, “I was about to say you but that would only earn me a spanking, right?”

Erik takes his hand to lightly tap your naked ass, “That and this dick in your guts. Better yet,” Erik strokes your oily and soft pussy, “my tongue licking all that shit that was dripping on my fingers.”

He could do both honestly. You didn’t even have to act like a brat to get it. You both wanted it badly.

“How about you massage my thighs first, they hurt from staying like this.”

Erik laughs, his cereal bowl dimples deep enough to swim in. You poke him in one, causing him to swat your hand away.

“Pleassssseeee,” you pout, hands up in a begging manner.

“Chill out, don’t look at me like that,” He side eyes you before lifting you up from the toilet and over his shoulder and into his bedroom.

#killmonger imagine #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #black panther killmonger #erik killmonger #nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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chelsfic · 5 years ago

Text

Part Seven - Wish You Weren’t Here - Diego Jiménez x Reader - Starz Power fanfic

A/N: I totally promised some Diego-Piglet interaction and did *not* deliver. But don’t worry there will be some soon.

Warnings: This chapter is just SMUT, Unprotected sex, Gun kink!, Angst (obvi)

------ Diego is in your apartment.

He’s wearing a silk button down and tight pants and shoes that probably cost more than your sofa and he’s standing in your little shabby apartment looking out of place and like he has no idea why he came.

“You actually came,” you laugh nervously, fiddling with the hem of the short dress you threw on when he texted. It’s flouncy and thin and short and still extremely conservative compared to the get ups that Diego’s usual...companions...wear. When you ransacked your closet, you kept hearing the echo of Diego’s words from earlier today, Would it kill you to wear something with a little more...access?

You watch Diego’s eyes drift down to the short hemline of the dress, trailing down your bare legs. You feel a thrill go through you thinking that he likes what he sees. He steps forward and drags his hands up your sides, letting the fabric of the dress gather and ride up until your ass is nearly exposed.

“I had some unfinished business…”

***

The Chinese food sits cooling on your kitchen counter as Diego pulls you onto his lap. Your legs straddle him, the thin material of your dress riding up to reveal your shapely thighs hugging his pelvis. Diego skims his hands up your bare thighs, ghosting over the fabric of your silk panties and diving around to palm your ass. You let out a strangled moan and buck against the obvious bulge of his erection. The friction of his jeans rubbing you through your thin panties sends spikes of quivering pleasure through your bloodstream. You’ve never felt this lost to your desire before. You need him. You crave him. Like an addiction. You know he’s bad for you. You know he’ll only hurt you. But you don’t care.

“Baby,” you whisper, dropping forward to press your hungry lips to his. He obliges, returning the kiss with a bruising force, twisting his fingers into the hair at the back of your neck and angling your head to his liking.

When he pulls away you’re gasping for breath. His voice is rough as he replies, “I’m not your baby, niñita. I’m your papi.”

Holy fucking shit. The sound you make in response to his words is only discernible to bats and dolphins. How does he do this to you? You’re like putty in his hands. One minute you’re a rational, logical being. The next you’re only capable of thinking with your vagina. You wonder if this is how men feel all the time…

“Diego...papi…” you feel shy using the erotic pet name, but Diego’s feral growl in response gives you confidence. “I need you…”

You grind against him, your hips hugging his, desperate for more contact, desperate to have him inside you. Like, now. Diego squirms a little and reaches behind him.

“Hold on,” he grunts and pulls the golden gun out of the back of his pants, placing it innocently beside you on the couch. He takes your face in his hands and tries to guide you back to his lips but your eyes are caught on the gleaming, gold menace sitting like a memento mori on your couch cushion.

“Uhh…” Diego trails his fingers along the collar of your dress, tugging and testing the material before dragging it down your arms and baring your chest. He’s about to unclasp your bra when you brush him away, “Wait! Diego, can you just--maybe move the gun to the coffee table. Or the kitchen. Or some place far away from me?”

Diego looks up at you and something in your face stills him, throwing cold water over his fevered skin.

He stares at you as he reaches out for the gun and doesn’t miss when you tense as his hand wraps around the grip.

“You’re scared of me?” his voice is husky, his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows some unwelcome, foreign emotion.

“Not…” you clear your throat, squirming in his lap, still very much aroused-- “not exactly. I just don’t like...the gun.”

Your mind flashes back to the day you walked in on Diego about to kill a man. He meant to kill you that day. You can’t forget the press of the still-warm gun against your cheek. You swallow back your own emotions. You really don’t want this to be a thing.

You lean forward and rest your forehead against Diego’s, capturing his gaze, “Just put it away so we can keep…”

You roll your hips against him and Diego drags in a ragged breath through parted lips, but he stills you with a hand to your hip.

“Watch this,” he orders and releases the magazine from the handgun, leaning forward to set it on the coffee table. He brandishes the unloaded gun between you. “It can’t hurt you, querida. And I...I won’t hurt you.”

Liar. You know Diego won’t physically harm you. But emotionally? He’s a bomb waiting to go off. Still...he makes you feel like you’re the sexiest version of yourself...

“Take it,” he says, handing the gun to you, wrapping your fingers around the handle with his own. Even unloaded, you can’t help but think about its capacity for violence. You weigh it your hands, turning it this way and that. As you inspect it, Diego’s fingers creep along your inner thighs and delve beneath the fabric of your panties. They slide into your slick wetness and he chuckles softly, “So wet for me. You think you’re ready for me? Hmm?”

Diego’s eyes gleam with cheeky arrogance. In a moment of inspiration you press the muzzle of the gun to the sensitive skin beneath his jaw and lean into his lips, “Why don’t you get me ready for you, Diego?”

The moan that Diego lets out is broken. The image of you holding him at gunpoint while he pleasures you is too much. He never would have imagined when he first hired a nervous, drab housekeeper that he was really hiring a secret nymph capable of taking him apart. He slides his fingers through your folds, slicking them in your wetness before thrusting two inside of you with a jerk of his wrist. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, pressing the gun harder to Diego’s neck.

“So tight,” Diego grumbles, pistoning his hand against your core. “It’s been a while, huh?”

You nod your head absentmindedly. Your grip on the gun loosens and you let it fall to his shoulder as you ride his fingers.

“So eager,” he whispers, his eyes are locked on your face, watching you moan and cry as you fuck yourself on his hand. “You can’t wait to have my cock inside you, huh?”

You groan loader, rubbing and thrusting and desperate for more. The gun slips from your fingers entirely and Diego picks it up with his free hand. He brings the muzzle up to your face and lets the cool metal trace down the column of your neck and circle around your breasts. You gasp and your eyes open wide as he presses the muzzle under the fabric of your bra and brings it up against your straining, taught nipple.

Shock and pleasure rip through you. Diego smirks smugly and continues his path, dragging the gun along your round belly and trailing south. He slips his fingers out of you and you mewl in protest, but he shushes you, replacing his fingers with the lethal muzzle of the gun, sliding it carefully and gently against your clit and all the while watching your face.

At first you’re tense, staring down at him with uncertainty. But Diego’s gun is like an extension of his body. He uses it expertly, pulsing the warming metal against your core gently but firmly until your body starts responding again. Slow, shy at first, you start to roll your hips, grinding your wet pussy against the weapon that’s killed countless people. Clutching the shoulders of the man responsible for those kills.

“I knew you’d like this, little girl,” Diego growls, his voice dark and filthy. “I knew you secretly wanted me to use this gun on you. Didn’t you?”

Your mind is mush and you’ll say anything if he’ll keep rubbing you, “Yes, Diego!”

Diego reaches up with his free hand and slaps your breast playfully before rubbing his calloused fingers over your nipple. The extra sensation sends a shivering spike of pleasure through you and you feel your peak coming.

Your eyes have drifted shut but Diego slaps you again on the cheek to get you to open them, “Look, bonita. Watch me fuck you with my gun. If you don’t come--right now--what should I do with you, hmm? I’ll load this fucking gun and make you suck it.”

What the fuck? Why are you so turned on by this? God, Diego is an animal. And you--apparently--love it. It doesn’t matter and you don’t have to worry about Diego loading the gun because a second later you’re crying out and crumpling against him as your orgasm shocks through your system.

Diego doesn’t allow you a second to recover before he’s flipping you onto your back on the couch and frantically unbuckling his belt. You gaze up at him through lust-blurred vision and notice that his hands are shaking as he shoves down his pants. Then you’re a little distracted because he’s lining up his massive erection and pressing into you slowly, burying his face in the crook of your neck and groaning against your skin.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. He raises up and captures your lips in a searing kiss as he thrusts fully inside of you. The stretch of him is a delicious pain and you moan into the kiss. Diego’s hands cup your face and his touch is impossibly gentle given he was threatening to make you suck off his loaded gun only a moment ago. You hug his hips with your thighs, locking your legs around his waist as he rolls against you.

It’s your turn to watch Diego’s face. He’s so vulnerable in this moment, completely unguarded. His eyes slip closed and his lips part as his breath stutters with the effort of controlling his vicious lust. And all the while he’s whispering, “You’re so good, Y/N. How can you be so--nngh! I’m gonna ruin you. I’ll ruin you, Y/N and you’ll let me, won’t you?”

His hips pick up pace and he cradles your body against him as he pounds into you with bruising force. You’re reeling mentally even as your body ramps up for a second orgasm. On the surface his words sound like typical Diego dirty talk. But something in his voice and the way he’s touching you with such reverence makes you think he really means what he’s saying. He’ll ruin you. He doesn’t want to, but he knows he will.

You rub your hands down his muscled back and answer him, firmly, “You won’t ruin me, Diego.”

He looks at you and in his eyes there is longing mixed with terror. His lips tremble and his eyes flood with unshed tears. He hides his face in your neck as he answers, “Yes...I will. I ruin...everything...I--I…”

His orgasm tears through him like an explosion and yours follows soon after. Lights dance in your eyes and you clench your thighs around Diego, tightening your arms around his shoulders and holding him in place so he can’t escape. You’re feeling...warm, fuzzy feelings that you absolutely must not put into words. It’s just your body chemistry tricking you. The fact that Diego is clutching you just as tightly and there are little shivers shaking his shoulders is not helping your resolve.

“You’re good, Diego,” you whisper into his ear, stroking your fingers through his hair. But the lie tastes like copper on your tongue. Is he a good man? Really? Do you care?

“No…” he answers, nuzzling his stubbled cheek against you, “I’m not…”

Tags:

@lockedoutofmyotherblog @1zashreena1 @lannister-slings-and-arrows @glowingpena @flower-petal-blooming @symbiont13 @pullthedamnlever @sparrows-books @joalsglasses @ishqinbbc @pre-schoolervengance @skys-luce-stellare @popculturepriestess @nolongertwo @ughwhyareyoulikethist @squidlywiddly87 @damndamer0n @xboxdudett @khicks3

#Diego Jiménez #Diego Jiménez x Reader #Damnit Diego #Maurice Compte #Starz Power #chelsfic #smut

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myusualnerdyself · 5 years ago

Text

After the Sun sets (Ethan x F!Mc)

Book: Open Heart

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: None

Song recommendation: ‘Crowded Room’ by Selena Gomez

A/n: It’s just a little idea that popped into my head after watching the ‘Before’ trilogy. Needless to say, it’s inspired by it. It’s my first fic so I am really nervous about it. Let me know how you guys like it. Please enjoy!

Ethan Ramsey hated the yearly doctor’s convention, trying to avoid them at all costs. According to him, they were a waste of money and time, precious time that could have been better utilized towards patient care instead of schmoozing with other doctors and pharmaceuticals companies’ executives.

But this year was something different, he was excited about this year’s convention, probably as much as his first convention or maybe more. The reason for his excitement was the keynote speaker, the speaker who had made a path-breaking discovery in the medical world, a discovery which was going to help so many patients around the globe, everyone was gushing about it but nobody more than him.

She was probably the youngest person to ever give the key address. He was so proud of her, his rookie had finally achieved her life goal, the one she told him about years ago in this very same hotel. How fitting for the event to be held here tonight, he thought.

Even after eight years, he remembered that night very vividly, and why not, something about that night had changed him, made him feel things with such passion that he was blown away by the intensity of it all.

Time is a funny concept, sometimes things that happened a month back felt like a lifetime ago and sometimes things that happened years ago felt like they happened yesterday. And looking at her now, making her appearance, he felt like that fateful night in Miami happened only hours ago because he was yet again blown away by the force of his feelings for her, the feelings that had resurfaced with full might after actually seeing her in person after four years. She looked spectacular as usual, the dark green off-shoulder dress complimenting her pale skin and emerald eyes perfectly, her red curls were swept back into a side bun for the occasion, leaving her neck and collar bones exposed, the sight was enough to make him weak in the knees.

She was crowded with doctors, everyone wanting a piece of her, he could tell she didn’t like it much, the fake smile on her face and the slightly bored look in her eyes were indications enough. Of course, none of the crowd could tell that, after all none of the crowd knew her as well as he did. Finally their eyes met and his heart started beating a bit faster, he can see in her expression that she was surprised to see him, it was years since he made an appearance in such an event and after seven years of no contact, it was obvious she didn’t expect him to be here when the chances of stumbling into each other were too high. He gave her a tentative smile, hoping to ease some of her tension. He so badly wanted to go and congratulate her and tell her how proud he was of her but he knew it was going to be awkward and he wasn’t ready for it, at least not yet. She returned his smile with a small one of her own, and to Ethan’s relief, it was definitely not fake.

XXXXX

“Dr Valentine.” After having a few drinks at the bar, Ethan finally built the courage to go up to her.

“Dr Ramsey,” Casey said, trying to hide her shock, despite his friendly smile before she wasn’t sure that he would try to talk to her tonight. They hadn’t exactly parted on great terms or any terms for that matter. He had just vanished, leaving her alone without any notice, any contact.

“Congratulations on your research, it’s truly outstanding and for what it’s worth, I am really proud of you.” Ethan said, hoping to convey the sincerity of his words.

“Thank you.” Casey replied, smiling. Those words coming from him meant a lot to her, even after everything that happened between them, he still was her mentor and to make him proud gave her even a higher sense of accomplishment.

“Why are you here tonight, if you don’t mind me asking?” She questioned, it just didn’t make sense to her, him being here after avoiding her for so long.

“Isn’t it evident?” He answered with his eyebrows raised on the inanity of the question.

She waited silently, waiting for him to continue.

He sighed, “I am here for you Rookie…. I mean Dr Valentine, you have achieved something so remarkable, you are finally doing great things, things that I knew you were destined for, obviously I couldn’t miss such an important milestone of your career.”

Before she could reply, they were interrupted by a doctor who wanted to offer her congratulations to her. After she had left, Casey swallowed and looked at him, trying to comprehend the meaning of his words.

“So you came here for me?”

“Yes, and I am so glad I did, because that speech that you gave, it’s been so long that I have enjoyed the keynote address so much. Only a truly dedicated doctor would have the guts to talk about how our flawed medical system has failed to help the masses in an address meant to honour her.” He said.

“Why, thank you, Dr Ramsey, I learned from the best.” She replied.

He cracked a smile at her words. “It is good to see that you still remember all of my teachings.”

“Of course I do, you would think it’s easy to forget your difficult, grumpy and ruthless attending but it’s not.”

He didn’t know whether the words were meant as a joke or an accusation, so he stared at her, trying to decipher the meaning of the statement in her eyes.

“Dr Valentine, Dr Ramsey, the two great minds of medicine together, what a sight.” A doctor chose that very moment to enter the discussion and Ethan was thankful for the distraction. He knew the conversation was bound to take a turn like that but he didn’t think it was going to be so soon.

They talked to the doctor with all the politeness that they could muster, answering all the questions about their recent work patiently but there was an undercurrent of tension in the air now, and they both could feel it.

After they were once again alone, Casey continued, “You know, we’ll keep getting disturbed here. It’s been a long time and I really want us to have a proper conversation.”

“Yeah, I would like that too.”

“Let’s go to my room then, we can sit in the balcony and talk, what say?” There was a purpose in her voice now, she wanted answers, answers that were denied to her for so long, answers that were her right.

“Are you sure? I mean, there are plenty of people here that still want to talk to you.” He was a bit afraid from the determination in her voice, it was as if she was ready to unleash her fury on him, the fury that he fully knew he deserved.

“Yes, those people will be here tomorrow, I’ll meet them then.”

Seeing no out, Ethan gulped, “Well, okay then, lead the way.”

To be continued...

Continue to Part 2.

P.S. This is going to be a part 2 series, I will upload the second part very soon. Let me know if you want to be tagged in it.

Thanks for reading! Please like, comment and re-blog.

#dr. ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey fic #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #mc x ethan #ethan x mc #open heart fanfiction #open heart #oph #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction

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trashyswitch · 5 years ago

Text

Virgil’s Mood

Virgil is dealing with some unknown sadness, and Logan helps distract him through some good ol’ science!

Virgil was feeling sad, for some unknown reason. He couldn’t find out why he was sad. All he knew was that he was sad, and he couldn’t stop himself from crying.

Patton noticed almost right away, and tried to keep him comfy throughout his mood. Patton knew sadness was good once in a while, so unlike Virgil, Patton welcomed it and allowed Virgil to cuddle him as much as he wanted. Virgil appreciated the gestures, and took advantage of Patton’s offers. Patton’s cuddles were so comforting, loving and soothing for him. It was rare that he felt such soft back rubs and whispery words of affection. Not only that, but Patton’s cuddle sessions were the only thing that kept his emotions under control. That was one thing Virgil yearned for, on a day like this.

Roman noticed Virgil’s mood as well, but didn’t think much of it. It was bittersweet to watch. Virgil’s mood was painful to see, but watching their cuddle sessions seemed to make up for that. It was like seeing a happy ending in a movie, after 2 hours of empathetic, emotional pain. The sad moments made his heart drown in a salty stream of his own making. But the ending gave him a little smile that made the movie experience all the more satisfying. That roller coaster repeated over and over and over again throughout the day.

Logan processed Virgil’s mood a little differently. He couldn’t really empathize the way Roman has, but he wasn’t caring and open like Patton was. The best he felt that he could do, was to distract him from the sadness he was feeling. What he didn’t expect however, was Virgil’s reaction to it. Whenever Logan would bring up a conversation, Virgil would let a small smile appear, and go along with the conversation. They were simple distractions from the most well-thought out movies, to English grammar that made no sense, to even the strangest or funniest YouTube animations! All of these were good distractions for Virgil, as it gave him 2-45 minutes of freedom from the sadness that plagued him.

At the moment, Logan and Virgil were in the middle of an odd conversation about the Nervous System. Logan had a medical book out in front of them, and Virgil was trying to understand the complicated mush of meat, known as the brain.

“Now, I will warn you that this following question may be a little gross.” Virgil warned.

Logan shrugged and nodded. “Ask away.” He offered.

“When someone loses a finger, are they able to still feel the detached part of the finger? Or do the severed nerves become numb? Or...” Virgil asked.

“That’s not gross in the slightest. That’s merely an interesting concept. They are able to feel the detached part of the finger, but not by the nerves still stuck in the detached finger. You see, the brain still thinks the finger is there. So, the brain does this...type of illusion where it makes you feel the finger as it was, before being detached. It’s a brain illusion known as phantom touch. Often, amputees feel the lost limb on themselves, but look down to see no limb. Some people even feel pain in that recently severed limb. It’s a very interesting idea.” Logan explained, making gestures with his fingers as he explained.

“Huh...that’s...kinda creepy. Not gonna lie.” Virgil thought out loud. Virgil flipped the page and eyed up a chart of the inside of the human skin. The chart showed the different layers of skin below the surface, and the nerves and other things hidden under the skin.

“What is that?” Virgil asked, pointing to the green tree that laid below the epidermis.

“Those are your nerves, or pain sensors. They’re what help you feel cold, hot, pain, light touch, and any other forms of touch.” Logan explained.

“Ooooh. That makes sense. This is gonna seem like an odd question, but what does the tickle feeling fall under?” Virgil asked.

Logan was about to answer, but closed his mouth to try and think. “Well...I suppose it would fall under either light touch, or pain. Tickling doesn’t feel light, but it doesn’t feel painful, either.” Logan said.

“Oh...” Virgil concluded.

“Why do you ask such a strange question?” Logan asked.

“I don’t know. I guess it came to my mind, when I remembered Patton tickling Roman yesterday. And when Roman tried to tickle Patton back, he ended up hitting a spot that hurt, more than tickled.” Virgil explained.

“Well, I suppose it can be a mixture of multiple feelings. It probably explains why our reaction is just as strange.” Logan added, fixing his glasses.

“Ya...I’m gonna find out.” Virgil said, getting up off the ground and walking away. Virgil opened up the door to Patton’s room, but found the boy sleeping. He decided to leave him be, and try finding Roman. However, he soon realized Roman was off on a magical adventure somewhere. So, he walked back to the living room.

“Busy, I suppose?” Logan asked.

“Roman is. Pat’s just sleeping.” Virgil replied.

“Well, I suppose that leaves only the two of us...I will volunteer myself as tribute.” Logan decided.

Virgil eyebrows raised. “Wait, really?” He asked.

“Sure! You seem curious about the concept of touch and pain. And I wouldn’t want to put you through something you’re not comfortable with.” Logan explained.

Virgil smiled. “It’s not that I’m uncomfortable with it, it’s that I’m not used to it yet. Patton has been helping me get used to it slowly. I appreciate the offer, and I will take advantage of it. But don’t be hesitant to get me back, or warn me if it gets to be too much.” Virgil clarified.

Logan smiled genuinely. He has never seen Virgil express so much honesty before. The last time he was this calm and open, was when he told everyone he liked the color purple and completely changed his outfit. It was at that moment, he knew: Virgil is now a light side.

“Alright.” Logan replied.

Virgil knelt down. “So: Where are you ticklish?” Virgil asked.

“Uh...On my sides, neck, and feet.” Logan replied, naming a few spots to start with. Virgil smiled before lightly tackling Logan down.

“You ready?” Virgil asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Logan replied. Virgil started at the highest spot on the list: Logan’s neck. He skittered his fingers on the side of Logan’s neck. “Eeeeeehehehehe!” Logan bursted into giggles. His shoulders went up, and his neck curled in on the fingers: all this to cover the exposed spot.

Instead, Virgil used his left hand to tickle the other side of the neck. Now, Logan’s neck was curling towards the other side. Each time Logan tried to cover a spot, he would only expose the other side. This switching between sides went on for a little longer, before he stopped.

“So, it looks like you’re sensitive to light touches on both sides of your neck. Light touches seem to make you giggle.” Virgil said aloud, making mental notes for himself.

Next, Virgil got onto his feet, grabbed one of Roman’s gel pens off the table, and put it into the freezer. Next, Virgil walked up to the sink, and turned on the water.

“What are you doing?” Logan asked.

“I’m washing my hands in warm water, to see if warm hands makes the ticklishness change.” Virgil explained. He dried off his hands with a tea towel, and walked up to Logan once again.

Virgil used his warm fingers to tickle Logan’s neck again. Logan’s giggle returned, and his neck curled towards the fingers. It didn’t seem to make much of a difference, so Virgil stopped.

Virgil stood up once again, and washed his hands again. This time, he used cold, cold water. He kept his hands under the freezing water, until he lost some feeling in his cold hands. He turned off the water, dabbed his hands with the other side of the same tea towel, and walked back to Logan.

“Okay.” Virgil said aloud, and touched Logan’s neck.

“OOOOOHOHO MY GOD, that’s COLD!” Logan complained with a shocked expression on his face. Virgil started skittering his fingers on Logan’s neck.

“EEEEEEEHEHEHEHE! HOHOHOW IS THIS WOHOHOHORSE?!” Logan asked, completely confused.

“I don’t know.” Virgil replied. He tried the back of the neck, and under the chin. This seemed to give a similar reaction.

Next, Virgil moved his hands to another spot Logan mentioned: his sides.

“WAHAHAHAHAIT! HHHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Logan yelled as he squirmed away from the wiggly fingers.

“Oooh! The sides appear to be worse!” Virgil observed. He stopped his fingers for a minute, got up, and grabbed that pen from earlier out of the freezer. He walked back to Logan, knelt beside him, and started ‘writing’ on Logan with the pen.

“HEHEHEHEY! WHAHAHAT IS THAHAHAT?!” Logan asked through his laughter. The ballpoint pen seemed to give him a slight pain sensation, and a ticklish sensation at the same time! Logan struggled to choose between getting away from the needle-like pain, or curling in on the ticklish spot.

While moving the pen around, he happened to hit Logan’s lowest rib. “OW! Ohohokay, that hurt more than tickled.” Logan complained. Virgil nodded and removed the pen. While he was tickling Logan, Virgil happened to forget the last spot. So, while he tried to remember it, he tried lightly poking Logan’s stomach with the pen.

“NOHOHO! Virgil! WHY?! Gahahaha! Wait! Not my- EEEEEEEEEK! WAHAHAHAHA!” Logan squealed, pulling Virgil out of his own thoughts.

Questioning what was going on, he looked down at his hand and the pen placement. His hand seemed to have moved to the middle of his stomach. Specifically, near his navel.

Virgil felt a smirk grow onto his lips. “Does someone have a ticklish belly button?” Virgil asked. Logan gulped.

To answer his own question, Virgil traced the pen around Logan’s navel. This was rewarded with a squeal from Logan. His theory seemed correct so far. To fully confirm it, Virgil lightly stuck the pen into Logan’s navel, and swirled it.

“NOOOHOHOHOHOHOHO! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Logan cackled as tears of mirth began to form. Confirmed! Virgil smiled and swirled the pen a couple more times, before dipping the point into the middle of the belly button.

“eeeEEEEEEEKK! EEEEHEHEHEHEHEHE!” Logan squealed. His laughter somehow sounded similar to the laughter he let out when his neck was tickled. It was kinda hilarious!

Virgil decided to give the poor guy a break. He placed the bullpen aside and watched Logan take in as much air as he could muster.

“You okay?” Virgil asked.

“Ya, I’m alright.” Logan replied after a few seconds.

"What's going on?" Someone said behind them. Virgil recognized the voice, and turned around to face his best friend: Patton.

"I was doing an experiment. I wanted to know about the different sensations that your body can sense." Virgil replied.

Patton's eyebrows rose. "Really? And what are your results?" Patton asked.

"Well..." Virgil started, turning his head to face the tired nerd on the floor. "Logan is ridiculously ticklish, and cold fingers seem to make it worse!" Virgil explained.

"Ooooh! did you try reeeeaaally light touches yet? Like..." Patton dragged out his words, as he pulled a white object out of his pocket. "...A feather?" Patton finished.

Virgil gasped. How could he have forgotten about that?! "Oh my gosh! You are SO RIGHT! I looked after the medium, rough and pokey sensations, and I completely forgot about the most important one: Really light sensations!

Virgil took the feather from Patton's hands, and walked up to Logan, who was still laying down.

"W-Wait! No more, please!" Logan begged.

It'll go quick. I promise." Virgil reassured, reaching his left hand out towards Logan, with his pinky finger up. Logan lifted his right hand up, made a relaxed fist, and stuck his pinky up as well. Reaching up, Logan's pinky finger linked with Virgil's, keeping their promise as sacred as can be.

After letting go, Logan watched as Virgil bent down beside him. He lifted the feather up to Logan's point of view, and smirked. flipping it to make the hard tip face up, Virgil lowered the soft part of the feather towards Logan's neck.

Virgil flickered the feather on the side of Logan's neck. "EEEEEK!! NAAAhahahahaha! Vihihirgil!" Logan squealed, lifting his shoulders to cover the spot. Though no matter how much he covered the spot, Virgil would move the feather to the open, exposed spots of Logan's neck. It wasn't torturous, but rather mildly infuriating.

"Not bad...light touches are fairly effective on you." Virgil noted out loud. He moved the feather away from Logan's neck, and lifted his shirt. As soon as Logan's bare belly was shown, Virgil moved the feather to his sides and fluttered it.

Wahahahaha! Plehehehehease!" Logan begged, squirming frantically.

"Okay. One more spot! I promise!" Virgil reassured, removing the feather.

Virgil got up, and walked over to Logan’s feet: the last spot that Logan had mentioned. Removing the shoes and socks, he started planning out how he was gonna approach this last spot. By the time Logan’s bare feet were exposed, he had decided to start off light and slow with the feather.

Virgil picked up the feather once again, and started drawing slow, soft strokes on the bottom of Logan’s right foot.

“Oooohohohoho nononooohohohoho!” Logan whined, bracing himself for the worst to come.

After making a mental note, Virgil started flicking and fluttering the feather to intensify the sensations.

“Aaaahahahahaha! Vihihirgihihil!” Logan yelled through his helpless giggles.

“What?” Virgil asked.

Ahahare you dohohohone yehehet?!” Logan asked.

“Soon Logan, soon. I still have a few more things I wanna try!” Virgil reassured. Logan groaned and tried to hide his face in his risen arm.

“Awww! Is this getting to be too much for the poor Logan?” Virgil teased. To avoid stuttering, Logan answered his Ler with a quick nod of the head.

“Well luckily for you, we’re almost done! All I have to do now, is this:” Virgil said, before dropping the feather and scratching Logan’s foot with his finger nails.

Logan’s eyeballs practically bulged out of his skull, and his squirming doubled in intensity. “AAAAHAHAHAHAHA! THAHAHAT’S SO MUHUHUCH WOOOHOHOHORSE!” Logan shouted, slowly losing more of his sanity.

“Okay. I’m done with this foot. Now, onto the other foot!” Virgil decided, dropping Logan’s right foot and grabbing the left.

*5 minutes later*

Virgil placed the left foot down, and watched as Logan took in as much breath as he could. Patton watched as well, and smiled as he processed everything he had just witnessed. What was supposed to be an experiment, turned into a full on tickle session to test out the tickle spots Logan had mentioned to Virgil. He felt kind of disappointed that he couldn’t find out any more spots, but perhaps that could wait for another day. They’ve got lots of time on their hands to make that happen...

#ticklefic #lee!logan #ler!virgil #science

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musette22 · 6 years ago

Link

Title: Honey, I’m Home

Pairing: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (M/M)

Rating: E (18+)

Word count: 4.3k

Summary: After two long months, Chris comes back from filming Red Sea Diving Resort in South Africa. Sebastian is waiting for him at home.

A/N: Soooo, a week or so ago we were blessed with those images of Chris looking solid and hot af in the trailer for Red Sea Diving Resort. @rainbowsandcoconut I got a little thirsty discussing how Chris and Seb’s reunion might have played out when he came back from South Africa, and then I was feeling inspired and bam, next thing you know you have another smutty fic. It’s pure PWP, tbh. Hope you guys don’t mind 😉

Warnings: explicit smut, light Dom/sub, dirty talk, slight degradation kink. It’s all in good fun though, folks.

Honey, I’m Home

Sebastian is feeling jittery; nervous and excited low-key aroused all at once, has been from the moment he opened his eyes that morning. Chris is coming home today. After two long months (two and a half, almost) he’s finally seeing his man in the flesh again, instead of through a screen. Don’t get him wrong; he’s grateful facetime exists, so fucking grateful, but it’s hardly the same as feeling Chris’s skin against his, as breathing in his scent, feeling his heartbeat, steady and comforting, against his chest.

Nor, incidentally, is it the same as getting to suck his perfect dick, which is one of the things, along with getting railed so hard he forgets his own name, he’s had a… hard time going without these past few months.

So yeah, it’s safe to say Sebastian is excited.

He’d wanted to pick Chris up at the airport, too impatient to wait the extra hour it would take for him to make it home from LAX, but since they haven’t gone public as a couple yet, in the end that seemed like a bad idea. So instead, he’s been cooped up at home all day, making sure Chris’s house, to which he has a key, is clean and tidy. He even cooked (or, attempted to cook; he’s never been very culinarily inclined) Chris’s favorite dish, and then spent a good two hours on personal grooming so that he would look and feel his absolute best when his man finally did make it home.

When, at long last, he hears the keys in the front door, his heart starts beating faster, anticipation sending adrenaline coursing through his system. He feels keyed up, ready to pounce as soon as Chris sets foot in the room – and yet, the second the door to the living room opens and Sebastian lays eyes on Chris for the first time in almost three months, his breath catches in his throat and he freezes on the spot, unable to move a muscle.

Chris looks incredible.

The first thing that Sebastian’s eyes are drawn to is Chris’s hair, longer than usual, and lighter too. The sun-kissed strands frame his tanned face, bringing out the strong cut of his jawline, covered, as always, in that goddamn thick beard of his that makes Sebastian crave beard burn in all kinds of inappropriate places. He’s admired it before, of course, through the screen of his phone, but that was nothing compared to the impact this look has in the flesh.

And Chris’s eyes… those gorgeous, blue-green eyes are fixed on him intently, the heated look in them seeming to burn right through the carefully selected layers of clothes Sebastian is wearing. It makes him feel exposed; vulnerable, and so completely, unbearably turned on from one moment to the next that he has to bite his lip to stop from whimpering out loud.

Wordlessly, Chris drops the bag he was still shouldering, takes one, two steps in Sebastian’s direction, eyes firmly fixed on his. When he’s only a few feet away Sebastian realizes, with a sudden, ton-of-bricks kind of impact, why Chris’s presence is hitting him so hard, harder even than he anticipated.

Chris is solid.

Since the last time Sebastian has seen him, he has definitely filled out. But while it looks like he must’ve really enjoyed the local cuisine, he clearly also kept up with his workout routine. Like, really kept up. Mainly heavy lifting, if the way the muscles of his biceps and chest shift under his tight, dark grey t-shirt are anything to go by. Chris has never been a small guy, of course – hell, his incredible physique is one of the things he’s best known for – but where he used to strive for aesthetic form, for perfect definition that made him look like a young, Greek god, now, it’s all power.

He exudes strength, moves like a lion on the prowl, determined and compelling, and Sebastian can’t take his eyes off him.

For a giddy moment, he wonders if Chris could actually bench press him, but then Chris closes the final few feet of distance separating them and they’re face to face and Seb stops thinking altogether. It’s impossible, but Chris seems taller, somehow, like he’s towering over Sebastian, rooting him to the spot just with his gaze and the heat that radiates from his body.

“Hi, baby,” Chris says, his voice deep and dark, and Sebastian feels the vibrations of it all the way down to his core. It makes him shiver. Even that slightest of movements doesn’t escape Chris’s notice, makes that look in his eyes turn that bit more intense as his gaze drops to Sebastian’s mouth, then back up to his eyes again. When Chris lifts a big hand to the side of Sebastian’s face, sliding it into his hair and caressing his cheek with his thumb, Sebastian leans into the touch, sways forward into Chris and presses himself to his front.

God, he’s like a brick wall. Chris doesn’t even budge, even though Seb is pretty much leaning his full weight on him. Sebastian slides his hands up Chris’s abs, less defined now than they were once but all the more robust for it. It’s making something primal inside of Seb want to feel Chris’s solid weight on top of him, holding him down, making sure he stays exactly where Chris wants him.

Chris hums and leans closer, noses at Sebastian’s hair, at his cheek, his neck. It’s almost like he’s sniffing at him, and for a weird and wonderful moment, Seb imagines that Chris is trying to determine if Sebastian’s been good, hasn’t stepped out on him while he was away. He hasn’t, of course, would never – but the thought of Chris wondering, of him feeling jealous, possessive, sets Seb’s skin ablaze, turns his blood to molten lava under his skin.

He tilts his head, baring his neck for Chris’s inspection, and Chris presses his lips to his pulse point. They’re lush as always, soft against his skin, which makes it all the more shocking when he suddenly bites down, sharp and quick. Sebastian’s hands shoot up to Chris’s biceps and he cries out, softly, more from surprise than actual pain – especially since Chris immediately soothes the sting with his tongue, laving over the tender spot until Sebastian can’t hold back the whine that rises up in his throat. Already, he can feel his cock start to chub up inside his jeans, hips stuttering forward of their own accord as he presses his crotch against Chris’s muscled thigh.

Chris’s left hand grips Seb’s hip, fingers digging into his flesh almost painfully, and then finally, finally, his lips drag over Sebastian’s jawline, slow and sure, until they find his.

The kiss is immediately passionate, deep and needy from the get-go, Chris’s tongue plunging into his mouth while his fingers press into his skull, tugging at his roots. A growling sound escapes Chris as he wraps his left arm around Sebastian’s torso, pulling him to closer, making Seb turn to putty in his hands. He can’t think with Chris pressed against him, all around him, his hands, his mouth, his scent, all working together to overwhelm him.

Slowly, Chris walks them backwards, keeping a firm grip on Sebastian so that he doesn’t stumble, until the backs of his thighs hit something hard and unyielding. The kitchen table. The solid contact makes Sebastian’s mind clear a little, allowing him to pull back, breaking the kiss.

“Chris,” he pants, already breathless with it, peppering kisses to his lips in between words. “Chris, I missed you. Missed you so much, god.”

“Yeah?” Chris stands tall and forbidding, simply lets Sebastian shower him in kisses without making any effort to reciprocate. “And what did you miss most, hmm?” he queries, tilting back his head to look down on Seb. “Was it my company? My conversation?”

He holds Sebastian’s gaze, eyes boring into his. “Or,” he goes on, his voice dropping even lower, “did you miss this?”

Reaching down, he grabs Sebastian’s hand and presses it against his crotch, rubbing his palm firmly along the line of his dick, already hard and heavy inside his pants.

Sebastian whimpers, eyes falling closed. “Fuck,” he breathes.

“Go on,” Chris coaxes, rolling his hips into Sebastian’s hand. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

When Sebastian just squirms, trying to push himself closer, a slow smirk spreads over Chris’s face. “But you can’t, can you?” he drawls. “You miss my cock, pretty baby? Tell me, did you play with yourself while I was away? Used your fingers and your toys, pretend it was me?”

Sebastian moans because yes, yes, that was exactly what he’d done.

Chris hums, nods his head in agreement. “Wasn’t the same though, was it, sweetheart? Not quite like the real thing. Couldn’t quite hit the spot like I can.”

Letting go of Sebastian’s hand, Chris deftly flicks open the button on Seb’s pants and pulls down the zipper, before unceremoniously shoving his hands down the back of his jeans. Sebastian, who figured their reunion would go something like this, isn’t wearing any underwear, and Chris groans as soon as he realizes. He grabs Sebastian’s ass cheeks with both hands, kneading them roughly, possessively, before pulling them apart. When he rubs the pad of his thumb over the tight pucker of Seb’s asshole, Seb stutters out a shaky breath, pushing his ass back into Chris’s firm grip, his warm, calloused hands.

“Please,” Sebastian says, imploring. “Please, Chris, I need–”

“What?” Chris demands. “What do you need, Sebastian? Tell me.”

Sebastian has no choice but to obey. “Fuck me,” he chokes out, a little desperate, too wound up to even try at playing it cool. “Just fuck me, Chris, please. Need to feel you inside me, it’s been so fucking long.”

He pushes his face into the crook of Chris’s neck, breathing in his scent – a little musky, a hint of sweat from travelling mixed with what’s left of his cologne, and god, has he missed that smell. Missed it all day, every day, but especially when he was in bed at night, imagining traces of Chris’s scent still lingered on his sheets.

The next moment, Sebastian yelps as Chris spins him around without warning, a hand on the back of his neck pushing him down, bending him down over the kitchen table. He gasps when his cheek presses against the hardwood of the tabletop, and all his blood rushes south in an instant, his dick suddenly so hard it hurts. Fuck.

“Stay there,” Chris orders, giving the back of Seb’s neck a little shake before releasing him.

Sebastian does as he’s told, hands gripping at the table’s edge as he watches Chris walk into his line of sight, towards the kitchen counter. Chris pulls open the third drawer from the top, rummages around for a second before straightening and turning back to Seb. In his hand is the bottle of lube he’d put there the last time they had sex in the kitchen, two nights before Chris left for South Africa.

“Well, well,” Chris says, his voice halfway between amused and a little menacing, causing shivers of anticipation to run down Sebastian’s spine. "And why is this still here, Sebastian?”

When Seb doesn’t reply, just bites his lip as he gazes up at him, Chris steps closer. “What?” he asks. “You just wanna make sure you had it handy for whoever came through that door? Is that how needy you are, Sebastian?” Chris cocks his head at him. “You couldn't even wait for me to come home and fuck you? Had to get what you needed from other people, did you?”

Seb opens his mouth to reply, but Chris shushes him, walking back around to stand behind him again and dropping the lube to the table. Hands tug at Sebastian’s waistband, and then Chris roughly pulls down his jeans to halfway down his thighs, exposing his ass. Without preamble, Chris spreads apart his cheeks, his thumb rubbing maddening little circles over his hole, teasing, making Seb want, before he finally pushes the tip inside. It slides in easily, even without lube – courtesy of Sebastian taking the liberty of preparing himself just a little bit, before Chris arrived.

“Would you look at that,” Chris murmurs, pushing his thumb in deeper. “Still loose from the last one, I bet. Such a needy little hole, ready to be filled by anyone, huh? Don’t care who it is, as long as you get a cock in you.”

Sebastian shakes his head frantically, pleads, “No, no, Chris, it’s just you, only you I promise,” but Chris silences him with a sharp smack to his ass. The sting of it takes Sebastian by surprise and he cries out, rocking forward, trying to get a little friction on his dick from pressing against the table’s edge.

“See, I don’t think I believe you,” Chris continues, almost taunting. “Pretty little slut like you needs it at least twice a day, isn't that right? Needs to be fucked good and proper on the regular or he can’t think straight.” He spanks Sebastian again, on the other cheek this time, and Seb can feel the heat of it, the blood rushing to the surface at the impact.

“Please, Chris, please.”

“Look at you,” Chris breathes, awed despite himself. “You need it so bad, don’t you? Pushing your ass out at me, begging me to fuck you. You’re like a bitch in heat, Sebastian.”

Shit. Chris’s words make Sebastian whine, high in his throat.

They don’t often do this, don’t always take it quite so far with the name calling, but when the mood strikes them, it sometimes just works. From the moment Chris had set foot through that door, Sebastian knew what kind of night it was going to be and he is there for it. He knows that everything Chris says is just for play, only intended to get them both hot and turned on. There is no malicious intent, no genuine distrust or jealousy, but just the suggestion of it is enough to make Sebastian so fucking hard, makes him feel dirty in a good kind of way when Chris calls him out on just how much Sebastian needs a good dicking.

And besides, it’s true. He needs it so bad sometimes it’s all he can think about. It’s a good thing Chris always knows how to give him exactly what he needs, or he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Then again, he’s pretty sure the reason he needs it so bad is because Chris always gives him what he needs. He’s been spoiled for everyone else, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Well?” Chris prompts, pressing his still clothed erection against Sebastian’s bare ass, fingers digging into either side of his hips. “Do you need it, or don’t you?”

Sebastian’s response is instinctive, immediate. “Yes,” he begs, “yeah, I need it, need your cock, Chris. Please, just – just put it in me.”

Chris shrugs. “Alright, then,” he says, followed by the tell-tale sound of his zipper, the rustle of fabric as he pushes down his pants far enough to take out his cock. “Wouldn’t want to deny my baby boy what he needs.”

A moment later, two big, slicked up fingers probe at Seb’s hole, pushing in unceremoniously. Sebastian gasps as Chris twists his fingers, pushing in deep and rubbing him on the inside. It feels almost clinical, almost as if he’s just determining whether he’s loose enough, and somehow, that only adds to the thrill. When a third finger is pushed in alongside the other two, Sebastian hisses. It stings, but it’s exactly the kind of sting he likes, and he needs more of it. He doesn’t want Chris to go easy on him tonight, he needs to really feel it.

“Fucking come on, Chris. Just give it to me, already,” he says, demanding, earning himself another spank for his back talking.

“I’ll give it to you when I’m good and ready,” Chris chastises him, but he’s already pulling out his fingers, lining up his cock and then pushing into him, hard and unyielding, burying himself balls-deep inside of Seb in one, long stroke.

Unbidden, Sebastian lets out a string of expletives, moaning loud and wanton, the burn intensifying as his hole is stretched around Chris’s considerable girth. Chris spanks him again, then leans forward and brings a hand to his face, shoving a few of his fingers into Sebastian’s mouth, effectively shutting him up.

“You always run your mouth like that?” he demands, knowing full well Seb can’t respond. “You know, I can think of a better use of that pretty mouth, baby. But since my cock’s already in your tight little ass right now, you’re just going to have to make do with these.”

Sebastian moans around Chris’s fingers, tonguing them, sucking hard and fervently wishing it was Chris’s dick instead. When Chris starts thrusting, hard and deep and merciless, Seb’s mouth falls open in a broken-off moan, fingers falling from his mouth. Chris pulls back his hand, straightening up and grabbing Seb’s hips again instead, holding him steady as he starts to pound into him. Sebastian pushes himself up onto his elbows on the table top, planting his feet more firmly on the ground so that he has a little more leverage against Chris’s full-body assault and pushes back against him, desperate to feel him deeper.

Immediately, Chris pushes him back down with a hand between his shoulder blades, the warmth of his palm burning through Seb’s thin shirt. He’s ungentle about it, holding him down forcefully, and Sebastian pushes back, struggling just enough to see how Chris will react. Under his breath, Chris calls him a brat before he shoves him down again, even more roughly this time, really bearing his weight down on him as his hips keep snapping forward. Sebastian hears himself make an embarrassing, involuntary sound in the back of his throat, but god, he fucking loves the feeling of not being able to move unless Chris lets him. Loves knowing that Chris is capable of holding him down easily, making him take it like he’s doing right now.

Chris rucks up Sebastian’s t-shirt, bunching it up under his armpits to expose his bare back. For a moment, Seb gets to revel in the cooler air that hits his overheated skin, and then Chris firmly runs both his hands up and down his back, from his shoulder blades all the way down to the swell of his ass. He digs his fingers in, giving the firm flesh a squeeze before pulling his cheeks apart as he keeps on fucking into him, setting a punishing rhythm. By now, the burn has given way to that feeling of fullness that Sebastian craves so much, and for the first time in months, he feels like he’s whole again, like his missing piece has been slotted back into place and everything is going to be alright. Chris will take care of him, will always have his back – quite literally, in this case.

Nevertheless, Sebastian wouldn’t be Sebastian if he didn’t try to push for more. Chris would expect nothing less from him.

“Harder,” he pants. “C’mon, give it to me harder.” Just like he expected, Chris spanks him again for his impertinence, and despite the fact that his ass is on fire, Seb is elated.

“Please,” he tries, entreating now. “Please, Chris.”

“God, you’re a greedy boy, aren’t you?” Chris growls, bending over him to whisper his next words directly into his ear. “Nothing’s ever enough for a dirty little whore like you.”

Sebastian moans, eyes rolling back into his skull, while Chris buries a hand in his hair and pulls. Automatically, Seb arches up, trying to alleviate the sting, but with Chris’s other hand firmly pushing down on his ass, still, there’s not much he can do. Then, Chris changes the angle of his thrusts just a little bit and suddenly Sebastian is seeing stars, white-hot bursts of pleasure radiating out from his loins through his entire body.

He shouts, and when Chris punches forward and nails Sebastian’s prostate once again, Seb realizes he’s done for. Chris is like a pitbull when he gets like this; when he sets his sights on something, relentlessly pursuing his goal and not giving up until he gets what he wants. And what he wants right now, Sebastian knows, is for Seb to come untouched – just from Chris’s perfect dick in his ass, hitting the spot over and over again until he breaks. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s fucking special. Chris adores it, loves that he can make his baby boy come just by dicking him down so good. It’s a primal thing, Sebastian’s pretty sure.

Still, it’s intense, and when the pleasure that swells up inside him starts getting almost too much to bear, keeping him on the brink without the easy release brought about by a hand or a mouth, Sebastian needs to come so badly that he tries to snake a hand between his stomach and the table top, inching towards his own dick.

He should’ve known that Chris was never going to let him.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” Chris says in a rough voice, yanking Seb’s hand back up and grabbing his other one as well for good measure, keeping Sebastian’s wrists locked behind his back in one large hand of his own. The scratch of the fabric of Chris’s jeans against Seb’s bare ass, sore from the spanking he received, stings every time Chris thrusts into him – but really, the pain just serves to make the pleasure that much more intense, balancing him on the knife’s edge of just enough and too much.

Chris is really laying into him now, using all of that incredible, weight-honed core strength of his to fuck Sebastian the way he craves to be fucked, and Sebastian starts to whimper, needing to come so badly he can taste it in his mouth. He just needs that little bit more…

As if he can read his mind, Chris pushes a hand up Seb’s spine, skating over the back of his neck before sliding it around his throat, and, oh fuck.

Slowly, deliberately, Chris’s fingers tighten, pressing down lightly on his windpipe, and Sebastian keens. “More,” he rasps, and Chris obliges, pressing down harder, virtually cutting off Seb’s air supply while his thumb digs into his pulse point.

With a choked-off cry, Sebastian goes tense all over, mind whiting out from the combination of struggling for air and Chris slamming into his prostate relentlessly, and then he’s coming, coming so hard the world disappears around him, knowing nothing but the mind-blowing pleasure that consumes him, wave after wave of it as Chris fucks him through his orgasm, in pursuit of his own. It doesn’t take long, with Seb clenching around his dick like a vice, until Chris is groaning, burying himself inside Sebastian one last time before stilling, filling him up with his release.

Even with his stamina, it takes Chris a little while to recover. In the silence that follows their climax, Sebastian can feel him pressed against his back, heart racing and breathing hard. Seb doesn’t mind – on the contrary. He can’t think of anywhere he’d rather be than draped over Chris’s kitchen table, with Chris inside and on top of him, his solid weight a comforting presence, assuring him that he’s really back, really here to stay – at least for a little while.

Chris stirs eventually, brings up a hand and buries it in Seb's hair again. Tugging lightly, he pulls his head around so he can kiss him over his shoulder. It's an inelegant angle, meaning they mostly end up licking into each other’s mouths without finesse, and Chris’s hair falls into his eyes, tickling the bridge of his nose. Sebastian’s not complaining though; he’s just so fucking glad to taste Chris again. He moans in relief as Chris scrapes his fingers gently over his scalp, massaging out the tenderness caused by the earlier hair pulling.

Chris finally pulls back, quickly reaching for a cloth on the side of the counter to wipe Sebastian clean. Once he’s helped Sebastian up, he spins him around in his arms, gazing down at him. There’s pure adoration on his features, and Seb lifts up a hand to Chris’s forehead to brush aside a strand of his hair, longer now than his own. It’s a strange sensation, but he kind of likes it.

“Welcome home, honey," Seb murmurs, still sounding a little dazed. They look at each other for a few moments – until Chris suddenly lets out a half-snort. There’s a beat of silence, and then Sebastian’s eyes widen, right before he dissolves into giggles. Within seconds, they’re both laughing so hard they collapse, half naked and filthy, on the kitchen floor together, all tangled up in each other. It’s ridiculous, and it’s the happiest, freest Sebastian can remember feeling in a long while.

When they’ve finally calmed down a bit, Chris sits up, resting his back against a table leg, with Sebastian curled up between his thighs. Seb leans into his wide, sturdy chest, and Chris wraps his arms around him, burying his nose in Seb’s hair, breathing in deeply.

“I missed you too, baby,” he says, belatedly, his voice warm and soft and loving now that they’ve gotten their basest instincts somewhat under control.

Seb smiles against Chris’s collarbone. “I kind of figured that.”

“Damn. What gave me away?” Chris asks, straight-faced, and Sebastian dissolve into giggles once more.

Man, it’s good to be home.

#my fic #evanstan #chris evans x sebastian stan #smut #established relationship #red sea diving resort #chris evans #sebastian stan #ao3

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 6 years ago

Note

Animorphs in Zombie Apocalypse AU?

• It’s been seven years since the end of the war. Three years since the Animorphs — all six of them — stumbled off of the Rachel on its return, over two dozen ex-yeerk-hosts in tow. It’s beginning to feel like this peace might last.

• Rachel’s in the middle of a business lunch when the call comes in. Her line of fragrances (“Animal Essence by Rachel Berenson: Let out your wild side”) has performed pretty well this quarter. But there are always marketing campaigns to manage and deals to sign, which is why she and her PR manager Linda are in a trendy Brooklyn café when the phone in her purse buzzes.

Jake tries to sound calm, as he tells her that they’re being called in. Because it’s Jake, he almost succeeds. No details yet, he says, just a behavior-altering pathogen. Possibly extraterrestrial origin.

Around her, the room has gone cold and strange and far away. How silly the delicate spread of quinoa and avocado on her plate appears now, how pointless the fan of business cards in her hand and manicure on her nails.

“My cousin,” she says, and then “family emergency,” and then “I have to go.”

• Marco’s head lifts when the din of the crowd goes quiet ahead of him, scanning automatically for trouble. Jordan Berenson is cutting through the crowd on the dance floor. She’s utterly out of place in her full business suit amidst the night club’s flash and camp, her straight posture bizarre among the half-naked slouch of bodies that surrounds her.

“Hey there, G-woman!” Marco calls over the music.

“She’s a fed?” his security guard Rena asks sharply, glancing at the line of cocaine clearly visible on the nearest end table.

Marco waves Rena away. “She’s family.”

He sees Jordan absorb the label with no small amount of surprise. He’s not sure what the fuck else they’d count as: they’re not friends, but that doesn’t change the fact that they fought and cooked and lived and nearly died together during the war.

“I’m here on behalf of the NSA-CDC joint commission,” Jordan says, trying a small smile.

“And what’s Uncle Sam want with little old me?” Even as Marco says it, he knows: he really really does not want to hear what Jordan is about to say.

• Cassie rolls to her feet when the Army transport jeep approaches, heart already beating faster. The hork-bajir preserve doesn’t get many human visitors, and the official ones never bring good news. She glances over at Tobias – who was, like her, listening to Toby tell a surprisingly entertaining version of their war story to a group of youngsters – and sees him tense, feathers flaring.

Please, she thinks, don’t let it be the start of another “human” rights battle. Which just goes to show that it’s been a while since the war, long enough that she thinks another spat over land grants is the worst thing that can happen to this community.

• «Prince Aximili.» The aristh looks nervous enough to be about ready to trip over his own hooves. «Sir, there’s a message for you. It’s from Earth.»

Ax nods automatically, even knowing that the gesture won’t mean anything to his fellow andalites. «Who on Earth?»

The aristh shuffles his back hooves, tail tucked close to his body. «Just… Earth. A human called the President of the United States. She says she’s calling on behalf of the entire planet.»

A war-prince must always project calm and confidence, to reassure all warriors and civilians who might be watching. Ax manages, only just barely, to remain still and inhale slowly. To keep his voice level when he says, «Thank you. I’ll take the call in my private quarters.»

• There are three of them in the cramped observation room. Then four, then five, and finally six. A unit, huddled together and barefoot and unable to speak. They’re not the only ones here for the meeting, of course. Other people await them in the next room: the Joint Chiefs, the U.N. representatives. Collette and Timmy. Peter. Tom, Jordan, Walter and Michelle. The president.

On the other side of the glass, Eva beats her hands against the wall. A guttural moan gargles in the back of her throat. She’s walking forward, not seeming to realize that she encounters a wall again and again.

The flesh has already rotted off her extremities, leaving bone and putrescent muscle exposed underneath the peeling curls of skin.

“We’ll find a cure,” Cassie says. Even as she tries to breathe through a nightmare come to life, a flashback made present. “We’ll find a way—”

“My mom is dead.” Marco’s voice is as steady as the hands of a man sawing off his own leg. “No heartbeat. No brain activity. No respiration, digestion, circulation.”

Tobias looks back into the room, then at Marco. «But…»

“She’s an organ donor.” Marco’s eyes are dry, but he sniffs hard to keep them that way. “Wanted her body used for science, for humanity, when she couldn’t use it anymore. She’s dead. We’re respecting her wishes.”

Eva’s mouth gnashes at the air, teeth and jawbone exposed where her lips have already decayed. Her fingertips leave streaks of gore on the plexiglas.

“We know it spreads by fluids,” Jake recites dully. “That even a few drops can infect an entire water system. We know that it kills the hosts within hours of infection, and then uses their bodies to try and reproduce itself. We know it can be killed by fire, and by beheading the host, but so far that’s all we know.”

«How many humans have suffered its effects so far?» Ax asks.

“We don’t know,” Jake says. “Lowest estimate’s a few thousand.”

“And the highest?” Cassie asks.

He turns to look at her. The answer’s there on his face, in the way he can’t seem to stop himself from reaching out to take her hand.

• “How bad is it?” Ronnie asks Cassie that night.

She pulls him into her arms, desperate to sink into warmth and soft muscle and still-living flesh. “Remember last time humanity got attacked by an alien pathogen?” she asks. “Remember how that ended for the invading parasites?”

He has to know that she’s dodging the question. But then he wasn’t in the room when the graph tracing the U.S. watersheds spread slowly from blue to red, the entire continent glowing sickly crimson within weeks. The heading at the top said Conservative Estimate. They never saw the non-conservative one.

• Please remain calm, the president’s broadcast says, and stay inside your homes. Boil any water before drinking, she adds, even though they don’t think that that will do any good. Better to give people something to do, some way to feel like there’s still hope.

• Rachel goes up against entire hordes. She becomes elephant, alligator, grizzly and cheetah. She perfects the necessary motions to grab and rip, to sever the spinal column in one bite or one slash. She wades through firestorms as a salamander or rhinoceros, swoops in on kafit wings or surges upward on lerdethak tentacles to rip bodies to bits. Sometimes the others join her. They get infected a dozen, a hundred times, and each time they morph and survive.

• Which is where Tobias’s suggestion comes from.

«I say we arm the populace,» he says.

It’s the six of them, sitting around Marco’s kitchen table — one of his kitchen tables in one of his houses — after yet another bout of endless killing and very little progress.

“Meaning what?” Jake says.

“The civilian death toll’s already high enough, if you ask me,” Marco says. “Seeing as how everyone and their aunt is out there with hunting rifles and modified dracon beams blowing their neighbors away.”

Cassie winces. He’s not wrong. The riots have cost more lives than the plague, according to the latest estimates.

«We’re safe,» Tobias points out. «Or we can fix ourselves. Because we’re morphers. We have the cube… why not use it as widely as possible, on as many people as we can find?»

“That’d be illegal,” Jake says.

Rachel lets out a dull laugh. Cassie can see her point. They’re way past that by now.

“And when the vampires start morphing too?” Rachel asks. “What then?”

“Don’t call them that,” Marco snaps. “They’re dead bodies with parasites inside, not…” He laughs, humorless. “Vampires, revenants, the undead, that’s all stuff you play for pretend on some television show. It’s makeup and bad writing.”

“Yeah,” Rachel says, “just like aliens. Just like shapeshifters.”

«I sincerely doubt that the infected would have the necessary mental abilities to sustain focused attention upon achieving an animal shape,» Ax says. «Tobias’s proposal would indeed break several laws set by at least half a dozen species… and it may be the only way to save this planet.»

“How do we make sure the civilians are using the morph tech responsibly?” Jake asks. Which shows that he’s already thinking about it. Already halfway there.

• They make an announcement on the only remaining television channel. They send out a broadcast on every frequency that emergency radios will pick up. They go even more old-school, and pass out fliers. Anyone who wants the morphing can come. Can wait in line, sometimes for hours, to press their fingers against the box in Marco’s hand. Acquiring DNA is their own problem. So is the two-hour limit, for all of the warnings that Cassie repeats ad infinitum to the waiting crowds and the folks at home.

It’s inevitable, really, when the panic breaks out one day outside the elementary school where they’re recruiting. No one can say for sure if the woman was actually infected, or if the man next to her just thought she was.

Eight people are trampled to death in the ensuing crush. Nearly a hundred more are injured, too many to treat in a town that has already run short on dozens of essentials that must be shipped in from other parts of the country. No one can say how many are infected, just that the Animorphs spend nearly a week clearing the undead out of the area around the elementary school before it’s finally safe to use again.

• The reports coming out of the densely-populated East Coast are shocking. There was a battle between human and undead outside Yonkers, and now Yonkers is overrun. All groundwater from the Chesapeake Bay watershed is now considered infected, take precautionary measures. Florida has closed its borders, and is gunning down anyone who gets too close. A riot over a shipment of bottled water took out eighteen square blocks in downtown Philadelphia, and took out the entire shipment of water as well. The wealthiest residents of Boston and Manhattan are moving off-planet as fast as craft will take them, leaving the rest of the planet to die.

And then one day the reports… stop.

No CNN, no NPR, no MSNBC. No U.S., not really, not anymore.

• “I’m going to go lie down,” Jake’s father says, after a long day in the lab. And, “It’s just a headache, I’m sure.”

It’s the last thing he ever says. Eight hours later, Tom becomes the one to shoot him in the head.

• When Rachel picks up the phone, Jordan says, “You know you’re my hero, right?”

Rachel rushes out of the house, phone up to her ear, desperate for a better signal. “How… you…” She draws a sharp breath. “It’s been three months!” Not just three months since she heard from her sister. Three months since anyone that she knows of has succeeded in making a long-distance call.

“Sat phone,” Jordan says. “Government-issue. We’ve all been taking turns using it, in here.”

“Holy shit.” Rachel pulls the gun off of her belt and, almost unthinkingly, puts a bullet between the eyes of the child who has been shuffling toward her on corpse-stiff limbs. “How are you? How’s DC?”

“Not great, actually. INSCOM’s got me and a bunch of other essential personnel in a bunker. Or they did, anyway.” Jordan clears her throat. “The perimeter’s been breached, and there are about twenty of us holed up in this room. Maybe four—” Her voice wavers, steadies. “Four, five hundred hostiles outside, judging from the security cameras.”

“I’m—” Rachel is running down the street, cataloguing morphs. “I’m coming for you, just hang on.”

“Rachel.” Jordan’s voice is terribly sad. She’s three thousand miles away. “Just listen, okay?”

Rachel sits on the ground. Curls into herself. Fetal position, a ball of helpless rage.

“We’re each taking one phone call, and it just seemed really important to me.” Jordan takes a breath. “To tell you that I love you. That you’ve always been my hero. Since… forever, really. And that everything I am, everything I’ve done, is because of you. So…”

There’s a noise in the background of the call. One Rachel doesn’t want to identify.

“Tell Mom and Sarah I love them, yeah?” Jordan says.

Their mom’s been dead two weeks. Sarah is MIA. “I will,” Rachel says. “I promise. Jordan—”

“Time’s up, gotta go.” There’s a click, and the line goes dead.

• Ax lies so smoothly, so thoroughly, that he doesn’t know if he even remembers how to tell the truth. The fight against the pathogen is going well, he tells the Andalite Navy. Humanity is doing well. There’s no need for alarm. No need for drastic action. Yes, he would like to stay here indefinitely, but only to do what he can to assist the clean-up efforts.

• They morph every six hours, setting alarms to make sure that it happens. There is no uninfected water, not anymore, which means they’re constantly exposed. It can’t last forever. One of these days, Tobias knows, one of them is going to go in their sleep. And there’s nothing to be done to fend it off indefinitely.

• The being who appears in Marco’s living room is human and raptor and andalite and most definitely none of the above. (Ketran, Rachel will say later, and then silently shake her head when they ask her what the word means.) They all still recognize the Ellimist when they see him.

“I came to you once with an offer,” the Ellimist says. “Your lives, and your families’, in exchange for relocation to a different planet. I can bring your families back. Save them, and you. A way to preserve the human species, a final desperate measure.”

“And all of a sudden it’s back on the table?” Marco demands.

The Ellimist nods, or maybe he’s just bowing his head in grief.

They look around at each other, needing no words to communicate their thoughts.

They were so young, the last time they had this offer, Rachel thinks now. She was just a little girl, too caught up in worrying about being in love with a nothlit and disappointing her father to understand what was really at stake. She missed it entirely, the reason Jake and Marco were the ones to hesitate and grieve. They’d both lost loved ones to the yeerks already. They’d known what was at stake, the way that the little girl she’d been at the time could not have known.

Now she understands. Now, I can bring your families back isn’t abstract or principled. It’s real down to her gut, down to her pores. Now she understands, as do they all, just how much war can take. They’re adults. This time, their eyes are open. Their decision is informed.

This time, Jake doesn’t hesitate when he speaks for them all. “Go fuck yourself,” he says. “It’s our planet, and we’ll fight for it to the very last man.”

#animorphs #animorphs au #au #body horror #gore #character death #long post #zombie au #canon compliant

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egoludes · 6 years ago

Text

spark / s.m.

note: to be honest with y’all, this is just some random content inspired by my love for shawn’s grammy suits. the spark thing is a) totally random and b) giving me strong soulmate vibes, but i don't explore that too much here - maybe in sequels? but, for now, here’s some dirty post-grammys fun and a little softness too! hope you enjoy!

warnings: nsfw/smut. word count: 4.3k

After months of anticipation (and a few good hours' worth of panic), it's finally here — the Grammys. Even in the middle of all the chaos, you haven’t completely registered that this is happening; that you’re walking a red carpet that was the stuff of dreams just a year ago, and that it’s your name they’re screaming as you do. It'd be an understatement to say you're nervous, but at the center of those nerves is an equal amount of excitement, giddiness even. And it has you moving down the carpet in a daze, smiling so big your jaw hurts.

It's in the middle of all this that you see him; a head taller than most others in the crowd, he’s not hard to spot in a royal blue suit and curls falling into his face. A man who requires no introduction, but it’ll happen all the same, as his manager guides him towards you and yours and he takes the first step to close the distance with a smile.

“Hey — ‘m Shawn. It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

You can’t say you don’t share the sentiment ---- it’s a wonder it’s taken this long when you have such close professional circles. But, that doesn't matter so much as you smile up at him, fingers reaching to tuck a rebellious lock of hair behind your ear. “Y/N — it’s great to meet you, too! Been a long time coming, according to them.” You gesture to your managers who’ve already started chattering like schoolgirls.

He responds with a chuckle, eyes darting towards the two before returning to the photographers watching you. They’re in an absolute frenzy seeing you interact for the first time, and the sight of it has Shawn arching an eyebrow in amusement. A jab of his thumb draws your attention to them. “Think we should give them what they want too?”

You re-focus with a squint, the nonstop flashes a bit overwhelming. And though you can already hear the rumors like sneers in the back of your head, your response is all playful in return, mischief taking your features in a grin. “Don’t see why not!"

That’s all Shawn needs to hear before he’s shifting to pose with you, falling into the motions of every other photo he's taken that night: a hand to the shoulder, head tilted in. But, with the open back of your floor-length gown, his calloused fingers meet exposed skin ---- and then, it happens.

You can only describe it as a spark: a brief, but sharp pulse of electricity that starts in your shoulder and slithers deliciously along the length of your spine. And in your shock, you don’t think to hide your reaction, lips parting in an audible gasp that you try to muffle in a cough. It falls flat, though, obviously forced, and it takes everything you have not to glance at him — not that you need to when you can feel how hard he’s staring.

Had he felt that too? Or is he judging your incredibly weird reaction to his closeness?

Something tells you it's likely the latter.

Either way, you bear it for a few pictures, eyes darting in the direction of whichever photographer calls your name loud enough before you step back with a ‘Thanks’ muttered into your chest. He starts to say something, hand half-stretched towards you, but your urge to save face is volumes louder and you give a sheepish wave before darting to the next stretch of carpet.

You can still feel him watching you as you go.

////

The ceremony is a blur in the best sense of the word. You don’t win the award you’re nominated for, but somehow, even the loss is colored rose by the happiness of being there. By the end of the night, though, you’re more than ready to leave it behind, growing excited for another part of the festivities: the after-parties.

You’re still getting used to the madness that is Los Angeles after dark, but this is one night out you won’t miss. So, with your team and closest friends on hand, you leave the Staples Center like you’re on a mission. The first place you end up boasts enough faces you recognize and music you enjoy that you’re eager when you venture past the crowded entryway. And when he finds you for the second time that night, it’s with a glass in your hand and hips swaying easily to the music.

“Hey."

You’ve only heard that voice in person once now, but the bass in it feels more familiar than anything else in the room. And you're already a bit bashful, cheeks heating up as you turn around to face the source. “Hey, Shawn."

Admittedly, he’s surprised you aren’t running, half-convinced you’d give the same cold shoulder from earlier. But, when it seems you’re staying put, he smiles, leaning in to make sure you can hear each other over the noise. “You were really amazing up there tonight,” the compliment comes with a soft smile, though there’s something far less innocent in his eyes, “couldn’t look away."

He makes you nervous — about as nervous as you’d been at the start of the night — but that doesn’t stop you from smiling at his kindness, heart fluttering with every word. “Aw, thank you — it was honestly the greatest thing I’ve ever done. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so good on a stage.” You’re grinning then, watching him almost playfully. “But, I guess I don’t have to tell you that, huh? You were just as amazing."

He’s about to respond, somewhere between pleased and coy, when someone barrels into you from behind. Between the alcohol in your system and the sky-high heels, it’s a guaranteed recipe for disaster and you’re tipping forward before you can even think about catching yourself.

Wide eyes squeeze shut as you brace for a face-first collision with the ground, but, it never comes. Instead, your body meets something much softer, albeit just as sturdy. And when a hand comes up to steady you, once again finding the bare skin of your back, you know exactly what it is by the jolt that travels through you — Shawn.

Maybe it’s the lowered inhibitions from the drinking, or a boldness that you’ll blame on the night’s energy; but you let out a soft whimper without thinking about it, a sound that makes him suck in a breath. On the red carpet, it had been easy to dismiss your gasp as a fluke, something he was reading too much into. And as much as he was intrigued by you and the way you left his fingertips buzzing, he’d relegated it to the back of his mind in favor of everything else happening that night. But, this time, there's no denying it.

There's no way around the tension between you when you're making sounds like that and, against his better judgment, he doesn't let you go, even as you find your footing. The proximity stirs a want in him that nearly makes him balk, and though that worry has a tendency to get the best of him, something about you pushes him forward. His fingers tighten their hold. “You feel it too, don’t you?"

Surprise has you tensing as you give him a curious glance, searching his face to gauge how serious he is. But when he watches you back, clearly anticipant, you realize that you’d heard him loud and very clear, and you nod with your stomach turning.

Your response relieves and confuses him all at once — it’s an odd thing to come to terms with, he thinks — and though he doesn’t make a move to separate you, he’s glancing away with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. The expression is pensive ; as though he’s trying to work out where he should go from here.

But, when you get jostled by yet another person forcing their way through the crowd — and pushed closer as a result — his mind is all made up and the hand around your waist tugs you forward while he takes a half-step back. He dips to speak against your hair.

“Come with me?"

You can’t imagine doing anything else.

////

When you come to a stop, Shawn’s hand resting on the small of your back, you’re in a side room that’s nearly empty save for a couple people busied by their phones on the other end. For a moment, you both hesitate about stopping in here — but between the party outside and nonstop stream of people leaving every other room, it’s the best choice you have. Plus, it's dim enough that the others will have no idea who you are without getting uncomfortably close. So, you take advantage of it, settling into a corner of your own with Shawn set squarely between you and them.

Without the music or company to distract you, though, things grow quiet, awkward fast and you find yourself toying idly with the necklace that’s tucked between your breasts. Subconsciously, Shawn reaches up to do the same with his own before rubbing at the back of his neck — maybe this was a little impulsive.

Quickly, the silence becomes too much to bare, and you’re about to suggest going back when he speaks up first. “Listen, I don’t really do this, so, I’m sorry for being so fucking weird about it, but…” He pauses then, eyes narrowing to gauge your reaction before landing, unceremoniously, on your lips. “… I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the red carpet.”

There’s a second of stillness before he clarifies. “Well, kissing you, actually."

If this were any other time, or any other person, you might have laughed. You might have pushed them away, cursed them out, maybe run away altogether ; and you would not be thinking about kissing them too.

But, right now, with Shawn Mendes watching you with eyes that are equal parts dark and hopeful, that’s the only thing you’re thinking about. The only thing you’ve thought about for most of the night, constant beneath the award show buzz. And hearing him confirm that he’s been as consumed by you as you've been by him only makes the urge worse ; you press closer without thinking. “You haven’t, huh?” You tip your head thoughtfully then, as though his admission requires any inspection. But it doesn’t take long for something more sensual to settle in, your cheeks warm again from anticipation. “Maybe we should do something about that?"

He catches on quickly, a hand reaching to cup your cheek before thumbing a path over your jaw to your chin. “Maybe we should...” The words trail off into a breath that you feel fan over your cheek and you turn into him instinctively from the closeness. There’s a beat of weighted silence — a pause that finds you both searching for second thoughts in each other’s faces before you lean in and let everything else melt away.

You hadn’t come into this with any expectations, but he still manages to blow them all out of the water. His mouth fits against yours easily, naturally and though you want to be mindful of the people in the other corner of the room, you can’t be bothered. Not when he’s so close, so warm and you’re drowning in it, hands finding a spot on his back when you deepen the kiss.

“God, you taste so good.” He lets out in a rumble against your mouth, and you offer him a sigh in response. You could say the same for him, what with the tang of some top-shelf liquor on his tongue ; but the thought of doing anything but this right now flickers out before it even has a chance. You decide, instead, on getting closer, on slipping a hand past his unbuttoned collar to feel his skin as you take his bottom lip between your teeth.

And there it is again — that spark. You’d be convinced it was entirely your imagination if he didn’t react as viscerally as you did — meeting your surprised moan with a grunt while his hands fall from your hips to the swell of your ass. They simply settle at first, letting you both grow accustomed to the way the moment’s progressing ; but when you hum in approval and angle your hips forward into his, Shawn can’t help but chance a little squeeze, purring in delight at the weight of your body in his hands.

“Can we.. do you want to go..?” The question comes out strained and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think him on the verge of begging already. Your eyes open to take him in ---- you nearly coo at the flush in his cheeks. “My hotel’s not far…” He punctuates the words with kisses to your throat, each one more intent than the last. “…and we can probably make it out of here without anyone noticing."

He really doesn’t have to do much to convince you, but you let his question dangle for a moment, focusing, instead, on the way his kisses move all over your skin. Then, when the quiet goes on just a little too long and you can feel him start to tense with worry, you reach fingers into his curls, turning your head to mouth over his ear.

“I thought you’d never ask."

////

It takes thirty minutes to make it from the party to Shawn’s hotel, most of which you spend making out in the back seat with hungry hands. And, by the time the car comes to a rolling stop, your dress is pressed halfway up your thighs and his shirt’s a smidgen more unbuttoned, chest sporting a few red marks.

The sight of each other has you both giggling as you shuffle through the lobby, very visibly well-kissed. But, you try not to dwell on it too much. Not when he gets his hands on you the moment you’re behind the elevator’s closed doors, and you’re sighing from his lips re-gaining its spot on your skin. His room is high enough that he dares to go a little further than your throat this time, kisses trailing down past the slit on the front of your dress to flirt between your breasts.

The contact makes you shiver and him smirk; and when he has to pulls away as you near his floor, you huff — you’ve never been one for waiting, especially when you’re so close to getting what you want. Shawn picks up on it easily, leaning in to nose at your cheek with an endeared grin. “Be patient, hon…com’on.”

As if on cue, the elevator opens with a ding and he threads his fingers between yours to guide you into the hallway. You have to take double steps to keep up with his longer strides, but that only makes this sexier somehow. You use the walk to drink him in, trace the way that black shirt fits the broadness of his shoulders and how good his thighs look in suit pants even from behind. And when you come to a stop in front of his hotel room door, you can’t help but be close, moving until your front is pressed into his back and you can slip your hand back underneath his shirt.

It draws the same reaction from you both the second time around, and he gets the door open as fast as he can to tug you inside with him. As intoxicating as your palm feels, Shawn wants more, needs more and guides your hand out from under his shirt and uses it to spin you out in front of him. It’s an unexpectedly soft gesture, one that has you tossing your head back in laughter as you twirl, and the sound makes him melt. He isn’t any less committed to where this is going tonight, but he knows he’d probably kill to hear that sound a little more.

As many times as you’ll let him, really.

When you come to a stop, you’re half-dizzy, half-dazed and the look on your face makes you downright kissable. So, that’s exactly what he does — hooking hands underneath your thighs to tug you up as he dips his head to meet your mouth. A hum presses through you both at the contact and you’re wrapping arms and legs around him to flatten yourself against his body.

Behind closed doors, there are no inhibitions; no concerns about paparazzi or overly attentive fans. It’s just you and Shawn, shedding clothes with each blind step towards the bedroom until he’s left in unbuttoned slacks and you, your underwear.

He can’t get enough of you like this, and even before he’s lowered you to the mattress, he’s exploring, hands sliding up your back and down your sides until they can settle, for the millionth time, on your legs. His body vibrates with the anticipation of having them wrapped around him, but he pushes the thought aside to focus on what he wants far more right now, seeing you spread out before him.

“I’ve been wondering...” his fingers trail over your thigh, not stopping until the pads meet you through your underwear. They’re already soaked through and he has to fight back a moan as he touches over the fabric. “If you taste as good here too…” He admits this to excite you, but the catch in his breath as he says it makes it obvious that he’s as affected by the thought as you are. “..Can I?"

Your throat’s too dry for you to speak, so you’re nodding with a soft breath and a bite at your lip to give him permission. But, that isn’t enough for him, not even close; and though he’s already found a way between your legs, working your panties off with kisses to your thigh, he won’t give you what you want until he hears you. “Nuh-uh… say it.” As soft as his voice is, you can still work out a teasing lilt, a tone that makes you shudder when you feel his nose against your hip. Your immediate instinct is to tease right back ; but after hours of wanting him, you just can’t hold out much longer.

"Please."

It's all he needs to hear before he's moving forward, licking one broad stripe between your folds before letting his tongue curl around your clit. He flicks at the nub a few times to watch you shake before wrapping his mouth around it in a suckle. Your head tips back into the already messy sheets and you part your lips in a whimper, too fucked to make a real sound.

And as delightful as that reaction is, Shawn’s greedy, impressively so after so little time. All he wants is to push you further, make you unravel, and he's reaching to cup one of your breasts, thumbing the nipple until it pebbles before tweaking it between two fingers. The pressure makes you jolt and your hips follow suit, drawing a long groan from the man between your legs. “Fuck,” Shawn gasps out, chest tight from how badly he wants you. “What’re you doin’ to me?"

The question is nothing short of rhetorical because there’s no way he doesn’t know the answer.

Everything.

You’re doing everything to him; too much and not enough at the same time as every part of you floods his senses. And while he can’t make any sense of how you’ve gone from a stranger to this so fast, it feels right — destined, almost — and he lets himself fall into it headlong. His head tips so he can press his tongue into you for a moment before he replaces it with a finger, and then two, purring at how you constrict to meet him.

Feeling him stretch you almost brings you to your breaking point as you mess up his curls with eager tugs and gasp out for him like a prayer. This feels good, so good — but it’s not nearly enough, and you’re scrambling for his hands to tell him so. A few good pulls has him popping up, face flushed and eyes lidded, and when his eyes settle on you, you can only manage a single word: “Inside."

The blanks are easy to fill in and he’s moving over you so fast, it makes you dizzy for a second time. Him kissing you is steadying, though, and keeps you occupied as he fumbles for a condom from his bedside table — thank god he’d followed that instinct — and gets it on in as fluid a motion as he can manage. Then, he lines himself up, the head of his cock nudging against you teasingly enough that you whine. The sound draws a chuckle - he doesn’t plan to leave you wanting long.

Pressing into you is slow, deliberate; and as he disappears inside of you, the world goes dark. Then, all at once, it’s hot-white, blinding, and you’re arching off the bed with a cry that makes him tremble. The sparks are back and all over, ten times as strong when you’re naked and pressed together at every point. And though he told himself he’d take it slow, do this right, he can’t think straight when you’re so tight around him. His head falls forward as his lips part in an oh and he’s nuzzling against your throat as he snaps his hips forward to bottom out.

Once he's settled, he braces himself over you with a drawn out breath, hooded eyes trailing over you in what could only be awe. He wants to move, badly, but as much as his hips ache from the urge, he stays put ; he’s already gotten away with pressing in so fast. This time, he leaves the ball in your court, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he shifts against you. “You gotta tell me, hm?” There’s that desperation again, raw in his already-gravelly voice, and that alone is more than you can take. “Tell me I can move."

He doesn’t have to ask you twice — frankly, he could have gotten away without asking you at all — as you reach to find his hips and tug them forward with a pointed hiss. “Move, Shawn,” you gasp out, tightening your grip on him, “fucking move."

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes at that and one of his hands reach down for your thigh, hiking your leg up at his waist as he takes his first full thrust. The impact makes your eyes flutter closed and he’s tsking fast, his lips finding purchase on your jawline. “Let me see you, Y/N… I wanna see you."

He asks so sweetly, how can you tell him no? Your eyes re-open and he purrs, rewarding you with another, more pointed thrust. Your hands shoot for his shoulders, nails digging into the skin, and the pain seems to spur him on, a shudder passing through him as he finds a quick and needy rhythm.

He already knows he won’t last long with all the sensations washing over him. So, his focus, with each snap of his hips, is you. He ducks his head to find your nipple with his mouth, nipping at it before taking it all the way in. And when your body goes pliant from the contact, he reaches down to rub at your clit with his fingers, already panting as he goes.

“Oh, god —“ you echo his desperation from earlier, legs opening a bit more to give him room as you feel a familiar intensity pool in your tummy. It’s the fastest you’ve ever gotten close to climax, but like him, you know that there’s something special about this. Your bodies are in hyperdrive, uber-sensitive to everything that’s happening. And as much as you might want this to last, you know it doesn’t need to. It’s perfect like this, just as it is.

Your hips move to meet his with every motion, the nails in his shoulder shifting to rake over his scalp. And it’s almost like unleashing a beast, the way his body tenses, rhythm hiccups, and mouth busies against you. He’s too gone to make much sense now, but you can eck meaning out of his increasingly shorter breaths.

Close.

You turn into him with a murmured “Me too,” before your legs tighten to pull him in deeper and you tip your head to search for his lips. The kiss that follows is sloppy, and only grows sloppier as you both hit your peaks. Your bodies arch and shake, minds emptying of anything that isn’t the other, and though he’s caught up in the pleasure of spilling inside of you, Shawn has enough awareness to search out your hand, intertwining your fingers.

And when you both emerge from your orgasms, panting and dazed, that’s exactly how you stay, limbs and fingers tangled up in a neat puzzle. He searches your face for any sign of displeasure, or worse, regret — but, to his relief, he doesn’t get it. Instead, you offer him the tender gaze of a lover he’s known for much longer and the sight of it makes his heart sing.

He pulls your hand to his mouth to pepper kisses over your knuckles ; and when your expression grows shyer ( affection’s never been your strong suit ), he shakes his head, wet curls flopping against his forehead. “Don’t hide from me,” he murmurs, moving to rub his nose over yours with his lips stretching into a smile. "You don’t have to."

And somehow you know he’s absolutely right.

#shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #wow ok i haven't written anything this long in a v long time #i'm proud bc i told myself i would get this out within a week of the grammys with my work schedule this week #and it's a day early! woo!

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