Since moving out of my toxic mothers home, I haven't had a little space of my own persay. What I mean is, I couldn't take a lot of my things with me. My shelves, my bed, my coffee table that my grandma gave me... all I have is what I could take with me in such a short time period.
I set out to find a small entertainment center to fit into a corner of the living room of my current living environment. I managed to find the perfect one for $10 at GoodWill! It fits perfectly and my tv and consoles fit just right.
I know it doesn't mean much to some people but just to have a piece of furniture that's mine and being able to use my own tv and placing my stuff inside its shelves makes me feel so happy. It's definitely been a boost of serotonin. It's so nice to have something I can call mine in the apartment. Something that says me. I love my little gaming corner I've made for myself. It allows me to do things separately while still existing in the same place as my fiance and their sister.
I spent years being cooped up in my bedroom. Unable to be in the living room with other people in a safe space. (Although sometimes I'll admit there have been some... issues.) I hope my housemates can understand why I needed this space of my own. It makes me feel happy and more sense of belonging in a way. 99% of what's in this apartment is theirs. It feels good to, again, have something of mine to share the same space. I feel less like an invader now..
Part 2 of the Chris/OFC One-Shot Something of Mine. Ooops.
By: @lowkeysebastianstan
Pairing: Chris (Destroyer)/Unnamed OFC
Word Count: 4581
Rating: Explicit 18+
Warnings: Smut, Sex, Graphic Depiction Of The Sex™, Hand Job, Blow Job, Maybe A Little Rough Sex?, Voyeurism, Unprotected Oral Sex. Oh, and language.
The last few days Chris overload did me no favours.
Edited as per by the lovely @mischief-in-mirkwood
I hadn’t been back for two weeks. I’d been keeping busy with work, but I’d also gone to other places, and I’d not really wanted to examine the reason why. Rationally, I knew there wasn’t any danger—it was a done deal, it wasn’t something that was to be explored or built upon, it was strangers passing in the night, and I was fine with that. That guy wasn’t supposed to be more, and I’d been fine with that, I was fine with that. And yet I couldn’t move on, I was almost afraid to go back. The problem was that I didn’t know what I was afraid of, what scared me more, the thought of seeing him again, or the thought of never seeing him at all. I checked my coat and rolled my neck before I entered the dimly lit bar.
It was fairly busy—two thirds full at least, most all tables were taken, the crowd at the bar rowdy and loud, no stool unoccupied. I scanned the room and saw my friend wave from a table on the far side and set out towards her, hailing a waitress on the way and ordered. Halfway there I stopped in my tracks and turned my head to the innermost corner, a shiver rippling through me, causing my legs to wobble. Fuck. Thank god.
He was sitting alone in a booth, nursing a bottled beer, his eyes glinting darkly. His stance was superficially relaxed, he was sagging in his seat, but he was tense and alert, and it looked like he’d been sitting there for hours. I met his gaze, the heat of it radiating straight down, the memory of him in me flashing in my head, and I knew he’d been waiting. Not how long, but I knew he’d been waiting, watching, searching. For me. He tipped his bottle towards me, drank deep, rose in a completely fluid, almost catlike motion and came towards me, his mouth curling enough to be benign but his jaw set enough to be almost intimidating. He halted in front of me without once averting his eyes. I stared back, unable to process fully, my pulse and breathing quickening, my brain wreaking havoc by painting vivid images in my head, my body reacting in not at all subtle ways.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” My voice carried better than I thought it would, but the rumble of his drove a spike straight through the little resolve I had left, and I knew, with certainty, why I had avoided coming here. He held out his hand, and I took it without thinking, there wasn’t a question really.
“Dance with me.” He lead me to the middle of the floor, stopped and positioned me in front of him, my back to him, and he held me lightly, his cheek resting at my temple. I started swaying with him, feeling him rub against me, the buttons of his denim vest getting caught between us, scraping my back, scruff on his jaw chafing my cheek, his arms flexing around me, the bare skin on mine vibrating from where we touched, and yes—the hard unyielding length of him grinding into my ass. I could feel how slick my thighs were, my core was burning, longing for him, and I fell back and exposed my neck. I wanted him closer, I wanted more, and I didn’t much care where I got it or who could witness.
“Can you feel that?” He spoke hoarsely, his tongue flicking my earlobe, his lips hot and wet, his breath in my hair and ear and down my neck, my jaw falling open as his hands stilled my hips, and he pressed harder, driving the point home. “Can you remember how it made you feel?”
“Yes.” I could hardly speak, but I wanted him to hear in my voice how he affected me. “Yes. I remember.”
“Are you ready for me? Are you wet for me?”
“Yes.” My lungs didn’t work properly, but I carried on, he could hear me just fine. “Oh god yes.”
“Good.” He stopped moving and turned me around. His eyes, blackened by lust, pierced mine, and he kissed me, his cock almost painful against my pelvis and stomach. He tasted of beer and mint, the fact that he’d taken time to have one after he’d seen me spoke of an arrogance I knew he was right to have. Because here I was, seriously considering letting him fuck me right in the middle of the throng on the dancefloor. “You want to sit down? In the dark? Over there?” He indicated the table he’d come from.
“Yes.” My reply was unsteady from the chills running down my spine.
He released me, took my hand and dragged me through the crowd, elbowing people left and right, not even dignifying the angry mutterings with a glance. We reached the spot he'd vacated before, it was barely lit, two old faux leather sofas with a worn table between them and even more secluded by a booth beside it. He gestured for me to sit and pulled some notes out of his pocket and adjusted his jeans, his bulge was clearly visible, and it didn't seem like he cared at all. He took off the vest and threw it on the opposite side.
“Can I get you a drink?”
I craned my neck to see if I could spot the drink I’d ordered on my friend's table, but I figured she’d take it if it was there. “Sure. A G&T?”
He nodded and left for the bar, it was fascinating to see how the crowd seemed to dissolve in front of him, apparently his air of dominance wasn’t exclusively for me. Again I was struck by his gait, even in those heavy boots he was graceful, he looked lethal, someone you’d not want to piss off, and it was the sexiest thing I’d seen in my life. It didn’t hurt that his black tank was tight enough to set off every muscle in his back, or that his jeans made me remember how his ass had looked when I’d seen it last. I was working myself into a frenzy just watching him, and the thought of him coming back made me gasp for air, if left for long I’d start fucking hyperventilating. I squirmed into the seat as he finished up and turned back, and I thought I saw a smirk before he left the bar, my luck would have had him notice me even through the dark. Well, brilliant. It’s not like he doesn’t already know. He stopped and offered the glass and waited until I scooted into the wall before sliding in after me, angled himself towards me, legs spread, ankle hooked under his knee, held up his bottle, and did nothing to hide he knew exactly the state of me. I flinched under his gaze, but I forced myself to meet it steadily, I knew enough to hold my own and clinked my glass to his beer. He extended his arm along the back of the sofa and tugged a few strands of my hair.
“It’s darker than last time.”
Why did the fact that he noticed tug at my heart? Fuck. “Yeah. I tried a different shade.”
“It looks nice.”
“Thank you.”
His hand moved to my bare shoulder, tracing the strap of my dress and bra. I didn’t even try to hide the tremble. He smiled as he drank deeply.
“I’m not looking for something more.” He said it matter of factly as one finger hooked under my bra, and I managed a sip to stall, both to hide the small pang I felt, but mostly to avoid ripping my own clothes off.
“Good. Me neither.” Which wouldn’t have been a lie half an hour ago, but now? My heart sank a little, the pang wasn’t as small as I’d thought, but small enough that I could ignore it for the immediate price, my body took precedence, my heart could take the regret later. He stared at me, a finger tracing my clavicle while he drained his beer, I couldn't get a read on him, but I felt sure he got one on me. He moved up my neck and jaw and worried my lower lip with his thumb. I opened my mouth automatically, sucked it gently, and he bit his lip and shifted in his seat. He sat his bottle on the table and relieved me of my glass before closing the distance a little, still holding my eyes.
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay. Good.” He found the back of my neck, thread his fingers through my hair and leaned in, hesitated a little, licked his lips and swallowed, his eyes black pools in the dark. “Good.” He glanced at my mouth, half open, probably quivering in anticipation, and finally kissed me.
The taste of beer mingled with the taste of gin wasn’t something I’d normally go for, but it was straight up delicious as his tongue met mine, hot and wet, exploring and hesitant at first, then his grip tightened in my hair, and he found my hand and laid it on his crotch, pressing into it, letting me feel the size and girth, and I moaned into him. I lifted myself on one knee, and he grabbed my thigh and steered me on top of him until I straddled him and removed my hand in exchange for my aching throbbing pussy. I fought for air as he clamped his hand on my hip to steady me when he started rotating underneath me, rubbing his cock against my clit while he opened my mouth further, invading me, causing me to thrust down hard, desperate for release, and I broke the kiss, heaving for oxygen, panting furiously.
“Fuck.” He was equally breathless as he untangled his hand from my hair, only pulling out a little, reached down and stroked up under my skirt. He hissed when he made contact with my inner thigh, smearing his palm as he found what was left of the lace of my panties. He chuckled, and I looked down in a haze, unable to connect even the simplest of dots. “Why do you bother?”
“What?” It was a barely discernible huff, all I could concentrate on was his fingers and what they were doing and why the fuck they weren’t doing more of it.
He teased a finger under the edge and grinned at the sharp gasp. “Why do you bother with underwear? It doesn’t seem to do you a whole lot of good.”
“Oh fuck off, I don’t do this with everyone.” I whimpered in response to the second finger joining the first and he laughed again. “I-I-I-I nev—aahhh.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
I vaguely registered something in his voice, a tinge of melancholy perhaps—or longing maybe—but the thought vanished as soon as his other hand released me, and I lifted myself a little to make room for him, aching to feel him inside me, any part of him, I just needed something.
“Fuck, you're so wet for me. So ready.” He finally pushed the lace aside and dipped into the pool of my arousal, and my lungs stopped working.
“Aaahhh.”
He didn't move at all, and I knew if I tried to meet him he would stop. I hovered, my whole body shaking from the strain, it made me clench and set every nerve ending on fire. My mouth was open, fighting to breathe while he twisted my hair with his other hand and watched me, forcing me to look at him.
“You can't move, we'll be thrown out. Be still for me.”
“Uh uh. Sure.” My heart threatened to pound its way out of my chest, my whole midriff was burning, and all I could see were his eyes, authoritative but soft somehow—reassuring, demanding trust.
He didn't waver but held me there in delicious agony for an eternity before he wriggled his fingers, made them slick and smooth, spread me out and sank into me slowly, twisting as he went and covered my silent scream with a kiss. He held still until I had adjusted around him, my walls contracting as he carefully stroked and turned until he couldn’t get any deeper and his thumb reached my clit. He kept my mouth occupied while he started rotating, thrusting gently and massaging me both inside and out, his tongue twirling and licking in rhythm with his hand. The fist in my hair locked me to him, and all I could do to stay up was bracing myself on his shoulders, around his neck, my nails burying themselves in his skin, my knees so tense my whole frame was shaking. I whined into his mouth, and he broke away, leaving an inch of space between us.
“You wanna come?” He circled my clit languidly, rubbing his fingers in me. I swelled and throbbed to the breaking point, it was painful, it was agony, a sweet torture that promised relief and bliss, and I was torn. I wanted to drag it out, I wanted him to continue, not to relent, but I knew I wouldn’t manage to hold out for long, and my strength was waning fast. I was only distantly aware that we were in public, and I couldn’t bring myself to care one bit, this was worth being arrested for. I panted, biting my lip to keep from screaming out, my eyes glued shut. I knew his expression, it would be dark and teasing, he was enjoying the power and I was more than willing to relinquish it, but I couldn’t watch him, I knew I would fall apart. “You want me to let you come.”
“Yes.” It was a small moan, maybe I thought it conveyed the “pretty please” buried in there better.
“How bad do you want to?”
“Please.” I fell down an inch, and he stilled his thumb. “No. I’m sorry. Please.” I retreated with immense effort, and he continued his labour, chuckling. I let out a deep sigh. “Yes. Thank you.”
He picked up the pace a little, added stroking to the repertoire, and reinforced the pressure on my head.
“Look at me.” I opened my eyes without thinking, he looked more serious than I’d imagined but his chest was heaving, and I felt his jeans moving against my thighs, I didn’t want to imagine how they would look. “Don’t look away or I will stop.” The threat made it even better, my jaws clamped shut, my neck was a rigid mass, and he finally granted me permission.
It didn’t take long, the build-up was near complete just by the expectation, I could feel the smacking sound of his fingers moving in my soaked slit, his thumb pressed harder and faster, his fingers spread and stretched, stroking and massaging, leaving every nerve open, every touch bringing me closer, he hooked his fingers and I came.
The orgasm washed over me, wave upon wave as he kept my eyes in his, watching me unravel until he stilled his hand, allowing me to sink down, and kissed me gently.
“That’s a good girl. You want to get out of here so I can fuck you?”
I could barely hear him through the hammering of my pulse in my head, his words were dabbing my lips, but I nodded weakly. “Yes.”
His hand started to retract, and I exhaled sharply as he made sure to hit every part of swollen skin he could, lingering on the most oversensitive area. I was still clenching, and I could feel his cock twitching under me, increasing the residual throbbing, soiling him, and he jutted his hips, letting me know he felt it too. Suddenly I got the urge to taste him, to feel him in my mouth, to see him become as undone as I was. I waited until I got my body to comply, planting soft kisses on his jaw and neck, nibbled his earlobe and felt him groan and struggle for air.
“How much do you think we can get away with?” My whisper was warm air into his ear and his reply as ragged.
“I can’t get caught doing this.” He swallowed hard. “It would be dangerous.”
“That’s what makes it fun.” I pushed off him, glided down and settled on the floor, banking on the table hiding my head. I started undoing his fly while he his eyes widened in shock for a brief moment, but his hand was still stuck in my head, I could feel his reinforced grip and knew he wouldn’t stop me. I ripped the last of the buttons open and revelled in the sight of his cock through his boxers. I might have licked my lips. I smiled as I palmed him and pulled the fabric down.
“Shit.” His other hand pushed hair away from my face, granting him unimpeded vision.
I took a moment to feast my eyes, his dick was a thing of beauty. I'd not seen it before, but I knew how it felt, how the length and girth would challenge me, and I salivated at the prospect.
I grabbed the base, anchoring him and moved in and sucked his balls in turn while I looked up and met his hooded eyes, taking in his slack jaw and shining lips. I grinned as I drew my tongue flat the whole way up, the veins and ridges unyielding, the skin taut and smooth and he fell back as I pulled his foreskin down to reveal his head. I closed around it, teasing the slit and squeezed a drop of precum to taste.
“Atta girl.” He was watching, voice thick and barely audible, teeth and tongue chewing and flicking his lip, tensing and clenching under me. “That's it. Fuck, that's it.”
I opened up, sank down on him and took him as far as I could, gagging around him and he shook. I tightened my grip and began pumping, sucking and licking in tune, forcing him as far in as I could, spit and precum dripping every time he hit my throat. It was the biggest and best-tasting dick I'd ever had in me, and I felt myself squirming as the blood started surging right through my centre, the need for him not satiated in the least.
“Jesus. Fuck. That’s a good girl, just like th—ahhhh—” Both his hands were in my hair, digging into my skull, twisting so hard I thought I’d get a bald spot. He held me still in an iron grip and started thrusting, not hard but hard enough that I was damn near choking on him, my eyes watering, and my pussy throbbing so much I thought I’d come again. He was grunting, and I could feel the strain in his arms from trying to hold back. He managed to release me a little and let me control the pace but I continued forcing him as deep as possible, my hand meeting my mouth steadily, and within seconds I could feel him expanding and convulsing, and with one last powerful shove he came.
“Oh, fuck, fuck, I—” He sounded like he was choking. Which, to be perfectly honest, suited me just fine.
I pulled out a little to close my lips around him, wanting to catch as much of him that I could, his load shooting straight into my throat in hard rhythmic bursts. I swallowed furiously, sucking him gently while he emptied himself, his nails scratching my scalp, his hips jerking erratically, his eyes rolled up, and he fell back, panting frantically. I took as much as I could and began licking him clean while he came down. He started freeing his hands, flinching slightly as he became more and more sensitive, watching me and carefully began stroking and straightening my hair.
“Jesus, woman. That was—that was—fuck.”
I kissed the tip of his cock and pulled up the foreskin before I tucked it back into his boxers, my cheeks actually hot as I met his eyes. They were twinkling, and he looked more relaxed than I’d seen him, his mouth curling, most of the intensity gone from his beautiful features, and I felt my chest swell. Not good.
“That was magnificent. You are magnificent.” He cupped my face and wiped my cheeks dry, I hoped my makeup wasn’t all messed up. I felt vulnerable and exposed, my midriff was still churning but at the moment the emotional struggle took precedence. He pulled me up, still cradling my face, and I climbed onto his lap again and closed my eyes with a sigh as he kissed my cheeks, my eyes, my jaw and each corner of my mouth before covering it and teased his tongue barely inside, tasting himself on me, humming in apparent satisfaction. I smiled and laid my hand above his heart, the beating slowly reverting to normal.
“How do I look?”
He leaned back and studied me with a grin. “Like someone who’s almost choked on a dick.”
I gave his shoulder a shove. “I’m serious.”
“So am I. You look fucking beautiful.” He pushed my hair back and tugged at the ends. “I’m sorry about that by the way. I didn’t mean to come on so hard, it was just unexpected.” He traced a finger from my temple down my neck. “A little rosy but your makeup is fine. Maybe freshen your lipstick, although they’re really red and plump.” He sucked the bottom one, still grinning, and I finally began to relax.
“So I can show myself?”
“Yes.”
“In public?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” I leaned in for another kiss, the bliss of the aftermath setting in even if I couldn’t resist a small rotation of my hips, my underwear was still crooked, and all that was between us was the cotton of his boxers. He reciprocated by grinding languidly, lazily, and his whole frame rumbled underneath me.
“Really. You wanna go again? So soon?” He brushed my skirt up and ghosted his palms up my thighs, stopping when he felt the lining of my panties and fondled it. “What about a drink first?”
I inhaled sharply, my thirst being for something else entirely, and he laughed again.
“Or did you have your fill?”
“Fuck you.” I clenched hard on top of him, and I felt him stir, growing more rigid. I smiled at him, his lip was caught between his teeth and his fingers fanned out and secured me in place.
He closed his eyes and ground harder.
“Fuck me.” It came out more commanding than I intended, but as soon as I said it I really meant it.
His eyes flew open, and he exhaled forcefully. “Not here.” He nuzzled my ear and kissed my jaw before he withdrew his hands, letting my dress down with them. I tipped sideways and landed beside him. I wasn’t happy, but he was right, we’d been more than fortunate and there was no point in challenging our luck further. I took my half-empty glass from the table and drained it, if truth be told I was parched. He watched me, amusement playing on his face.
“Another?”
“Yes, please.”
“Coming right up.” He buttoned his jeans and straightened his clothes before he got up, slipped on the vest as he disappeared towards the bar, leaving me strangely empty. I was worried for some reason, the relief seeping out in his absence, sure, the intensity was gone, but I felt the change was too great. I thought I detected something else in his shoulders, dejection or anxiety and suddenly panic rose like bile in my throat. The sight of him returning was relieving until I saw his face, he had the same closed off expression he’d worn before, even if he smiled as he set our drinks on the table and folded in beside me.
“Thanks.” I took the gin and sipped, he met my gaze, but now it looked wary. Fuck. At least I was prepared when he spoke.
“Listen. I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” He was picking at the label on the bottle, talking to it, averting his eyes. “It’s not you.”
I scoffed. “No, it’s not. That’s all you.” My words had a venomous tinge, I was far more hurt than I liked to admit. All the tension was back but for entirely different reasons. I felt used. I knew it was irrational, I’d been more than willing, I’d gotten as much as I’d given, but the feeling of rejection was overwhelming. I drank up and set my glass down with a small bang, furious that I felt tears starting to emerge. I didn’t look at him, I didn’t want him to see. I was just thankful that my voice didn’t break. “Please leave me.”
He hesitated, I could feel him moving beside me, hear him drawing breath as if to speak then stopping short several times. Eventually he got up, left the bottle almost full, and stood for a while, looking at me, I felt the prickling down my spine.
“I’m sorry.” He walked away, leaving me more alone than I’d felt in years. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I sat there for a few minutes until I’d gotten the tears under control. I was stronger than this, I couldn’t get caught up in some random dude, no matter how attractive or good a lay he was. Fuck him. I gathered my bag from the corner where I’d dropped it and got up, avoiding the table with my friend. I knew she’d seen me when I arrived, but she’d probably also seen me with him, and we had a firm agreement not to interfere unless one of us signalled. I considered having another drink, but I didn’t feel like braving the crowd no matter how much I wanted to get drunk. Fuck him.
He was that guy after all, so why was I surprised? I'd fucked up, I'd come looking for something I didn't even know I wanted, and I'd fooled myself into thinking he'd wanted it too. But he was just another asshole cruising for an easy lay, although it was strange that he, who basically could get any woman he'd want, had seemed to be waiting for me. I shook my head, trying to chase the line of thought away, no use going there now. I hitched my bag up and went to check out my coat.
I felt downright dejected as I stepped outside, sad and remorseful, the chill night breaking my legs and chest out in goosebumps, stopped for a moment to feel the air before I turned and started walking towards my apartment three blocks down. I had walked maybe ten feet when I became aware of movement behind me, the sound of a boot stubbing out a cigarette, and a voice that radiated heat through my frozen core.
“Hey. Hey miss.” I stopped as a surge of elation and relief washed over me, despite chastising myself internally. I didn’t want to be so easy, but I turned to meet him nevertheless. He approached slowly, extending his hand to me. “My name is Chris.” I shook it and watched as his eyes crinkled and his mouth curled up in a small apologetic smile. “I’m an asshole and a coward, and I’m sorry for letting you see that.” He reached into his pocket and produced the panties from our previous encounter. “And I think I have something of yours.”
