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stressedkitkatttt · 4 years

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My Little Quarantine

So quaratine got us all fucked up. I'm losing my mind a little so in honor of this, here's a story involving our favorite Ecuadorian and his dick.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: smut, dirty talk

DISCLAIMER: Do NOT think it is okay to take my stories and post them somewhere else without my EXPLICIT PERMISSION. Do NOT think it is okay to take anyone else's stories and post them somewhere else without their EXPLICIT PERMISSION. Giving credit does NOT count as permission. You may reblog my stories, you may NOT repost my stories without MY PERMISSION.

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You and Christopher have been in lockdown for two months. You both were experiencing some cabin fever, and Chris was beginning to get on your nerves. You love him and all, but seeing him every day with no breaks, save for going shopping and when he was on video calls with the guys, it was obvious you were beginning to reach your limit. Even with your little breaks, when you came back from the store or he finishes the video call, he's right beside you again, cuddling with you, teasing you, pulling small pranks for Tik Tok... You name it, he's probably done it to you. And since he couldn't go see his friends and cause mischief in person, he turned to you.

Finally, you manage to settle him down from his antics by offering to play Mario Kart. He agrees and you both sit on the edge of the bed, getting comfortable. You choose your characters and choose random on the race selection menu. You had fully expected him to kick your butt but when you began to win just about every race, you got a little cocky. As your character crosses the finish line for the sixth time in a row, you throw your hands up in triumph, looking at Chris with the biggest grin.

Chris sighs and rests his face in his hand. You nudge him with your shoulder, "Doesn't feel too good when you're constantly losing, does it?" He fixes a hard stare on you, but it has a lightness to it, so you know he's not actually upset that's he's been losing for the past 10 minutes. When his face lights up suddenly, that signature Christopher Vélez smirk on his plump lips has you raising a brow.

"How about we up the stakes a little bit?" He says. "If I win, I get to fuck you every which way I want and you don't have any control. If you win, you can have the control and fuck me however it pleases you. All within reason, of course."

"What's the catch?" you ask after thinking over the idea he was proposing.

"There is none. All you have to do is beat me. Best of three races. The only rule is that we randomly select the races so we can't rig our chances of winning."

You mull over the idea. On one hand, you know that you're pushing your luck. If you continue to race against him, your luck will run out eventually and he'll beat you sooner or later. If that happens, he'll win the upper hand and you'll have to give up control for the night. But on the other, there's the sweet idea of being able to tie Chris up, tease him mercilessly like he's done to you many times in the past. You look at him. "So if I win... You'll let me take full control?" Your breath hitches a little when he nods his head.

Would it be worth the risk? You feel so conflicted before you decide to take your chances. It's not often you get to have total control in the bedroom. After all, Chris is a dominant man when it comes to the bedroom. You give Chris a smile and accept his offer. He smiles back and he gets up and uses the restroom. You move from the bed and stretch your legs, feeling a little giddy at the prospect of having Chris at your mercy, begging for you to let him cum. You're quickly brought back to reality as he exits the bathroom, returning to his spot on the edge of the bed. You join him and prepare yourself.

Chris selects the random button on the race menu and it chooses an easy course; Toad's Turnpike. You breathe a small sigh of relief. A pro to this is that it's an easy track. The con is that because it is easy, Chris has a higher chance of beating you. He does play this game more than you and knows some of the courses like the back of his hand. You were decent at the game, but some of the tracks give you a hard time while Chris seems to fly through them with ease. You take a deep breath and take a glance at Chris. He has his game face on, eyes glued to the screen with every intent on winning.

Lakitu comes down and counts down from three. When the lights turn green, you and Chris both gain speed through the starting boost. Because he started in seventh place, and you in eighth(total bullshit in your opinion), he easily slid past the NPCs and into first. You were close behind him for the first two laps until you got close enough to him on the final lap, close to the finish line, where you knocked him into a car. Chris practically growls as you pass him and cross the finish line. He turns his head and glares at you. You return his sharp look with a shrug, "You said the only rule was that we needed to use the random select when choosing the tracks."

"Still a dick move..." He grumbles under his breath, turning his attention back to the menu. He selects the random button again, this time it lands on Yoshi's Circuit. Oh great. You didn't particularly like this track due to its tight turns, and you've seen the way Chris handles those turns. This isn't one of his favorite tracks but he's kind of good at it. And just as you suspected, he beat you. You cursed those the pin-hair turns like a sailor and rolled your eyes when Chris rubbed the victory in your face. Whatever. You beat him seven times before this. You'll let him have his fun and get it out of his system.

But suddenly you feel a little nervous. This meant you each had won one race and now this final track would be the tie-breaker. You silently pray that the game is on your side and picks an easy track for you. But, as fate would have it, it chooses one of your worst nightmares. Rainbow Road. You groan mentally. Great. You were decent at the game, but even the pros can have a hard time on this track. It requires one's full attention and no distractions. You were gonna be royally screwed. And possibly in the literal sense. You clear your head and zone in on the screen. You weren't going to let him win. Not this time.

Chris starts in first and you in second. You both hit the starting boost and take the first few corners just fine. With the first lap gone, and Chris still in a steady lead, you grab an item box and to your luck, it's a red shell. You're far enough behind him that you won't catch up to him but you can still see him in your sight. You make sure to time your red shell launch just right, hitting Chris as he's taking the second turn, ruining his drift and sending him over the edge, leaving you to take first place. You hear his angry huff beside you but you don't spare him a glance, too fixated on winning.

You manage to keep first place, despite the seemingly infinite amount of red shells Chris seems to throw at you, and soon you're both on the last lap. You've got an impressive lead on Chris, who was steadily closing the gap. You're so engrossed in the lap that you don't notice Chris shifting closer to you. You jump suddenly at the sound of his voice right by your ear. "I bet you're already wet for me, aren't you nena? Or maybe you're wet because you can't wait to have me begging for you to let me cum." You bite your lip and try to ignore him, but his words sink in and you can feel yourself react to his words alone. He doesn't even have to touch you to get you going.

But you were caught off-guard and your hand moved slightly in your haste to move away from his voice against your ear. This caused your thumb, which was on the thumbstick, to move slightly and cause your Kart to spin out and into space. Since Chris was already gaining on you, this gave him the perfect opportunity to throw a final red shell as you were brought back up from your fall. The red shell hit you as Chris zoomed past, along with two NPCs, leaving you to finish in fourth place. Chris crosses the finish line with the smuggest smirk on his face.

You sit there, jaw slightly agape as the reality set in on what was going to go down. You whip your head and glare at him. His response was to look at you and raise his arms, stretching and leaning back a little. Like what he did wasn't a big deal. To say you were mad was an understatement. You were fuming. "Christopher! You asshole!" you practically scream. He justs grins and looks at you, thinking about how cute you were when you mad.

"How so, amor?" He practically purred as he suddenly pushed you down into the mattress, placing both arms on either side of your head and straddling your hips. Your glare intensifies.

"Don't play dumb! You know exactly what you did!" You growl out and he leans down, his light stubble tickling your neck.

"The only rule we had was that we use the random select. Nothing was agreed upon how we could win. And you pulled the same move on me in the first race, so now we're even." If looks could kill, Christopher would be dead where he stands. But, he did have a point; you both agreed that using random select was the only rule. And you know that. It's just your competitive side gets the better of you sometimes and with the offer, he had made with you, how could you not be mad? No wonder he had looked so enlightened when he brought up the idea. He had this planned from the start, the cheeky motherfucker.

You just groan in annoyance and throw your head back. A shiver runs down your spine as he begins to place kisses along your neck, hips slowly grinding into yours. He finds your sweet spot on your neck and sucks harshly, leaving a dark mark. He makes his way to your ear and his voice tickles your ear once more, "I'm hungry, cariño." He leans in and tugs on your lobe with his teeth. You moan and bring a hand up to his soft hair, gently tugging.

"Oh yeah? What're you gonna do then?" You reply, bucking your hips. His response is a low groan as he slowly makes his way down your body and stopping at the top of your shorts. Your breathing gets heavier as you feel your shirt slide up a little and his long fingers hooking into the hem of your shorts and pulling them down.

His hot breath fans over your clothed heat where he notices a wet spot forming. He looks up at you between your thighs, smirking. "How wet are you right now, cariño?" He asks, running a finger lightly over your panties. You already know he knows how wet you are. He just wants you to stroke his ego. You decide to keep your mouth shut for the time being. You were still a little upset at how he won the bet, even if it was technically within his right. When you remain silent, he raises a brow.

"Nena," he hardens his tone, "I asked you a question." You only huff and turn your head to the side, not looking at him. You don't notice his hard glare as he suddenly lands a slap on your ass. You yelp at the sudden sting and look down at him. "Good, now that I have your attention, I'm going to lay down some rules. You are not allowed to touch me. You are not allowed to cum without my permission. And when I ask you something, I expect an answer. Got it?"

You remain silent. He narrows his eyes as he lands another slap, this time you felt the sting for a few seconds more than the last one. "What are my rules?"

You reply with a sarcastic tone, "I can't touch you, I can't cum without permission, and to answer you when you ask me something. There, happy? Now hurry up." He raises a brow at your behavior. He wasn't expecting you to be such a brat. Guess he'll just have to teach you some manners. He is quick to rip your panties, to which you make a small noise of protest because those were one of your favorites. He ignores you and begins to assault your aching core with his tongue. He is also quick to use his fingers, making sure to brush your sweet spot.

He's done this so many times with you, he knows all the spots to hit. It isn't long before your on the edge. You suddenly grab his hair. You're so close to your orgasm, all you need is for him to -

"Did you think I'd let you cum so easily?" He pulls away from your core. He had a mocking tone to his voice. You look down at him, panting and eyes narrowed.

"What the fuck, Chris!?" You hiss.

"You've already broken two of my rules, nena. You'll be lucky if you cum at all tonight." You huff and throw your head back. "If you break one more rule, I'll take of myself tonight and I will leave you here throbbing and begging. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes sir..."

"Good girl." He lowers his face back to your core and begins to tease you. When he finally pulls away, you were dripping and your face was flushed. He had brought you to the edge at least twice before pulling away and letting you calm down. It only made the throbbing in your core worst. If he kept up this pace, you would cum with or without his permission. "Do you want to cum, nena?" He rubs his hands on your thighs. You nod and look at him with wide eyes.

"Please, papi, I need to cum so bad..."

"I know you do. But do you deserve to?"

You whine and reply, "No."

You weren't expecting him to suddenly thrust his fingers into your soaked core again and start a fast pace, his fingers rubbing against your sweet spot. You moan and warn him that you were gonna cum. "Dale." He grunts. That's all it takes before your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. He doesn't stop the movement of his fingers as he works you through your orgasm. He buries his fingers inside you, moving his middle finger and rubbing your sweet spot, building a second orgasm that takes the rest of your energy.

You sink into the mattress as he removes his fingers and sucks them clean. You think you have a small break to collect yourself but when you feel Chris moving up and aligning his hard cock with your entrance, you whimper. "Chris..." He knows what you're about to do and he quickly silences you with a fiery kiss as he slides in. He knows you well enough that you didn't need a break.

Not giving you time to adjust, he begins thrusting, hitting spots that were deep inside you. You forget his rule about no touching and your hands find his forearms. He stops suddenly and pins your hands above your head. "What did I say about touching me?"

"I-I'm sorry papi, I forgo-" He stops you.

"You're very lucky that I'm already buried inside you. Otherwise, I would go take of myself." He growls against your ear, picking up his pace again. From your previous two orgasms, your third one came over you so fast, you barely had any time to react. Chris grunts above you at the sudden tightness but keeps up his pace. When he suddenly pulls out, you think that's it but when he tells you to turn over onto your stomach, you open your mouth to protest. He raises a brow and you shut your mouth, turning onto your hands and knees.

He wastes no time and pushes into you again, hitting deeper at this angle. His hands are on your hips and he drags you back with every thrust. But Chris isn't satisfied with this position. He pulls out and instead lies down next to you, pulling you on top of him. He swipes his tip against your sensitive core and you shudder. He slowly sinks you down on him, taking deep breaths as he bottoms out.

You're tired but Chris barks at you to move your hips and ride him. You brace yourself against him and gather what's left of your energy and begin to move your hips. It's a slow pace but Chris doesn't seem to be in a rush anymore. He grabs your breasts and pulls on your nipples, making sure to give both equal amounts of attention. You were already close, and so was Chris. You collapse forward as Chris begins to buck his hips, meeting you with every move of your hips.

"Cum for papi. One more time, nena. I know you can cum one more time." He whispers and you feel his hand drift down and rub your clit. Your fourth orgasm washes over you and you moan weakly into Chris' as he buries himself inside you. You both collapse and you roll off of his chest. "Fuck nena," he breaths out. He turns to face you. "Are you okay?" He gently rubs your shoulder. You nod and close your eyes, tired as hell. He pulls you close to his chest and follows you into dreamland.

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Taglist: @cracraforfandoms @kmsmedine @papichriscnco

#cnco #cnco smut #cnco chris #cnco christopher #christopher velez #cnco chris smut #christopher velez smut #cnco imagine

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onaperduamedee · 5 years

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hey! would you do 53+73 for the trope mash-up? thank you

Thank you so much for asking this! Apparently I never posted this and I am incredibly sorry for leaving this unanswered. So here is:

Milippa, Mutual Pining + Stranded Due to InclementWeather, 1766 tired and late words. I hope you still enjoy this!

Herbones are splitting.

Herretinas have stopped experiencing persistence a while back.

Herlower back burns with a pain so searing that she feels her body in two distinctparts. Cut in half and her heart is nowhere to be found.

When Michaelrigged the control panel to redirect the remaining energy to the life supportsystem, they lost the shuttle stabilisers and everything that technology has tooffer to shield the pilot from the brute force of the wind.

Ofcourse, Philippa assured her, the shuttle could be guided out of the storm, withoutelectronics and by helm.

Theircraft is not remotely made for lengthy low atmospheric flying but against allchances manages to work as a little more than a glider, cast aside by the unpredictableupdrafts and downdrafts.

“Youshould never have been here,” she mutters between gritted teeth.

Ahand lands on her forearm, light as a wave on the sand, and just as fugitive.

“Doyou want me to take the helm?”

Forfive, ten seconds her eyes are glued to the rolling waves of lightningunderneath them, the thundering deep that they very nearly did not escapethirty minutes ago. Hell is still around, above, inside. Watching Michael,sustaining her gentle and intelligent compassion, is beyond her at this point.

She killed her.

“Captain,you have been in the pilot’s seat for too long. Let me.”

Herpalm presses cool on the top of her hand, a truer plea than her steady butbreathy voice, and it takes all of Philippa’s willpower to tear her eyes fromthe viewscreen.

Thereis just enough light coming from the storm and the bare-boned dashboard for Philippato read Michael’s beautiful and haunting face.

Hurt.

Evenmore so than after Philippa put back her dislocated shoulder in place. Thesling around her arm is dirty, testimony to the frantic squirming in theshuttle’s belly that granted them a respite —a delay.

Lookingaway, Philippa bites back her anger and grips the helm like a vice.

“Don’tbe ridiculous. You are in no state to fly.”

“Ridiculous would be used to characterizepersisting to fly in your state. Not mine.”

Thereis a smile in her breath and Philippa could cry from the relief it brings herdespite the circumstances.

“Yourhands are shaking the helm more than it is making you quiver,” Michael remarkspointedly, with an edge of annoyance. “You have not rested since this lastnight, and your actions at the peak, albeit noble, were unnecessarily reckless,as well as physically demanding.”

Sheis right, of course, and more guilt seeps into her exhausted nerves, herravaged muscles.

Swallowingher pride, casting aside her culpability, making room for support, even if itcomes from Michael, will make the situation better, will help their odds.

It willhelp Michael, ultimately.

Thebrush of Michael’s fingers below hers around the helm, always steady, alwayscareful, finishes to convince her. The sparks they elicit at the tip of herheart finish to scare her away.

With greatdifficulty, hindered by her weariness as much as her shame, she shifts on theseat, out of it, and a grateful sigh rewards her.

Philippascrews her eyes shut and staggers around the pilot’s seat to take Michael’splace, “You tell me the second you experience weariness in your arm.”

“Iwill not, Captain.” Face shut in concentration and spine ram-rod, Michaelspares her a quick, mismatched look that Philippa fails to interpret. “You needto rest.”

Howfun it will be to engage in the same charade that Michael put on just now toget her to step down in a couple of hours —ifthey are still here in a couple of hours.

Brightlyset alight at random by lightning, her commander’s profile is immaculate andfocused, impenetrable. Philippa is thankful for the barrier, for once.

Hereyes wander, roam the sea of clouds underneath them, and the comm link leftopen remains silent, wistfully blinking in the dark. Unless Saru orders theShenzhou to leave its post on the ground and search for them, they arealone. There are protocols, and the safety of the colony they evacuated fromthe heights takes precedence, over their Captain, over Michael.

Evenif they had enough energy to leave the atmosphere, the Dirac has left for Station 359 by now, and the engines would shutdown long before the Shenzhou couldfind them in orbit. Their only option is for the storm to lose strength and letthem land on their own.

Two conditions too many.

Theclouds can open to reveal the sea, infinite and unforgiving, or the sharpmountain ranges that Michael was admiring just a few hours ago. They will belost.

Michaelwill be lost.

Philippahas killed her.

Andthis is not how she imagined they would go out, crashing and drowning, deathlysilent out of exhaustion. An hour ago, she would have used what little energy shehad left to talk to Michael, really talk to her, about how loved she is and howgrateful Philippa is to count her as her friend, to rely on her as her Second.But an hour ago, there was hope, logic, bloody energy.

Nopanic is left in Philippa’s heart, but a pit of lassitude and bitterness.

Andshe cannot even have the comfort of telling Michael just how important she hasbecome, as a friend, as a companion. How simple to let herself be filled withthe agreeable feelings Michael naturally invokes when she is around, and by thestars, are they welcome now. How treacherous too.

Philippadoesn’t trust her heart this high in the air, this frantic in her chest.

Tosteady her hands, she idly checks the comm link, fiddling with the frequencyand range, “Perhaps the Dirac canstill read us.”

“Weare more likely to get picked by the locals.” Her voice is blank, and Philippacloses her eyes not to shatter. “Their radio technology is more advanced thanone could presume from their aircrafts.”

Noone is coming for them.

Thepush to comfort her is immense at this point, but what she has to offer, in herstate of exhaustion, would likely embarrass her and hurt their friendship.

“Although,I do not know if they can record us,” Michael adds distantly.

Philippahas been at the other end of such communications; sensors down, oxygendwindling and nothing but the stars to catch the spacecraft when it goes down.Some joke, some get philosophical. All leave a message for their loved ones.She never disconnects; even if the message in question is deeply personal, evenwhen she can hear the controls dying out of her reach. She witnessed, sherecorded, she relayed.

ButPhilippa has no message for Nikos, or Joey, or Kat, or Anton. She has one forMichael.

Whois right here and casts worried, professionallooks at her.

Itshould be a relief that when they run out of power and Philippa will break,either by failing to reassure Michael and crashing into herself for good or byflushing down the vacuum of space their friendship, no record will exist.

Whata terrible, pitiful way to end her life; voiceless and useless to the one shecares the most for.

Wereshe younger, freer, different, therewould be no shame in seeking the comfort she craves, to give and to receive.

Ifshe says what she wants to say —to confess— to Michael, Michael will die,because then Philippa would not bear to function, to carry on after that.

Instead,Philippa whispers, head resting on the back of the seat, “I am sorry I draggedyou into this.”

“Wewill get out.” There is no reproach in Michael’s voice, not even worry, but thehorizon is still dark, closed.

Philippasnorts, bitter, “No statistics to back that up, eh?”

“ButI have you. I will take you over statistics on most days.”

Somethingpulls Philippa out of her study of the ceiling. Michael’s eyes. Shining andprofound as stars. The rawness across her face takes her breath away for asecond before she remembers to follow the script.

“Justmost days?”

Unwavering,Michael nods, “I trust you with my life. And if it is not enough Philippa, knowthat you are esteemed, always, and that nowhere does this affection manifestsitself more profoundly than in our—”

She hesitates,a flicker of something making her lips quiver, and Philippa frowns even beforeshe concludes “—bond.”

Itsounds like an interrogation. Philippa fixes her gaze on her, attentive to thecurve of her brows and the steadiness of her breath, as Michael is focused onthe dark sky ahead. She follows the evolution there for a while, trying to decipherthe message in her features, despite the lightning growing scarce, because withall her heart she wishes to find something, if only the knowledge that Michael knows and is willing to accommodate tobring her comfort.

Fuck.She is tired. She loves her so much. And she is sorry for both.

Shewill not say anything; this would mean this is the end. And voicing thosefeelings would open a door right before it is destroyed. She cannot bear tohave this be the end.

Tonight,she is saving Michael’s life.

Shethinks, not hard or long enough, but for the first time in a while with the familiarpassion that warranted Michael’s esteemearlier.

“I havean incredibly reckless and physically demanding idea that might get us down inone piece.”

Michael’ssmile opens on her lips like a drop of water on the ground, precious, faultless,life-sustaining, and Philippa thanks the gods Michael is saving her life yetagain.

“Aslong as it does not involve you sitting back into the pilot’s seat.”

Likethat, the emptiness is lifted off her chest, and if this new-found corporealitydoesn’t alleviate the pain in her back it replenishes her energy, her will. Shegets up to head to the back of the shuttle in search of the items she willneed, but a hand stops hers at the wrist, sliding down immediately to nestitself between her fingers.

Lookingback, Philippa finds Michael’s calm smile, silent but cognizant.

Requestingsomething.

Philippahuffs with quiet joy and squeezes her fingers, “I am grateful you are here withme tonight, Michael, and always.”

“As Iam that you are, Philippa.”

Wereshe different, she wouldn’t have Michael by her side now. And this iseverything.

#Milippa #tin-can-spaceship #Star Trek Discovery #Michael Burnham #Philippa Georgiou #i have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night #The only word to effectively describe it is wow #The last of the real ones #itching paper #this may be the most Philippa-centric thing I have written #link to AO3 to be added when it is not 2 am

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