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attapullman · 8 months ago

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Pretend | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: You aren't sure what's worse: having to share a bed with the boy who was your first boyfriend who you haven't seen in years, or having to pretend he's your boyfriend when you wish he actually was.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: f!reader, light smut, 18+ only as always, unprotected pinv, fake dating trope, one bed trope, lots of switching between present and past tense whoops

A Note From Mo: It's Choose-a-Fic! Thank you to everyone who voted and has been part of my 500 Follower milestone! Hopefully you like the fic I wrote just for you (with a little extra one bed trope as a special thank you)! 😘

Coupe glasses tinkle and laughter rings out as the rehearsal dinner draws toward an end. Everyone’s had a little too much of the hotel’s signature white sangria. On your left, Isabel and Reuben are frozen in blissed smiles, the outdoor lights casting an ethereal glow. An idyllic night before the wedding.

You should be relaxed. You’ve had a little wine, the most delicious dinner, and tomorrow your college roommate is getting married at this stunning resort. But every time that big hand grazes your shoulder or his breath heats the skin of your cheek, you’re reminded none of this is real and you desperately wish it was.

The only difference between six-year-old Robert Floyd and the man standing in front of you is the broad shoulders. Those pink cheeks are just as prominent and his eyes are wide behind updated corrective frames. Sandy hair politely brushed off his face. Even his thin lips warp in that same warm smile that instantly relieves tension. The only significant difference is those shoulders that fill out the entire doorway as he checks his rooming assignment with Isabel.

From where you stand behind her, suitcase in tow, you feel your cheeks warm and your gaze drop. You haven’t seen him since the engagement party where you muttered, “it’s a small world after all” more than once. It seemed all too coincidental that your college roommate would be marrying a guy who just happens to be in the same Navy squadron as your first grade boyfriend.

To be fair, you had “dated” Bobby Floyd for a total of a week before your parent’s divorce landed you on the opposite side of the country. There hadn’t even been a formal breakup. He’d simply been the guy you jokingly referred to as your “first love” at wine nights. Occasionally you remembered his collection of vintage Coke bottle caps.

He was practically a figment of your imagination until Isabel introduced you to the man in the nicely ironed pale blue button down and you sputtered out that you already knew each other.

You’re so lost in how bizarre the coincidence of it all is that you zone out through Bob’s check-in and the next few guests that arrive. It’s not until her line of relatives has dwindled that she remembers you’re sat behind her, sorting out the favors for after the reception.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should have given you your card earlier!” she apologizes as she flips back over her clipboard to find your room number. It’s all forgiven, you were waiting to finish up your bridesmaid duties before checking in. Get the work out so you can slip on your bathing suit and enjoy the amenities - pool, sun, and cabana boys - before dinner tonight.

She hands you a room card and walks you through the map of the hotel. You miss the second half while gathering up all your items, mentally trying to remember exactly how many rights before a left. Dinner is at seven and anything else surely she will remind you. With a kiss to her cheek, you head off to your room to begin the fun part of this destination wedding.

The property is stunning, all sun-washed sandstone and lush tropical plants. Deep blue terry cloth draped over the sun loungers you would live on all weekend. Some sun to compliment what should be a flawless wedding weekend. Maybe you’d get lucky and one of Reuben’s hot Navy friends would join you for some eye candy. You deserved a little one-weekend-in-paradise romance.

Suite 4. It’s a little deflating to remember that you’re in this big suite alone because all the other bridesmaids have dates. A least you have some privacy. The intricately carved door accepts your room key and you push the heavy wood open, ready to change and relax.

W-why was Bob in your villa?

Standing amongst the floor-to-ceiling windows draped with ochre that overlook the ocean, white oak furnishing topped with plush linen bedding, and a trailing pothos overtaking the wall, was Bob Floyd - right in the middle of changing his shirt. Equally wide eyes taking you in as he held the bunched heathered grey cotton right in front of his head, thumbs through the head hole, mouth open in shock.

“What are you doing in here?”

What was he doing in here? This was your room. “Why are you in my room?”

Despite knowing he’s not in the wrong, his cheeks tinge a deep pink. Takes a moment to pop his head in the hole of his shirt and brush out the wrinkles. You cling to to the annoyance of him interrupting your afternoon instead of focusing on how toned he’s gotten as an adult.

“This is my room. Suite 4. See?” He holds up a card identical to yours, the glossy ‘4’ reflecting the sunlight. The same ‘4’ that looks back at you.

Clearly there’s been some sort of mistake, someone at reception accidentally typing in the wrong number while going about their busy day or Isabel reading her meticulous list wrong. An easy fix.

You bite your lip. “Oh. Maybe I grabbed the wrong card. I’ll go find Isabel and sort it out.”

“I’ll come with you, she might have handed me the wrong card. Probably supposed to be sharing a bed with Fanboy.” He’s impossibly sweet as always.

You have no idea who or what a Fanboy is, but you accept his company back to reception, leaving your bag in the room purely because the bridesmaid dress alone weighs a half ton. The walk back there - with a few long turns - is a tad awkward as you both walk in silence, occasionally jerking your heads in the direction to turn.

Isabel has wandered away from reception, and is now soaking in one of the poolside bars with Reuben, their lovesick smiles contagious. She gives you the warmest smile when you approach, face splitting in two as she takes in your companion. “Hey, you two! You get settled in okay?”

God, this is awkward. Thankfully before you can muster the courage, Bob steps in. “I think there’s been a mix up with one of our rooms.”

Her eyebrows furrow as takes in what he said. Eyes flit to her lounger where her clipboard of rooming assignment lies within her tote. Reuben sips his frozen margarita in casual interest, not involved in the logistics.

“Which room are you in?” Even without her clipboard, Isabel is pretty sure she knows who is in what room. She spent months perfecting these details.

You hold up the glossy ‘4’, now slightly sticky with your sweat.

“Four? Hmm, I’m pretty sure that’s right. Was there a problem with the key? Both your keys?”

You give her a bewildered look. “One of us has the wrong key. We’re not sharing a room.”

“Why not? Your prude parents aren’t here to care if you share a room with your boyfriend.”

Every muscle in your body freezes. What is she talking about?

And while you’re paralyzed on the spot, Reuben looks like he’s about to throw up the margarita. Because he knows exactly what just happened. And not only is it his fault, but he does not have a solution.

Before you can question Isabel, the pilot is throwing his arm around your shoulders and grabbing Bob’s elbow, whisking you two away, calling out to his confused fiancée not to worry, he’s got it handled. The controlled hands of a fighter pilot steering you back in the way of Suite 4 while his face reads like he’s watching a plane crash.

Reuben won’t answer any of your questions, holding up a palm while you sputter out the who, what, where’s? of what is going on. Bob silently allows himself to be directed, confusion upon his brow, but patient enough to wait for an explanation.

Once you’re privately within the confines of Suite 4, the soft scent of bergamot and sandalwood wrapped around your bodies, Reuben finally confesses his mistake.

“Isabel thinks you two are dating.”

You expect to see eyeballs on the floor from how violently they pop out of your head. What? Bob doesn’t look much better. You two have barely spoken in decades, let alone are in a relationship! Why in the hell would Isabel think that?

Reuben drags a hand down his face, wishing he was back in the pool drinking. “When Bob over here told me that you two dated way back, I casually mentioned it to Is. When she asked the other week if he’d be good sharing a room, I thought she meant Fanboy or Harvard.”

You skip over the fact that Bob has talked about you to other people to focus on the details. “She meant me.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” By this point he’s rubbing the skin on the back of his neck raw, eyes wildly desperate. “Can you two share? It’s only two nights.”

Your eyes meet ocean blue as you both look at the single bed, then at each other. Bob intervenes calmly. “Why can’t you just tell her we need another room?”

Reuben crosses his arms across his chest, suddenly defensive. “We don’t have any other rooms. We booked the place out entirely. Short of Aunt Muriel keeling over, one of you would have to be at another hotel.”

“That’s fine,” you quip, grabbing your suitcase and ready to get the hell out of this situation.

“There’s nothing within a half hour drive. And you’re both in the wedding, that is not going to fly with Isabel.”

You’re tough, you can do hard things. Two nights at a gorgeous resort where you have to share a king-sized bed with the sweetest man on the planet? Could be so much worse. From a look at Bob’s face, he’s having the same realization.

And right as you’re about to tell Reuben that it’s not a big deal, he sends in the clincher.

“You’re also gonna have to pretend you’re dating.”

“You’re joking.” Your tinny voice rings out in the room. You can do a lot of things - go to a wedding alone, sleep in the same bed as Bob - but you draw the line at pretending you’re dating someone you hadn’t seen until an engagement party six months ago. Nope, no way.

You look at Bob, standing with his hand resting low on his hip, watching this entire scene unfold. Giving him an expectant look, he smooths out his face and gives you a little nod. He’s on whatever team you’re on.

And just as you were about to tell Reuben to get lost, Isabel’s sweet face floods your mind’s eye. That happy smile she always greets you with, and her dismay that something had gone wrong with your room. Her perfectly planned out wedding weekend ruined by her misunderstanding a minor detail. She would insist that you have separate rooms, even if it interfered with plans, and she’d be upset - the smallest tinge of disappointment clouding her bridal smile.

Isn’t the job of a bridesmaid to make the bride not have disappointment?

And now, sitting here at the rehearsal dinner, warm conversation all around you, you can still hear yourself let out a large huff of breath and agree. “Alright, we can pretend for the weekend.”

It’s a decision you stand by, but doesn’t make the subtle way Bob has been playing your boyfriend the last 24 hours any easier. He plays devoted partner a little too well. Carrying your beach bag down to the water that afternoon when everyone wanted to sit by the pool, sweetly rubbing sunscreen into that spot on your back that you can never reach. Grabbing a drink for you when he went up to the bar.

Your lonely wedding weekend is suddenly filled with this broad-shouldered Navy man who gives you a shy smile every time you make eye contact.

There wasn’t time to put in ground rules before Reuben threw you you to the wolves to socialize with the rest of the wedding party. When Isabel saw you, standing a healthy foot away from Bob and her sculpted eyebrow raised, it was the first test of this “relationship”. Your heart slamming in your chest as you slipped a hand around that thick bicep and rested your hot cheek against his shoulder. His own face fighting anxiety as he allowed you to set the pace. Isabel’s smile brightening as she beckoned you closer, instantly fawning over the two of you and the way Bob’s hand fits a little too nicely around your waist.

Thankfully the copious amount of relatives and friends constantly interrupting Isabel and Reuben prevented your friend investigating too close into this development in your love life. Happy to believe over some intentionally placed hands and the casual way he throws sweetheart in when asking if you want a drink.

“Now that I have you alone, why didn’t you tell me you were together? First loves reunited?!” Isabel drags you away to the other bridesmaids, Bob giving you a small wave as he joins the men.

You shrug, making a show of looking at the hibiscus to avoid her eyes. Desperate for a believable lie. “I didn’t want to…uh, distract from your big day?”

She wraps you in a warm hug you don’t deserve. “Not distracting in the slightest. He’s the best, you’re so lucky!”

You throw a glance his way, watching his good-natured grin as Reuben’s groomsmen, mostly aviators he’s worked with over the years, joke and jostle on the other side of the lawn. It’s side glances like these that carry through the night; when he pulls your chair out for dinner, asks the waiter to refill your water, and offers you half of his dessert. When your eyes do meet, you drown in the twin oceans that twinkle back at you.

By the time you’re heading back to Suite 4 to share that big bed, you’re pretty sure you’re not pretending to like him anymore.

You’re regretting not putting up the pillow barrier Bob so kindly offered to set up. It seemed childish at the time - you didn’t need a divider to stay on your side of the bed - but now you’re lying here in your little cotton pajamas you did not expect anyone to see and you can hear him breathing and the room is a little too warm. Every sense is on high alert and a pillow barrier would give you an inkling of privacy.

In the silhouette of the moonlight peaking through the curtains, you watch the planes of Bob’s face as he peacefully sleeps beside you. If he’s good looking in the daytime, he’s breathtaking at night. Pale eyelashes against his cheeks, lips slightly pouted, hair mussed from changing sides. You wish you could smooth your fingers over the planes of his face, appreciate the sharpness of his jaw, the roundness of his cheeks.

Tomorrow you have to pretend all over again to be in love with him. A feeling that’s already starting to creep inside you. A whole day of his gentle touches and laughs against your cheek. He was the perfect boyfriend that week in grade school, and even more perfect as an adult. Holding his hand made you want to never let go…which promptly made you want to jump out of your skin.

This was a tiny white lie to get through Sunday morning. That was it.

You keep replaying the last moment before you retired back to your hotel room for the night. The drunken group sitting around the fire pit, a bottle of tequila making its way around the circle. Not enough chairs so you ended up in Bob’s lap, body cradled in the firm comfort of his chest.

He made it so natural, the way his hand ran up and down your arm when you shivered in the night chill. You knew he could feel the shock up your spine when you noticed how intently he watched you during your story of how Isabel found a rat in your dorm room. He made you feel like the only person out there by the fire pit. The only person on this island.

When even the tequila couldn’t keep you warm any longer, the group disbanded in favor of cozy beds and hot showers. And even when no one else was in sight he still kept his arm around your shoulder to share his warmth, the pinching heels you’d shed in his hand as he asked whether you wanted to shower first.

Lips accidentally brushing your ear when he said he liked your dress; it matched the bougainvillea.

While you hadn’t spent much time together since your parents moved you away too long ago to remember, you were continually floored by how thoughtful he was still. He remembered how Isabel didn’t like ice, and that a few members of his squadron had allergies. Giving up his water because the woman next to him was without. Not to mention how he seemed to go the extra mile with you. All the years of boyfriends before this and not a single one had ever noticed you picked the pine nuts out of your salad; your new fake boyfriend requesting a fresh one sans nuts.

And it was borderline torture watching him get ready for bed post shower. Face and chest red from the scalding water and slick hair pushed back, towel slung a little too low as he dug through his suitcase. You were still speechless as he offered to put up a pillow barrier or something if it would make you more comfortable, making sure you knew he respected your boundaries.

His eyes were so blue without his glasses…

Caution to the wind, you run a finger over his cheek, brushing away a rogue eyelash and promptly turn away from him. Only one more day and you would be free of wanting a man that wasn’t yours.

The Fitch wedding day was perfect. Wide smiles, bridal lace, stunning hydrangeas, and not a dry eye in the house when Isabel and Reuben officially became husband and wife. It was the storybook start to a happy ever after.

The sunlight blessed ceremony was followed by a lantern-lit reception, dancing and drinking overtaking the sprawling beach-front lawn of the hotel. You stayed out until the evening ended, the wedding party laughing and overfilling glasses of champagne until the last lantern was blown out.

You barely remembered your rooming/relationship situation until a warm hand was on your forearm, asking if you were ready to go back to the room. It’s entirely unfair how good he looks in his suit. All day you’ve admired it, from the moment he emerged from the bathroom asking for help with his bow tie to an hour ago, when the wedding party did one last rendezvous on the dance floor.

Bob has an ease on the dance floor, clearly practiced, the hand on the small of your back gently guiding. A hand big and warm and more distracting than trying to remember your own footwork. The dark-haired woman he seems close with whooping out, “Look at those moves, Floyd!” every time you get close, her own date cheering along.

You shake the memory from your brain as Bob walks you back to the room. Keep the pining to a minimum until you can get to the airport and not have to see him ever again. You’re doing this for Isabel, your own emotions have no place. Even as you watch him open the door to the room and welcome you inside, looking so perfectly boyfriend-shaped.

Your skin feels too hot, your head clouded by bubbles and loud poppers exploding into the sky. Shedding this satin dress and getting into a warm shower sounds like heaven, washing away the buzzing ill-content flooding your body since you joined the wedding group that morning hand-in-hand with Bob. But a broken zipper interrupts those plans.

“Bob?” He stills on his way to the bathroom, bow tie loose around his neck. You indicate to the stuck zipper you’re fiddling with, warmth flaring at the top of your cheeks at your predicament.

The tips of his ears flush as he walks to you, chest a breath away from your back, admiring the way the satin flows over your curves and dips. Takes a moment to gather your hair over your shoulder before reaching for the zipper. The skin of his pinky accidentally brushes your neck, twin breaths catching at the shock.

Firm fingers guide the zipper onto the track. As they guide the cool metal down your back, the boiling point that has been simmering below the surface since yesterday afternoon comes to a head. The lace of your bra is visible. Now the silken band of your underwear. The air of the room is still, eagerly awaiting what happens next.

While his voice is shaky, his words are firm. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Your head turns to the side, eyes catching his profile, too scared to look at him directly.

“What are you pretending to do?”

His face falls into the crook of your neck, fingers tightening along the satin of your hips. “Pretending I’m doing our friends a favor. Pretending I’m not falling for you. Pretending every time I touch you it’s not the best part of my day.”

Your hand wraps around his, rough skin and satin beneath your fingers. Needing to tether yourself to reality to make sure this isn’t a champagne-fueled dream that he’s professing against your neck.

“In that case, I don’t want to pretend anymore either.”

While you can’t see him, you can feel his realization against your skin. Brow furrowing, lips parting. The soft brush of his nose as he straightens up, uses his hands to turn you to him. Finally forced to look at each other amidst the information divulged.

You aren’t sure who leans in first, who braved the waters of uncharted territory. Time stills and speeds up as his face grows closer. The scent of sandalwood and bergamot that’s followed you all weekend replaced by the woodsy mint of his cologne you’ve treated yourself to when tucked into his side. Anyone outside can hear two hearts beating erratically, anxious and excited.

His lips are warm and comforting, just like everything else about him. Pressing delicately against yours, taking his time and letting you set the pace. You’re torn between the shock of how divine he feels and the greedy need for more. Senses overwhelmed by him; you want to taste more, feel more, see more.

When he pulls away, a gentleman not wanting to overstep, you’re breathless.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss you.” His confession is paired with pink cheeks and large hands playing with your fingers.

You can’t help but to tease him, the banter from your childhood coming back. “Did it live up to expectations?”

“Way, way better.” Your smile is swallowed in his kiss, chins knocking as you trade off enthusiasm. A groan leaving Bob as you grab his hands and walk back to the bathroom. That hot shower still sounds amazing, but you need more of him.

The travertine tiles glow in the soft light as you watch your childhood love remove his suit, taking time to fold the pieces on the counter, letting you indulge in unbuttoning his crisp shirt as you share another sweet kiss. His own hands twisted in the dress barely clinging to your skin. The sounds that escape him as your hands explore his chest are purely sinful, meant only for your ears.

He barely lets you bask in his body, honed from years of Naval training, before he’s stripping the satin from your frame. You beg for another kiss, but he denies you. He can’t be distracted from watching every inch of skin being revealed. From letting his fingers follow the fabric as it pools at your feet. From kissing his way back up your body until your head falls back against the wall, fingers beckoning him to the shower.

“You’re so beautiful.” It’s more breath than words, but ignite the goose flesh along your skin as he adjusts the hot water and shower head to your liking.

Minutes or hours passed as you reacquainted under the steam. Your fingers tangled in wet strands of sandy hair, fingers slipping along any skin you can reach. His own hands tightly hugging your body, holding you close as he appreciates your nude form. Swallowing each other’s moans as his fingers dip between your folds and you run your palm along his shaft.

The universe has ceased to exist by the time Bob kisses you against the shower wall, fingers wrapping under your thighs to hoist you to his level. Loving the way you giggle as your arms wrap around his neck, trusting him wholeheartedly. Eyes trained at where he lines up with you, relishing the way your breath catches in anticipation. He kisses your forehead as a promise to take care of you, a promise you know he’ll keep.

Once he’s seated deep in you, the moment about connecting rather than getting off, he tilts your head up to check in with you. A kiss as his eyes search you for discomfort. The flames of his eyes burning the brightest blue. One final clench around him and he knows he needs to move; if not for his sake, for yours.

It’s the most glorious dream as he fills you completely, hips rocking into yours as sweaty foreheads meet.

When he brings you to orgasm, a steamy moment punctuated by your muffled screams against his shoulder, there’s nothing fake about the affection as he peppers you with praise. Or when he fills you with his own release a moment later, exhaling thank you, thank you, thank you.

A pillow barrier isn’t even discussed as you lay in his arms that night, cheek against bare chest. His arm trails down your arm like it had the night before, a mindless action you now recognize as meaningful to him as to you. Sated and content, as it should be.

You sit up a little to run your nose along his neck, producing a low groan from him. “You need something, sweetheart?”

“I was wondering, after that,” you gesture to the shower, cheeks heating, “does this mean we’re, uh, dating again?”

He smiles at your flush, cupping your face with one of his large hands. Presses the sweetest kiss to your lips.

“You know, we never had a break up. Technically we’ve been dating this whole time.”

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ja3hwa · 10 months ago

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♡ 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚�� | 𝐊.𝐇𝐉 ♡

【Synopsis】 : Hongjoong wanted your first time to be special and romantic. Soft.....this is not what he had in mind. Whoops.

『Word count』 : 5.17k

-> Genre: So Much Smut. Fluffy. Romantic.

Pairing: Dilf!Hongjoong x Park!Reader

[Warnings] : I want to make this a realistic first time. It's funny, there's jokes and mistakes. It's loving. The reader is scared but not of Hongjoong. Insecurities. Oral. Fingering. Squirting. Making out. Praise kink. Bratty sub reader. Soft dom Hongjoong. Lots of lovey-dovey shit. Cute little kisses. Confessions. Daddy kink. Pet names. Unprotected sex cause these two forgot about it until after. Whoops. There is so much dirty talk and slight degrading. This is so filthy and soft and all over the place. Listen man I’m so hooked on sappy romance. And to the bitch that hated angels outfit cause it ‘not 10pm dinner date worth’, theres a part I wrote in here just for you.

Masterlist | Navigation | Part Five | Mini Series Masterlist.

“If you don’t get back in my car right now, I’ll drag you into it.” His words were dark, tainting on your lips. It was like a drug you’d never get enough of. Quickly, without slipping, you got back into his expensive car, your hand never leaving his thigh as he drove and your lips suckling on his neck. Hongjoong was glad it was almost two in the morning and no one was on the road otherwise he would of most likely hit someone with how fast he was going. He made it back to his apartment in no time and without another moment to spear, he dragged you towards the elevator by your hand. Fingers entangled with yours.. he pinned you against the wall in a feverish kiss, holding the back of your neck, guiding your mouth with his. This was not what he wanted your first time to be like. But god, did he need every second of it.

The way his hand crept up your dress, crawling at your hips. Feeling your frilly panties along his fingertips. His tongue raked down your hot skin, suckling a bright red mark on your neck. He was going to litter you with his marks, every part of your beautiful untouched body. Taint it like you were made for him. He was going to fuck you like it was the last thing he was ever going to do. Because you deserved every treatment he gave you.

You didn’t get time to take in your surroundings as you kept your lips flushed against Hongjoong’s. It was only when it was proving difficult to get your docs off when you both ended up laughing and grinning like idiots. Hongjoong was the first to pull away, pushing you slightly to lean against the hallway table so he could kneel down in front of you. You’ve never felt such a feeling like you had right now…This powerful older man, on his knees in front of you, slowly and carefully taking your shoes off. If he wanted you to feel like royalty, he was doing a bang-up job.

“You like me on my knees, hmm? Angel?” He seemed to notice the way your mind had wandered off. Blush erupted over your face, feeling embarrassed of being caught bluntly staring.

“I..Uh..” You looked around the hall, trying to find something to distract yourself as Hongjoong placed your right foot back carefully on the floor, having finished removing your shoes. Your sight caught the most amazing thing you’ve ever laid eyes on. “Holy shit…”

“Excuse you?” Hongjoong laughed at your potty mouth, but you walked down the hall, entering the large, dining, kitchen, and lounge room area. It was all opened with floor-to-ceiling windows. You could see almost the whole city. You’ve never been this high up before either, so it made the view even more grand. You watched in awe as the city light captivated you. You were so distracted you almost didn’t notice Hongjoong’s hands snaking around your waist, tugging at the strings on your corset, ever so slightly loosening it with every pull. his eyes never leaving the side profile of your stunning face. “It’s beautiful isn’t it.”

But he was not talking about the city view…

"It is..." You whisper. His lips inched against your neck, kissing down until he got to your left shoulder. Your shall had been forgotten long ago, most likely still in the car. And as you stood frozen watching the scenery beyond the thick glass so intensely, you felt Hongjoong finally slip off the belt around your plump hips, chucking it somewhere in the room. His fingers played with the fabric of your dress while you tilted your head to the side to give him better access. He could smell the sweet perfume on your skin. Feel the way he created goosebumps on your soft skin from the hot breath from his nose. His fingers would tangle, tug, and pull any part of your delicious outfit. The outfit he swooned over at dinner. The outfit he couldn’t help but smile at, thinking how sweet you looked, just like those strawberries that were embroidered on it. The outfit he was going to take great pleasure in taking it off you. Or maybe he’d fuck you in it first, watch how your nipples would peak through the layers of cotton. Feeling the roughness of the frills on his thighs as he thrusted in you hard. He’d keep those pretty little white socks you still have on as well. You’d be the most perfect little treat for him. “Hongjoong…”

He took a step back as you called for him. Standing so still, you didn’t dare to turn around. You could hear him move, the sound of fabric shifting, leather rubbed against jeans until… The clank of something metal hit the carpeted ground.

“You wanna turn around Angel.” His voice was smooth, deep. Hypnotic. His words made every nerve burn in anticipation. This was really happening, he really wanted to have sex with you. Your heartbeats were hard, like a low base bashing on your chest. Thump, thump, thump. You could feel yourself become high head. Dizzy. Like your mind was slipping into a subspace of your mind you’ve never been before. “Baby.”

He called again but this time he was back right behind you, his hands on your hips made you take in a sharp breath. And without a second thought, you reached behind your body, pulling at the string that held the waist hem of your dress taught to your frame. Hongjoong didn’t dare take his eyes off your delicate fingers playing with the string, not until it was completely loose and the dress started to sag. Only having your shoulders keep the fabric up. Neither of you spoke, it was like you were both holding your breath. Waiting for the other to do something. You finally turned around.

His shirt was gone, the top button of his jeans was undone and his belt by your feet. You would never get enough of this man. The way he was built. The scars and tattoos decorated him like a human canvas. Everything was perfect. He was perfect. “H-Help me…”

He didn’t know he could move so fast, his fingers lacing under the cotton resting on your shoulders, slowly... go slowly god damn it. He screamed to himself as he pushed the fabric off you. The dress fell quickly, pooling by your feet. But he did not dare look down. No. His eyes stared into yours so desperately. he felt like he was in a dream and if he looked at your body he feared his cruel brain would wake him up. You took the ranes this time. Unclasping your bra without breaking eye contact with him. He could see the swell of your breasts out the corner of his eyes but he refused to look. The thump from the article of clothing falling to the floor made his heartbeat fall into his throat. And then his eyes widened, audibly gulping as you reached for his left, tatted hand. He felt your soft skin against his, and then he felt your hot plump chest in his rough palm. You hitched in a breath, feeling your overly sensitive nipples scrape along his hands.

Hongjoong finally looked.

Taking in a big shaky breath, he saw you. He saw your soft curves, your juicy breasts. The way the balls of flesh rose and fell with each sharp breath. He made a mental note to kiss every stretch mark, scar, and blemish on your body. You are perfect. His other hand gripped your free breast, fondling your flesh. Your eyes fluttered close, tilting your head back slightly. Little pants would slip from your parted lips, as Hongjoong would start to leave light feverish kisses on your jaw, neck and collarbone. He would lower himself slightly, before slowly, pushing you backwards. you’d gasp loudly when your bare back would hit the ice-cold glass of the window. Hongjoong quickly knelt in front of you. Kissing between your breasts before latching his mouth on one of your nipples, while his free hand gripped your right thigh slowly, softly… parting your legs. You looked down at the older man, seeing his intense stare as he watched your every move closely. “Yes, I do….”

He looked confused for a moment, curious as to what you might be answering… and then you spoke out again. “You on your knees…I like it.” You felt like crawling out of your skin, feeling embarrassed at your words. But Hongjoong had a different expression. He growled, kissing down your pretty tummy, finding your stretch marks on the side of your hip, before kissing each and every one. He could do this for hours if he so wished, but for now, he just quickly pepper kisses a few before stopping just above the hem of your panties. He glanced back up at you one more time, slowly without breaking eye contact his fingers hooked under the soft cotton fabric before slipping them off down your legs. You were now completely bare in front of him.

“Fuck, angel. Aren't you the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. So soft.” he kisses your thigh. “So plump.” And gripped the flesh of your legs to move apart until he could see your dripping pussy. “So wet and ready for me.”

“F-fuck Joong!!” His name slipped off your tongue like it was your favourite thing to say. Fingers dug into his fluffy hair as he pressed his nose against your already sensitive clit and inhaled. You were the most delectable thing he’s ever had, and your taste was all he was craving. So he dived right in, his tongue flatting against your hole before licking all the way up, swiping over your nub. He did the same motion a couple of times before he shoved his tongue inside. He needed to prep you well. Get you nice and wet, and he was loving every minute of it. The way your head was thrown back against the glass, moans spilling from you, becoming his new favourite melody.

He could feel you were close by the way your body started to shake, struggling to keep yourself up. He, without a second thought, pulled away, nearly knocking the wind out of your lungs at the sudden loss of pleasure. But before you could say anything, he was tugging you down to the soft carpeted floor with him. He wasn’t expecting to fuck you on the floor. God no. Not today anyway. But he wanted to make you cum a few times first before pounding you into his mattress.

“There, there angel. I’ve got you.” His soft voice made your head spin as you laid on your back with your legs spread as far as they could go. You needed him in every way as he latched back onto your soaked cunt, sliding in a finger. You knew you were already falling over the edge. You’ve never climaxed so hard before, seeing white and hearing a light buzz in your ears. Those romance novels had seemly been correct when it was the right man, he would be able to give you everything. Including the most mind-blowing orgasms.

“Fuck, J-joongie I f-feel weird.” You needed to come again, rolling your hips against his now two scissoring fingers his tongue didn’t stop its desperate antics and then Hongjoong sucked harshly against your clit. You swore over and over as your legs began to shake, you cried a silent scream in the next breath as you felt Hongjoong sit up.

“Holy shit…” His deep chuckle caught your attention, opening your eyes you see in horror… Hongjoong was covered in a wet liquid. His chin, cheeks and chest dripping… d-did I just squirt? “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You felt your face heat up, wiggling a bit so you could sit up. The floor was a mess, and so were your inner thighs. But Hongjoong couldn’t care less, all he was thinking about was if he could get you to do that again. “Come on baby. Let’s move to somewhere more comfortable before I fuck you on this floor.”

He spoke so casually, but you could hear the lust dripping from his tongue. He was holding himself back, wanting to restrain himself and your little bratty attitude caught onto it quickly. Smiling, you pushed yourself up on your knees, while he watched intensely. You crawled over to him before resting your hands on his shoulders, his face so close to yours. “You gonna take me to bed Hongjoong? You’re best friend's daughter?” You whispered, inching closer. “What would he think? Hmm? Tainting my innocence.”

“I’ll do more than taint your innocence baby…” He knew what game you were playing, grabbing your hair, and tugging it back, making you forcibly look up to the roof. His nose glided across your neck before he suck a harsh red mark on your soft skin. “I’m going to fuck you until your head is filled with nothing but me. My cock. The way I fuck you. The way I’d make love to you… I’ll ruin you for any other man.” He bit down hard on your collarbone surely leaving indents of his teeth. “Cause you’re mine now princess. Mine alone.”

Him saying he’d love you causes a different feeling to grow in the pit of your stomach. A feeling you know you’d have to discuss tomorrow. But for now, as he led you to his bedroom. Your wobbly legs found themselves perched at the entrance of Hongjoong’s lavish room. It was not as you were expecting. He looked like such a minimalistic man, with a simple, sleek style. But yet his room... was filled with unique forms of art, house plants—some fake and some real—an abundance of vinyls, CD’s and a beautiful vintage record player, sitting in the corner of the room. The dark brown wooden stand the record player laid on matched his spruce bed frame well, and his dark near black bed sheets screamed the mystery man you knew him to be.

There was only one thing out of place. On his desk, besides two custom-made motorbike helmets that he most certainly painted himself, was nail polish. Rows of bottles of nail polish. All different colours and brands. Who knew a big tough tattoed, ex-military businessman wore colourful nail polish. “Sorry about the mess.”

He spoke so casually as he picked up some clothes off the floor and threw them in the direction of an ensuite. His cute simple smile was so innocent as if he hadn't just made you squirt all over his floor just minutes before. “No, No…it’s perfect.”

Your smile eased his racing mind as he kicked himself for not cleaning up before. But yet again, you being here wasn’t planned. It was supposed to go so differently. But such as life goes, nothing goes the way it’s planned every time. He chuckled lightly, walking over to your figure that stood still in the middle of the room. You weren’t standing awkwardly by any means but more so like you were admiring everything. Taking in as much detail, fearing you’d never see the inside of his mind like this ever again. His hands found their place on your hips once more, tugging you lightly towards the bed. You giggle, grabbing his face with both hands, you squished his cheeks as you kiss him messily. His smile grew against your own and as the back of your knees hit the end of the bed, you fell with him causing you both to laugh.

“God, I could get used to this.” He murmured against your lips, crawling with you until your head hit the nice soft pillows. You just hummed in approval, letting him deepen the kiss by sliding his tongue into your mouth. You couldn’t see what he was doing, but you could feel him shifting around as if he was looking for something. You had to break away from the kiss, so he could finally see what he was doing. You tilted your head back, seeing him grab a pillow, rolling it long ways until it was like a little cinnamon roll. He lifted up your hips slightly, making you eye him in confusion as he placed the pillow under your lower back.

“w-what is that for?” You help him by planting your feet on the bed before wiggling your hips into a comfy position on the pillow.

"It's to help me fuck you better." He said with such cheek it almost knocked the air out of your lungs. He laughed at your wide-eyed expression with a slightly parted lip. "Hah, it's so you don't feel any discomfort when I penetrate you, darling. Don't worry. I just don't want to hurt you for your first time."

"Oh god." You moaned, covering your eyes with your arm. You knew he knew you weren't experienced, but him explaining the pillow made you feel like you were having an awkward sex ed class with your much older teacher.

"Hey, It's okay. You don't know these things, Angel." He pulled your arm away from your face lightly kissing your wrist, then forearm before kissing your cheek and the corner of your mouth. "I know you're not as experienced as me. But I want you to know, baby." He gave you a peck on the lips. "I don't care. In fact, I'm honoured you want me compared to someone younger, less...me"

You knew he was gesturing to his scars. His battle wounds and how he carries a lot of trauma and PTSD from the military. You remember your father had spoken about healing and struggling with society after being in wars. But you knew Hongjoong was on the battlefield a hell of a lot longer than your father. "Hongjoong."

You grabbed his face again, gently rubbing your thumb along his rough skin. "What you went through, what you've done. It doesn't define you now. You're such a caring, sweet, sexy, and kind man. I couldn't ask for a better person to be my first."

You've never confessed such a thing a loud before. Sure you have a big crush on the older man, but you've never actually said it to him. You were falling in love with him and you wanted him to know that. He smiled, kissing you again. It was slow, passionate, and soft. You could feel his love spilling from his heart to yours, and then he pulled away. "So you think I'm sexy."

"That's what you got out of it!!" You whacked his bare chest, making him huff out a breathy 'hey'. You went to hit him again, but he grabbed your wrist this time, pinning your arms above your head. Everything fell silent after that, his lips find your cheeks once again, littering your face with kisses.

"I want to take you out. I want to spoil you." He kissed down your neck. "I want to call you mine and be with you without the thought of anyone judging." His kisses trail down to your collarbone, than the valley of your chest, kissing every part of skin he could. "I don't care about your father. If he doesn't approve then fuck him. I want to call you mine. If you'll let me."

He gave your nipples a suck each before kissing back up to your face, locking his lips with yours. You could feel him shuffling around, using his free hand that wasn’t holding your wrists to fondle your breast. You were becoming lost in your feelings. Mind spinning as you felt Hongjoong’s tongue dance around your own. Teeth clashing against teeth as the kisses become hotter… messier. Everything was perfect, letting you slip into complete bliss until Hongjoong panted against your swollen lips “Take a deep breath for me.”

You didn’t understand but followed his order obediently anyway. that’s when you felt his warm, wet tip slip against your hole. You quivered, whimpering at the feeling. You needed him so badly, that your mind was short-circuiting. “S-sir, please. Please. Put it in me.”

“Fuck baby, you can't say those types of things.” He moaned, resting his head on your shoulder, his hand that was needing your breasts was now stroking his cock. He had pulled his jeans down to his thighs, making you pull your leg up to help push them further down until they started slipping off his thighs and pooling at his knees. He kissed your shoulder before sitting up fully.

"Hong—fuck...." You gritted your teeth as you saw his cock resting against his leg. He wasn't huge, but his girth made you swallow a harsh ball of saliva. How on earth was that thing going to fit inside you? You couldn’t help but take him all in, eying his whole figure. This man was built like a god if you’d ever seen one.

“You like what you see angel?” he laughs, finally throwing his jeans somewhere in the room. you sat up, spreading your legs wider so he could get a full view of your soaked cunt. Your smile was devious and dangerous. Just like the one you put on the first night, you were both together. The brat in you was showing. He had to chuckle watching you intensely with a bitten lip as you touched yourself. Your hand inching slowly towards where you needed him most.

“I don’t know. Do you like what you see, Daddy?”

He was back on top of you with a growl in his throat. His face inches from yours and his cock rubbing against your clit. Your eyebrows knotted together as he breached your hole, tip sitting tightly inside you. You gulp, trying your best to take a deep shaky breath. His eyes never left yours as he watched you come undone. Your mouth fell open as each inch slipped into your abused cunt. Your moans were weak, breaking into a cry as he finally bottomed out completely. “Fuck, your cunt is so tight baby. So warm. You are doing such a good girl. My best girl.”

“H-Hongjoong t-too big.” Your whimpers were high-pitched and whiny. Your bratty nature out of sight. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you pushed against him slightly. It wasn’t that you wanted him off you by any means but your mind was racing. From feeling so full, pleasure surging through your whole body mixing with a sharp pain coming from being stretched out by his cock. And then there was the overwhelming feeling of having failed your father, letting his best friend fuck you…. But as Hongjoong kissed your tears that ran from your eyes. He whispered back to you lovingly, tenderly.

“It’s okay princess. You are doing so well. Keep taking deep breaths for me. Relax.” What he really wanted to say was how fucking tight you were. How good you felt around him. How he wanted to bust a nut right then and there. “C-can I move..fuck…” His pants became more frantic as you nodded your head with a little ‘please’. his hands that rested on either side of your head, now one rested on your hip and the other behind your neck, holding you in place. Your legs wrapped themselves tightly around his waist, letting him thrust slowly and deeply into your wet pussy.

His nose rubbed against yours, while his mouth left agape mere inches from your own. Your breath mixed with his with each pant and battered breath. Your eyes had snapped shut, focusing solely on his cock inside you alone. Hongjoong felt like he was on cloud nine, the way you moaned his name. Hugged him tightly. The way your body needed him just as he needed yours. Everything was just as he imagined if not more. His little angel. His sweet best friend's daughter. “Fuck, angel. You feel so good. My dirty little girl.”

“D-dirty?!” You gasped as his hand left your hip to push the pillow up more so he could fuck you deeper. His chuckle felt cold, chilling and oh-so-pleasurable.

“Hmmm yes, my dirty...” He tilted against your ear grunting with each thrust. “little cocksleeve. So tight and warm for me, fuck.” You whimpered at his filthy words, digging your nails into his skin, fearing to draw some blood as his thrusts got sharper. Hongjoong didn’t mean to slip up with his rambles but he couldn’t help it. It just felt so right. And you felt the same.

“Yes, daddy. Please. H-Harder please.” You gasped throwing your head back. Hongjoong sat up this time, hooking your right leg over his shoulder, chuckling darkly. Your smile grew feeling his cock sink deeper inside you. He held onto your plump thigh for deal life as he humps his cock into your pussy, grunting at the feeling of your walls spasming around him. He swallowed in a sharp breath, snapping his eyes shut with a loud hiss going blind by the tight feeling of your squeezing cunt.

“Fuck, baby. How did I wait this long to fuck this tight cunt? I should have fucked you the night we screwed around.” He lent down bending your body at an odd angle but the burn made your head spin in the best way possible. He cupped your chin, pulling your focus back to him, staring into his hot, lust-filled eyes. “You would have liked that huh darling? Me fucking you while your father is in the next room.”

“Jesus fucking christ.” You snapped, yelling at you felt the tingle in your gut grow quicker. “Yes, Joong. I wanted you to fuck me then and there so so badly.”

“Ha, See you are a dirty girl. I should punish you. Maybe I’ll wake you up tomorrow to eating this deilous pussy until your screaming me to stop.”

“Yes, Yes Yes. Please.” You babbled, squeezing tightly around him. You were so close to the edge, and Hongjoong could tell. By the way your face scrunched and how your legs started to shake. He knew you just needed a little push.

“You gonna cum baby? Come on, let go. I wanna feel you cum around my cock darling.” He growled in your ear, moving your leg back around his waist so he could move closer to you. Your lips found his against in a heated moment. Passion spilling out with each thrust as he swallowed your moans.

“Joongie please come with me. Come inside me. I wanna feel you.” You mumbled against his mouth, making him let out a groan. His stomach tightened as he tried to hold on just for a little longer. He needed to feel you come first. He needed to feel you as you tightened around him. As your eyes rolled back and you finally let go. You swore over and over again as felt him empty his load deep inside you. Your scent mixing with his as his groans harmonized with yours.

“God, I love you.” His hips stuttered before stopping entirely. Your heart was thumping so hard against your chest that you could hear it in your ears. Hongjoong was the same, panting like he had just run a marathon. He kissed your cheeks, then your jaw and lips, littering your face in soft pecks. The silence that consumed the room suddenly felt comforting, like a blanket you’d wrap around yourself on a cold day.

You could feel Hongjoong slowly soften inside you, but didn’t pull out. Your fingers raked through his hair, scratching his scalp. You couldn’t have sworn he was purring for a second. “H-Hongjoong.”

“Yes, dear?” He hummed so casually like this was just a normal night shared with a lover.

“I-I think I love you too.” You whispered unsure if it was the right thing to say. He had blurted out the words of devotion in the heat of the moment and it worried you that he might not have meant it. But it was in fact the opposite. He had to constantly bite his tongue so he wouldn’t say it. And in the moment it felt right. His smile grew, sitting on his elbows so he could see your sweaty, beautiful face, dancing in afterglow.

“I’m glad. Cause I mean it. I’m foolishly in love with you.” He tried to act dramatic which caused you to hit his chest lightly. He sat up with that action finally pulling out of you. You shivered as he did it, feeling his cum slowly slip out of you. “Sorry about…that. I should have put a condom on.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed that he, a supposably mature man, couldn’t control himself. You sat up slowly, reaching for his bicep before rubbing him lovingly “Hey, it's okay. I asked for it. And I’m on birth control so it's fine.”

“Well in that case.” He smirked pulling you onto his lap. You hissed slightly at your sore limbs and overly sensitive sex. His arms wrapped around your waist, letting your chest rest flushed against his.

“Now now soldier. I think definitely cannot go another round without some rest.” You laughed peppering his cheek slowly. He hummed knowing you needed rest and a part of you knew he was half joking about going another round…

“shower and sleep.” He mumbled against the crook of your neck, feeling his fingers draw shapes into your back. You sighed feeling so much contentment. Safe in his arms. You both knew that what had now happened was something forbidden, and you both were going to have to confront your father at some point.

But as Hongjoong helped you to the bathroom and slowly lathered you with body wash that smelt like him with giggles and laughter echoing in the spacious shower room. Neither of you cared for the outside world. Not when Hongjoong's lips brushed against you every so often as you rinse the soap off your body. Not when he put you in one of his shirts and dragged you back to bed with his fingers tangled with yours.

And not when he held you tightly, whispering how beautiful you are. How lucky he is and now he was never going to ever let you go.

-♡

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madlori · 18 days ago

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whoops my hand slipped and I banged out 1800 words of fix-it fic in like an hour. btw i think the Abby connection is dumb but I'm making it work.

Three years after reconciling with Buck, newly engaged to him, Tommy gets a phone call from a certain former dispatcher...who's just seen some interesting news via a Facebook Relationship Status post.

*****

(also on AO3)

To say that the phone call blindsided him would have been the understatement of the century.

He was just sitting at home watching the game, having a beer, minding his own business. Evan was on shift — must be a busy one, he’d only gotten two text messages all evening, one bitching about not having had time to eat dinner and the other about idiots who texted while driving.

His phone rang. Unknown number. Normally he wouldn’t have picked up, but with all the wedding preparations, a lot of vendors were calling. It was a little late to be making business calls, just after 8 pm, but he’d quickly learned that business norms meant little in the wedding planning business. “Hello?”

“Tommy?”

“Yes?” A woman’s voice. Familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

Pause “You’re marrying Buck??” A slightly hysterical note of disbelief entered the woman’s voice as she said the name.

And all at once, he knew who it was. Shit fuck motherfucker why didn’t we get ahead of this one.

“Abby. Um…”

“Evan Buckley? My ex-fiancé and my ex-boyfriend are marrying each other?”

“Small world, huh?” he said, going for levity.

“Buck’s not even gay!”

“No, he’s not. He’s bisexual.”

“I’m…okay. I’m sorry, it’s just…this is a lot of information to get all at once.”

“How did you even find out? Don’t you live in Phoenix?”

“Buck posted one of those relationship status things on Facebook.”

“Oh. I barely use Facebook.��

“Me either, but Buck does, and I hadn’t been on there in awhile, but I logged on and that was like the third post I saw!”

Tommy remembered the day Buck had made the post. They hadn’t really put their relationship on social media much - Buck posted photos of them on Instagram sometimes - and he hadn’t done one of those stupid relationship status things for them until they got engaged. They’d trawled their phones for the right pic, eventually settling on one taken at a 118 barbecue of them together, smiling, arms slung around waists. He hadn’t said so, but he’d gotten a little emotional over what Evan wrote on the post:

Evan Buckley is engaged to Tommy Kinard.

“It’s been a long road, but we made it. Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with this man. He’s the best person I’ve ever known. I love you!”

“Well…I’m sorry that was an unpleasant surprise for you,” Tommy said, carefully.

She sighed. “I don’t know that it was…unpleasant. But a surprise, for sure. How do you even know Buck? How did you meet?”

“We’re both firefighters, it’s not that surprising that we could have met, is it?”

“No, I guess not.”

“And he was at my old firehouse. The one you refused to ever come to. But I guess you went when you were with him, didn’t you?”

“You never wanted me to meet your friends. I guess I found out why when you broke off our engagement.”

“I’m sorry, Abby. I know I said it then, but I’ll say it again now. I lied to myself, I lied to a lot of people. It took me almost trapping you in my lie, when you did not deserve that, to break me out of it.”

“I forgave you ages ago. We don’t have to go over all that again.”

“I met Evan…I guess it’s four years ago? We started dating not long after. I, um…was the first man he dated. I guess I made him realize some things about himself.”

“Just transforming lives everywhere you go, huh?” she said, a teasing note entering her voice. Tommy was happy to hear it.

“Yeah, well, I almost screwed it up. I broke up with him six months later. He was diving in headfirst, too fast, just all in and wanting to move in with me.”

“That sounds just like Buck.”

“I panicked and ended it before I could get in any deeper with him.”

“It was too late, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. I was already in love with him.”

“He’s easy to love. Too easy,” she said, quietly. “But you got back together, obviously.”

“Took a little while. Almost a year. I dated a few guys, he dated a few people, but nothing stuck for either of us - I know now it’s because we were still hung up on each other. We have a friend in common and we’d hear about each other through him…but I didn’t really see him until we ended up on a major incident call together. I sustained a minor injury - just a scrape, really - and Hen from his house patched me up. I was sitting there on the ambulance deck, more or less left to myself, and he came waltzing up with that eyebrow raised like he knew all my secrets.” Abby chuckled, like she knew the exact expression he was describing. “He just said, are you done being fucking stupid yet?”

“And you were.”

“Yep. I was. He took me home that night and we’ve barely been apart since. Got engaged a year later.”

“You sound happy.”

“I am. I’m ecstatic. I can’t believe I got a second chance with him. I kicked myself for ending it like that, I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do. You thought you weren’t enough for him to want to keep you.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“That’s dumb.”

“That’s what he says.”

They sat there not speaking for what felt like a long time.

“Well…” Abby said. “I feel like I just unloaded on you out of the blue.”

“You kinda did,” he said, smiling.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have called.”

“I’m glad you did. You know…Evan and I didn’t realize we had you in common until our six month anniversary dinner. In fact, it was that revelation that sort of started us on the way to breaking up for awhile. But that’s been so long now and it hasn’t come up in a few years. I almost forgot about it.”

“Gee, thanks,” she said, her grin audible. “I’m glad you’re both happy. I have a lot of regret over Buck, how I left things with him. I assume he’s told you.”

“He has. If it helps, he doesn’t have any bad feelings towards you.”

“It does help. Thank you for that.” She sighed. “I’ll let you go. I just saw that Facebook post and spiralled a little bit.”

“Understandable.”

“Please tell Buck I say hello. And I wish you both so much happiness, Tommy.”

“Thank you. And I will.”

She hung up. Tommy stared at the phone for a moment, then opened his text message thread with Evan.

You’re not gonna believe what just happened.

*****

When Evan got home at 7 am, they had their usual two hours to share breakfast and maybe a quick fuck before Tommy had to be on shift himself. They tried to sync their schedules so their off days coincided, but it didn’t always work.

“Holy shit, why didn’t we get ahead of that one?” Evan said as he burst in the door, not even bothering with “hello.” His shoes and duffel went flying and he bustled into the kitchen where Tommy was mixing the pancake batter.

“Yeah, I had the same thought,” he said, leaning over to kiss him hello.

Evan went to the coffee pot. “I didn’t even think about it, that she might see.”

“Neither did I.”

“How’d she sound?”

“Really surprised at first. Incredulous, even? Like in the what-are-the-odds way.”

“Kinda like when I found out we’d both dated her.”

“Yeah, but you’re my himbo now,” Tommy said, smirking. “No, she was just shocked. I gave her the quick rundown, and she ended up congratulating us.”

“Did you tell her it’s her fault we broke up for a year?” Evan said, popping a strawberry into his mouth.

“I think the proper person to bear the fault is me.”

“And also me. Who asks someone to move in after six months? Before even saying ‘I love you?’ And when you had a house!”

“I say we blame Josh. He got you all juiced up with that damn Glee speech.” After they’d reconciled, Evan had given him chapter and verse on his mind-boggling thought processes on that last fateful day.

“He got me feeling guilty, is what he did. That I judged you for lying to Abby. Overcorrecting is one of my special gifts.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, while I’m overcorrecting…why don’t we invite her?”

Tommy looked up. “To our wedding?”

“Sure, why not? She can flip a coin whose side she sits on,” Evan said, grinning like the mischievous imp that he was.

“Evan, darling, love of my life, we are not inviting our ex to our wedding.”

He scrunched up his face. “Ew. ‘Our’ ex? Makes it sound like we were in a throuple.”

“Ew, indeed.”

He cocked his head. “I dunno, though. The thought’s kinda sexy.”

“Not to me! No vaginas anywhere near my bedroom. Kinsey 6, remember?”

“Of course, my apologies.”

Tommy looked at his innocent wide-eyed face for a few beats. “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“Can I help it if the thought of two people I have found intensely attractive doing sexy things is appealing?”

“Can I help it if the thought of Chris Hemsworth going down on you has gotten me through some lonely nights?”

“Okay, I get the point. Shutting up now.”

Tommy put a plate of pancakes in front of him. “Your shift okay?”

“Fine. Busy. I’m a bit wired. Do we have time for me to bounce on your dick for a bit before you have to head out?”

“For that, I’ll make time.” He sat down at the table at Evan’s side with his own pancakes. Evan slid a hand over and squeezed his thigh.

“Missed you, though,” he said, chewing.

“I always miss you when you’re on shift,” Tommy said.

Evan looked up at that, meeting his eyes. “Tommy, sometimes I miss you when you get up to get a beer.”

The simplicity, the sincerity of it made his chest tighten a little. He leaned forward, put his fingers under Evan’s chin and pulled him into a soft kiss, just like the first time. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.”

“And we are not inviting my ex-fiancee who is also your ex-girlfriend to our wedding.”

Evan grinned. “Deal.”

#madlori's fic #bucktommy fic #bucktommy #fix-it fic #911 8x06 #911 8x06 fix-it #911 fanfic #tevan #kinley

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barleyo · 5 months ago

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Don't Run, Rabbit.

Tsukishima Kei X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: Barley wrote something that's not dark content for the first time in forever alert!!! Get excited guys, whoop-whoop! Side-note, I'm literally in love with Tsukishima and I need to have him. That's why this is long as shit. #tsukkiloversunite

Tags: timeskip Tsukki (obv you nasties!!), roleplay, switching dominance (m and f), werewolf x bunny trope, p in v, breeding kink,

Wordcount: 4.4k

You and your boyfriend, Tsukishima, decided to have a movie night at your house. He got a kick out of watching you get scared and cling onto him, so he decided to pop on a horror movie, something spooky with werewolves.

"You scared yet?" He asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes while he peered at you over his glasses.

He let out a 'tch' sound when you shook your head.

The movie reached the halfway mark, and the main villain, a giant half-man, half-wolf monster trapped the female main character against a wall. The camera zoomed into the slow motion bite the werewolf took into the girl's neck.

Your eyes widened slightly at the scene. You couldn't help the blush that appeared on your face the longer the movie dragged out the scene. It seemed more like a porno than a horror movie with each bite the werewolf left in the girl, licking over each bitemark he left.

Your boyfriend, being the observant bastard he was, took notice of your behavior immediately and smirked.

"What, are you into this shit or something?"

"Wha—? No, what are you saying? Of course not," you said, pushing his shoulder, face still warm. "Just mind your own! Watch the movie."

You placed your hands on each side of your face, keeping them straight to try and block his view of your embarrassed face, an obvious tell.

He raised an eyebrow at your reaction, that smirk still plastered on his face.

"Your face is red as a tomato and you're trying to cover it. Are you sure you aren't into it?" He teased, poking your cheek.

He grabbed your wrists and moved your hands away from your face, his smirk growing wider at the sight of your flushed expression.

"Oh, wow," he snickered, "your face and ears are red. Very suspicious."

"Shut up," you mumbled, internally cringing at how you had been called out. "My face is not red, and I am not 'into' whatever you're trying to imply, thank you very much!"

Your voice got more high and defensive by the second, trying and failing to cover up the way his teasing paired with the semi-erotic scene of the movie made you feel.

He chuckled at your defensive reaction, his smirk turning into a full-on grin.

"Ooh, denial," he said, resting his arm around the back of the couch. "It looks good on you." He shifted closer to you on the couch, leaning in to whisper into your ear. "You know, you're very cute when you're flustered," he teased, gently nipping your earlobe in the process.

You flinched as he grazed his teeth over your ear, slipping away from him in embarrassment.

"Ack—!" You turned away from him, swatting at him with your hand.

He chuckled at your flustered reaction, scooting closer to you once again.

"Aw, look at you, trying to run away. He gently grabbed your ankle and tugged you toward him. "Are you getting shy off a little nip? How sweet." He moved closer until he was hovering over you, pinning you to the couch with his arms on either side of your head. "Admit it. This movie is getting you turned on," he said, looking down at you with a smug expression. "You're probably into that whole monster-fucking thing, aren't you?"

You turned your head away from him, trying to hide your face in the crook of your shoulder.

"No, I'm not, don't say that," you whined, you legs and feet squirming in an attempt to keep yourself from squealing.

He chuckled at your desperate attempt to hide your face and avoid the topic. He gently lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"You're such a bad liar," he teased, his smirk never leaving his face. "Your face always gives it away."

He leaned closer, his lips grazing your jawline, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses up to your ear.

"It's okay, you know," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "I won't judge you for your nasty, little kink."

"Ugh, stop saying that!" You wiggled a little more, but didn't push him off. "It's not a kink, it's just— it's nothing," you mumbled again.

He chuckled once again at your protest, clearly enjoying teasing you.

"Oh, it's definitely a fetish," he teased, his hand slowly trailing up your side, his touch sending chills down your spine.

"And there's nothing wrong with that," he said, his lips brushing against your neck, nibbling on a sensitive spot. "It's cute how embarrassed you are over it. You act like I don't already know half of the stuff you're into."

You faltered at the way he brushed it off, not weirded out by it. You craned your head to give him better access to your neck.

"So— so what, then? What are we gonna do about it then?" you asked nervously, trying to stop yourself from stuttering or coming off as ashamed.

He could practically hear the worry in your voice despite the tough attitude you tried to put up.

"Oh-ho, so you finally admit it?" He teased, grinning as he continued to trail kisses down your neck, his hand slowly tracing up your torso. "Well, if my cute girlfriend has a thing for monsters, I suppose it's my duty to satisfy that little kink of hers, don't you think?"

You got brave for a moment and decided to say something way out of character, pushing past your nerves.

"So, are you gonna be my monster tonight?"

You immediately widened your eyes, surprised by the tone you took and the words that came out of your mouth.

He froze for a moment, clearly taken aback by your unexpected boldness. A half of a moment later, however, he let out a low chuckle, a approving smile spreading across his face.

"Look at you, getting all feisty," he said, his hand pausing in its exploration of your body. "You really want me to be a monster, huh?" he teased, his touch resuming as he shifted to hover over you again. "Do you know what happens to naughty girls who tease monsters?"

You shook off the rest of your shyness and got into the zone, sensing that your boyfriend was equally as turned on. Wrapping your legs around him and flipping him over on his back, you sat straddled over him and leaned over his face, inches away from his lips while you answered his question.

"They get devoured, don't they, Kei?"

He snickered as you flipped him over, clearly enjoying the unexpected change of power dynamics. He watched you with a mixture of amusement and desire as you straddled him, leaning over him with that sultry expression.

When you uttered that bold reply, he couldn't repress the grin that tugged at the corners of his lips. He was enjoying this little game a bit too much.

"You're starting to get so spicy, tonight," he murmured, his hands now wrapped around your waist.

"Who, me? Nah," you said, your smirk growing on your face. "Now, are we gonna finish the movie or what?"

You raised yourself on your knees, ready to remove yourself from his lap so you both could get back to the movie.

He chuckled as you teasingly denied his comment, loving the playful banter between the two of you. When you started to move off his lap, he tightened his grip on your waist, keeping you in place.

"Oh no, you don't," he said, still grinning. "You're staying right where you are."

He gently tugged you back down onto his lap, his hands roaming up and down your thighs.

"And forget about the movie," he added, his gaze fixed on you. "I'm much more interested in playing with you now."

You felt him hike you forward in one swift motion.

"You're such a tease," he murmured, his eyes fixed on yours. "Trying to leave me already? Did you really think I was gonna let you go that easily?" He pulled you closer to him, his legs trapping you in his lap. "Just for that little stunt, I'm gonna keep you right here," he said. "You're not going anywhere until I say so."

"Ah, I'm not? Well then," you said, slowly making circles with your hips over his lap, "I guess I'll just have to let you do whatever you want, hm, Mr. Werewolf-Boyfriend?"

He inhaled sharply as you began moving your hips over his lap, his grip on your thighs tightening. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he watched you with desire and amusement.

"Mr. Werewolf-Boyfriend, huh?" he replied, his voice dripping with mock condescension. "You're really getting into this monster schtick, aren't you?"

He pulled you even closer, effectively trapping you against his body, and leaned in to nibble on your shoulder.

"Mm," you hummed, melting in his arms. You let him continue for a second before you remembered something, snapping to back to attention. "Babe, wait, I have something prepared for a moment like this." You tried to wriggle out of his grasp to go fetch it.

He let out a low growl of protest as you began to struggle against his grip, his hands gripping you even tighter as he tried to keep you in place.

"H-Hey, where are you going?" he asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

But when you mentioned you had something prepared, his curiosity outweighed his possessiveness, and he reluctantly loosened his grip on you.

"Alright, alright," he said, releasing his hold on you. "You can go get whatever you need. Just don't take too long."

You ran into your bedroom and came out with a plastic bag from a local sex-toy shop.

"I brought this just— just, like, in case, you know? Anyways..."

You pulled out to werewolf ear hair clips and handed them to him.

"There, put those on, and I'll put these on too," you said. You placed a pair of bunny ears on your head and jokingly twitched your nose at him.

He stared at the contents of the bag with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, his eyebrows raising slightly as you handed him the werewolf ear hair clips.

"You went out and bought this stuff yourself?" he asked, surprise in his voice. He scoffed as he examined the accessories, his finger tracing the outline of the clip. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

He slipped the werewolf ear clips into his hair, letting out a mock growl as he did so. He then looked at your bunny ears, palming his hard-on while he watched you adjust them.

You bit your lip at the sound of his growl, giggling softly. You looked through the bag one final time and felt a bit hesitant, unsure of whether or not to pull out the last two items in the bottom of it.

He snorted as you giggled at the growl, enjoying how bubbly you got about such a small sound. He watched as you rummaged through the bag, his curiosity piqued. He noticed the brief hesitation in your movements, and he couldn't help but wonder what else you had prepared.

"What's that, hm?" he asked, a pout playing on his lips. "What else do you have in there? I'm starting to wonder if you're hiding anything else in that little bag of wonders."

You sighed and pulled out a collar and leash.

"I just didn't know how you would feel about these— I mean, we don't have to use them, I just got them just in case, like— just in case we would need them, or— or if—!" You stumbled over your words roughly, babbling a bit while you tried to explain yourself.

He let out a low whistle as you pulled out the collar and leash, his eyebrows raising in surprise. He watched as you fumbled over your words, trying to explain.

"Oh, now that's something I didn't expect," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. He chuckled at your flustered state, seeing how worked up you were.

"So, you got those just in case, huh?" he asked, taking the collar from you and admiring it. "And who, exactly, did you intend on having wear this?"

"Well, read the tag and find out."

"Good Boy," he read aloud, his eyes flicking up to meet your gaze. "Well well, you've really gone all out on this, haven't you?" he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You're determined to play the role of my little bunny prey, aren't you?"

Kei handed the collar and leash back to you.

"Put it on me, then."

You fidgeting with your hands excitedly before unclipping the collar.

"Lean forward, m'kay?"

He laughed softly, amused by your excitement as you unclipped the collar. He obeyed your command and leaned forward, his eyes fixed on you with curiosity. His head tilted to one side slightly, exposing his neck so that you could put the collar on him.

"Like this, bunny girl?" he teased, his tone playful.

You nodded and put the collar onto him, attaching the leash onto it.

"Comfy?"

You had a loose grasp on the leash, waiting for him to answer.

He ran his fingers over the collar around his neck, adjusting it slightly. It clung snugly to his skin, but not uncomfortably so.

"Yeah, it's comfortable," he replied, his voice dripping with pure amusement. He leaned back slightly, letting the leash hang loose in your grip. "So, what now?"

"I've got to fix your clips for you, first off, you said. Taking the wolf ears out of his hair, readjusted them and clipped them back in.

"How do I look?"

"You look.." you paused, watching him close his mouth, lick over his teeth, and flash them at you like a true werewolf, "so hot, babe."

"Yeah? You like them, huh?" Kei teased, hair slightly messy from the clips. "You think I look hot as a werewolf monster?"

You tightened your grip on the leash and tugged him forward roughly as you unzipped his pants, freeing his length.

"So hot," you repeated to answer his question, yanking the leash so he would look up at you. You removed your panties and tossed them, grinding your slick folds over his dick.

He let out a low growl as you suddenly rubbed over him and tugged on his leash, pulling him closer to you. He looked up at you obediently as you yanked on the leash, his golden-brown eyes locked on your face.

"Is that so?" he said, his voice lower and a bit gruff from the arousal. He felt his heart start to speed up at the way you suddenly took control. "You like having your little monster on a leash, do you? Is that how you want me? Leashed for you?"

You grabbed Kei's face in your hands, rubbing softly under his chin and on his cheeks as if you were petting him.

"Mm, no," you said in a low tone, nuzzling your nose against his, "I want you fucking into me, but that will come soon enough, Mr. Werewolf."

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing slightly as you rubbed under his chin and against his cheeks. However, your words and the feeling of you nuzzling your nose against his piqued his attention, and he opened his eyes again.

He huffed out a breath, the sexual tension making it more of a growl than a normal exhale. "Is that so? You think a slutty bunny like you deserves to get fucked?" he challenged, his voice still gruff. "I don't think you do."

"I'll just do what bunnies are best at to convince you," you said coolly, wrapping the leash around your palm, ready to tug it whenever necessary.

Kei felt his heart race a bit faster as you tightened your grip on the leash, his eyes flicking down to watch your movement.

He raised an eyebrow at your words, "Oh, and what's that? Running and hiding?" he asked, unable to resist the urge to push your buttons a little.

"No."

You yanked the leash roughly, pulling him forward. Your tone became cold and rough, but still flirtatious.

"Bunnies are best at bouncing."

You blew a puff of air over his face, chuckling at him as he blinked quickly in response.

"They're pretty good at multiplying, too. Maybe you should knot me and we can have ourselves a litter."

He was dazed by the unexpected roughness of your tone, but he was more distracted by the feel of the leash being pulled and the puff of air you blew across his face, making him involuntarily blink. His cheeks flushed a slight shade of red at your words. He tried to maintain his cocky facade, but the way you were talking was making it increasingly difficult.

"Are you really suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

You could feel his legs start to shake under you in excitement.

"I'm serious, big, bad wolf." You leaned forward on his lap, whispering into his ear. "No pulling out at the last minute. No rubbers. Nothing. I want to carry your pups. Y'gonna let me have 'em?"

His breath hitched at your whispered words, your breath tickling his ear. He let out a low, guttural growl. His heart was thumping in his chest, the thought of what you were suggesting stirring something primal within him.

"You really have no idea what you're asking for, do you?" His voice was nothing but a low rumble at this point. "You want me to claim you? Breed you and fill you with my pups?"

"I want your pups," you paused, breaking character for a moment, "and I want your babies, Kei." You threw your hands over his shoulders, leaning face to face with him. "Now, I'll ask you again, one more time. Are you going to give them to me?"

His face softened as he realized you were breaking character and being genuine about it. He met your gaze, his eyes searching yours. He saw the hint of seriousness in your eyes, and he knew you were being sincere.

He brought his hands up to your hips, holding you in place. He leaned in closer, his forehead touching yours.

"Yes," he said, his voice thick with unrestrained desire. "I'll give them to you. I'll give you my pups. I'll give you all of me, bunny girl."

"Then hurry up and fill me up."

You let go of your hold on the leash and let him flip you over, taking control again, finally getting a taste of the dominance he so craved.

He took the opportunity to take over, pining you down beneath him on the couch cushions. His eyes darkened with desire as he straddled you, the leash tangled in between you.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against your neck as he spoke. "You really are a naughty girl, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice dripping with possessive need. "Begging for my pups like that."

"I know what I want," you said, wrapping you legs around his waist, pulling him close to you half naked body. "Bunnies need to get bred, you know that. Don't you, smart boy?"

He let out a low growl as you wrapped around him. He could feel the heat radiating from your cunt and it was driving him crazy.

"Oh, I know," he muttered, his hands gripping your thighs, splitting them apart while he slid into you. "I know how needy you bunnies can be. Always in need of a big, strong wolf to satisfy your cravings."

"Yeah, jus' because you wolves are so much better than boy bunnies. S'much bigger 'n stronger," you whined, placing your hand around his arm, gripping onto it tightly while he made shallow thrusts into you. "Just want a strong werewolf like to knock me up. Can't you do that for me?"

He groaned as you spoke, relishing in the way you were complimenting him. He flexed his arm, enjoying the feeling of your hand against his bicep.

"Wan' me to prove just how much stronger I am than a puny, little bunny boy?" Lowering his mouth to your neck, he sucked at your skin, his teeth grazing over your pulse point.

Your mouth fell open, feeling his sharp teeth nip at you.

"Yes, that's all I want! Don't want you to hold back, 'm a greedy girl. I want every load."

Kei loved your eagerness. He nibbled and kissed down your neck, his teeth dragging along your skin just enough to leave faint red marks. You couldn't tell what you enjoyed more: the feeling of his dick inside of you or his mouth around you.

"Is that so?" he muttered, his hips snapping up against yours. He pulled back to look down at you, a glint in his eyes. "You really think you can handle a big, bad wolf like me? I won't hold back, you know." He punctuated his words with a rough thrust, knocking your entire body forward.

You gasped and tried to catch your breath for a second. "Babe," you broke character briefly, trying to catch his attention.

Kei paused his ministrations, sensing the change in your tone. He lifted his head, looking down at you with a slightly concerned expression.

"Everything alright, baby?" he asked, his voice laced with a mix of concern and affection.

"If you don't get cum inside of me in the next ten seconds, I'm going to fist fight you, m'kay?" Your eyes fluttered softly at him, voice soaked in need and impatience.

He chuckled at your impatience, his concern melting away and replaced by a smug grin.

"You really are demanding, aren't you. Far be it from me to keep my bunny waiting."

He gritted his teeth, eyebrows furrowing as he lifted your legs over his shoulder, pounding away. He watched as a ring of white arousal formed at the base of his cock, getting stickier the more he moved.

"Are you ready for this one?"

You nodded, playfully counting down to speed him up before you started 'throwing hands.'

"Ten, nine, eight, seven si— oh!"

As you began to countdown, he scoffed, a bit annoyed by your playful attempt to speed things along. Once he was almost there, his irritation was replaced by the feeling of your tightness all around him causing him to moan huskily.

All he felt was you. Every vice-like grip you unleashed around him, every slick drip slipping out.

You felt him force your face down in the pillows, muffling your counting when he approached his peak.

You let out a bunch of rough, jumbled gasps before giggling with your dry mouth. You decided to tease him, since he was obviously more far-gone than you were.

"I feel it twitching, gonna spill soon? Spill your seed and give me the pups I deserve?" You lifted your head off of the pillows, face fucked out beyond comprehension.

He growled at your words, his hands gripping your hips almost harshly as he tried to hold himself back. He could feel the way you had him completely at your mercy, even as you were pinned beneath him.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me, do you? You're going to push me over the edge if you keep talking like that."

You pushed your hips back, feeling his dick twitch again.

"C'mon, I'll count down again for you. Think you can cum for me by the time I get to one?"

Kei groaned deeply as you pushed back against him. He could feel himself getting close, the way you were teasing him driving him wild.

He tried to maintain his composure, but his breath was ragged and his heart was pounding. "Whatever you want," he whined, "I don't care, just— whatever you want, baby, please. Take it."

You pushed him, once again, all the way onto his back. You remained facing away from him, moving your lower body up and down, bouncing on his cock. He let out a strangled gasp as you pushed him onto his back, pinning him there as you took control.

"Ten, nine, eight," you counted aloud, a giggle permanently stuck in your voice.

You sped up, hearing him pant loudly like a dog, mouth shamelessly open.

"Seven, six, five, four, oh, are you gonna make it to one?" you cooed at him, feeling him lift his hips to buck up into you.

Kei felt his resolve weakening with each number you counted out. He tried to hold back, to maintain some semblance of control, but it was no use. He was weak. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge with each bounce.

"Three," you counted agonizingly slow now, drawing out every syllable. So mean.

"Please," Kei breathed out, the word coming out as a whine. "Please, bunny, I can't hold on much longer."

"Two, oh you're so cute when you beg," you added, tittering to yourself. "One."

Kei was an absolute mess beneath you, his body trembling and his breath coming in spastic gasps. His fingers dug into the cushioning below him, his fingers puncturing the fabric as he tried to hold himself together.

But when you counted down to one, that single, earth shattering number, his control wavered and broke. Guttural moans slipped as he came inside of your needy cunt, his body bucking and shuddering as he spilled inside, softly spewing curses under his breath.

You felt your body practically split itself in half to receive his seed, drinking him up like water.

As he came down from the high of his release, he lay there panting, feeling completely spent. His mind was fuzzy, his thoughts a muddled mess as he tried to catch his breath.

Kei looked at you with a mixture of awe and disbelief. "You really know how to a guy wild."

"Mhm, I know."

You turned around to look at him, faux confusion on your face while you peered down at his exhausted form.

"Oh, but, who said we were finished? Bunnies need to get as many rounds in as possible. Are you weaker than a bunny-boy? You can't take anymore?"

He groaned at your comment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched you look down at him with a feigned innocence. He knew you were just teasing him, but he couldn't help but feel a flare of competitiveness rile him up.

"Oh, is that so? You think you can handle another round with me, stupid rabbit?" he asked, his voice dripping with a playful challenge. He reached out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you around to face him head on again.

"Eek—! Tsukki, I was joking, I promise!"

He shushed your squealing and pulled you down.

"Don't run, we still have pups to make, remember? We need my seed to take for sure."

#barleyxnighteye #haikyuu #timeskip haikyuu #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu x reader #smut #haikyuu smut #hq x reader

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 1 year ago

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Imagine...Demon Dean Hunting You (Part 1)

Pairing: Demon!Dean x reader

A/N: Wrote this 7 years ago and forgot about it. Whoops

_______

“Y/N, where are you sweetheart?” you heard Dean taunt from somewhere in the bunker. Of course you had to be alone, Sam and Cas just had to go out together to get some more blood. You were going to kill Sam if you ever saw him again, forgetting the last bag you’d needed to turn Dean all the way back...he should be praying you didn’t get a hold of him.

A door slamming shut nearby made you shudder. Dean was getting closer to your hiding spot and you knew beating him when he wasn’t some super strong version of himself was difficult enough.

“I just want to talk to my, Y/N. I know you’ve missed me,” he said, voice only a hall away. You could risk running from the closet you were in, try to conceal yourself in some dark corner. It’d be pointless though, Dean was too good right now and he’d hear.

You titled your head up, holding in a groan as you heard Dean find your hall. Your eyes widened as you got an idea. You wasted no time, not caring about the noise you were making as Dean chuckled and you saw the light under the door be blocked out.

“Found you,” he sang, trying the handle at first but finding it locked. You nearly fell as you felt Dean ram his shoulder once and then twice into the door as it flung open. “Now where...” he trailed off as he didn’t see you in the small space.

“Up here,” you said, staring down from where you’d managed to pull yourself up into the air vent. It was gross and dark but for the first time since Dean escaped, you felt safe. He’d never fit, no matter what traces of demon he had left in him.

“Just when I thought we were done playing,” he said darkly. “Smart, I’ll give you that. But I’ll see you in a few minutes sweetheart,” you heard him say as he disappeared with a wink. You crawled further into the vents, toward the other side of the bunker, aiming for the garage when you started to feel warm, very warm.

“Did he...” you trailed off as you pushed on towards the garage, ignoring the heat. When you got there, you found the vent blocked, a heavy tool chest in front of it that you’d never move. And so it went, every vent you tried, Dean had put something in front of it or bolted right over it, all the while the heat got so bad the metal was beginning to hurt your hands. He’d turned the furnace to the max, the air barely breathable as you made your way back to the vent you came up in.

You hid out of view as long as you could stand it, until your lungs burned for cool air and your skin was begging for any kind of relief. You debated staying there but knew Sam and Cas would be home soon. You could handle Demon Dean for fifteen minutes. You had to.

Ungracefully, you slipped out of the vent, falling back to the closet floor, knees smacking hard as you let out a whine, the cold floor a nice reprieve. Until you saw a pair of boots step into view.

“Hi, Y/N,” said Dean, a hand in the back of your shirt pulling you up. “You’re coming with me.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

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fullofbees · 11 months ago

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My God's Bane (Astarion x F!Tav)

Tav no longer recognizes herself while Astarion finally comes to terms with his feelings towards her.

AKA I wrote my own leadup to Astarion's confession scene :3

CW: LOTS of angst, religious conflict/crisis, mentions of past physical, emotional, and sexual abuse (Astarion), mild depictions of gore Word Count: 9,437

He liked to think that he had a talent for reading people at this point. Most wear their emotions clearer than they believe. Even when they hide behind a quiet, joyful, or indifferent mask, everyone slips, shows their hand so to speak, and that’s when he strikes.

However, when it came to the leader of their ragtag band of weirdos, she was easy. She slipped the moment they met, when he cornered her about killing one of those brain creatures outside the nautiloid crash. She all but ran to his supposed rescue, not thinking twice that the man before her could pose harm. It was as simple as breathing back then, to betray that small boundary of trust when he held his blade to her throat.

Her heart was on her sleeve, and she extended it to every wayward soul they encountered. With remarkable speed, she was able to secure new adventurers for their mission. She made vows to the tieflings and druids alike, intent on restoring order despite the limited time they had. Whether foe or ally, she sought the safety of all involved – such is the way of a valiant paladin. It was an inconvenience, honestly.

Ever since they arrived at the Shadowlands, though, Tav’s personality changed.

Their first day in the darkness brought them to battle between the Harpers and their arachnoid escort. The towering bastard had to go and cast Sanctuary constantly, leaving the rest to pick off the weaker cultists until they could find an opening past his defense.

Tav had swung the final blows, her blade illuminated in a holy light that was nearly blinding against the shadows. The drider fell, and joined his fellow Absolutists as bloody road markers.

She was an excitable kind of person, cheering and hollering with the smallest of victories, giddy with triumph whenever her enemies fell. Add Karlach into the mix, and Astarion was positive that sleep would evade the camp that night, the two warriors whooping into the night, drunk off wine and adrenaline.

But, as she had stood over the vanquished drider, Tav was silent. He could not make out the emotion that crossed her face; reverence – or perhaps mourning, as he watched Tav kneel to close each eye the spider possessed.

Astarion knew he was the only one to witness it. The others were engaged in conversation as the Harpers so graciously invited them to their little hideout, in the form of an abandoned inn. When Tav stood from the ground and turned, she froze upon seeing him standing there, eyes wide with panic as she fumbled for words to say.

All she managed was a desperate, “Please don’t tell the others.”

He didn’t understand why, at the time, he had allowed her to place such trust in him.

The same night, when everyone was gathered around the campfire, joking and sharing stories over whatever meal Gale managed to throw together, she stared into the flames until one of their companions pulled her mind back to the present.

“An actual drider,” marvels Wyll, “It would have been magnificent if it weren’t so grotesque. Wouldn’t you agree, Tav?”

“Hmm?” She hummed, eyes transfixed on the bowl in her hands.

“The drider,” Wyll tried again, almost in disbelief that she had not heard him the first time, “What did you make of it?”

Her spoon circled the bowl for the umpteenth time, the sound immensely grating to Astarion’s sensitive hearing.

“Him,” she muttered.

“I’m sorry?” Wyll asked.

“What did I make of him? He’s a person, not an ‘it’,” she corrected with a huff of offense. “That poor man...”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to pity the creature,” admonished Shadowheart, “It is only fitting that one be punished for failing their Goddess. Really, we were doing it a favor.”

There’s an unwon arrogance that Shadowheart tends to mince her words with. Usually, he would find her quips amusing, but he wished she would have read the obvious tension.

“He’s not a creature!” Tav slammed the bowl into the dirt in front of her. The metallic clang of the spoon against ceramic rang out into the stunned silence of those around the fire.

“He was hurting! Desperate to be seen after Lolth’s rejection... and all it got him was a tadpole from another cruel Goddess!” Tav’s hands clenched into fists, brow furrowed as her eyes focused once again on the flames, “He didn’t deserve to die. I could have-- I mean, we could have done more!”

“I do not understand,” said Lae’zel, “Why do you show such sympathies for the weak?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” chimes in Karlach, and though Astarion assumed she would start on another lecture about friendship and unity, Tav did not let her finish.

“I’m afraid I lost my appetite. Good night,” she said, her meal abandoned as she stomped off to her tent.

Karlach sighed, shaking her head at Lae’zel. The githyanki had not moved, still perplexed by the situation around her. An uneasy quietness quickly descended upon the group, broken only by Wyll bidding them goodnight. A chorus of muttered ‘goodnights’ followed as they began to disperse.

Considering it an outburst of exhaustion, Astarion left Tav to stew in her tent. He wished he hadn’t, for she was no better the next day.

It was normal for her to seek their thoughts while exploring. She’d ask Karlach or Lae’zel for tips after combat, banter with Gale and Wyll, show Shadowheart every damn “pretty” flower she found, and insisted on directing as many vampire jokes as she could at Astarion. It didn’t matter how dreadfully unfunny they were, she always laughed.

Adventuring was quiet now, as she ushered them from place to place, battle to battle, without a break. They found various victims of the curse, most a century old, but some new and with unfortunately familiar faces. It did not matter how long the bodies had been there, Tav grieved each one, tears streaming from her face as she read letters of their last words. While she bawled at their corpses, Astarion brooded, wondering when he had started to miss her laughter.

She was praying more often as well, sequestering herself alone in whatever corner she could find and frantically whispering. Once, when she ceased her incessant prayer, Tav appeared to be locked in some kind of trance. She did not react to sound or touch, the whole of her eyes overtaken by a ghostly, lavender hue. She stayed that way for two hours.

Everyone saw the tears that streamed from her eyes when her mind had returned from its journey, but she refused to answer their questions.

Karlach approached him one night, nearly a tenday after Tav’s original outburst, telling him he needed to figure out what was wrong. He had scoffed at the tiefling; after all, it’s not like he cared about whatever mental issues shared rent with her tadpole. Right?

“She likes you the most, fangs. If there’s anyone she’s willing to open up to, I'm bettin’ it’s you.”

He laughed then, loud and boisterous, to hide the rising tide of excitement and anxiety that Karlach’s words had caused.

“Trying to use me to pry into Tav’s life, are we?” He tsk-ed. Though he smiled, his anxiety had given way to anger. It poked and taunted his deepest fear; that he’s only useful when he can be used. It’s so painfully obvious that’s all he’d ever be, that even sweet Karlach knew it.

But something besides the tadpole lurked around in his mind; why does he feel bad about tricking Tav? That is his whole plan, is it not? Use the strong sword-wielding lady to safely travel back to Baldur’s Gate, she dices this stupid cult and Cazador into pieces, and then he dumps her, finally free from any master’s grip.

He banished the intruding thought instantly, bottled it as deep as it could go, for the looming answer to his question threatened to make him sick. He is undead, a creature of the night, an external parasite that feeds on Tav at night until he can find someone, something, better. His skin is cold as ice and his heart no longer beats. He has no heart to give; or so he tells himself.

“You know that’s not the case,” Karlach had chastised, seemingly offended he could suggest such a thing, “We’re all worried. You can pretend all you want, but I know you are too. You can help her, Astarion.”

Now that was a curious sentiment. ‘Help’ is numerous in its contexts; Cazador certainly considered himself helpful, merciful even, as he watched his new spawn vomit blood and dirt after clawing out of their tombs. The word implies a give and take, and the world is far more eager to collect than it is to provide.

To put it plainly, he had nothing to offer their melancholic leader; he is nothing and has been for a long time. Still, Karlach had come to him, apparently unaware of his obvious lack. Perhaps he should hear her out. Perhaps she saw something in him.

“And just how should I ‘help’?” Astarion asked, condescendingly drawling the question out, rolling his eyes for good measure.

He saw how the edge of Karlach’s lips twitched, how her eyes narrowed, the way her mechanical heart roared to life with a bright spark before settling back into quiet embers. In poetic irony, it seems that he burned her.

“Hells below, Astarion,” she nearly yelled, exasperated, tired, and practically begging him to cooperate. He doesn’t blame her for the outburst. Without the annoyingly bubbly attitude of Tav, the tension between party members had been amplified and pulled taut. They all may very well snap soon.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he dismissed her then, attention focused back on the tome he had in his hands. But his mind did not process the words on the page. He reread the same line damn near ten times before he gave up and went to bed instead.

His rest was anything but; it was fitful and full of sorrow.

It was times like then when he wished he could slumber like every other living creature. When his victims and fellow spawn would speak of nightmares, they told tales of distorted visions and intense fear. His waking hours were already plagued with such issues, he could easily handle the nightmares. But no, instead he was cursed to revel in his own pain during his meditative rest, reliving and experiencing his own terrifying truths on repeat.

That night, he tried searching for something he could do for Tav. Something that the others could not; something to prove his value to her. He did find it. It didn’t take him long at all.

All he had to offer his little troublesome Tav was his body.

And it broke him.

He spent that night with the realization that this is who he is and always will be. A body to be used and used and used and used and used and used and used and u s e d.......

Thankfully, Tav had asked him to stay at camp that morning. Even though he teased her with his usual, “Darling, I thought we had something special,” she could barely manage a smile, and muttered her thanks before flittering about camp in preparation.

It was probably for the best, knowing how useless he would have been with that morose epiphany swimming in his mind. Though awake, the uneasy feeling from the night did not dissipate. His emotions were all over the place, that much he was sure of, but they had always been identifiable. Agony, desperation, emptiness.

Now new and uncertain feelings – gods how he detested the word – seized his chest. Images of Tav pestered him the entire day; the bags under her eyes, the unkempt hair, the dying light of her spirit. Karlach was right, he was worried.

Still, he could not find the source of his worry. He’d spent the last 200 years surrounded by shambling corpses and their victims alike. They slept like dogs, were beaten like beasts, so really, who was he to judge for a bad hair day?

Astarion saw no use driving himself mad about it, after all, he had always warned her that her heroism couldn’t last forever. He spent that day doing what he does best when he finds himself without her company, distracting himself with enough shit wine and even shittier books. He didn’t think his tolerance would be shit too.

Words had soon blurred together, and despite the book’s distinct lack of arcane knowledge, the letters seemed to arrange themselves in puzzles. He slammed the tome shut, opting to sit in the privacy of his tent and will away his growing headache. While his thoughts were no less jumbled, the feelings from before were becoming clearer.

Worry; The presence of the undead made it impossible for him to feed on anyone other than Tav. Even though she always assured him that she did not mind, he felt like he was using her, and for the first time in a long time, he felt bad about being such a devious bastard.

Rejection; He’d never tell, but the absence of Tav returning his superficial flirtations left him feeling empty. He tries to tell himself that it isn’t him, it isn’t his fault, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less to not have her affection.

Fear; He would give his body to her, if it would make her happy. Thousands before her had found pleasure in him, it would be easy for him to allow her the same. He wanted to believe that he’d be selfless, place her needs and comfort above his own; but he knew he could not. He is selfish. Could she want a selfish man?

It dawned on him then, what this cocktail of vulnerability and yearning was. The cause of his worry, the source of his comfort, the reason he felt like an idiot. He lov-

The party had arrived back at camp, and he had stumbled to his feet to meet them, for how would it look if their charming vampire companion was found sulking and brooding in his tent. Karlach immediately shed her armor, talking about how stuffy it felt to be metal-clad. Gale carried a sack with the night’s dinner ingredients in hand and grumbled about the pain in his knees as he knelt to light the fire. Lae’zel, despite her stoicism, appeared happy, covered head to toe in the blood of the fallen.

Tav looked no worse than she had for these last few days, and that ought to count for something. He watched as she removed the outer pieces of her armor, wincing when the harsh edges dug into new and old bruises alike. She picked up a rag and a small mirror, wiping away the blood from the cuts on her face.

The sight of the crimson spilling from her skin reminded him of his hunger. Their quid pro quo arrangement had been forgotten in her despair, and he was desperate at this point for anything she would give him. Blood, sex, shallow praise, whatever she had to offer.

Oh, right.

He had yet to offer himself again, so what reason would she have to keep up her end of the deal?

He downs the last of the wine in his goblet, swallowing the intoxicating substance just as the reality of his situation swallows his hope. With measured steps, he approached her tent, taking quiet yet deep breaths to ease the misery he felt knowing he’ll never be more than this. He opened his mouth to call her name, but Tav released the ties holding back the rainfly of her tent and shut them all out.

That should have been it, but his drunken mind reminded him of his promise to Karlach, and his predatorial hunger lurched at the idea of another night unsatiated.

Once the others were asleep, Astarion snuck into her tent, part and parcel to their routine since she first discovered his true nature. It was easier for him when she was asleep, not that the sharp pinch of his fangs left her totally undisturbed; but to approach while she was awake only guaranteed in his mind that he would end up on his back again.

Tav was facing away from him, lying on her side, a formerly white linen sheet covered her sleeping form. Nothing was amiss as he had stalked closer, brushing the strands of hair away from her neck, his mouth unbelievably dry. He knelt, the perfume of her blood wafting sweetly from beneath her skin, as he placed his hand on her shoulder to steady himself.

She awoke then, the force of her sitting so abruptly pushed him back and sent him stumbling. He had, thankfully, caught himself with his hand before falling into the dirt. Still, he was equal parts annoyed at dinner being interrupted and worried that he was caught.

“Hells, Astarion, you scared the shit out of me,” she whispered.

“And you almost broke my nose,” he chastised; not a total lie, but an exaggerated one, nonetheless.

Tav rolled her eyes at him before letting herself fall back against her bedroll again, “Oh, you poor thing, want me to kiss it better?”

At least she appeared to be feeling better, back to the self that loved teasing him.

“If you’re offering, who am I to say no to the hand that feeds?”

Upon realizing that he would not be allowed to dine and dash, Astarion straddled her thighs, ready to bargain for what he needed. He let his hand rest on her hip, soothing circles through the fabric of her nightwear.

“Yea, s’pose you can’t say you won’t bite,” she said through a drowsy laugh.

He allowed his hand to wander then, down the inside of her thigh, fingers trailing along the seam of her pants, “As if the lady would protest my bites.”

With a kiss pressed to her lips, Astarion silenced any innuendo or proposition she may have made. He did not want to hear it, could not stand the idea of her confirming all the horrid things he thought about himself.

This unspoken deal only served to remind him of how temporary freedom would be. At worst, he would return to Cazador, and the bastard would tell him how lucky he should feel, how there were other mortals dying to be in his position. He wished he could tell him that adding an ‘s’ before ‘pawn’ doesn’t make being a puppet any more lucrative.

She promised that she would not let that happen. She promised to free him from his master’s chains, but what comes after? He would still be bound to the night, doomed to prowl moonlit streets for an eternity. Killing would still be his status quo, whether mammal or mortal, in order to satiate his hunger.

Would she stay with such a monster?

Thoughts he did not want to entertain had barged to the forefront of his mind again, and he knew he needed to move this along. At least with sex, he could force those thoughts away, bottle them back up, and allow his body to numb. At least, this way, he survived another day. At least her body is warm.

At least—anything he can say to himself to justify another night on his back and to ignore the resentment building in his heart.

Her lips had parted in a moan, and his tongue quickly lay claim to her mouth, as his hand finally cupped her sex. She gasped, and as his mind had started to drift off into the numb void, he had been pulled back by the feeling of her hand pushing against his chest.

When he separated himself from her body, Astarion wanted to scream, wanted to shake her; why did she insist on taking the lead? It would be easy with him on top; he wouldn’t have to look at her, to feel her weight on top of him. Must she be so difficult?

“I don’t want to have sex tonight.”

What--

He looked down at her then, saw the flush in her face, felt how her hands fiddled with the ruffled collar of his shirt but harbored no intention to remove the clothing.

“I’m not really in the right headspace for that,” she explained, “Plus, I can taste the wine on your lips...”

“Right, well...” He didn’t know what to say.

Astarion was frozen above her, unsure of what he was supposed to do. Awkwardness had settled over them both, each one terrified of scaring the other off should they move or speak. Until, the dots connect in her head and she practically launched herself upright, almost smacking herself into him again.

“You haven’t fed since we got here, have you? Shit, I’m sorry!” She said as she pulled her hair to the side, exposing the column of her neck.

Any other time, he might have shoved her away, storming out of her tent as his hunger gave way to the embarrassment of it all, his crumbling ego unable to cope. But as she all but dragged his mouth to her skin, urging him to drink, Astarion was thankful that her care outweighed his own pride.

His fangs pierced her flesh, and she hissed at the pain, but did not complain further.

He recalled the conversation they had about what their friends would taste like, debating over who would be sweet and who would be savory. Once he had mused that she would be bland, only if to rile her up, but the depth of her lifeblood had truly surprised him.

She is a winter’s mulled wine, deceptively simple at first yet brimming with spice as she settles on his tongue. Hints of citrus tease his palate, the last taste of summer’s sweetness yielding to the zest of cinnamon and clove. It was gone as soon as it came, leaving its enjoyer to eagerly await the next mouthful.

As he drank from her, he had felt the echo of a memory in his chest, of his younger days scribbling away next to a hearth, of a man who made his heart flutter and his skin burn with want. The man’s face remains obscured, buried under years of torment, but the feeling is there; the rush of something new and exciting; the naivety of first love.

With wild hair and soft eyes that regarded him as if he held the entire world, the elf below him had unearthed a humanity he’d long since forgotten. What a wondrous feeling it was; to release all that had been brimming beneath the surface, to give names to the shadows, to feel again.

Again, her hand pushed against his chest, weaker than before as she mumbles, “O-Okay, I’m starting to get dizzy.”

His fangs retreated from her skin, and as his lips captured any wayward drops, he realized he did not wish to completely part in that moment. Gently, he laid her down against her bedroll, back on her side. He situated himself behind her, basking in the newfound heat that flowed through his veins, and allowed his breath to even out. Tav was already fast asleep when he turned, wrapping his arm around her and cuddled her to his chest.

...

Astarion had made sure to return to his own tent before dawn broke and if Tav had noticed the vampire snuggling her in the night, he was eternally grateful for her silence on it in the morning. He did not want to hear the insufferable taunts and jokes the others would make if the two of them were discovered together. Gale or Wyll, hells, probably even Karlach, would remind him that it’s only natural for two adults to seek out company between their giggles; as if he’s a little boy who's embarrassed about his crush.

But that is what he is, isn’t he? He’s tucking tail and scurrying away because he’s afraid of others seeing that he is capable of feeling. Brazen displays of emotion, especially ones of love, are signs of a weakness to be exploited. Everything he had ever loved had been taken from him, had been hurt because of him. He could love her, he wants to love her, but it would just be placing a target on her back. Another one of Cazador’s endless lessons.

She is safer this way.

For what it’s worth, Tav did appear livelier that morning, bantering with Shadowheart as the cleric healed their bloodless leader, and it earned him a thankful pat on the back from Karlach.

“Ah, I love the taste of Lesser Restoration in the morning,” Tav hummed happily, arms raised above her head as she stretched the sleep out of her body.

“I don’t know why you insist on coming to me,” said Shadowheart, “You’re the one who chose to be a walking blood bank, and I know Paladins can cast Lesser Restoration. Why don’t you heal yourself instead of making it my problem?”

“Because you’re always so charming,” Tav teased, “How do you expect me to resist?”

“Kicking and screaming, I hope,” deadpanned the cleric.

“See what I mean? Our own little ray of sunshine!”

After breakfast, Tav assembled that day’s crew. The idea of a day of physical labor after last night's mental exhaustion made Astarion less than eager to accept her invitation. Still, he had said yes, and donned his armor as he made a quiet vow to himself.

He will always keep her safe in one way or another.

The day’s mission had involved infiltrating the House of Healing to find something that could be used on this Art Cullagh fellow. Astarion had accepted, by this point, to not concern himself with the details and just assist Tav with whatever heroics she found herself agreeing to. They would happen with or without him.

The exterior yielded nothing of value, except one half of a pair of warding rings Tav found on the skeleton of another victim. She was somber as she pocketed the ring and read the lover’s note, but composed herself afterwards, and said a small prayer before pushing forward. He had felt some level of pride and admiration, watching as a new strength kindled inside her. There was inflation to his ego as well, a selfish joy in thinking that his mere cuddles could fix her woes.

He should have known better. Life had never been kind.

They had entered the House of Healing through an antechamber that reeked of decay and spoiled blood. Infirmary beds were strewn about, and of the few that weren’t outright destroyed or flipped over, they looked less than pleasing without a mattress to cover the rusted springs. Rotting towels, shattered wash basins, and an unknown film covered the floors. Voices echoed from the main chamber ahead, so each step further in was made cautiously.

They passed through a door to their right and discovered what used to be a woman as she floated before two of the beds, covered in nurses' attire that clearly didn’t know the definition of sterile. She - no, it - paid them no mind as they had approached, gazing down at the implements and bandages before it as if it couldn’t figure out what to do.

With her hand on the hilt of her sword, Tav spoke first, “Excuse me, ma’am?”

“Don’t call the doctor yet!” came the soft plea of the creature, “I’ve got potions, sutures - I know I can do this...” It turned to address their fellow nurse, yet startled when it saw the Paladin, “Oh! You’re a patient. This is the children’s ward – triage is back that way.”

“I have something else I’d like to ask you,” Tav started, but her words faded off as she looked beyond the nurse in front of her.

Two bodies laid still on the beds, clearly dead, though it was hard to tell if it was from the Shadow Curse or the nurse’s ‘treatment’.

In an instant, Tav drew her sword, resting the blade in a tail stance, voice low with anger as she asked, “What are you doing with the dead?”

The nurse regarded her with confusion as she replied, “Not dead, merely medicated. To ease the pain.”

Tav raised her sword, now bracing her weight in a plow stance, the tip of her blade dangerously close to the nurse’s abdomen, as she snarled, “I asked you a question, creature! What are you doing with the dead?”

Astarion had watched Tav face countless foes since their adventure together began. Even with the most wicked, she had never been so blatantly offensive. In hindsight, he realized that all those foes had been alive; fought them she must, but always done so reluctantly, and always ready to spare a life when able. There, in the House of Healing, did he first witness her true devotion as a Doomguide.

Of course, she had told the group of her deity; was overbearingly eager to share it, in fact. Kelemvor; Judge of the Damned; whose symbol featured a skeletal hand raising balanced scales. Tav wears it on her chest – darkened purple stitched into a solid black surcoat that she dons no matter the armor underneath. She told them the stories of her years as a lone wanderer, proselytizing Kelemvor’s wisdom, performing last rites for the dying, and destroying necromancers.

She was a protector of the living, and a slayer of the undead.

The creature did not answer her question, insisting that the patients were sleeping and to be quiet lest they wake. The last words the creature heard were Tav’s whispered, “In Kelemvor’s name,” before the blade was plunged clean through its body. It collapsed to the floor, trying to speak, but the blood pooling in its throat only allowed for senseless gurgling.

Tav placed her foot on the corpse and pushed it into the heap of flesh as she withdrew her blade. Thick, blackened blood congealed on the metal, and Tav held it in a white-knuckled grip as she stepped over the body and towards the beds.

She took one glance and immediately turned around, tripping on the creature's body as she rushed out of the vestibule, landing on her hands and knees, as her sword skidded across the floor. She did not rise, instead sinking to her elbows as her hands pulled at her hair to the point that Astarion thought she might rip it out.

Karlach rushed to her side, trying to ease the Paladin up as hushed sobs echoed off the walls.

“Hey now, soldier,” said the tiefling, taking hold of Tav’s biceps and urging her to sit up, “Don’t go getting soft on me.”

Shadowheart bypassed the two and peered into the beds before gasping, “It’s Arabella’s parents.”

Another choked cry broke out from Tav as she finally sat back on her haunches, rubbing away her tears with a grubby hand, “I fucking hate this place.”

“We all do,” assured Karlach, “But we gotta keep moving forward; don’t want to have worms forever, do we?”

“No,” came Tav’s hushed response before she stood to her feet. She picked up her sword from the floor, flicking some of the blood off, “Let’s just get this over with.”

Malleus Thorm was an abhorrent sight. Deciding to take the lead after Tav’s second outburst, Karlach interrogated the cursed doctor about his peculiar treatment plan. He spoke of Shar, of darkness, of absence. The victim strapped to the table was catatonic from the aimless carving of the nurses’ blades, though he was soon comatose after the doctor’s mechanical claws dug into his eyes.

Tav was antsy behind her, shifting on her feet, practically chomping at the bit to send the undead man back into oblivion. The battle was difficult, but well won. Tav’s anger and adrenaline combined with Divine Smite proved a lethal combo.

Shadowheart pulled a lute from the corpse of Malleus and held it out to Tav, “I think you might want this.”

Tav took the lute, strapped it to her back and made way for the exit. Despite the exhaustion they all felt and the rush of emotions Tav must have experienced, she stayed silent. No cries, no curses, not one tear to be found. Astarion felt that agonizing mix of worry and sorrow creep around him.

He increased his pace until he was able to fall in line with her, their other party members straggling not far behind.

“Are you alright, darling?” He asked quietly, still not quite ready for his care to be announced to the world.

She only nodded.

...

If he thought their adventures had been quiet before, they were dead silent now. Every fight with another Thorm family member pushed Tav further into despair. Any attempts by their companions to make her smile or laugh were futile. She walked and fought like a zombie, resulting in her near-death numerous times. Lectures about how she needed to mind herself went in one pointed ear and out the other, apparently.

Her silence was only broken by the fits of sobbing that occurred from her tent each night. If she managed to fall into her meditative state, it would end with her lurching forward, gasping for air as she scrambled off into the corner of camp to empty the contents of her stomach.

Karlach had to take over as temporary leader, and if she had her way, Tav would’ve stayed behind. Yet, when the Paladin appeared every morning with her armor and sword ready, the tiefling couldn’t find the strength to not let her tag along.

Astarion also insisted that he be allowed on each mission, even if his skills weren’t useful for their goal. For whatever reason, Tav listened to him more than the others, and would only accept his help when she found herself injured. He had to be there for her, even if watching her suffer wore away at his own sanity. He often found himself looking at the warding ring she had silently given him after their fight with Malleus, and wondered if he would ever hear her laugh again.

Bones, blood, and viscera decorated the entrance hall. The gore was mundane to him, no more unique than a cobblestone street or tavern lights in the dark. The dank and forebodingness of the crypt did not stop him from admiring its beauty. The ruins must have been a marvelous sight in their heyday, brimming with the Lady of Loss’s worshippers as they sought to drown out their sorrow and begged for her guidance amongst the crystalline decor.

Their group split to investigate the various rooms that surrounded the concourse, with him following behind Tav as she investigated the nook to the right. Through the towering archway, he saw that it was no more than a chamber, perhaps used as foyer for those who came to grieve the Thorm family. More bones were littered across its floor and piled in its corners. He saw nothing novel, yet Tav stopped stock still.

“Myrkul...”, she had hissed with disgust, hands clenched into fists that shook in splintering rage.

Peeking over her shoulder, he saw the triangle of femurs that had been constructed in front of the dilapidated desk, a skull perched neatly in the middle. He joined her at her side, casual when he had faced her and asked carelessly, “Who?”

Truthfully, the name and symbol were of no interest to him; a forgotten name from a bygone era, and most importantly, a deity that had ignored his prayers. She looked up to him then, and the dusty air must have been getting to him, because he swore her gaze softened when their eyes met.

“Myrkul Bey al-Kursi, a necromancer and prince who ascended to godhood when Jergal willingly parted with his title,” Gale interrupted just as Tav was about to speak.

Astarion rolled his eyes at the wizard and resisted the urge to pettily stomp his foot against the floor. His look was not enough to kill, but it did have Gale surrendering, hands up in a wordless apology as he had backed away from the two.

“Correct,” Tav said, breaking the tension she didn’t know had occurred, “He was usurped by Cyric, but the Prince of Lies was defeated by Kelemvor.”

Astarion was desperate to keep her talking. He’d listen to an entire history lecture if it meant she’d come back to sound mind. Back to him. “What use would a servant of Myrkul have with some Sharran shrine?”

“It doesn’t matter what ‘use’ they have for it,” admonished Shadowheart, “Lady Shar has decreed that Ketheric must die for his betrayal, and ridding her temple of other disgraces in the process is as much a bonus as it is an honor.”

Listening to the cleric’s devotion was uninteresting at best, and torturous at worst. He almost pitied the poor girl, blindly following a goddess out of fear of what her memories might hold.

Astarion had expected Tav to mirror Shadowheart’s enthusiasm, but instead saw her bristle, hands wringing together nervously. She was unrecognizable to him, the proud warrior now hunched in on herself as she gnawed at her bottom lip. Anxiety was radiating off her in waves; she looked like she might vomit.

His body had moved before he had realized what he was doing, hand reaching for her shoulder to comfort her. When his cool skin had made contact with her chainmail, she recoiled, eyes wide and breath unsteady. Hurt by her reaction, he let his hand fall limply to his side, and gruffly announced that the party should keep moving.

His patience wore thin as they descended into the abyss below the mausoleum. Gale and Shadowheart both wouldn’t shut up about the various magical auras they were picking up on. Sensing Shar’s presence in the Temple of Shar? Who could have guessed the dark goddess would have been there? Bloody amateurs.

Tav nearly fell in battle again against the Dark Justiciars that were forever cursed to protect the temple. She was unfocused and reckless, and the shadows had swarmed her after making quick work of the necromancer’s lackeys. To make matters worse, there was still no sign of the devil Raphael had tasked them with killing. There were hundreds of rats, though, and the sight of them left a bad taste in his mouth.

With some convincing from both he and Gale, Tav finally acquiesced and agreed to return to camp for the evening. Night had developed a new, uncomfortably familar cycle by then, with Tav disappearing to her tent before anyone could say anything to her. She would eat her dinner alone. He would pretend he didn’t hear her crying throughout the night.

They found Balthazar the next day, and it was the first time he ever saw pure hatred burning behind her eyes. They barely survived, the undead necromancer’s poison draining their strength while his ghouls beat them with decayed teeth and talons. When the bastard finally fell, Tav stood over his corpse, whispered a prayer, and then carved her blade through the fat of his neck. She stabbed her sword repeatedly into his chest, moving down his torso until he was no longer recognizable; just a pile of oozing sinew and flesh. His hulking, sewn-together abomination was the next target of her wrath, and it too was reduced to a pool of guts and blood.

It was not enough.

She destroyed the furniture, set the bookshelves ablaze, tore down everything the necromancer kept in his makeshift laboratory. The rest of the party removed themselves from the room, watching silently from the threshold as their near-death leader found the strength to take all of Balthazar’s worldly possessions with her.

It would have been sexy as hell if it weren’t so concerning.

She eventually collapsed, falling to her knees, sword clattering to the ground with a metallic clang echoing around the room. Silence followed; stares were exchanged between Astarion and his fellow compatriots, each one wordlessly asking the other what the hell had just happened.

Tired of walking on eggshells, of not doing something, Astarion walked over to Tav and kneeled in front of her. She didn’t notice him at first, eyes shut tight and chest heaving with labored breaths. He reached out again, placing his hand on her knee.

She was startled, but didn’t move away like before. Instead, her bloodied hand covered his own, fingers tracing over his knuckles, inadvertently smearing the crimson against his pale skin. When he suggested they retire to camp early, she finally, finally, met his gaze. Glimmering violet swirled in her irises, no doubt the remnants of whatever magic she called on Kelemvor for. It faded away, leaving him with the woman of his adoration, looking broken and lost.

Clinging to his armor, she staggered to her feet, yet nearly toppled again when she went to pick up her sword. It was instinct really, for him to grab her waist and to keep her upright. He certainly had held her hips in more lascivious situations, but somehow he felt more naked that time.

Vulnerable.

He doesn’t think he can keep this a secret any longer.

…

This last tenday has been punishing, and Astarion carries its weight with him as he searches the encampment for his wayward paramour.

He finds her on the staggered rock where they helped Halsin rescue Thaniel, staring out into the darkness. Her posture is relaxed as she leans back on her arms, legs dangling off the edge where the water beats on the stone below.

The silt crunches softly beneath his boots, and he knows she has heard him approach when her ear twitches. He settles himself beside her, brushing off any stray granules from his armor with a huff of disgust. She giggles.

It must look comical, how quickly his head snaps up at the sound, searching her face for signs of madness. After how despondent she’s been, he expects to find a vessel, a hollow being with the residue of what was a soul, begging to be let go.

Instead, he finds her kind smile, as she now swipes away the remaining dirt from his calf, “Not a fan of sand, I take it?”

For all his prose, there is no poetry, no song, no prayer that could mimic the joy he feels when she teases him. He’s been drowning, his mood anchored to hers, and now she has yanked him from the abyss once again. Is this the feeling all those bards crooned about? That every two-bit novelist dreamed of capturing?

He had long given up on such fantasies, convinced himself that the very notion of love made him sick.

Love.

There’s no use pretending anymore. It is love that he feels for Tav. It’s why he mopes at the end of the night if she dares to speak to him last; perhaps the tad murderous feeling he gets when he sees her acting too chummy with the wizard. It’s the comfort of knowing someone has his back, the safety of her sword shielding him from attack, the promises of freedom sleepily whispered between lips in the night. She is the first breath taken when he surfaces. The sun pales in comparison to the warmth in her touch, though she is just as apt to kiss his cheeks.

She is back and gods, how he missed her.

Gods, how he loves her.

“No, I don’t,” he responds in his bantering tone, “It’s rough... irritating... and it gets bloody everywhere.”

She hums in agreement, gaze falling to the ground before returning to the river. Silence befalls them again, and he finds himself clamoring for words. He wants to confess his love, sing her praises, ask her what the hell is wrong with her. Anything to fill the silence, he refuses to live in the saturnine hellscape that has been the last week any longer.

“Astarion,” she beats him to it, “I want to apologize for my behavior these last few days. I put everyone at risk and going forward I’ll be sure to keep everything in check. Can’t have everyone dying because of incompetency.”

A bit too diplomatic for his liking, and her laughter is much too forced. He’ll need to teach her some proper acting; it’s a miracle she’s survived as long as she has with that disaster of a performance. Aren’t paladins supposed to be charismatic, or is it the weapon that does most of the talking?

“Oh, you were in a bad mood? I hardly noticed,” he states with all the indifference he can muster.

She leans into him to playfully jab her elbow into his side, muttering expletives in an elven dialect he hasn’t heard in ages.

“Seriously, I’m sorry if I made you worry.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” he rushes out, hand idly scratching the back of his neck.

The tension returns, though not as overbearing as before, as questions remain unasked and feelings unshared. It’s a bitter push, as neither is used to talking about their depths, and he doesn’t want to pry; yet a sweet pull, as he remains at her side, wishing for the awkwardness to dissipate.

“It’s just...” She begins, and though she faces forward, he catches her sneaking looks at him in her peripheral, “There’s so much going on, I don’t know where to start.”

If he had any blood in his body, he’s sure it’d be racing, his heart thumping wildly in tandem. He thinks she’s ready to talk, and that is half the issue. He thinks, but he doesn’t know; it terrifies and thrills him all the same. He wants to know her – aches for it, if he’s being honest.

But he is terrified, so sure that he’s going to fuck up and ruin the one good thing he’s had in two hundred years. If she rejects him now, shuts him out for good, he’s not sure he can take it.

This was supposed to be easy; she was supposed to be easy.

“It doesn’t matter where you start, I’ll be here for the end.” Shit, shit, SHIT.

“Astarion,” she gasps, hand over her heart, his name melting into a laugh, “That was actually smooth.”

He tsks, “I take offense to that. I’ve always been smooth, you’re just too brutish to notice.”

She laughs again, shaking her head as an enamored smile graces her lips. Her hand brushes stray locks of hair behind her pointed ear and even in the dim glow of the inn’s spell, he can see a blush staining her cheeks.

But then, she sighs, slow and tired as her fingers soothe circles into her temples, “Can you keep a secret for me?”

It’s what he’s been pining for, offered on a silver platter, and how could he not say yes.

He raises his hand to his chest, drawing an ‘x’ over his armor, “Cross my heart and hope to—uh, well, you know.”

Another chuckle escapes her lips as she adjusts her position, angling herself towards him.

She swallows thickly before continuing, “Well, I uh—I talked to Kelemvor.”

“Is that not par for the course for you Doomguides?” He asks incredulously, eyebrow raised and head tilting as he chuckles.

This time, she does not grant him a smile or a laugh, focused on picking at her cuticles and the dirt under her nails.

“I haven’t spoken to him since the nautiloid, I figured the tadpole was interfering,” she says hushed, shame and guilt on the edges of her voice. “I was preparing myself for the worst, but what I got was an impossibility.”

What kind of cryptic bullsh-- She’s been hanging around Withers too much.

Hundreds of possibilities race through his mind. What he knows of Kelemvor is only from what she has shared; while he did not seem to be a vengeful god, they already have one person burdened with a suicide mission. He could live without the blabbersome wizard, but her?

He should have known the universe would only offer him misery, to dangle a sweet treat before him and rip it all away before he had the chance to savor it.

“Did he ask you to sacrifice yourself?” He wants to hear it from her, needs to hear her say those dreaded words so he can make peace before she is nothing more than bones and fading memories.

Her eyes find his, inflamed with tears she no longer has the strength to shed, “I wish he did.”

The pain, the anger, the grief of the last few days resurfaces in her voice, that flare of purple sparking in her irises. Astarion does not often find himself shocked, but the callous and tempestuous storm raging beneath her skin leaves him speechless. Instincts tell him he is witnessing only a fraction of her fury.

Then it ebbs, retreating like the tide, as she takes a deep breath to steady herself.

“I’ve been having doubts, about my purpose, about this path I chose. I expected Kelemvor to berate me for lacking faith.”

Her hands go back to tearing at her cuticles.

“He by no means praised me, but he wasn’t furious, either. He didn’t seem like himself... He didn’t even look like himself. It was as if his passion was gone. I asked him what I should do, and he told me that only I can determine my future.”

“So? What’s wrong with that?” He was genuinely confused by her demeanor. Self-determination, autonomy, freedom; all the things she promised to help him find and keep, yet she fears them for herself.

“Kelemvor has been a part of my life since I was a teenager, I’ve devoted myself to him for the better part of two centuries. I don’t-- I don’t know who I am without him.”

A kindred spirit.

She clenches her jaw, letting out a frustrated huff, “What am I supposed to do? I can’t stay a Doomguide to a god who abandoned his own principles!”

He knows she is bleeding from her nail beds, the lovely scent of spiced wine in the air.

“I took an oath of devotion, to be honorable, compassionate, and honest. I do not fear death of myself nor my loved ones, for death is not something to be afraid of. It is not something one must seek, but it is what one should embrace should it find you,” She explains, “For the last two hundred and fifty-six years, Kelemvor would remind me of these tenets, and commend me for every valiant foe I slaughtered in their image.”

As sweet as the fragrance is, he takes her hands in his; they have seen and caused enough damage for the time being.

“And Kelemvor just... doesn’t care anymore. Every time we saw some poor undead creature cursed by Shar, I was reminded of how he dismissed me, like I was a fool for ever following him in the first place. I was his valiant hero, one his most beloved Paladins, and now what? I’m nothing.”

“You are not nothing,” he replies in an instant, “You are everything. You don't need Kelemvor to be honorable or compassionate, because you already are those things. He was lucky to have someone as devoted as you, but if he wants to toss you aside, then good riddance; it’s his loss, and everyone else’s gain.”

Crimson floods her cheeks again, as she stares at him dumbfounded. He fidgets in the momentary silence, the feeling of actually sharing one's feeling still mildly uncomfortable. But then it dissipates, because she smiles at him and brings their clasped hands to rest over her heart. Its beat is comforting.

“Thanks, Astarion. I don’t know what I would have done without you these last few weeks.”

“Someone had to keep you alive. I know I said you would make a pretty corpse, but that doesn’t mean I’m eager to see it, darling.”

“I’m sure Shadowheart would let you have a nibble if I passed,” she says with a laugh.

“Perhaps, but I don’t think she could compare.”

The steady rhythm of her heart increases under his hands. She adjusts herself again, scooting closer to him so that she can lean her head against his shoulder. Her eyes close as she relaxes into him, and he feels so relieved at knowing her touch could be so intimate yet still so gentle.

“There’s just one thing I don’t understand, Tav,” He says, his thumb softly tracing along her knuckles, “Why were you having doubts in the first place?”

“Oh! Um...” She says, head lifting from his shoulder, “It’s so embarrassing, don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t you dare hold out on me now,” He pleads as he slings his arm across her back, hand resting on her hip and pulling her in close so he can whisper, “Especially when it comes to gossip!”

Sagging against his side, she groans out, “You are the wooooorst.”

He raises his hand to his face, making a dramatic show of clearing his throat before uttering a very sickly sweet, “Please?”

“Okay, fine,” she huffs before grumbling out something unintelligible.

“What was that dear? No one likes a mumbler.”

“Because of you! Because... I like you,” She says, carding her hand through her hair; her walls tumbling and every emotion she’s shouldered alone spilling forth in a maddened haze.

“I’ve seen hundreds of undead, most of whom I gladly sent back to their graves. They were merely the husks of the people they once were. Any soul left in them was but a dying echo as they pleaded for their suffering to end. I thought I was helping,” she says, voice shaking, “But what if I ended the life of someone who just wanted-- no needed-- a second chance? Was I an arbiter of divine justice, or just some glorified executioner? I started to question everything when we met.”

His mind is a whirlwind, thoughts simultaneously speeding yet slow. The half of him that yearns to be known, to be loved, is battling against his ever-present fear that he is not worthy of such. It’s a terrifying concoction, one that has him questioning just how accurate Tav’s description of the undead is. He has no idea who Astarion is; he knows who the elven magistrate once was, but who is Astarion the spawn, besides Cazador’s infernal expectations?

“By no means am I saying that you haven’t suffered, but you are not some hollow corpse, Astarion. Despite everything that’s happened, and everything that has yet to come, you have grown in unprecedented ways. You’ve broken a mold, defied all odds. You’re simply breathtaking...”

He is, isn’t he? No one has given him enough credit; no one has truly recognized the pure shit he has survived through. No one has offered him the chance or the choice to be better. He’s tired of the untrusting sideways glances, the disgusting feeling of some stranger’s eye roaming his figure. He’s always been expected to fall in line, and today he makes the promise to finally live for himself.

“When this is all over, I want to stay by your side, if you’ll have me.”

She looks at him with reverence, like he can pluck the stars from the night sky. He has seen this look before, when she would talk about Kelemvor, and he swears his undead heart nearly beats under her adoring gaze. He has no army to command, cannot turn into mist nor bat; he is practically powerless, and yet she wants him anyway. She believes in him, even though he can’t trust himself. Where he sees nothing, she has found something worth abandoning her god for.

“I don’t think I’ve heard you this quiet before... are you alright?”

He cannot find the words necessary to explain his delight. Even if he did, he doubts he’d still even be able to form them, arrange them into proper sentences. The truth has rendered him speechless.

It doesn’t erase the fact that she sounds hurt, scared even, at the prospect that his silence means rejection. He recognizes the feeling all too well, and if she can overcome its pain to tell him the truth, then dammit, he can do the same. Perhaps he will forever roam darkened streets, but that doesn’t mean all of him must remain in the shadows. He must be honest, expose his own secrets to the proverbial light, and allow her the same choice.

“Oh yes, I’m fine. I just... feel awful.”

He hopes she chooses him all the same.

“Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan-”

#fullofbeeswrites #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion/reader #astarion/tav #astarion #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion

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particular-one · 1 year ago

Text

my heart won’t start anymore.

pairing. dan heng x gn!reader cw. hurt/no comfort, implied relationship between reader and dan heng, falling out of love (or is it), heavy angst that is carlyle's brand™ author's note. i say i love dan heng then subject him to my heaviest angst ideas. teehee, whoops. is anyone still surprised that i wrote yet another fic to a taylor swift song? listen to you're losing me for maximum enjoyment. ❤️‍🩹

dan heng would have to be the luckiest man alive to have known someone like you and simultaneously, the most foolish man alive to let you slip through his fingers.

dan heng did not know where to begin when it came to describing you. to merely think he was lucky enough to call someone like you his was an understatement; you were perfect for him in every way possible, that it baffles him just how he's with you.

the way your eyes sparkled at the mention of stars, your favorite subject, before dan heng listened for the millionth time to your lighthearted ramble of where the stars came from. the way your laugh echoed melodiously in his head when he made a small but harmless mistake, how he would frown a little in shame but your toothy grin would make him forget his initial embarrassment. the way your head rested on his chest, humming to a childhood lullaby that would always have the same effect on his heart — to grow bigger in affection and adoration for you.

and you made him a better person, better than he ever thought he could be. dan heng had always carried the burden of his past reincarnation's sins on his back, but your presence always made the weight seem lighter. a glimpse of you was a glimpse of a life that he could live without guilt. and he wanted to make sure that he was worthy of it. worthy of you.

in short, dan heng found the perfect lifelong partner in you, end of story.

which ... just made your words pierce deeper than a knife to his heart.

"i think we should stop."

dan heng was too deep in his thoughts that he had not realized that he crumpled the paper flower bouquet in his hand. he was supposed to hand this to you the moment he stepped inside your room; march had teased him on the amount of dedication he put in perfecting his craft — according to the archives he has read, they called it the art of origami — but dan heng found himself smiling the entire process. secretly, he thought of it like his practice of building a life with you; handling the paper with subtle gentleness and care, folding it neatly to avoid any creases, before constructing a foundation for the camellia flower, your favorite flower.

what a joke this all seems to be now.

what was going on? where did he do wrong? why were you doing this? dan heng tried to remember if he had forgotten anything important. was it the time that he brushed you aside because he was engrossed in the mission? was it because dan heng constantly locked himself in the archives all by himself, that you grew tired of that?

".... stop what?"

you looked up at him, your stormy eyes brimming with tears that you were still trying to hold back. even when you were crying and breaking his heart, dan heng could not help but think how captivating you still looked. "you know what i mean."

why? "why?"

from his perspective, he could already see how much you were struggling to say it. you were shaking your head as your body was trying to hold in the biggest sob. it took everything in dan heng not to run to you and hold you in his arms, but what are the chances that you'd end up pushing him away? your words were evidence enough that you did not need his grasp right now.

"i just... i just don't see a future with you in it."

well, that hurt. that hurt more than the days that his other self wasted away in the shackling prison, mind swimming in terror and confusion as to why he was restrained the moment he was born. that hurt more than the time he sustained his deepest injury, because you were the one who ended up patching it up for him, all the while chastising him for being too reckless again. he won't have that anymore.

"why?" it was a repeat of his former question, but dan heng could hear his voice breaking as he repeated himself. moments ago, he was just dreaming about spending the rest of his life with you. to be able to wake up with you next to him and be the first to see the satisfied smile on your face. to stay by your side until the day you inevitably passed on before him.

and now, you were asking him to let that all go?

despite his initial reflections, dan heng took a step towards you, to which he was greeted with you stepping backwards, a sight that sank his heart even deeper. "but i love you." dan heng started, his heart soaring when he saw that his words still elicited a reaction from you. at this point, he was just grasping at non-existent straws that would bring you back to your senses. back to him. "we can figure a way—"

"dan heng." he stopped at his name, before slowly looking up to meet your gaze. your eyes were clouded with pain, sorrow, but most importantly, it was devoid of the warmth that dan heng sought solace in.

"i... i don't know if i can do this anymore."

you were no longer facing him, your back shaking in muffled sobs as dan heng stood there, as he watched you push him away for the first and last time. the feeling of the crumpled paper flower on his palm left nothing but a sour taste in his mouth. to think that he was so excited to see you.

"you're giving up then? on us?"

his voice came out hollow, his once forlorn expression twisting in incredulity and subtle frustration. to think that he was so excited to make things finally official between the both of you. he was finally ready to settle down and become the better man— no, the best man for you. could you not see how hard he worked to deserve you?

how cruel were you, really?

you didn't turn around to face him, but your silence told him everything he needed to know. it took everything in him to stifle the urge to let out a bitter laugh. how could he be so foolish? who would love someone as stoic, risk-taking and tactless as him, anyways?

"i didn't take you for a quitter, y/n. but i guess we're learning something new about each other right now." he spat out, which earned a turn from you. dan heng could see the hurt in your eyes. it annoyed him that even when you're hurting him, it still pained him to see you in distress. it took everything in him to reel back and stop himself. "so this is it; this is how all... this ends." he refused to let this flurry of emotions overwhelm him, as dan heng took one step closer towards you, and to his surprise, you stood, feet firmly planted on the ground. well, what does that matter now.

he was now towering over you, his eyes never leaving your figure and now was looking down at you. a part of him begged him to not say anything else, to leave with his dignity and his head up high. even if they weren't ... partners anymore, he could still try salvaging a friendship. and yet, his emotions took full control of himself at that moment. "i can't believe i even thought you were the one for me, but i guess i would probably outlive you, anyways. "

he could have sworn he heard your breath hitch as your eyes betrayed everything you were feeling at the time. a mix of grief, sadness and surprise at his words, no doubt. however, it was a fleeting sight that only slipped into another unreadable expression. "leave. please... just leave."

typically, dan heng would be able to tolerate the silence between the both of you, but that was because he could lose himself in your gaze. not now, though. his hand crumpled the paper flower even further before he threw it at the ground. dan heng took one last look at you, a small hope resurfacing that you would take everything back, that you were simply saying it in jest — but there was nothing.

he allowed his anger to overtake him and close the door behind him with a loud slam, huffing in mixed grief and anger and leaving your room for the last time. even when you were no longer looking, dan heng still refused to let that flurry of emotions overwhelm him. he shouldn't cry over someone who gave up on him as easily as that.

if he had lingered for a moment longer, he would have probably heard you breaking down in the loudest sobs on the other side of the door.

━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

it had been three months since you left the astral express. three months since dan heng closed the door to the possibility that he would spend the rest of his long, long life with you.

three months since he hurled all those hurtful words towards you, which he has regretted since then. but his stupid ego would not let him utter a single apology to you the following morning.

it didn't take long for you to pack your bags and leave, which dan heng actually found relieving. the more he didn't see you and mourn over what could have been, the better.

still, it had been three months. dan heng would be a liar if he said that you did not cross his mind once. well, maybe more than once. maybe a million times since you left. he hated how you still had a hold on him, hated how your voice would be the last thing he's reminded of before he drifts to sleep, but most of all, he hated how he missed you since that fateful night.

how could he have missed the signs?

the tug on his sleeve brought him back to reality, as march looked over at him with a concerned glance. dan heng just shook his head and looked down at the very thing he was holding.

a bouquet of camellias. real ones, this time.

"dan heng, if you're feeling overwhelmed, we can just—" he was already walking ahead of march without listening to what else she had to say. truthfully, nothing she would probably say would deter him. the cold weather of jarilo vi was enough to drone out his ever active mind. so this was the planet that you called home after you left the express.

it did not take long for him to reach his destination, especially with how fast he had been walking. dan heng could barely even see the identifiable pink hair belonging to march behind him anymore. he'd probably have to offer her an apology for leaving her behind later.

it was a desolate deserted place, save for the monsters that roamed nearby and the dilapidated house that dan heng could only surmise as your house. though, he knew already what he was looking for.

"hey, y/n. i know you probably don't want to see me again, but ... here are your favorite flowers, just how you liked them."

to find himself face to face to a makeshift tombstone wasn't a sight that dan heng could have ever prepared himself for, but the fact that it was your tombstone that he was leaving flowers for made his last words towards you sink a knife deeper in his heart.

how could he not have noticed your erratic heartbeat?

when you told him that you couldn’t see a future with him in it, he didn’t think that you meant you did not have a future.

all those months, dan heng refused to let the flurry of emotions overwhelm him, but maybe for this time, he could just blame the emotional downpour on the bleak cold weather.

"if you had told me you were dying, i would have stayed."

written by carlyle (@particular-one) copyright: all content belongs to particular-one on tumblr (2023)

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corazondebeskar-reads · 10 months ago

Text

you taste like home

(whoops my hand slipped and I wrote a drabble based on this post)

Joel Miller x gn!reader

words: 636

summary: Joel feeds you an orange.

warnings: soft Joel gets his own warning, nothing else really? it's erotic but not explicit. not only unbeta'd but I did not even read it through after writing it, so.

divider by @saradika-graphics

“C’mere,” Joel says, patting one of his splayed thighs where he’s sprawled on the threadbare sofa. He snubs his cigarette on the makeshift ashtray.

You reluctantly rise from your nest on the ground by the radiator, blankets puddling in your wake, your favorite trailing behind you. He meant for you to sit on his lap, but you’re still pushing away the haze of sleep, so you lay with your head on his thigh, gazing up at his gristly scruff.

His lips quirk, and he shakes his head, but doesn’t try to cajole you up. “Got ya somethin’,” he says.

You perk up a little, eyes narrowed. Joel doesn’t do gifts.

He’s too busy rifling through his backpack to roll his eyes, and the suspiciousness falls abruptly away when you see what he’s clutching.

It’s an orange. A real, honest to god, actual orange—though it looks more like a clementine in his meaty palm.

Your mouth falls open. You might be drooling, not that you’d notice. Your hand drifts up to brush the peel and you’re mortified when tears spring to your eyes.

With one finger trailing the pimpled flesh, you look up at Joel.

He can see the question you’re trying not to ask. “Want it now?” he says.

“Yes,” you say on a soft breath. Your ribs are constricting, squeezing you, and you swear you can taste the zest when he cracks the peel.

He tugs it away with ease, thick finger sliding between skin and plump meat to rend them apart. When he digs his thumbs in either side and splits it, juice dribbles down the side of his hand. He licks it off and grimaces.

“What?” you say. “Sour? It looks ripe.”

“Forgot how much I hated oranges,” he says. He’s not embellishing, but there’s still an amused glint in his eye as he anticipates your reaction.

“You hate oranges? The hell is wrong with you?”

He shuts you up efficiently when another drop rolls down his skin and he holds the finger to your lips.

You envelope it in your mouth immediately, eliciting a moan from both of you, though for very different reasons.

He separates a wedge and presses it to your lips, which part eagerly, tip of your tongue darting out to catch the spilling juices. You further split it with blunt teeth, exposing the pulpy innards.

If he wasn’t hard before, the way your eyes roll back in your head does it. You take your time, savoring and letting the acid burn the split in your bottom lip.

“Passes your standards, Miami?” he teases.

It does so much more. You feel. You feel the sting and tang. You feel the breeze off the coast, salty and clean in your lungs. You feel the kiss of the heavy afternoon sun. You feel him, solid and real.

It’s home. All of it.

You think he can see the brutal rawness consuming you, but he just feeds you the other half and brushes his hand over your head.

“Did you just get juice in my hair?” you whine.

He groans. “Now you’ll smell like the damn thing.”

It gives you an idea. “Hey, can you save the peel?” Maybe, just maybe, if you can trade for wax, you can approximate a faint candle.

You stay there in his lap until the sun fades, lazily satiating your heart and stomach. When it’s all gone, he holds his sticky hand out and lets you greedily lap at the leftovers, tongue flicking the webbing between his fingers.

Finally, you sit up and straddle him, arms around the back of his neck. “Thank you, Joel,” you murmur, something deep stirring behind your aching chest.

You kiss him, and he thinks he could stand the taste of oranges every day if it made you this happy again.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller fic #soft joel miller #the last of us fic #fic: joel drabble

370 notes · View notes

souperbloom · 1 year ago

Note

deffo need some subtle sub!luke in my life - maybe y/n and the guys are all talking about sex lives & one of them slips out that luke once mentioned wanting y/n to be in control because it was usually the other way round, so later on they give it a go!

nothing too extreme, just y/n making decisions, praising luke & being on top etc

you don’t even want to know the sound that came out if my mouth when i got this notification.

(if u requested this reveal yourself.) (im joking.) (maybe.)

enjoy <3

————————

secrets, secrets. [L.H.]

🖤 boyfriend!luke

after what seems to be a secret revealed, you and your boyfriend Luke try something new in the bedroom.

a/n: FIRST LUKE SMUT WOOOO. i wrote most of this while listening to classical music which i just think is so silly and on brand for me. i also had a last minute epiphany and changed the title whoops.

CONTENT WARNINGS: references to weed/smoking, angst if you squint, sub!luke (duh), pet names, praise kink, oral (m!receiving), orgasm denial, protected sex.

WORDCOUNT: 5.7k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You hadn’t checked the clock for what seemed to be hours.

The guys and yourself had been wrapped up in a heated discussion sitting in a circle in Calum’s living room, all stoned on your own accord.

The conversation had been flowing since the moment you all sat in your respective places, turning from lighthearted banter into something much more vulgar than you were used to. You all hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, which meant there was a lot of ‘catching up’ to be had.

But you weren’t quite sure how the simple conversation of ‘how have you been?’ morphed into something along the lines of: ‘have you ever had a dirty dream about me?’

"You’re lying! I can see it in your eyes!" An eager Michael shouts across the room at his dear friend, and your boyfriend, Luke. You watch the entire ordeal unfold perched atop Luke’s restless thigh.

He tries to hide a measly smile, as Michael has caught his bluff.

"Okay, fine… It was one time. Nothin’ to fuckin’ write home about."

"How does that even happen?" Calum, baffled, rubs his hand on his chin.

"It means he thinks about ya’ before he goes t’sleep," says Ashton confidently, motioning towards Luke with a cheeky grin.

"No! That’s not— no."

"Luke, c’mon. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m sure we’ve all had some pretty fucked up dreams about each other." Michael tries his hand at consoling your boyfriend, whose cheeks were now glowing red.

"I’m not embarrassed. You just— you forced it out of me. A man’s allowed to have secrets, y’know."

Secrets.

It always came back to telling secrets.

You’d like to think that you had a pretty open and honest relationship with your boyfriend, as well as his best friends.

But there were still some things about them that you didn’t know.

And you were afraid you were about to find them out.

"Speakin’ of secrets…" Ashton begins, adjusting his posture to rest his elbows on his knees, "…I’ve got one."

Bingo.

"Go ahead. This is a safe space," you say teasingly, trying not to acknowledge the fact that you had been so high for the majority of this conversation that you had completely forgotten to speak.

"Ashton’s got a seeecreeeet." Calum teases Ashton in a singsongy tone, but Ashton’s face was reading more serious than anything. He clears his throat before speaking his mind.

"Call me crazy, but takin’ on the submissive role in bed has gotta be one of the greatest things on Earth. And if ya’ haven’t tried it, then you’re not livin’ right."

You quirk your brow, and take a look at the rest of the room. Each of the guys’ faces were contorted into a different stage of grief.

Michael was amused, clearly. His eyes were wide and glassy like he had just witnessed one of the Seven Wonders. Calum’s jaw was practically touching the floor, trying to bite back a smile that was so obviously hard to hide.

And then, there was Luke.

He wasn’t making a face— his expression was unreadable. The only thing you saw was his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He swallowed hard, and you noticed that.

"Dude… what? I did not expect that from you…" Michael was still in awe of his friend, as he cupped his cheek with his hand.

"Don’t make assumptions, Mikey. You only live once."

As much as you wanted to say you were shocked, you honestly weren’t. You didn’t know a whole lot about Ashton’s sex life, but this didn’t surprise you. He’s the kind of guy to try anything once.

"Well? Don’t be a prude… Tell us what happened."

"Y/N—" Luke blurts, seemingly attempting to stop this conversation from unfolding.

"What? Am I wrong for being curious?"

"No, no— I agree with Y/N," says Michael, "Since you wanna rave about your endeavors as a submissive princess… Tell us all about it."

Michael’s sly comment earns a snort from Luke, who had been trying to remain steely faced since the moment he had called him out for having sexual fantasies about him. You smile to yourself, eyes darting between Ashton and your boyfriend as their stare down commences.

"What’s so funny over there?" Ashton quips.

Your boyfriend’s eyes shoot down to his lap. "Nothin’."

"Ash, get on with it." Michael was fed up, and ready to hear all about what Ashton was so persistent about.

You can’t help but stifle a giggle as Ashton lets out a sigh. He was taking this a lot more seriously than you thought he would.

"I’m not sure what came over me— but there was this one time. I guess I was feeling particularly lazy er’ somethin’, but I asked her to take over for the night. I won’t get into the nitty gritty but let’s just say; it changed my fuckin’ life."

"I am way too high to be talking about this right now." Calum says, his eyes wide as he is still processing everything.

Ashton continues, "Somethin’ about the feeling of your fate lying in your lover’s hands is just so… exhilarating. You never know what’s gonna happen next— you learn to expect the unexpected… It’s fuckin’ great, man."

Upon Ashton's admission, your seat in Luke's lap shifts slightly. He adjusts you, pulling you closer into his torso and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Still can't picture it, but... I believe ya'," says Michael with a nod of approval. You laugh, feeling your boyfriend's fingertips drumming against your stomach.

"You guys ever tried it? Don't mean to pry but, as Y/N said, this is a safe space."

The room goes pin-drop quiet. Nobody wanted to speak up; not you, not Luke, not anybody else. It seemed as though this conversation had died out quicker than it came to be.

"Oh, come on. You guys are the freakiest fucks I know. Seriously? None of you?" Ashton presses the group for answers, his eyes landing on you. But you just shrug.

"I'm always on the bottom, Ash. You're preaching to the choir."

"Oh trust me, we know."

"Cal—" Your boyfriend huffs, cutting off his friend and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Confused, your eyes search around the room for any sign of an answer. You seemed to be out of the loop, which was unlike you in these kinds of situations.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" You can’t help but get a little defensive, now zoning in on the feeling of your boyfriend’s fingernails anxiously biting into your waist.

"Nothing! He means nothing..." Luke tries to defend, his voice a bit pitchy.

You bite back a smile. “Secrets, secrets are no fun…"

"Unless they’re shared with everyone, fuck, I know! But you don’t have to—"

Calum butts in, "Mate, relax. I’m just messing around."

"No, no— don’t give me that bullshit. What were you trying to say Cal?"

You weren’t sure why, but feeling left out of some sort of inside joke or secret was making you angry. Your temper was mellowed from smoking, yet this whole back and forth was getting to you a little more than you’d like to admit.

Luke lets out a sigh from behind you, dropping his chin on your shoulder in defeat. He didn’t feel like arguing anymore, with the rest of the room dead quiet as they wait for Calum to speak.

Calum on the other hand was holding back a high smile. A look of ‘I know something you don’t know’ was plastered proudly across his cheeks. He rubs his hands together, glancing at Ashton and Michael before he opens his mouth.

"I know you pride yourself on being a pillow princess Y/N, but… Luke wants to see you in charge."

Immediately, your face flushes pink. You didn’t know what you were expecting Calum to say, but it sure as hell wasn’t that.

It was almost as if everyone in the room was trying not to burst into laughter, Ashton and Michael slapping each other’s legs to get the other to stop snickering.

You swallow the newly formed lump in your throat, taking a second to look each of your friends in the eye.

"Well, this is news to me—"

"You fuckin’ suck, Cal." Luke blurts, embarrassment and anger laced through his tone.

As you sit cross legged, still perched on Luke’s thigh, you feel a tap at your lower back. This was your boyfriend’s cue; an unspoken means of telling you 'let’s get the fuck out of here.'

"I’m sorry," Calum laughs, "I didn’t mean t’ hit a nerve with that one."

"Luke, wait—" pleads Michael, who had been rather quiet throughout this whole ordeal.

"I think we’re gonna head out."

Soon enough, you’re rising to your feet, and your boyfriend is quick to follow. He grabs your bag from off of the floor, scooting you closer into the awkward energy of the circle. The rest of the guys just look at you in pity, but you were far too busy in your own head to notice their stares.

Luke wanted you to be in charge?

"Can’t force him to stay if he doesn’t want to," Ashton shrugs, clasping his hands together between his knees, "I guess we’ll see you two tomorrow?"

You purse your lips to reply to Ashton, watching your boyfriend feverishly pack up your belongings and shift you towards the nearest exit. But Luke is quicker than you, cutting right to the chase.

“Yeah, sure. Somethin’ like that."

The entire car ride back to Luke’s apartment was silent.

You were still hung up on how awkward those last few minutes had played out; but a part of you was just dying to know more about Luke’s little secret.

Pushing boundaries was something that you hadn’t yet considered when it came to you and your boyfriend. Your relationship was fairly new; with the both of you still testing the waters and occasionally stepping out of your comfort zones.

Luke was excellent at reading you. He paid very close attention to detail, which was one of the things that had you falling so hard for him in the first place.

But there was a piece of you that felt guilty for prying this all out of him, the way his entire demeanor seemed to drop when Calum spilled his beans. He was embarrassed, from what you could tell. And you weren’t quite sure what to do.

"Luke?" You pop your head out of the bathroom door, your face wash in hand, looking into your master bedroom at Luke splayed across the mattress. He’s still fully dressed, laying flat on his back with his shoes hanging off of the side.

You, however, took it upon yourself to get ready for bed. You took off your makeup, brushed your teeth, and changed into a little plaid pajama-short set to try and get your mind off of the awkward energy still floating in the air.

"Luke…" He hadn’t replied the first time you called out his name, so you tried your luck again. This time, he just sighed, before turning his head to face you.

His sandy blonde curls were haphazardly strewn across the made comforter. His body restless, as he drummed his hands along his abdomen and waited for you to reply.

"Yes?"

"You okay?"

"Mhmm."

Your shoulders drop in defeat, your eyes still lingering on his lanky frame. He lets out a deep breath before looking at the ceiling again, gnawing on his bottom lip mindlessly.

"I’m sorry," you say, "I didn’t mean to embarrass you."

"You didn’t."

His short replies were making your stomach churn. It was unlike the both of you to be so cautious with each other, walking on eggshells in hopes that the other would just let up and speak their mind. You didn’t want to make it worse, either— it seemed like this affected him, and the last thing you needed was for it to be your fault.

You turn back to face the bathroom counter, continuing your nightly skincare. But from behind you, you hear shuffling. The sole of a shoe hitting the floor, then another. The sound of a jacket unzipping, and pooling to the floor as well.

You could see Luke’s slouched posture in the mirror through the doorframe, watching him slowly rid himself of his clothes and leaving him in nothing but his grey t-shirt and pink heart boxers. The ones you gifted him for Valentine’s day.

The water was warm as you started to wash your face, warm enough to let yourself relax for a moment. It dripped down your forehead, into your eyes, momentarily shielding you from your surroundings as you bent over the sink.

In your daze, you turn the faucet off, your eyes screwed shut and vision starry. But as you blindly reach around the counter for a towel, you feel someone hand it to you.

"Here," the familiar voice drawls from behind you, before you feel a broad hand slither around your waist.

You let out a whimper from the back of your throat, unable to say "thank you" now, as you grab the towel from Luke’s hand realize his hips are digging into your backside.

When you dry your face and regain your vision, you stand upright. Luke’s torso is warm, and inviting, his blistered palm making headway beneath your shirt to drag across your torso. In the mirror, you see his face contort into a mellow smile, his curls pushed back away from his eyes.

"Hi," You whisper into the mirror, water dripping off of your eyelashes and down your cheek.

"Hi, pretty."

"Are you mad at me?" You hated asking that question.

"Of course not, why would I be mad at you?" Luke replies, pulling you into his cotton t-shirt.

"You seemed like you were a few minutes ago." The feeling of his fingertips was getting to be distracting.

"No, no. It was just— something I’d been meaning to tell you but… I just never got around to it."

"Oh."

His other hand has made it to your waist. "Are you mad at me?"

"Never."

"Good to know."

For a moment, the two of you stare at your reflections in the mirror. Luke’s eyes rake down your body, his hands still wandering along the delicate skin of your tummy beneath your shirt. You sigh into him, leaning backwards to rest your head on the crook of his neck.

"Wanna try something new tonight?" He asks, his voice huskier than before and mumbling into the top of your head.

"Mmm, like what?" You were unable to hide your melodic hums as his hands move closer beneath your breasts.

You already knew what Luke was going to ask of you, the excitement bubbling in the pit of your stomach as his eyes wandered, pretending to think.

To be honest with yourself, you had already thought a lot about what’d it’d be like if you two switched places for a change. But you were always too nervous to bring it up, especially in the heat of the moment.

"Want you t’ be in charge tonight, pretty. Do whatever you want t’me. Think you’d be interested?"

"Yes," you breathe without even a second thought, entranced by his fingertips as they creep towards the waistband of your shorts, "I’d love to."

"Sounds good t’me."

Not a second passes before Luke is spinning you around to face him. He dips down, and plants a gentle kiss on your lips, leaving you with a fuzzy head and a fluttering stomach.

When you pull away from him you notice the twinkle in his ocean blue eyes that hadn’t been there before. It was a look of anticipation. Pure excitement. You were about to try something new with the person you loved most in this world, and he was about as thrilled as you were.

You could just tell.

"How can I be good for you, pretty? Wanna be your good boy tonight."

His words made your heart skip a beat, but you figured it’d be best to just play it cool.

"Wellll—" You press your index finger to his chest, "Maybe start by getting on the bed?"

"Are you gonna come with me?" He asks sweetly, still holding you in his hands.

"Of course, baby… But I need you to just sit tight and wait for me, okay?"

He nods quickly, biting back a smile between his teeth before he’s shuffling out of the bathroom towards the bed. You linger in the doorframe for a moment, watching in complete awe as Luke crawls to the top of the mattress and sits with his back resting against the headboard.

Doing exactly what you had asked him to.

You start in slow strides towards him, swaying your hips with each step in hopes to kill some time.

You wanted to figure out a game plan. Since you’d never done this before, you weren’t sure where to start; and as much as it wouldn’t be shameful to ask Luke for advice, you wanted to impress him.

"Okay, done. Now what?" The anticipation in his voice made you want to just explode on impact. He was just the cutest fucking thing.

"Hmmm," you hum, crossing your arms as your eyes scan his body, "I’m gonna need that shirt off."

"Yes ma’am."

He then crosses his arms in front of his torso, pulling the hemline of his shirt over his head. He tosses it to the side, revealing his bare chest sprinkled in sandy blonde chest hairs.

As you watch him move, you gnaw on your bottom lip, scanning down his practically naked body and thinking of all of the things you could do. All of the things you could do to make this right for him. To make this worth wild.

You glance down at your plaid pajama shirt, clad and held together by buttons that gap between your breasts.

And then, you get an idea.

"You ready for me baby?" You ask your boyfriend, whose legs had been crossing and uncrossing impetuously as he watches you near closer to the bed.

"Mhm."

"Gonna play a game with you, m’kay?"

"M’kay." He mocks your gentle tone.

Before you could explain the rules of this new, made-up game of yours, you start to move. Dipping one knee down into the mattress, then the other. You crawl to him, straddling his lap and settling down atop of his obvious hard-on.

He was turned on just by the thought of you.

"It’s very easy," you start to say, reaching for the first button of your blouse, "and there’s only one rule."

Luke’s hands hover around you awkwardly, unsure of where to rest them, unsure if he was even allowed to touch you at all.

"What is it?" He asks, swallowing and adjusting himself beneath you.

"Tell me I’m pretty."

His eyes widen. He had finally noticed your hand lingering and toying with the button on your top.

"You’re pretty, baby. The prettiest."

And with that, the first button comes undone. You move your hands down to the second.

"Tell me I’m pretty."

His tongue juts out to wet his bottom lip, his hands now stagnant at his sides and twitching by your calves.

"You’re so pretty. Prettiest girl in the world."

Second button, undone.

"Tell me I’m pretty, baby. Tell me again."

As you reach for the third button, you make a point to grind your hips down, swiveling them in a way that he’d feel it. His face contorts in bliss, petal pink lips parting slightly.

"You’re so fuckin’ pretty… Prettiest I’ve— ever seen."

Third button, undone.

"Tell me more, baby. Tell me again."

You grind your hips down again, and a soft whimper escapes the back of his throat. You could feel his hands fidgeting down by your legs, reaching out to touch something that wasn’t even there.

"So fuckin’ beautiful… My pretty girl— ah—" He's cut short with another dig of your hips. The paper thin material of your pajama shorts leaving absolutely no room for the imagination. You could practically feel his cock twitching beneath your core, but you weren’t ready to give in just yet.

With his last words of affirmation, you undo the last two buttons on your own accord. The breeze from the air conditioning makes you shiver, instantly perking up your nipples.

Luke noticed that, too. He always does.

"So, so pretty…" He utters with one last labored breath, as if it were the last he’d ever take, upon seeing your chest.

"You did so good for me, didn’t you baby?"

Luke hums quietly, clearly feeling some sort of release due with the pressure of your body on top of him. You notice his hands trembling still, down at his sides and oblivious to the thought of touching you.

"You can touch me, y’know. Been’ such a good boy for me so far."

The eye contact between you was like trance; it was gentle, and warm. Still wavering with uncertainty, yet eager to continue. Luke’s hands eventually make it to your waist, something he had been dying to do since the moment you straddled his hips.

You could tell he was still hesitant to let his fingers roam as they usually would, and that was definitely getting to your head.

You swivel your hips one last time without a single word, dipping down to kiss him. Your hands are quick to cup his face, lips interlocking eagerly for the first time since this morning.

It’s not long before your tongues begin exploring, tangling together in the sweetness of your kiss.

You’re still grinding your hips. He’s still in a trance.

Luke’s hands had moved to grip your ass, pushing it down while simultaneously bucking his hips up into your core. This action of his makes you disconnect from him for a moment, a disapproving look in your eye.

"Ah ah ah," you tut at him, his cheeks now squished between your palms. He quirks his brow.

"What?"

"Not so fast, pretty boy. You said I could do anything, right?"

He chuckles, eyes flicking down to your lips, "I did say that, didn’t I? You're right, baby. Tell me whatcha' need from me... I'm all yours."

You suck in a deep breath, trying to ignore the intrusive thoughts that keep poking at your head and telling you to just let him have his way with you. You wanted to remain stern, whether he took you seriously, or not.

"How about this…"

You let go of his cheeks to shrug your pajama shirt off of your shoulders, tossing it onto the floor next to his tee. His pupils shake, eyeing down your breasts.

"…You don’t get to cum ‘till I say so."

"Oh, fuck— you're too good t'me..." His voice is soft and melodic, already so willing to give up the power he usually claims. "Yes. Yes..."

Your palms lay flat on his broad chest, feeling it rise and fall with every breath he took.

He was anxious; anxious in the way that one more subtle touch to his flesh would send his heart thumping right through his ribcage.

You couldn't contain your excitement anymore; just looking at him was already creating a slickness in your panties.

But Luke could've stared at you for hours.

"Are you sure, Lu?" You ask once your delicate boy once more, tracing little hearts with your pointer fingers across his pecs. He nods eagerly, eyes going doe.

"Yes, yes, yes. A million times yes. Have your way with me, please."

With a tug at your bottom lip, you take his words as your cue. You're quick to take out a condom from Luke's bedside dresser, and even quicker to shift your ass down to rest on his thighs.

As you move, his stare lingers. He nods at you slowly, to remind you of his approval. How desperately he wanted you to have your way with him.

His cock twitching and practically popping through the button of his boxers was already telling you everything you needed to know.

To try and read his eager pleas, you begin to palm him delicately through the pink heart fabric, heavenly sounds spilling past his lips and floating to your ears like a siren's melody.

He was grunting, whining; almost as if he were in pain.

"Easy now, baby," you coo gently, as a shiver runs down Luke's body, "Still my good boy, right?"

"Mmmmph."

"Good, good. Just like that, pretty baby." You squeeze your hand around his length, and his jaw falls completely agape.

You weren't planning on teasing him for much longer. It almost felt cruel to do so.

So, instead of waiting any more, you release him from the button of his boxers.

His tip was already leaky with precum; angry and red, that angelic face of his melting the second you wrap your manicured fingers around his shaft.

Tipping down to take him into your mouth, you hollow out your cheeks, tongue laying flat against him as you start to bob your head.

Sucking him off had always been one of your favorite things to do. In your head, it gave you a purpose— and you always loved the praise that would come with it.

But with the power dynamic now in your favor, you were already enjoying it all the more.

"Fuck me, pretty... So fuckin' warm..." Luke groans through gritted teeth, taking his hands to comb through your hair. You hum at him, sending a vibration down your tongue and directly through his body. He jolts, as if he’d been struck by lightning, while your hands begin to claw at his hipbone.

The walls of Luke's bedroom felt like they were closing in on you, each heaving breath that he was taking was making you dizzy. Your nails leave little crescent etchings deep into his flesh, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat each time you duck down.

"Fuck... fuck fuck fuck–" He grunts, he whines, he continues to writhe beneath you, completely at your disposal. You were eating up every single sound he made, every little spasm of his hands or jerk at his hips.

Picking up on the signs, you could tell he was close. He didn't even have to say it.

"Y/N... I–I'm..." He can barely even finish his thought before he's grabbing your hair in a handful. You always loved it when he was a little rough with you, and this time was no different.

With a tug at your roots, you hum around him again. His body comes lurching forward, almost as if to stop himself from fucking your throat.

"Baby– M'close..." He finally utters, which brings you to toss your head up, releasing him from your mouth with a pop.

"Shhh, it's okay," you whisper, watching his cock fall thump against his stomach and twitch here and there, "You’ve been so good for me so far."

"I have?" He asks the question sweetly, genuinely. With a little twinkle in his eye.

"Oh, of course you have, my pretty baby…" you say, running the back of your hand down his belly, "Gonna keep it up for me, right?"

"Yes."

"Such a good boy."

Luke tosses his head back, his bottom lip held captive by his teeth, and lets out a whine the moment you start to get off of him. The fact that he was whining at the loss of your touch was enough to send you over the edge right then and there, but you wanted to keep your promise.

You hastily discard your pajama shorts, tossing them into the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Luke whimpers again upon seeing you naked— you didn’t bother to wear your panties tonight.

"You are so beautiful, Y/N… My pretty little flower—" Luke sighs, in awe of you, despite the lingering sexual tension in the air. He always made it a point to compliment you, no matter the scenario.

"Thank you, Lu," You can’t help but giggle and blush, making your way back to his lap to straddle him.

Again, his hands find your waist. He sucks in a deep breath, eyes wired shut.

After only doing this for a little while, you were already comfortable talking to Luke in a more dominant way. The trick was to not think about it too hard. Just let the words roll right off of your tongue.

Simple enough, right?

"Tell me what you want me to do to you, baby." Your words are soft like down pillows yet loud enough to get a rise out of him. He shifts beneath you, still closing his eyes.

"Fuck me… please? I’m achin’ for you."

You take his pleas as your sign to start, wet enough from merely the obscene sounds spilling from his lips. The condom you had grabbed was still at your side so, you rip the package open with your teeth.

When you start to roll the condom down over his length, he lets out a hiss. Could have been the temperature; or maybe he was just too desperate to be ashamed of his sounds.

"Shit—" He whines, clutching onto your hips as your hand pumps his cock a few times.

"Easy, baby," you purr, adjusting yourself upwards to line him up with your dripping slit, "You ready for me?"

"Mhm— yes… yes please, angel. Please— fuck me."

His throaty cries only furthered the butterflies floating around in the pit of your stomach. You could barely contain yourself as you hover over him, biting your lip as you sink down onto his cock.

The both of you let out a collective groan; the feeling of him filling you up completely just seemed too perfect.

You lower your body so that you completely engulf him, taking his length fully and making your breath hitch in your throat.

"Feels good, pretty baby?" You ask, still buzzing.

"Mmph—" He whines, anchoring his hands to your hips as you start to swivel.

"Need you to use your words, Lu… Tell me."

You’re gentle with him, at first. Treating him delicately, like picking off the petals off a daisy. He seemed so weak beneath you and something about it was making your head spin. Your heart was bursting at the seams.

"Yes, Y/N— Feels s’fuckin’ good—" Luke whimpers, digging his fingernails into you, and holding onto you with his entire soul fleshing through his fingertips.

His cock twitches inside of you, as you continue your rhythm of grinding hips. It’s easy for you to tell when to pick up speed, testing his limits by his face alone.

"Such a good boy, baby.. You’re doing so fuckin’ well."

You start to notice the familiar furrow of his brow, that concentrated little notch in his forehead.

He wanted to close his eyes, but he just couldn’t seem to look away

"Y/N, I—"

He says your name again. It’s syrupy, like honey dripping off of his tongue. You place your palm flat on his tummy, tossing your hair out of your eyes to match his gaze.

"Takin’ my pussy so well, aren’t you?" You ask him, but don’t expect an answer. His face of concentration was telling you all you needed to know. How hard he was working to please your demand.

"Mmm… Th-think’ m’doin’ a good job…" He nods slowly, and you smile.

"Oh baby, you are… Keep goin’, m’kay?"

He smiles with a hum, through heavy, bated breaths.

"M’kay."

The sweaty flurry of blonde curls and baby blue eyes was slowly starting to unravel. The rise and fall of his chest was rapidly picking up speed, before he started to snap his hips up into you.

A slapping sound engulfs the walls of his bedroom, but you have no reason to complain. His cock was stretching you out, hitting that sweet spot with every stroke.

"Fuck, Lu—" You can’t help but revert to your old ways; yet not completely giving in, and letting him hold the reins. He was still beneath you, practically melting as your bodies entwine.

And that, was an incredible feeling.

"Y/N—" he whines, broken by panting, "m’close."

You nod sloppily, your tits bouncing at the speed of your swiveling hips.

"Hold it, baby— still my good boy, right?"

"Yes, yes… I am, Y/N. M’ a fuckin— a fuckin’ mess for you…"

A catty smile sprawls across your cheeks, feeling your orgasm budding lowly in the pit of your stomach, and satisfied at the way you had him completely wrapped around your finger.

"Mhm, yes you are. Such a pretty mess..."

Your orgasm was on the brink now, ready to burst and run through your body. Sloppy sounds filled the air; panting, whining, groaning. It was all meshing in your ears like the tune of a fucking song.

You felt your face tinge pink upon seeing your boyfriend’s concentrated expression, feeling a tad bit sorry for being so demanding.

So, you finally decide to let go.

"Cum with me, baby—" You gasp.

"Wha—"

"Let it go, Lu. Been s— so good for me, fuck!"

And with that, stars and galaxies are fogging your vision. You let out a cry as you finish, your walls clenching tightly around Luke’s cock as he does the same. He gives one last quick snap of his hips before you’re collapsing completely, going limp on his chest with him still inside of you.

You could hear his heart thumping through his chest; your sweaty bodies practically letting sparks fly. His hand moves to rub your back, as you both collect your devices.

"Was I good enough, baby?" He asks sweetly, that soft voice from before coming into play and making your stomach flutter.

"More than enough."

He giggles; seeming a bit shy about the semantics of it all, before planting a kiss at the crown of your head.

You can see his eyelashes fanning against the apples of his cheeks, glistening in the light of your bedroom as he grins up to the ceiling.

"I’m glad," he beams, "And you were right, by the way."

You pop your head up from his chest to look him in the eye. "About what?"

"Should’ve told ya’ about this a lot sooner."

With a shake of your head, you tut at him teasingly, just happy to feel closer to him than you ever have before.

"Guess it’s not a secret anymore."

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#5sos fanfic #luke 5sos #luke hemmings #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings smut #5 seconds of summer #soupster requests

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