#instead I stay up all night writing self indulgent smut that will never even see the light of day. what's even the point

[malachitezmeyka]

Just remembered I stayed up until 5 a.m writing 2.6k of the filthiest smut I have ever written

[uselesssomebody]

𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕦𝕡 - post!d&w!logan howlett x reader

complete masterlist | logan howlett - coming soon!

words || 𝟚.𝟡𝕜

summary || in which the reader gets stood up, and logan consoles her - in more than one way

a/n || self indulgent :)) guess what happened to me guys !!

➵ i know i've been literally dead but i may be back! not sure fully yet lol but i've missed writing. shocker, college is in fact hard and i've spent a whileeee adjusting. that also means my writing is prob a bit shit here but i just wanted to get this out

➵ first time writing logan - i watched deadpool & wolverine and oh my godddd this man can fucking get it. haven't watched the x-men movies so i kinda had to guess his accent, sorry if it's inconsistent. this is set after the events of deadpool & wolverine

➵ shall i revamp the blog theme guys? i don't have any ideas but idk if you guys are bored by it haha

➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || fluff/smut/a wee bit of angst

➵ fingering

➵ age gap (not a plot point)

(tell me if i miss anything)

having 2 people in a one bedroom apartment was already cramped. 3 is insane. as much as wade tried, he felt bad for poor hugh's - *cough* logan's back for constantly swapping between the dingy couch and the mattress on the floor to sleep.

and the wolverine was never the type to ask for help, it pissed him off. they had been nearly atomized together for christ's sake!

another room on the floor had opened up, and as much as wade wanted to kick blind al off to that room instead, he knew the old lady wouldn't be able to pay the whole rent herself, and he had to make sure she didn't use too much fun-time sugar under fox's watchful eye. luckily, neither did logan have to live alone, as wade was quick to find a down-on-her-luck college girl who needed cheap rent.

so, now wade's stuck with an ornery old woman, and pretty-boy - well, man - logan got to have a cute girl as his roommate. just his luck. he checked in on his fellow invincible often, and as much as logan didn't talk, wade knew he didn't mind her one bit.

she tried to be a good roommate - cook breakfast for the both of them, pick up a sweet treat for him too if she was getting one for herself, and trying to keep to herself with the studying. but she couldn't help the little crush that she had on her roommate. like, come on.

older, mature, mysterious, downright yummy? what's a girl to do? she kept it to herself, but seeing him smirk or chuckle when she realizes she's accidentally been staring at him in that leather jacket or shirtless going to bed. at least she doesn't make him uncomfortable, but it feels pretty dismissive - how he sees her as such a fucking kid that he can't even take her attraction seriously.

logan took it very fucking seriously.

every day was a mental challenge - truly, god gives his worst temptations to his strongest soldiers. the liquor on his breath was still strong, not now because his life was ruined, but rather because his mind was.

this cute, young girl who looked at him like he was the solution to all her relationship issues, like his old-man body was good enough to fucking eat? it was a miracle that he hadn't taken her. and she just looked so beautiful as she got ready for bed, or as she bobbed her head to music while she studied, or as she buzzed around the small kitchen to cook her third cheap pasta for the week.

it didn't help how she'd always ask how he is, buy him little things to keep his mood up, and always offered to take the couch. he'd rather eat glass than let her sleep on the couch, but nonetheless, she offered every day.

fuck. it was impossible to sleep when she was just behind the wall, in her fucking shorts and tank. unbelievable. he needed a fucking drink.

some nights, he'll come home in the evenings to an empty house. it's rare - she doesn't have too much money to go out, but when she does, she'll usually warn him she'll be home late. he always makes sure to stay awake until she gets home, and even had the privilege of going into downtown to pick her up after the friends she was with had managed to lose her. she had hiccuped, tearing up in embarrassment as she watched him approach her drunk form leaning on a tree outside. she had thought the stern arch of his brow was because of her calling him so late, when really, he was just angry that her friends had the audacity to put her in such a dangerous situation.

"it's windy." he grunts, and she looks down at her short, strappy dress, ashamed.

"s-sorry. we drove here." she tries to explain, and logan relents, brow going from angry to grumpy.

"yeah." he finally sighs, walking with her back to their place. seeing her hands go to cradle her elbows, he places his leather jacket over her shoulders, and she swallows thickly.

"you don't have to-" but he's lighting a cigar as she speaks, in just his wifebeater he'd been lounging in. she decides to shut up, silent until they reach the house.

he helps her in and then waits outside to finish the cigar, and after she gets in, she sighs softly, carefully placing the jacket down. she starts trying to make logan some dinner as a thank-you, but passes out at the dinner table half-way through. luckily, she hadn't had the stove on, and logan's heart melts as he sees her, halfway through mixing a few eggs, head lolling off the chair as she drools a little.

cutie, he thinks, separating her fingers from the fork and bowl, and carrying her into the bed. as he tries to set her down, her fingers clutch his arm, and a small, sleepy whine leaves her.

logan's not a man to blush, but hearing that little beg for him to stay makes him fucking burn. he looks down at her, a hand running through his hair, and he gently tries to let her down again. she just holds on tighter, groaning, "warm..." a little mumble escapes her, and logan huffs. of course it's not that she wants him, she's just cold. he sighs, sitting down and letting her cuddle into his arm.

he had planned to leave once she'd passed out, but it was late, and he was old, so he had ended up just sleeping next to her anyways. the sun's rays the next morning pierce his eyes, and he sighs softly, waking up next to her. he swallows thickly, watching the way the sun hits her form, bathing her exposed skin in orange and amber.

the moment is broken by her startling awake. for a moment, she sighs happily, thinking that this was just a continuation of her dream about logan, where she wakes up next to him after a night of great sex, and they both live happily ever after. then she blinks.

his bicep feels bigger than in the dream, his face looks a little more real, he's- real?!

she squeaks, immediately sitting up.

"logan?"

"don't go getting any ideas in your head." he immediately defends, sighing. "you called me last night."

she bites her lip.

"you took me home?"

"put you in bed too. then ya fucking kept me on ya like a boa." he's joking, but she still struggles to tell between his grumpy voice and his joking grumpy voice.

"fuck, i'm really sorry, must have ruined your night-" she starts, and he gets up, ruffling her hair.

"it's okay. better knowing you were safe." it leaves her a little star struck, especially when he then goes to continue making the omelette she had tried to make last night.

he's cooking for her for once and she gets such a nice view of his broad back in that wife-beater. maybe things aren't that bad.

knowing how she always texts if she's out late, he's a bit confused to come home to an empty room. he huffs, trying not to panic, but he can't help how much he care for the girl. he leans back, lounging on the couch.

as an hour passes with no texts, he's about to get up and ... do something. look for her, call her - something.

just then, she walks through the door, purse dropping on the floor with a thud.

that's an attitude he hadn't seen before. she looks like a deer in headlights when she notices that he is in fact home.

"o-oh." she blinks, quickly picking up the purse, as if to console it. "wade said you weren't home." logan raises a brow, a little curious why the other man would say that.

"long day?" he finally comments, and she breathes out.

"shit day." she corrects. logan's brow furrows.

"hmm." he murmurs, stretching his arm out over the back of the couch. an open invitation. she hesitates but... he looks warm.

conservatively, she sits beside him, hands in her lap. she's not even paying attention to whatever channel logan has on as background noise.

theres maybe 5 solid minutes of silence.

finally, she sighs.

"i'm gonna go to bed." she murmurs softly, getting up. logan wraps his fingers around her palm.

"talk to me." he mumbles gruffly, and she knows that's a pretty big first step for him. she bites her lip, sitting back down, and takes a deep breath.

"got stood up." it's little more than a whisper, and she feels a pout forming on her lips, which she tries to reverse, to little avail. it's silent again, and she wonders if logan heard her.

of course, he did - spending a moment processing who the hell would stand her up.

"i'm sorry." his rough fingers press over hers, comforting, and she can't help but sink more into him than the couch cushions.

it feels nice, more right than the kisses she'd shared with the guy she'd been seeing.

"whatever." she tries to mumble, trying not to show her hurt.

"he's an idiot." his hand slips around her shoulders, and he can feel her pulse quicken.

"i'm an idiot."

"he's an idiot." he repeats sternly. "who was he?" she bites her lip.

"some... guy." logan suppresses a scoffing bark.

"not if he's got you like this." he looks down at her. she's ashamed to look up at him.

"i don't know... i just really liked him. i thought he liked me too." she feels a tear slip out, and logan's fist squeezes in anger as he sees her quickly wipe it away.

"he should be singin' his prayers that he even got your attention." that makes her giggle - strained, but there. he prefers the sound to her defeated mumbles. "look at me." he murmurs, taking her chin and angling it to face him. his eyes travel down to the cute dress she'd put on for her date - low cut, perfectly form fitting, "he's a fucking idiot." he whispers, hand slipping down to her waist.

"yeah?" she whispers, significantly less focused on aforementioned 'fucking idiot' now.

"yeah, princess." he murmurs, hand gently running up and down her side. he knows he shouldn't, but he can practically feel the jump of her heart at the endearment. "you like that? princess?" his voice almost has a teasing lilt, and her lids flutter at the difference in tension from 2 minutes ago.

"a little." her face looks so bashful, so unsure. after that depressing feeling of not being wanted - god, he wants to pull her out of that so bad.

"should be treated like a princess." she shifts imperceptibly closer.

"got a guy who'll do that for me?" she teases, and logan scoffs softly.

"you know i do." his voice carries that gruffness even with how quiet he is, speaking into the small space between their lips. "you know, princess."

she breathes out shakily, leaning forward, when logan pulls her chin, pressing his lips to hers. she whimpers softly, finding her hands and placing them at his nape, not wanting to let go. it's not rough, but needy, his other hand slipping to the hem of her dress on her thigh. she hums into his lips, as he pulls away, a little breathless.

"don't - we shouldn't." he whispers, and a pout graces her lips - a proper one.

"why?"

"yer upset." he sighs, but doesn't move away.

"about?" she says playfully, having fully forgotten about her evening; she'd been waiting for this for so long. he lets out a gruff bark of a laugh, pulling her closer, and she adjusts, getting on his lap.

"come on, bub." he scolds again, and she hums, leaning down to kiss him.

"please?" she whispers, against his lips. he groans.

"jesus, what're y'doin' to me?" his head tilts back, and she giggles, exhilarated that she's got him like this. her hands trail down his arms - god, his arms - tracing the veins, somehow always bulging, as she gently leans forward again, kissing him. this time, theres a bit more tongue, and he pulls her closer roughly, gnashing their teeth together. she moans softly into his mouth, fingers finding his rough palm. he grips them tight - not enough to hurt, but just enough to show that he's holding back.

"i'm not made of glass." she teases, and he scoffs softly.

"i could snap ya'n half." his mumble finds his way back into her lips, and she has to control herself to not showhow much the little quip affected her.

"maybe i want you to."

"jesus." he flips her over, onto her back, "got this pretty little dress on, fuck, that guy's an idiot." his hands travel down her thighs, and she bites her lip, a massive grin on her face.

"you like it?" she murmurs softly, playing with the strap of her dress.

"whadya think?" he huffs, and she giggles.

"and if i told you i got it for you?" logan presses a hot kiss to the side of her thigh.

"i'd tell ya to get a dozen more." his lips move up her thigh slowly, and she lets out a shaky breath.

"god, logan." her whispers of his name are like music to his ear, and he leaves a small bite by the hem of her dress.

"gotta tell me if i hurt you." he mutters, more seriously, and she smiles.

"only fun if it hurts."

"i'm serious, princess." she relents.

"i'll tell you." he sighs in content, gently riding her dress off.

"this okay?"

"more than okay." she helps him, pulling the dress over her hips, her lacy panties peeking under the fabric. when he spends just a bit too long staring, she giggles, "you can touch." she affirms, and he barks out a gruff lap.

"could'a guessed that much." his fingers trace the hem of them, travelling down her inner thighs. her breath hitches, and she gently rolls her hips, desperate for more.

"please, logan." she whispers, breathing a bit labored. though he'd love to tease, he's getting desperate too.

"gotta tell me what ya want, princess." he murmurs, and she bites her lip, almost shy again. it's cute.

"touch me?" she murmurs, almost like it's a favor she's asking. he kisses her thigh again, before gently peeling the panties off. he lets out a soft groan at how slick she is, fingers catching her arousal as they travel down her slit. she lets out a shocked gasp - practically a moan - and he fucking loves it.

`'need them, princess?" he smirks at her, and she nods, almost pathetically.

"god, i do." he obliges, gently prodding her entrance with his middle finger. he slips in with little resistance, but jesus, he can feel how tight she is.

"fuck, yer gonna be the death of me, princess." he groans softly, and she lets out a breathy giggle.

"thought that doesn't happen to you?"

"well, never had a girl as pretty as you." he murmurs, slipping another finger in. she flushes, back arching as his fingers do, body warm as she rocks her hips in time with his ministrations.

"faster?" she begs softly, and he could never say no to those big doe eyes. he starts moving faster, her slick absolutely coating his fingers, and she moans louder, hips moving in a more stuttered rhythm.

"like that?" that teasing lilt is in his voice, and she nods furiously.

"j-just like that-" she stammers, mind already foggy, "god, i'm close, please don't stop."

"not in a million years, princess." she lets out a loud moan as she can feel herself unraveling, the orgasm so powerful that her thighs shake around him as she cums. she pants as he helps her ride through it.

"good girl, just like that, princess," he consoles, "so fuckin' pretty for me, ain't cha?" he grins, as she starts to come down. as her breathing slows, so too do his fingers, before slowly sliding them out of her. he gently rubs her clit, just to see her jolt at the stimulation, before chuckling, and placing his soaked fingers onto his tongue.

she lets out another moan as she watches him, with lidded eyes.

"i'll cum again." she warns, playfully, and he's gleeful. she tastes like fruit.

"i plan on it, princess." she feels her cheeks warm.

"that's the hardest i've cum in a while." she admits shyly.

"sounded like it." he teases, but before they can get anything else out, there's banging on the wall that connected them to wade and blind al.

"these walls are paper thin!" al's screech sounds a little traumatized, and her scolding make both her and logan whip around, embarrassed.

"for once in my life, i agree with her! shut up, lovebirds, i wanna fucking sleep!" wade's voice is equally exasperated.

there's silence, until she calls back a bashful, "sorry!" she turns to logan, almost laughing, but still flushed with shame. "maybe we should stop. he scoffs.

"nah, just means i gotta teach ya to be quiet."

safe to say, she's not thinking at all about her date tonight.

[cerridwen007]

I Want You.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 1.8k (18+)

Summary: After spending all of your situationship trying to convince you that you’re the only one he wants, Joel decides to take a different approach to get you to understand.

Inspired by the song “I Want You” by Reignwolf.

Notes/Warnings: SMUT with a touch of Angst, porn with feelings, insecure reader, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, rough sex/foreplay, primal play, creampie, dom Joel, sub reader, biting, choking, swearing, no y/n, fluffy ending.

A/N: Kinda self indulgent but I mean who wouldnt want Joel to fuck the insecurity out of them? Once again I am apologizing for being inactive in writing and posting my fics. I've been a bit burned out with writing and been busy with work and life. So this time I know to not make promises about weekly posts. Instead I'm going to give myself grace and instead try and do at least one fic a month. So some months I might write 3-4 fics and others only one, it honestly will depend on how I'm feeling. But what I will try to do within this next month is finish updating my masterlist with some new, sexy banners and maybe also make a fic rec masterlist for all my favorite works. I will say I have been working on a few wips and am about half way through Corruption of Innocence part 3 and have also come up with another series this time for Joel, so stay tuned for that some time in the future. Thank you as always for any interactions with my posts, it means the world to me.

******

You couldn't actually justify why you did it. You shouldn't have pushed him away. But some part of you couldn't believe that he could love you and only you and that he wouldn't get bored of you and seek pleasure in someone else's bed. In all honesty, you were silly to think that, even being the soft-spoken man Joel was, he still always tried his best in reassuring you that he wanted you. And never did he ever give you any reasons to doubt his loyalty to you. But yet you decided to end your situationship with Joel in fear of getting hurt.

Joel, on the other hand, was first distressed and then annoyed that you pushed him away. He had been spending more of his nights at the Tipsy Bison, drinking away his troubles, trying to forget his feelings for you. He just couldn't seem to understand why you called it quits. You had spent so long dancing around your feelings for each other, and then when you finally did get together, everything was great, the best he had ever felt in a long time. Then it all came crashing down one night when you said that you wanted to stop seeing each other.

You took some convincing to admit the reasoning why. And when you did, he was shocked. Maybe he hadn't been expressing enough of his affection towards you. Maybe he should have told you he loved you already. You were quick to reassure him that it was yourself and not him. To which he scoffed and rolled his eyes at. But you pleaded with him that it was completely you, that you couldn't handle losing him. At first, as much as it hurt him to do so, he respected your wishes, and then one night about a month after your split, something inside of him snapped. He wasn't going to let the best thing in his life go that easily.

You were spending your night at home by yourself like usual, trying to forget Joel in your own way, distracting yourself with a book and a cup of tea. Your heart skipped a beat when it heard fairly loud knocking at your door. The knocking stopped for a second, and you thought about just ignoring it until it started again.

“Alright, I'm coming, jeez. You scoff annoyed, walking to the door before opening it.

Your voice and breath immediately hitch in your throat. Eyes widening as they take in the intimidating, tall figure before you, leaning against your doorframe. You scan over his body, the way his shirt and pants stretch over his wide thighs and shoulders, his eyes brown and soft but filled with something deeper and darker tonight. God, has he gotten even hotter since you last saw him? Your thoughts are interrupted when he coughs to get your attention and speaks.

“Came to talk to ya, sweetheart.” He says darkly.

You move aside and invite him in.

“Oh..yeah come in.” You whisper back.

You can smell the whiskey he likes on his breath as he walks by and the smell that is undoubtedly him, something you missed all so dearly. You take a deep breath, working up the courage to speak before you talk.

“Why are you here, Joel?”

“I think you know why I'm here.” 

You cross your arms and raise your eyebrow.

He speaks through gritted teeth, like an animal baring its fangs, holding back, ready to devour its prey. 

“Don’t act like you don’t know…cause I told you…I told you, I want you.”

“Joel I know, but I…” You whisper.

The words seem to slip away. Your brain can't seem to find proper reasoning as to why you still push him away, yet you still do, as if your body is working on autopilot.

“You know I want you, you're in my head.” His tone softens for a moment as he looks deep into your eyes. Wishing that you would just believe him and give your relationship a chance.

You go to interrupt, but he shuts you up by roughly grabbing your cheeks and jaw in one hand, the slight pain and abrupt motion to make you stop talking and listen. You can't help but let your desire continue to grow. Your middle is dripping from his dominance and assertiveness. You're almost whimpering at his touch.

“Joel.” You manage to mumble out, the last of your denying uttered in that one word.

He tightens his grip ever so slightly and lowers his head closer to yours, his lip curled.

“Well I'm telling you. I want you…..I get the feeling that you just don't understand, I'm crying, wolf, and I'll always be your man.” he growls.

The tension is thick in the air. Joel never failed to make you wet at the sight of him, but this was something else, a primal need to feast on each other's mouths and flesh like you won’t have the chance to again.

The point of tension breaks and your mouths attach to each other like magnets drawn together. The kisses are  filled with desire, lust, and want, but also with ‘I missed you’s’, don’t let me go again’s, and love. Teeth are clashing, lips smashing, hands flying about, trying to grab onto each other and hold them close in any way they can. 

Joel pushes you against the wall harshly, pulling you up so your legs wrap around his waist. You moan into his mouth, feeling his craving for your body, nestled against your clothed middle. His desire to be gentle and take his time is long gone out the window as he feverishly explores your body, ripping away any clothing that stands in his way of touching and tasting your bare skin. He marks all along your body, your neck, jaw, and collarbones, anywhere he can reach, claiming you for his own. 

His hands reach up behind your back and pull your hair firmly, giving him move access to attack your flesh with bite and hickey’s. You find yourself a grinning and whimpering mess under him. He growls into your breasts after ripping away your shirt and bra like a wild wolf, warning others not to touch his meal. He finally pulls you both off the wall and quickly walks to your bed and throws you down. Not wanting to waste a moment, he pulls your pants and panties off swiftly. He groans as he gets on his knees and takes in the scent of your arousal. 

“God I missed you and this sweet pussy, sweetheart.”

Before you can respond his hands wrapped around your thighs are pulling you to his mouth, he makes quick work of you, his tongue licking every inch of you, switching between, fucking into you pulsating hole and teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue. It feels so good, yet you can’t help but squirm around only to be pinned down by Joel's forearm, keeping his meal still for him. 

Your hand reaches down into his graying locks as Joel undoes you with his skilled tongue. Your first orgasm comes quickly. He groans deeply at the sweet taste gracing his taste buds, but he doesn’t stop or slow down. Instead he speeds up his actions and begins thrusting two fingers into your drenched cunt and curling them to reach that spot that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back. The pathetically beautiful sounds coming from your mouth do nothing but egg him to continue, urging you to your second orgasm of the night in mere minutes. Two fingers become three that mercilessly fuck into your tight hole.

“Cum for me.” Joel quietly groans in your cunt. 

Taking his words as a stern order, you let go, drenching his face with your second release of the night. He is grinning ear to ear as he drinks up every bit of your sweetness, your hands grip the sheets tightly, cunt verging on overstimulation. He finally lets up when he feels satisfied and crawls back up to give yourself a taste of your own pleasure from his tongue. He groans deeply as you begin pulling him down on top of you and arching your back up into him, insinuating you want more, need to feel him inside you. He chuckles darkly and reaches down between you to tease your folds with the tip of his cock. 

He keeps teasing despite your whines for him to put it in already. 

“Please….Please Joel.” You whine quietly.

He grins devilishly. “Begging me to fuck you sweetheart, Need it that bad, don’t you honey?”

You nod your head in response, but Joel doesn't like that answer. He grips your throat lightly and speaks through gritted teeth.

“Use your words baby.” he growls.

“Y-Yes, need it so bad Joel.”

“Atta girl.”

He quickly thrusts his whole length into your quivering hole, making you gasp out. He lets you adjust to his size for a few seconds before slowly yet brutally dragging his length almost all the way out before slamming it back into your tight cunt again.

You unconsciously bring your fist up to your mouth and bite into, so overwhelmed with the deliciously brutal pleasure you were feeling.Before you could have even comprehended, he flips you over and brings your ass up to his cock, slamming into your hip mercilessly. Your eyes rolled back into your head, he holds the back of your neck down as he pounded into you. Your hands find purchase in the sheets, gripping them tightly. He lowers himself so his front is flush with your back, and the new angle hits even deeper inside you, urging you to the precipice of climax. 

“All mine, This pretty cunt is all mine.” Joel snarled into your ear, biting your ear lobe.

“F-f-fuck yes, only yours, Joel.”

“That’s my girl.” He praises you, before reaching around to rub your clit, sending you over the edge.

“Shit! Joel!” You whine as your high comes crashing down.

His thrusts never stuttered as he worked you through your high and chased his own. Joel roughly grabbed your hips as he creamed inside of you, a final step in marking his territory.

You both collapsed on the bed, Joel’s full weight comforting as you caught your breaths. A comfortable silence blanketed the room, which only moments ago was filled with obscene noises.

“I love you.” he whispered.

Your eyes opened wide in surprise at his remark, the first ever time he has ever said those three words to you. You turn your head to try and look at him better. You see his eyes have returned a closer shade to their normal deep brown, his pupils blown wide. You can’t help but smile at his softness, a stark contrast to him behavior only moments ago. Nevertheless, you loved every bit of Joel you could get.

“I love you too.” You whisper before placing a gentle, lingering kiss on his lips.

You couldn't be certain of what was the future for you and Joel, but you knew right now there is no place you rather be than snuggling with your person.

********

[orbitswritings]

human!jake sully/fem!human reader Neteyam fic is still in works, I just wanted to take a break and push myself to quickly write something in a few hours without worrying about beta readers. so here’s something really self-indulgent that i had kicking around in my brain. let me know if i should continue (i mean i do want to i just like hearing other people say it) synopsis: reader works as a pencil pusher for the RDA and finds herself in a relationship with human!Jake Sully. Their relationship is on the rocks when Jake suddenly becomes a traitor for the Na’vi, forgetting about reader. unfortunately, she’s left in a position where she cannot forget about him.

(feat. Jake the dog and reader the human) c/w warning: blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smut. and jake’s kinda an asshole for now

The last time you saw Jake was right before he turned traitor.

His visits with you were already getting more and more spared, spaced out as the months went on. In the beginning of his deployment to Pandora you two were nearly inseparable, literally, wrapped in a tangled mess of blankets in your private quarters.

You were just a pencil-pusher and file manager, tasked with handling the never-ending information and data from several departments of the RDA. One day when delivering a stack of legal papers to the lead scientist Grace, the man seated in a wheelchair next to her, named Jake Sully, took an immediate interest. You did as well, although yours was more based on wanting to know why a buff marine guy in a wheelchair was doing around the other nerdy scientists. Jake’s was more coming from below the belt.

One night while laying in bed together after a session of sex, your hand aimlessly began running up and down his arms. His biceps used to be the size of your head, now he looked frail, malnourished. His body was practically wasting away. Jake now had been at least two months into his whole Na’vi thing. Yet you didn’t know any details since he was pretty tight-lipped about it all.

“Are you getting enough rest? Do you eat enough?” You asked with concern, stroking the hair out of his sweaty face. Jake had initially arrived on Pandora with the traditional military buzzcut, but now his hair had grown out, further adding to his ragged, disheveled appearance. “If not, I can write up a document for the food storage guys to give mor-” Jake just shrugged you off, turning away from you with a grunt of “mh fine.”

You’d later realize Jake was just using you to empty out all the cum and sexual frustration he would build up while gone. Word among the staff was the female Na’vi he’d been frolicking around with over the course of the few months was proving to be a tease. Unable to stomach thinking about what he was getting up to, you instead threw yourself into your work, trying to ignore the horrendous thoughts that clouded your mind.

You wish you had the guts to confront him on what would ultimately end up being your last night together, but you were just too lonely and so happy to see him after such a long time apart that you kept your mouth shut and legs open. All to just save the moment. Next time, though, you told yourself you would confront him.

That next time never came. In that time Jake Sully and his crew knocked over the chess board, turned traitor and proceeded to fuck over everyone. The plug on the whole operation was pulled, sending everyone packing onto their ships. Well, everyone except a few of his other human allies . . . . and you.

Not that he specifically asked for you to stay on Pandora. In fact you were sure he never even gave you a thought. What happened was when all the humans were being rounded up, you managed to slip off, going into hiding. There was a small, abandoned outpost, its existence having falling out of everyone else’s minds except yours, only being known by you due to your various dealings with files. It was similar to the one Jake and his gang had been stationed to in the Himalayan mountains, difference being luck for you it was within a day of hiking distance. There, you had everything you needed (for the time being). Filtered air, canned foods, jugs of water.

But why not go with the other humans? Being put into a tube of jelly for another five years and sent back to a dying planet with your sizable paycheck waiting for you in the mail was still miles better than sitting alone in some rundown old trailer on an alien planet where everything and anything can and will kill you, all the while slowly picking away at your limited rations.

It was simple. You weren’t alone, and your growing waistline was ever so slowly revealing it. Apparently the very last time you and Jake saw each other he was kind enough to leave you with a little going away gift, entirely unbeknownst to the either of you. The cheap condoms the company supplied did have an expiration date wasn’t to be taken lightly, but Jake had been out playing Na’vi for so long he completely forgot to grab new ones.

It was a hard rule that babies couldn’t be put in cryo, and being pregnant while in cryo lacked a lot of research for any factual statements but generally it was advised to avoid it. At that point you weren’t far along at all so either you were going to be tubed, putting both you and your baby at risk, or be forced to terminate.

Of course Jake couldn’t help you. He was too busy playing blue outlaw cowboy, rounding up the remaining RDA humans to ship them back to Earth.

But now, supplies were running low, and you knew this whole ‘pregnant while solo’ thing wasn’t going to be able to last much longer. Carrying was already hard enough. Giving birth alone was more of a horror movie plot than something you actually wanted to try out for yourself. So, you made the decision to finally bite the bullet, hook up the radio, and put out a signal to the other remaining scientists.

That same night you got a response back, the scientists on the other end both very surprised that another human was still on Pandora. They already knew you and so conclude you weren’t a die-hard RDA fan, making you not a threat to their operation. In the end, a helicopter was sent your way.

You were so grateful and relieved they agreed to come get you, you just wished they had told you Norm was going to be in his avatar form when picking you up. You nearly pissed your pants from the shock and blood-chilling fear that coursed through you when a gigantic blue alien suddenly appeared, peeking through your window.

The bump of your stomach acted as an elephant in the room, everyone on the helicopter doing their best to avoid looking directly at it as if doing so would cause permanent vision damage.

It wasn’t like they knew it was Jake’s, believing you two had ended your little fling long before the possible frame of conception, so that awkward topic was luckily avoided. Of course not all hard topics were off limits. They still asked you why you were here on Pandora, the unsubtle hint being they thought they had successfully chased out all the other dirty greedy humans from their prized forest playground. You were honest and gave them your reasoning, hoping it would squash any fears of other RDA agents lurking out there. They nodded in quiet understanding. You wanted to ask about Jake, how he was, but the fear of it possibly raising any sort of questions made you bite your tongue.

[rekas-writes]

Blurring Happiness

Pair: Modern + A/B/O AU! Alpha! Yuri Leclerc/M! Omega! Reader Source: Fire Emblem: Three Houses/Fire Emblem: Three Hopes

Type: Drabble - 899 words Genre: Semi-Graphic Smut/NSFT(W)/18+, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort Perspective: Second-Person (You/Your)

Summary: Yuri is the water the quenches the flames and the fan that stokes them ever higher. Or: Suppressed romantic feelings start to catch up as this friends with benefits situation dips into a bittersweet aftertaste

TW: None

Kinks: A/B/O or Omegaverse

Terms Used for Reader: Cock, Hole

A/N: Decided to convert one of the fics I made during my month without Wi-Fi into a reader-insert! This is rather self-indulgent since ABO is a massive weakness for me- It's a little short since I don't like writing long pieces on my phone, but I thought some folks might like it! I also think it's a travesty I haven't written anything for FE:3H at all on this blog, so here's a Yuri fic because I think he's neat! I'm also spiralling into my Fire Emblem hyperfixation again since I bought Three Hopes recently. I know I'm late- ;-;

✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

It’s a blur, simply put.

This whole, strange relationship is a blur.

It’s touches on skin at night, only ever at night- when the Goddess could not see beyond the thick fog, with only mist-filtered moonlight faintly lighting patches of hair and wrinkled clothes. The reflections dance upon exposed skin and floats high on breathy calls and sighs. The highs sing like angels in the dim of night, and those tingly, pleasant feelings bloom like delicate flowers upon your sullied flesh. 'Heavenly', you think vaguely to yourself, before the guilt and scorn of feeling unworthy settles in the afterglow.

It’s hot and cold. Unrelenting heat boils beneath your skin and sighs like steam at his touch, and for just a moment- you're complete. Like the final stroke of a brush against a littered canvas. Entangled as one, it feels like sweet relief that calms the burning inferno inside for just a few minutes. The kettle cools and it’s like the sip of fresh lemonade on a summer’s day, and you're parched beyond belief... But all too soon that euphoria slips away and it’s so hot- too hot again. There’s an aching itch that burns like an addiction, and no matter how much you scratch- it never stops. There is no respite. This heat, this supposed "cycle", only sleeps for what feels like a few minutes. There is no cycle, only a merciless craving that digs its cursed fangs deep into your biology.

It’s a deep-set ache. When you roll to your side, Yuri is gone. Like the whispers of the wind, he’s temporary and loose like grains of sand. A fleeting pleasure, like the haze of a debauched party you can't remember anymore. The only "mark" of his presence is the phantom touches upon your skin. The sickening warmth pooling already in your gut once again that yearns for more, but just a little quieter than usual. When you breath in hard, like the shaky exhale before a sob, you regret it. It reeks of your antidote. Your medicine. An Alpha. It smells like him. Instead, you take a shallower breath; one that strains to calm the throbbing in your chest.

That relief seldom stays, yet the relationship remains all the same.

You would be a fool not to know this wasn't good for you anymore. That this was hurting you. You don't know how much longer you can last, staring into soft, purple eyes that remain guarded even in such a vulnerable position. It's so hollow. That smile. Those sweet nothings. The gentle touch caressing down your body with the mannerism of a lover, but the method of a stranger. It's so painfully empty.

But when Yuri rolls his hips, those thoughts fuzz and blur. Your brain can't think straight when he touches you with such precision and practiced ease that almost made your chest hurt- if you tried to think about it too hard. Stirring up your insides only numbs your head more, body arching into Yuri’s as his tongue laps at yours. It tastes so sweet to be consumed by him, as you lick desperately at his lip to get him to do it again. To consume the rest of your thoughts and drag you further into the abyss. There's this satisfying ache that heat suppressants can’t provide. That being alone can't provide.

In the grand scheme of things, who were you to ask for more in this? You are an omega. Yuri is an alpha. It was only natural you would feel drawn to him. Those desperate, intrusive feelings- that unerring need to be loved by him- they're nothing more than the cruel urge to be fucked until you couldn't think anymore. He didn't even need to help you, but he does. That... That's good enough.

It’s lonely. It’s scary. It’s feverishly cold. It’s bitingly hot.

You curl into yourself, panting beneath the covers as you call a name you don't quite realise you did. You don't know why you did it when it finally registers. As a new presence paces quickly across your room's floor, you can only cry for that name again- borderline pain flickering through your heightened nerves.

Lavender. It smells like lavender and honeyed fruit; it's overwhelming yet comforting. It spins your head pleasantly, in a way that makes you whimper that name again. More slick runs down your leg as arousal spikes deep in your core despite your confusion. Your hand reaches below your waistband, needing to feel something now you decide, as you paw at your already hard cock and slide your hand down to feel the wet trails running down your thighs.

Ah…

You need him again.

When that blur of purple embraces you again, those loud, frightening, confusing feelings dampen. You can ignore your problems as you cling on to him- pulling him as close as possible, listening only to the sound of Yuri mumbling your name. Hands gently push your own away, electrifying your senses as he thumbs at your tip. Simmering in his touch, you gasp and groan when he spreads your hole open with long, dextrous fingers- delicate yet teasing. It’s so easy to lose yourself when he looks at you so kindly like that. When he talks to you so sweetly like that. When he holds you so tenderly like that. Even if it's all fake, in the maddening pit of engulfing heat and heady lust, it’s so easy to pretend that even for just a moment…

You are his.

[pedrito-friskito]

Congratulations again Kay! I just adore your writing and I’m sending you all the hugs and love! ❤️❤️❤️

So I’m invading your inbox to request smut prompts…

29. You’re safe with me, my love. You know I’d never hurt you.

44. I’m going to mark all the parts I love to show you how beautiful you are.

With the one and only Frankie Morales, it’s been a minute and I just love Frankie so much ❤️

Please and thank you 💕💕💕

ericca sweet angel!! yes please frankie oh my god you love frankie, I love frankie, everybody loves frankie 💕

this was a little self indulgent but I hope you enjoy 😏

🔥friday night fever!🔥

Sometimes living in your own head is a nightmare.

Frankie Morales knows that better than most. His nights are filled with tossing and turning, rarely getting more than the four hours he’s trained himself to survive on. He’s tried everything, sleeping pills and drinking himself into a stupor, smoking enough weed to think he’s living on another planet or just staying up until his body gives out, but none of it works.

You, however, have managed to change everything.

He’s never slept as soundly as he does by your side, his body wrapped around yours, nose pressed into your hair and palms shaped to the curve of your skin. Maybe it’s the thrum of your heart, a steady rhythm he can fall asleep to, or just the feel of you against him. He can’t put his finger on it, but it’s made everything better, made it easier for him to get some shut-eye.

But you, just like him, are only human, and while you may not have been overseas, or seen the hell that Frankie has, you have your own battles, and Frankie takes them in stride, same as you do with him. That’s why it works, why you two help each other more than any relationship either of you has ever had before. It’s fate, maybe, divine intervention, Frankie doesn’t know for certain. But he knows that you love him, and he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he loves you.

And he knows you don’t mean to wake him.

It was a few months before he even realized what was happening. He was so wrapped up in the fact that you made him feel like he could breathe again that it took a while, but now he knows that sometimes, the anxiety that likes to set up shop in your brain some days can keep you up while he sleeps. You’re careful about it, always slipping out of bed so stealthily that it takes him a while to realize you’re gone, finding you sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea in your hands. Or other nights, you don’t make it out of bed, instead perching yourself at the edge of the mattress and just trying to breathe through the attack.

Tonight, it seems, is something else entirely.

You’re still in the bed, still in his arms, but you’re shaking. Instantly, he’s worried. Are you sick? What’s going on? Gently, he rolls you onto your back, pushing the messy hair from your face and smoothing his fingers over your cheek. Your teeth are chattering, shoulders rattling, and Frankie’s whole body is on red alert.

“Babe,” he murmurs softly, trying to rouse you as easily as possible. The soft tone in his voice doesn’t seem to do much, however, because you’re up like a shot, gasping loudly and your eyes going wide. Instantly, he sees the tears on your face, the sharp rise and fall of your chest, and you’re pushing at his hands, scrambling across the bed from him. “Hey!” he calls, voice still soft as possible. “Baby, it’s okay. You were having a nightmare.”

Your breathing is still heavy, but he hears it start to slow as he talks, so he keeps going.

“Come here, babe,” he murmurs, opening his arms wide, waiting for you to make the move. When you start to shuffle towards him, crawling into his grip, he pulls you close. “You’re safe with me, my love. You know I’d never hurt you. You’re safe here, always.”

You nod into his collar, and Frankie can feel the wet drips on his skin, but he pays them no mind. “I know, it just…” You grab hold of him, hands diving into his hair, holding him as tight as possible. He lets out a low oomph, but he doesn’t mind. “It felt so real, and I…” You trail off, shaking your head against him.

Frankie leans you backwards until you’re laid out on the mattress and adjusts himself beside you, propped up on his elbow. He goes slow, letting you track his movements as he makes them, carefully wiping the tears from your cheeks, running his fingers through your hair, trailing his palm up and down your bicep. He waits for your breathing to steady, for your eyes to drip closed, your hand lifting and pressing to the middle of his chest. 

When he pauses his movements to reach for the blankets, you whimper. “I’m right here, baby,” he reassures you. “I’m not going anywhere. Tell me what you need.”

Your voice is thick when you open your mouth. “Could you…distract me?”

Frankie’s brow raises as you reach for the hand that’s still moving up and down your arm, curling your fingers around his wrist and pulling it lower. He lets his fingers graze your skin as you pull him where you want, until his fingertips are sliding against the silky skin of your inner thighs. His whole body heats up when he feels how warm you are.

“Baby,” he drawls, leaning his head down to kiss your temple softly. “Are you sure?”

You nod, eyes opening and his throat goes dry at the heat in your gaze, the fear replaced with something else. “I’m sure. You always make me feel better, Frankie, make me feel beautiful.”

“You are beautiful,” he answers, and pushes himself up on his hands, leaning over you, knocking your knees wide with one of his own and settling between them. “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” He lowers himself slowly, kissing the centre of your chest and then dragging his mouth up, over the curve of your chin until his lips catch on yours. “I’m going to mark all the parts I love to show you how beautiful you are. You understand?”

You make a little squeak of agreement, tossing your head back so he has better access to your skin. He feels your hands on his sides, skimming up his ribs, and your nails dig in as he drags his mouth to your neck, sucking a mark into your pulse. Then he moves lower, your grip moving to his shoulders, and your gasps are music to his ears as he leaves tiny bruises along the underside of your breast, another along the slope of your ribs, and more along the curve of your hip. Your skin is velvet beneath his tongue, and he hums in approval when goosebumps rise on your flesh, back arching into him when he pushes his face between your legs and leaves a bruise right where you’re the most sensitive.

Well, almost the most sensitive.

His eyes flicker up to your face as he moves to that perfect little bud between your legs, sucking it between his lips, hands curling around your widening thighs. You let out a moan that makes him rut into the bed, eyes still glued to your face. He can see the fear and anxiety the nightmare had given you melting away, your every worry replaced with a blissful expression as he licks into you. He keeps you as close to him as he can, drinking you down, helping you find that peak, watching your face as you unravel.

And once you do, he moves back up your body, revisiting the marks he left on the way down, sealing them into your skin.

“I love you,” he murmurs, kissing the hollow of your throat. “So much.”

“I love you too, Frankie,” you reply, your voice dreamy and faraway, sleepy and sated. He smiles to himself.

Whatever you need, he’ll do it. Whatever it takes.

—————

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frankie morales tags: @steadyasthe-flowers @iamskyereads @ancientbeing10 @woomen23 @plutoneu @pedropascalsx @allfoolsinluv @williamjzanders @winchestershiresauce @lunarpenumbra @bluestuesday @i-simp-much @itspdameronthings @trickstersp8 @kirsteng42 @lovesbiggerthanpride @beskarprincessjenny @loonymagizoologist @trinkets01 @mashomasho @greeneyedblondie44 @tanzthompson @fiscinthirst @mswarriorbabe80 @vickytogisa @dead-pool-simp @ruhro7 @thevoiceinyourheadx @littlemisspascal @mrssarahpaulsooonn @allthe-ships @fictionismyreality @mrsparknuts @arson-tm @december16-1991 @maggotzombie @pastafossa @boliv-jenta @m00nkn1ghts @iccedays @detectivecarisi-1

[tnystrk-exe]

Estocolmo

Hannibal x Reader

Masterpost

Warnings: Smut 18+ thigh riding, fingering, oral, daddy kink, plot to make up for my first attempt at writing smut.

Word count: 6.8k

Chapter One

“Fucking hell.” You sighed as you looked at the still tall stack of essays that needed grading. “I’m never getting through this.”

Your stomach grumbled, signaling it was time for a break. Stretching, the quiet was interrupted by the sound of your bone’s protest from sitting in one position for hours. It was nights like these you had regretted your choices. Sure you had known Professor Jacob loved to torture his students with too much work, but when you took the job as his assistant you assumed that he’d shoulder some of the weight. A ridiculous thought now that you’ve experienced working with him. Why should he even think of grading an assignment when he had a perfect little lackey doing it for him? That was a non question. He had been strict about the work not leaving his office, which meant you had accidentally fallen asleep in his office more than often than you would have liked. The pile of work never seemed to diminish. 

Walking out the office, you thought briefly of the joy you would feel when you’d never have to see it again. These long corridors would be a thing of the past in just a few, short months. Then you’d probably go to the city and struggle for a while but at least you would be free from here. As much as you prided yourself for getting through the first round of college, the walls of the building gave you more of an annoyed feeling than anything. 

Pushing open the door to the teachers lounge, you made a beeline for the fridge. The leftover pizza already seemed like a feast until you noticed it was nowhere to be seen. “Hannibal,” you whined to the empty room as you closed the fridge. 

“Yes, darling?” 

You startled, immediately turning around to face him, a mischievous smile was plastered on his lips. Usually your missing dinner meant to head over to his office. It wasn’t typical, but the two of you had managed a comfortable friendship between the shared late nights. Though, you suspected he’d stay longer than necessary to accompany you in the empty building. “Would you mind telling me where my dinner went, handsome?” You asked, raising a brow at him.

“Old pizza can hardly be considered dinner. Come,” he motioned to sit next to him at the table, “I’ve got a better meal prepared for you nonetheless.”

“Or maybe you just need to learn to appreciate the simple things,” you quipped as you took your seat.

“And you, the finer.”

You gave him an obvious look over, “I’d say I appreciate you plenty enough.” 

Being so forward wasn’t usually in your cards. However Hannibal had always been a gentleman and it had been fun to tease at him a bit. He never complained, often just acknowledging what you said with a raised brow or chuckle. Still there was always some truth in jokes and you’d be lying to say that he was anything less than tempting. Especially in the dark grey suit and dried blood red shirt of his. ‘No’ wouldn’t come to mind if he ever offered.

“Naughty, Miss LN,” he chided you, “What shall we do with you?”

“What do you want to do with me?”

“Eat your dinner,” he said, humor in his voice as he shook his head.

You choked back a comment about him just wanting to see your mouth stuffed, deciding it was too much of a push. Instead you just opened the lunchbox he placed in front of you. Hannibal watched you expectantly as you took a bite of the meat.

Closing your eyes, you savored the bite. It had been a while since you had something home cooked. “Han... I’m going to miss you most. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you. Delicious, as always.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” He went back to work on his own stack of papers as you ate. “Though, I’m not sure I’m ready to allow you to live off street food once we part.”

“Guess we’re gonna have to find me another man that insists on throwing away my perfectly good food to serve me home cooked meals.”

Hannibal left some remarks on a paper before pushing it to the side. “You could always come learn a few things. Maybe I’ll rest better knowing you know how to make yourself a couple of decent meals. Any guesses for the meat?”

It was a strange guessing game, but you indulged him, he was just eccentric. “Oh, definitely human,” you teased, making sure to pick up some spinach and artichoke in the next bite, “Probably had a boring name like David.”

“Close. It was Richard,” he corrected. 

“Beef, it was the Rolex of all farm animals hand picked by you and I’m very grateful you shared some with me,” you smiled at him, “So how are things going with Baltimore?”

“I’ve found a beautiful home. The office, however, seems to be harder to find.”

“I’m sure you’ll find the perfect one.” Your phone started ringing. Grabbing it from your pocket, you looked at the screen. Mom. “They’re making this unnecessarily difficult,” you sighed to yourself. 

Hannibal looked at you with peaked interest as you shut off your phone and pushed it away. “Is something troubling you?”

“My parents aren’t taking too kindly to the no contact rule. It’s the tenth call today.”

“You’ve cut them off?”

“I thought about what you had said,” you shrugged, “I’m tired of always having to get them out of troubles and be their ATM when I don’t have enough for myself. It’s just too much on me right now. Between school assignments, Jacob’s work pile, and my other part time, it’s all just suffocating. They keep trying to use my grandfather’s death as a leverage to make me feel bad about not talking to them now, but they just want some money. I don’t want to feel guilty about this but I can’t help it.”

“Don’t,” he placed his hand over yours, “You deserve to feel taken care of and appreciated. They aren’t providing you with that now. Especially now when they use the death of the person who raised you as leverage,” he shook his head, making a disgusted sound, “It’s for your own well-being that you take some time to breathe and be young. They provide too much stress…” Hannibal fell silent. “I’ve suggested this before but i-“

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away. “I’m not taking your money. We’re friends. Money complicates things. Muddies the waters.”

“Friends help each other,” he reminded you, “I’ve already told you I wouldn’t want any payment.”

“But I’d still feel like I owe you.” You shook your head, “It wouldn’t feel right to me. I’m fine. I promise. Though, if you’re so willing to help me with something, I wouldn’t say no to those cooking lessons. They could be fun.”

He spared you a smile, “It would be my pleasure to teach you what I know.”

“And I’d never deny your pleasure,” your mouth spoke before you could think about it, “Sorry.”

“I don’t deny myself pleasure either,” he said, amused. “You’re fine. Now, how about we meet on Sunday? I’ll have time to figure out a full meal and gather all of the ingredients.”

“Great!” You ignored the heat that still lingered on your face, “I- um, do you need me to bring anything?”

“Nothing at all, I’ll make sure to take care of everything. All you need to do, sweet girl, is bring yourself and an appetite.”

You stifled a pleased smile at the term of affection. “I’ll make sure to do that,” sparing a glance to the clock, you frowned, “I should probably get back to work on those essays.”

“Why don’t we work on them together?” He suggested. “My colleague is notorious for drowning you in his work. I can help you sort through it all and you can have a restful Saturday without Micheal’s added stress.”

“I really can’t ask that of you. You already have enough work as it is.”

“We’ll work together. First your work, then mine. What happened to never denying my pleasure?” 

Your eyes widened, but you laughed all the same. Maybe a while more in his company wouldn’t be so bad. “Fine. Hold me to my words, but it’s only going to cause you a headache. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. These new kids are… something else.”

“They’re nothing,” he stood, grabbing his papers in one hand, “Meet me in my office. We can be more comfortable there and I may have stowed away a bottle of wine.”

“What would I do without you Doctor Lecter?”

-

“You have arrived at your destination,” the robotic voice informed you as you parked.

You took in the mansion of a home. It was too big for someone that lived alone. The thought made you shiver. Homes should be filled with life, not empty space. Then again, he was a fan of dinner parties, extravagant ones at that, so you supposed there was life in those walls on occasion. The home itself reminded you of the houses in old movies. Ones where the lightning would strike at just the right moment as a warning to stay away. But this was real life and there was no lightning, just a sun setting on a near perfect day. 

Without a warning telling you to keep away, you grabbed the gift bag and stepped out of your car. He had said to bring nothing, but you couldn’t resist a simple gift. The ties in the bag had taken out a decent chunk from your pocket, but he deserved them. Between agreeing to give you cooking lessons and helping you out with grading every so often, the simple pieces of fabric meant nothing. Besides, it was a two way gift, he’d get more of the patterned ties he was fond of and you’d get to see him in the darker colors you liked on him, knowing he’d feel compelled to wear them to show you his gratitude.

Knocking on the door, you waited a couple of minutes before he emerged. “YN, just in time. Please, come in,” he stepped to the side, “I’ve looked forward to this all day.”

You smiled and stepped past him. “I have too. Entertained myself a bit today by finding you a gift.” 

“Darling, you shouldn’t have.”

Nervousness bit at you slightly, a bit self conscious they’d be too cheap for his taste. Too late to back out of it, you handed over the bag. “You’ve always been so kind and I really appreciate everything. Let me do something for you.”

He set the bag on the nearby table, laying out the ties to get a better look at them.  “They’re all lovely,” he ran a finger across the fabric of a maroon one, “Fond of me in darker colors, YN?”

“What can I say?” You shrugged, “We catch ourselves spending a lot of time together. Why not make you a decent piece of eye candy?”

“Inappropriate,” he chided you, before signaling you to follow after him.

“You just wear them so well, Doctor Lecter.”

Shrugging off his navy suit coat, he draped it over a chair, making quick work of rolling up his sleeves. “Ready to get your hands dirty, my little sous-chef?”

“What are we making?” You asked, looking at his kitchen wide eyed. It was definitely bigger than your measly studio apartment. 

“Frisee aux lardons, duck with a pomegranate-citrus glaze. I took the liberty of preparing a blood orange sorbet for dessert.”

“I have a proposal.”

“Yes?”

“We don’t do any of that and just have dessert for dinner.”

“No,” he gave you an amused glance, “There’s more pleasure in waiting for things. Why don’t you start washing up the vegetables and I’ll start preparing the duck?”

You stuck your tongue out at his back but set to your work. “This is what I get for befriending a charming old guy.”

“Keep going the way you are and our next meal together will be langue d’Agneau en papillote.”

“That can’t be a threat if I don’t know what that means,” you quipped, setting aside an endive. 

“It means, darling,” he pointed his knife at you, “The fondness I feel for you is an inconvenience. Nonetheless, it’s welcomed.”

You smiled at him brightly, as you brought the washed vegetables over to him. “I’m fond of you too, but you gotta stop flirting and teach me how we’re gonna cook Daffy here.”

He motioned for you to grab a cutting board and a knife of your own. The two of you worked in quiet harmony, occasionally he’d tell you exactly why he was doing something a certain way or just give you simple instructions and let you have a hands on feel of exactly how to prepare something. It was nice to see him in his element. Hannibal seemed much more content in his kitchen than any where you had seen him at the college. Eventually he set his work to the side and washed his hands. 

“You’re cutting them too thick. Thinner is better for this dish.” He stepped behind you, “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead.” You attempted to move to the side, but Hannibal had already caged you in between himself and the counter. His cologne was different from the one you were accustomed to him wearing, but the subtle spice of it gave a more homey feeling to him. 

Hannibal grabbed your hand that had yet to  let go of the knife. He made sure to show you how to cut them the right thickness. “See? A little thing can unbalance everything.”

“Hm,” you hummed, catching yourself relaxed against the man, his frame strong against yours, “I don’t see much of a difference. Pretty sure this is just your variation of a putter.”

“You assume I have hidden motives,” He acknowledged, looking down at you, “And if there were any?”

Taking the bait, you pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw. “I wouldn’t be too upset.”

His head dipped into your shoulder, taking in a breath. “What happened to not wanting to bring on complications in our friendship?”

“We only have weeks left with each other,” you shrugged, “There wouldn’t be any complications. Not really.”

“We really should get back to making our dinner, darling,” he sighed, almost seeming reluctant to pull away, “What else did you did you do today?””

It took you a second to respond, still shaking off the embarrassment. You weren’t sure what had compelled you to do that. When you looked up at him you grimaced. Grabbing a napkin, you carefully wiped away the lingering lipstick. “The ties were the more interesting part of the day, I didn’t plan anything eventful. Honestly most of my day was taken with trying to recall the shop you mentioned that carried the ones you liked.”

He hummed in appreciation, “You also managed to pick out two I have had my eye on. I’ve got new suits coming in soon that will pair perfectly.”

You beamed at that, happy he did actually like what you had chosen. “Lucky guess. It was difficult remembering the ones I had seen you wear.”

Hannibal made to grab some ingredients and set them on the counter near the stove. “Have your parents tried calling you this weekend?”

You sighed, sure you didn’t have to tell him the truth but you wanted to, he had a compelling thing to him that made it easy to just speak. “I sent them money for rent. Which was honestly the dumbest thing I’ve done in a while.”

“It wasn’t idiotic,” he stated, setting to work on making the pomegranate sauce as you watched, “They’re you’re parents. It’s only natural you worry about them. Though, I do worry they’ll think of you as a person that doesn’t stick to her word.”

“I know, I really meant to, but the thought of them out on the street. It’s not my responsibility, but I’m just so used to being their adult.”

“It’s difficult to detransition. You worry for them as they should worry for you.”  He checked over a pan he had been heating, “That’s perfect. If you could please..” Grabbing the plate with the duck you set them on the pan. “With duck it’s important to render off the fat. A low heat is necessary.”

You nodded, “Low and slow, got it... You know, I’m not sure they worry about me at all. I mean- I know they don’t. It should hurt, but it’s just a fact of life.”

“They didn’t give you an opportunity to be a child. When you were supposed to be in the most carefree moments of your life, they burdened you with the responsibilities of an adult.” He held out a spoon with some of the pomegranate sauce for you to taste. “Any pain the notion inflicted on you has been killed with time.”

“There are still moments though. Suppose that’s common enough, isn’t it Doc?” You leaned in, allowing him to feed you, “That tastes amazing. I really should have paid attention.”

“It’s simple, I’ll write it out for you later.” Casting the sauce aside, he set a pot of water to boil. “Very common. We aren’t too dissimilar when it comes to how quickly we had to grow up. Very different reasons, but the fall out isn’t much different. Our paths left us in places where we’re very much alone.”

“What happened?” You asked, realizing that he had known a great deal of your family and you had known nothing more past how his day had gone or his preference of coffee. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t.” Hannibal went to fill two glasses with wine. “I was very young when my parents died. My father had implemented in me that, if anything were to happen, I was to take care of my mother and sister. Which meant I had grown fiercely protective of Mischa when the time came. Soon I was acting more as her father than a brother.”

“Where’s Mischa now?” You asked, knowing at the very least she had to be in her late twenties.

His lips set into a frown, he took a quick drink. “Lost her sometime after. There was a lapse of judgement on my part and she suffered because of it. My days have often been shrouded by the thought that I could have done better by her. The ways I failed burdens me significantly.”

You rubbed his arm sympathetically. “I couldn’t even begin to imagine that pain.”

“It’s something I never wish to experience again. Losing someone you love so dearly, it changes a person.”

“I’m sure you tried your best. You’re a good man. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that when you were so young.”

“You think too highly of me,” he patted your hand on his arm, “Far better than I deserve. Still if my childhood had taught me anything, it’s to value those I hold dear. Such as yourself.” 

“I’m glad we found each other. Even if it is for a short while.” You watched as he stepped back into the rhythm of cooking. Maybe you weren’t any help to him but watching him work was comforting. 

He raised a brow, “Just because the amount of time we physically see each other will diminish, doesn’t mean we need to completely break apart. I’d like to have you at my dinner table later in life.”

“I’d like it if we kept in touch,” you replied, looking at a small box on the counter. The small black beads glimmered in the light, calling at you to take a peek. A neat row of recipe cards in his impeccable penmanship, numbered as high as 120 but there could have been more. “That’s sweet,” you mused, looking at the back of a card, noticing a couple had business cards on them, “You keep track of your friends’ favorites like this?”

“Friends, acquaintances, business partners. It’s difficult remembering everyone’s preferences. When I have dinner parties I like to make sure there’s a bit of something for everyone.”

“Hm, well I’m sorry I don’t have a card for you to have.”

When everything was said and done, you helped Hannibal set up the plates to have dinner. The conversation became light as you laughed along to the better memories of Mischa. From his smile it was easy to see he adored the usually shy girl. You never pressed on to find out how she died, simply choosing to bask in his soft smiles and laughter instead of entertaining curiosity. It was easy to see he rarely talked about her and you were grateful that he found that much comfort in you.

Some time later he was sitting at his harpsichord, playing a self composed melody as you browsed his shelves. There was an almost familiar calm in the air, like this was a usual happening and it would simply just happen again. A naturally reoccurring moment. You found comfort in his presence too. 

You looked up from the shelves when you heard his sigh. “I can’t seem to master this melody,” he stated, “The ending never sounds right.” The annoyed demeanor contradicted his lax look. At least lax for him. His vest and suit jacket had been discarded a while ago leaving him with a popped button, loosened tie, and rolled up sleeves. “I may just leave this one in the air.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” you said, walking over to him, “Though we can be our own worst critics. I know I’m mine.”

“It sounds… forced. Almost as if it’s reluctant to work with me.”

“Forced things just need time.” You placed your hand on his shoulders, digging in your thumbs to relieve the tension you felt. A soft groan as he let his head lull back to rest against your stomach. “Time is all you need sometimes. I thought you would have learned that already, old man.”

He opened his eyes, raising a brow at you. “Always with that mouth.”

You smiled down on him fondly, something- probably the wine in your system -thought about pressing a kiss to his forehead right then. “What can I say? It has a mind of its own.”

“I do prefer when it’s otherwise occupied,” he stated, closing his eyes again.

Your fingers dug a little deeper at that, caught off guard. “And yet.”

Hannibal played a couple soft notes, seemingly testing the waters for his next attempt at getting it to sound right. “And yet.” The first melody seemed almost innocent, but was followed by a second seemingly stalking after it. “Would you mind putting on a record? It seemed I’ve grown bored with music of my own.”

“Sure thing, Han.” Giving his shoulders one final squeeze you pulled away from him. At the record table you browsed through his selection. Hannibal was still composing as you decided to go with a record that looked more worn than the others, figuring something well loved would help him out of his frustrated state. Setting it on the platter, you gave it a brief once over with the anti static brush, knowing he’d probably be attentive to that type of thing, and dropped the needle. The music filled the air as you took in the melody. “Very you.”

He let out a soft chuckle, abandoning the harpsichord, in favor walking over to you. “Very me, indeed.” Hannibal took the record sleeve out of your hand, setting it down on the table. The music’s build up reached. “Would you give me the honor?” His hand was stretched out toward you.

You gave him a sheepish smile, “Afraid I’m going to have to disappoint. I’m not much of a dancer.”

“I’ve been told I’m a wonderful teacher,” he pressed, a charming smile on his lips, “We all start somewhere. Let me be yours.”

A soft laugh bubbled from you as you took in his look of boyish excitement. “You’re not allowed to complain when I step on your toes.” You placed your hand in his. 

He gave a gentle squeeze to your hand. “If you’re too terrible, I’ll show you the way I taught Mischa. You can stand on my toes as I try to help you commit the movements into muscle memory.”

“Handsome and a comedian.”

“I try my best.” Hannibal gave you a gentle spin as he pulled you closer. A kiss was pressed to your hand before he placed it on his shoulder. “Now, just follow after me,” he instructed, placing his hand on your hip.

The moment could have made you fall for the man as you danced with him throughout the room. Toothy smiles and teasing winks were sent your way the couple of times you stepped on his toe. Soon enough, you figured out the pace and learned how to follow through with his unspoken plans. Still, ever the novice, you managed to place your foot in a way that sent you both stumbling to the floor.

Hannibal held you close to his chest, ensuring you didn’t get hurt in the fall. “Oh my sweet girl,” he laughed, “we are going to need more practice.”

You hid your face against his neck, ignoring the fact that he could feel how hot your face was getting. “You want more of that?”

“You were doing perfect, YN,” he stroked your hair sympathetically, “One misstep isn’t something to be embarrassed about.”

Taking a deep breath, you shifted off of the older man, opting to sit beside him on the floor. Hannibal followed suit, leaning back on his elbows. “I really am going to miss seeing you regularly,” you admitted, reaching out your hand to push back the hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. 

“We spend much of our time together,” he acknowledged as he looked at you curiously. “In the kitchen-“

Your eyes widened slightly, “We don’t need to talk about that i-it’s fine. No hard feelings.”

“Romantically or physically?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you see me as a romantic or physical conquest?”

“I, um,” you opted to look at your fumbling hands, “I’m honestly not sure about romance… especially considering… everything and my experience when it comes to romance. Never really thought past- I’m talking too much.”

Hannibal’s hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Oh? What happened to the confident girl in the kitchen? Don’t go shy on me now.”

“I was high on your cologne, you can hardly blame me,” you rambled, “It pairs with mine nicely I think.”

His thumb stroked absentmindedly at your jaw. “Such a sweet little thing you are… Now, tell me, YN, what couldn’t you think past?”

“You,” you offered lamely, “Mostly nights when I needed to relax. You’d cross my mind. I’d wonder how you felt. How’d you do things. Maybe you’d like to leave bruises only you’d ever know about…”

“There’s something special in knowing what others don’t,” Hannibal acknowledged, “I do enjoy my lovers wearing my marks, hidden from others view and only acknowledged by myself. As it should be, I’m certain you agree.”

You swallowed thickly at the implication of being marked as his solely. The idea of having normal conversations with him at the college with evidence of him knowing you well burned against your skin. Maybe you’d see if you could convince him into one particular fantasy Friday night had conjured. 

He rested his thumb against your bottom lip, bringing you back to him. “I’ve had thoughts of my own… I wonder… Have you ever wrapped a hand around your own neck?” Hannibal smirked at the way your lips parted in surprise as he felt the heat rise to your face, caught in a way you hadn’t expected. “Sweet girl, were you desperate for me?”

You went to lick your bottom lip out of habit, instead finding the pad of his thumb. “Yes, sir.”

“Darling,” he sighed out softly, almost disappointed, “we could have sorted you out this entire time, if you’d only ask politely. There would have been no need for you to imagine, creative as you might have been. You always put everyone’s needs before yours, but where does that leave you?” Hannibal his thumb pressed against your lips lightly, humming in satisfaction when you let him in, already so compliant. “All you have to do is ask. What would you have me do tonight?” A soft pop sounded in the room as he pulled his thumb back, smearing your spit onto your lips and chin. 

“Just tonight?” The words rolled out of your mouth thoughtlessly. 

A soft laugh. “Maybe more, if you behave.”

Hannibal threaded his hand into your hair, pulling your head back slightly. Leaning closer he took a deep breath, taking you in, before leaving a simple kiss against your neck. His warm breath fanned across your face as he kept you in anticipation. Finally he graced you with a feather light kiss, so quick you weren’t sure you even noticed. You didn’t have time to feel ashamed of the whine that had escaped when he started to move away. Following after him, you caught him in an urgent kiss, threading your own hands in his hair to make sure he’d stay close. Hannibal bit at your bottom lip, his tongue sliding in the second you gasped. You ignored the sting and slight coppery taste. 

Sure you had had your fair share of ventures. It was only natural to crave the attention for the night or a couple hours. However, Hannibal didn’t feel like any of your past partners. His kiss was unrelenting and passionate. Quickly he learned exactly how to kiss you to ensure you’d moan into his mouth. You weren’t sure how long had been spent like this. Lips on lips. Someone’s wandering hand trailing down the other’s body. The growing need. Every movement slowly became bolder. Hannibal took the time to pull you onto his thigh, closing the distance between you even more. He kissed along your neck until he found a spot that made you buck against him. 

“Please,” you sighed out, not really knowing exactly what you wanted, but having faith that he’d give you just what you needed. 

Hannibal leaned his forehead against yours, “Are you sure about this, darling?” 

It wasn’t time for contemplation though, everything was already set into motion. He had just asked out of politeness. His hands moved to your hips, he dragged you against himself in a way that clouded your mind. “You’re very convincing,” you said with a shuddered breath. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you matched his rhythm. At the moment everything in the world was him and you couldn’t find it in you to mind. 

“You came to me,” he pointed out. His hand tugged at your shirt and you allowed him to pull it off. Fingers raised goose bumps along your skin as he followed the fabric of your bra to unclasp the material.  

“Could you blame me?” You kissed the side of his jaw for the second time this night. The lipstick mark left behind wasn’t as embarrassing when you were half undressed on his lap. A blush blossomed in your chest as you watched his darken eyes take you in.

Hannibal kissed along your chest. His hand made its way into your pants, drawing slow circles on your clit. Your soft moan and jut of your hips urged him for more. Before you could ask, he thrusted two fingers inside of you, the pace changing every so often as he took in your reactions. You leaned your head against his shoulder as you grinded against his hand. Soft whimpers were muffled by the fabric of his shirt. 

“Come on sweet girl,” he used his free hand to pull you off of his shoulder by the hair, “you shouldn’t be hiding. Look at me when I’m touching you. Don’t you want to be my good toy?”

You nodded meekly, unable to make a smart comment when you saw a smirk settle on his lips as a too loud moan took its place. 

“That’s it, no one can hear you,” he teased as he worked at the spot harder, his thumb rubbed at your clit. “You seem very close, what if I…”

As he went to move his hand, you grabbed his wrist to stop him. “No, no, no. Please, I’ll be good for you.”

He chuckled, but didn’t say a word as he brought his pace back up. Instead he chose to revel in your soft sounds and the way you had to focus to keep your eyes on him. Finally, he decided keeping you on the edge was enough and allowed you to cum on his fingers. 

“Clean up your mess,” he said as he thrusted his cum coated fingers into your mouth, “There you go, good girl.”

You watched him as you sucked his fingers clean. Bringing a hand down you palmed cock through his pants, fully intending on returning the favor. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“I’m afraid that status isn’t going to change anytime soon.” Hannibal kissed your pouted lip. “Don’t worry, I fully intend on taking care of you. Come, let’s make you more comfortable.”

As he stood, Hannibal offered you his hand to help you up. You followed him through the home to his bedroom, a place you didn’t think you’d end up but were more than pleased to see. Still you weren’t exactly taking in the sights when you were pulled into a rougher kiss as he led you toward his bed. A not too gentle push to your chest landed you on top of it. Leaning back on your elbows, you watched as Hannibal took his time undressing you fully. 

“You don’t play fair,” you complained, shifting yourself higher on the bed, away from him, “I like a pretty view too you know.”

He smiled, looking down at you fondly, “Very well, but only as a reward for earlier. I know you struggled.”

You smiled at that, shaking your head, “Come here won’t you?”

There wasn’t any time wasted when he settled on top of you, you didn’t have his patience. Your hands worked on his tie and buttons as his lips and teeth trailed across your chest. A subtle grind against your pussy had your thighs squeeze his waist. Pushing his shirt off, you felt down his chest, still surprised by how muscular he seemed to be underneath it all. You wondered if he’d stop you as you reached for his belt.

“That’s enough. I don’t think you’ve earned it just yet.”

An annoyed huff was all you could manage. 

“All in its time, darling.” A surprisingly gentle kiss was dropped on your cheek. “Can you manage waiting a while longer for me?”

You resisted the urge to nuzzle against him, unused to such soft displays from past partners. “Yes, sir...”

“Always such a sweet, polite thing.” 

Hannibal kissed and bit his way down your body, ensuring there would be evidence of him the next time you saw yourself in the mirror. He allowed you to thread your fingers in his hair, giving him a soft push down when he took too long marking you in one spot. It wasn’t much longer until Hannibal was level with your thighs, he pushed them further apart. A moment passed without anything before you remembered his rule. Willing yourself up you looked down at him, catching a wink before you were rewarded with a broad lick. Hannibal sucked your clit, pressing your hips down when you grinded against him. 

A helpless noise was the most you could do.

He bit your thigh, his fingers immediately making their way back inside of you, targeting the spot he had quickly learned turned you to putty. 

“You really are beautiful like this,” Hannibal acknowledged, “Completely at my mercy. Desperate for anything I’m willing to give you.”

There wasn’t any time to think up something to say as Hannibal’s mouth replaced his fingers, silencing any words that weren’t his breathy attempts of his name and pleas. Teeth grazed against your clit and a soft moan of his own was enough to pull you closer. 

“Please, daddy,” you begged, too far gone to be embarrassed by your slip, “I’m close…”

Hannibal was merciful, helping you finish as quickly as you had asked. Maybe at another time he would have teased and made you hold on longer but there was only so much patience he had. Especially when there was such an eager lover begging him. You watched him, dazed, as he came back up, his hand gripping at your jaw.

“Open.”

Doing as he wanted, you opened your mouth, instantly receiving a mix of the still lingering wine he had drank at dinner and you. He watched as you swallowed.

He let out an almost dreamy sigh. “So pliant.” 

Hannibal kissed you, finally allowing you to get your way as you pushed off the last clothes. You pumped him in your hand, working up the courage as you shook off the daze he had left you in. He was definitely the most talented partner you had had.

“We don’t have to go any further,” Hannibal reassured you, kissing the side of your mouth, “I’m perfectly sedated watching you.”

You shook your head immediately, not wanting him to think you were hesitant. “I want to, college guys aren’t so giving, just needed some time to clear my head.” As if to prove your point you gave him a squeeze, that made him thrust into your hand on instinct. “I just feel bad you’re doing all the work.”

“I prefer it,” he groaned quietly, as you thumbed at the slit. Hannibal rolled so that you could be on top of him, “But if you insist…”

A soft laugh. “That was hardly the fight I was expecting,” you muttered teasingly, kissing his jaw. 

“My patience is running thin.”

At that you straddled him, your hand lining him up with you. His hands held you steady as you sunk onto him. The both of you moaned softly when he was fully inside. Hannibal slowly grinded you against himself as you adjusted to his size. Hands against his chest, you started riding him in earnest. 

“That’s my good girl,” he praised you, his fingernails digging harder into your hips. 

“Yours,” you whimpered, too enthralled in the feel of him to pay any attention to the weight of what you were saying. His groans underneath you encouraged you more than anything. “All yours.”

Hannibal sat up, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you firm against him. His soft kiss was a contrast to how roughly he was working himself into you. You couldn’t find it in you to care that he had taken control again. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him do as he pleased, just enjoying the way his hands and lips would travel across your body. Teasing, pinching, biting everywhere he could reach.  Your chest alone would be covered in marks left behind by Hannibal. That would be a problem for the future you to deal with at the moment you were too preoccupied with begging him for more. He’d slow his thrust whenever he felt you close to the end, chuckling lowly at the whining sounds you had made.

“Give daddy one more sweet girl. I know you can.”

You moaned loudly, giving Hannibal exactly what he wanted. When he wanted. Drained, you fell limp against his shoulder. Every small sound you made broadcast directly to him as he used you for all your worth. His arms tightened around you when you tried to pull away from the over stimulation. 

“Daddy’s close,” he promised, his accent thicker than usual, “I’ve taken such good care of my girl. Be good for me.”

Nodding, you dug your nails into his shoulders. You could be good. He had been so good to you after all. Still your vision blurred and it had taken a while longer for him to finally go still inside of you. 

Hannibal kissed the side of your head, before pulling you to lay down against him. His thumb wiped away the stray tear that had managed to fall. “You did so well for me. Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

You sighed sleepily, curling into his side more comfortably, “I’m alright. Just want you.”

“We’ll take care of you later,” he promised, seeing how tired you were, “You should rest, darling. I’ll be right here.” His hand rested on your hip, thumbing at forming bruise gently. Between the soft touch and his quiet humming, it didn’t take long for you to find sleep. 

NextChapter

[thesupersaiyanprincess]

here's a little self-indulgent probably 2 or 3 part smut without plot hahaha

Wordcount: ~1500

Content: oral, male receiving, somnophilia, reader is: a brat, a saiyan, a sub, a slut for Vegeta's cock in her mouth, good at teasing, in a lot of trouble

I hope you guys enjoy, comments and likes fuel my fanfic writing, I'm still in shock that Split has about 70 notes combined! Chapter 3 of that is coming slowly, but I'll get there eventually :)

Morning

Part 1

Waking up in the early morning has always been your least favourite thing to do. Your eyes stayed shut as your ears instantly adjusted to the loud world around you. You could hear the wind and rain outside your window and the sound of your Saiyans snoring coming from next to you. Your body felt warm and heavy and comfortable. You opened one eye to take a peek at the time, and the clock on the bedside table blared 4:47 am. 

The bedroom was dark, almost pitch black aside from the red ominous glow of the alarm clock. You hated waking up early, sure, but you loved the opportunity it presented. You never woke up before Vegeta did, not once in the time you've been together, which sucked for him because one of his biggest fantasies is waking up to his cock in one of your holes. 

You rolled over to your other side to look at Vegeta through the darkness, his face looking peaceful for once, even in the red glow of the room. His tail had been wrapped around yours all night, though he would never admit to having done so. You reached in between you and him where your tails lay curled together and stroked the tip of his in the way you know is soothing. 

You were just about to wriggle closer to Vegeta's big warm body when you felt his arm reach out for you. For a second you thought your plan was ruined, but one look at his face said he was still asleep. You took the opportunity to be pulled onto his chest and held against him by his strong, thick arms. You could feel his warm breath in your hair and his muscly body was as soft as ever as you melted perfectly into him. Intertwined. Legs and tails and arms wrapped around each other. Warm, soft, peaceful… 

… Horny...

You thought about the look your Prince would have on his face if he opened his eyes to see you peering up at him with your lips kissing the base of his cock. As your imagination wandered, your hand slowly trailed down from his chest to his abs, then to his v-line and the band of his boxers, then back up again, taking your time to feel how relaxed his muscles were under your fingertips.

You slid your hand down his chest and abdomen again, only this time you didn't stop at his waistband. You tucked your fingers into his boxers and felt for his cock. When your fingers made contact with the soft skin of Vegeta's deliciously uncut dick, you were pleasantly surprised to find it in a semi-erect state, meaning it wouldn't take you long to get him fully hard. Though it also meant your fantasy of feeling him get hard in your mouth was now unavailable. 

You felt Vegeta's arms around you shift and you took the loosening of his grip as your opportunity to slide down under the blanket, stopping when your head was in line with his dick in your hand. You used your left hand to pull his boxers down just enough to reveal his semi-hard cock, your right hand was gripped to the base of his shaft, making sure to hold the skin in such a way as to not reveal the Prince's sensitive, protected tip. You took a moment to glide your hand up and down his shaft slowly a few times, and you could've sworn you felt his leg tense. 

You knew for a fact both of his legs tensed when your wet tongue made contact with the small sliver of his tip you allowed to peek through the foreskin. You didn't want him to wake up before you had his hard cock in the back of your throat, so you began to move more quickly. You slid your mouth on his cock in just the way that always made him quiver while conscious, and you were delighted to find that he had the same reaction while asleep too. 

As his cock slowly slid to the back of your mouth, you rubbed your tongue gently on the underside of his shaft, a movement which made his tail wrap tighter around yours, and caused his legs to tense again. When he reached the back of your throat, you stopped, your soft lips around the base of his shaft as you kept your tongue swirling patterns into the sides and tip of his cock, and after a few moments, you realised his cock was getting harder. You sucked and swallowed on his dick revelling in the feeling of it in your mouth and now the back of your throat. 

You began to wonder how long Vegeta would take to wake up, and you didn't have to wait long for an answer. After perhaps another 30 seconds of your tongues anatomy lesson, you heard a gasp and a groan and then you felt a hand snake its way down into your hair and grab a fistful of it. He held your messy bed hair tightly in his grip and lifted your head, up and down, slowly on his solid dick, before holding your mouth a little ways up and fucking your throat slowly with his thick shaft. 

You could hear it in his voice that it felt so good, he had such a whimper in his tone and his moans were never softer. You were used to his full exertion, loud, rough moans, but hearing him whisper profanities and your name under his breath; it made your core flutter with something akin to fire. 

"Uh, oh my.. fuck y/n…" Vegeta whispered as you swallowed his cock and forced him deeper into the back of your throat. He slowed his pace for a moment, seemingly enjoying the new tightness of your soft throat around him. You were still under the covers enjoying the feeling of his hand in your hair. 

As he bottomed out in your throat you decided that now was the time to stop letting him have all the control. You squeezed your hands into Vegeta's thick thighs where you had them resting and held your head in place with just the tip of his cock in your mouth. He tried to force you back down but you resisted and started swirling your tongue around his tip instead. 

"Uh y/n.. what are you doing… fuck..." This new change of pace had him groaning frustratedly. "Let me fuck your throat woman.. please… uh, oh kami.. fuck" He began to fall apart and the frustration turned to groans of pleasure as you teased the sensitive underside of his tip with your soft tongue. 

"please y/n, oh fuck your tongue.. when did you, oh fuck.. learn to do this?.. uh, fuck y/n" He panted his words out between heavy, erratic breaths. You could tell from his breathing that he was close to cumming, just from your tongue on his tip. Uncut truly is superior, sensitivity wise. "Y/n please, you're gonna.. you're gonna make me cum.. uh, y/n please" as he spoke his pitch grew higher and his breathing grew faster and you felt his whole body tense under your palms.

"Oh y/n, uh fuck y/n I'm gonna.. I'm gonna cum!" He moaned loudly and gripped your hair harder trying desperately to force your head down onto his pulsating cock, but he was too weak with pleasure and sleep, and you overpowered him easily. Just before he could get his release, you removed your tongue and gripped the base of his cock tightly, preventing his orgasm successfully. The smallest amount of white fluid leaked from the tip of his pulsing, red, over sensitive cock, and you licked it up gently, being careful not to trigger another orgasm.

You loved when your prince was like this. weak with pleasure from your mouth, precum leaking from his tip, soft profanities pouring from his mouth. At that moment you felt the blanket lift and get tossed to the floor. You peered up to look vegeta in his eyes and were met with a glorious sight. His spiky hair was in it's fluffy, dishevelled just-woke-up state, and his whole face had a soft pink hue. He had blood leaking from his lip and you assume he must've bitten through it by accident with his sharp canines. He looked so perfect like this; lust in his eyes, tongue peaking from his open mouth, blood trailing down his chin, panting from pleasure and pain; perfect. 

He grabbed you by your throat and brought your face up to his to look you directly in the eyes. "You're going to pay for that you know, y/n." he whispered threateningly with an evil smirk on his lips. You were about to make a bratty reply when he pulled your face closer to his and shut you up with his tongue in your mouth. "Be quiet and lay down." 

You did as you were told.

[imastrangeone98]

Indulgence

(A/N: y'all I have to write for daddy zhongli I HAVE TO ITS AN ABSOLUTE NEED)

WARNING: mild smut. Some poorly attempted background and plot. That is all

Daddy zhongli came home I wasted around $100 for him but it was worth it to hear his sexy voice 🥺

Love is a human indulgence. Zhongli knows this better than anyone else. He had spent countless millennia without it, after all, and had functioned just fine.

...So, why? Why do you captivate him so deeply, so helplessly, that he can't possibly imagine a day going by without stopping by your humble tea shop for just a mere glimpse of your face?

Why do you cause his heart to cease beating the moment your sweet voice reaches his ears, oh so politely asking him to stay for a cup of tea, maybe even a homemade moon cake?

But most of all... why do you make him hunger?

Even now, as the two of you walk through the harbor, his eyes never stray far from your lips. His hand never leaves your waist. His ears focus on the rhythmic cadence of your words.

And most of all, his tongue craves your taste.

He imagines you squirming beneath him, whimpering his name as he buries his face between your legs, tongue delving further and further into your tight, wet-

"Zhongli? Are you feeling alright? Your face is positively red!"

You reach out to brush a hand against his forehead, but he gently nudges it aside, out of fear that if you touch him, he will lose himself completely.

"Pardon me; it seems I was lost in thought. Let's continue on, shall we?"

But the images never left. In fact, they evolved.

He can no longer look at you without having the most depraved thoughts race through his mind.

Your voice moaning his name. Your hands scratching his back. You legs wrapped around his waist as he pounds into you, over and over, until he can no longer tell where he ends and you begin.

When he lays down for the night, it is not sleep that embraces him, but instead, the phantom image of your arms. The feel of your nonexistent chest meeting his back, as you whisper for him to lie back down.

He feels your presence in every aspect of his life. From the tea he drinks, to the silk sheets on his bed, he sees you. He feels you. He smells you. He tastes you.

You reek of indulgence. And he wishes for nothing more than to indulge. After all, he is no longer bound to the duties of the Geo Archon. In many aspects, he is, essentially, human.

So... why not indulge as the humans do?

[...]

It is raining.

The two of you are just returning from a peaceful walk around the harbor when it suddenly begins to pour, complete with flashes of lightning in the distance. And you, with your ever gracious heart, offer to let him shelter in your home until the storm passes.

As the two of you sit in the waiting room, sipping on a warm milk tea you made, he takes note of everything in your small, yet cozy home: the cluttered kitchen, the various small plants tucked away in the corners, the ever-present smell of jasmine. He even spots a few of his courting gifts to you placed on full display for all to see.

It sparks a flame of pride in his chest.

Encouraged by it, he scoots closer to you. And he delights in the way you lean into him, head resting just below his shoulder because you're just so small, compared to him.

You'd look so nice beneath him, he thinks.

"So... what shall we occupy ourselves with?" he asks you, setting down his teacup and looking at you eagerly. "A game, perhaps?"

"So long as it doesn't involve mora," you joke. "You'd lose it all in a heartbeat."

"And yet you always play." His voice suddenly drops to a whisper, and he leans closer, nose brushing against yours. "...I have an idea for a game, if you're willing."

You smile. "And what could it be?"

In a flash, he scoops you up, gazing deep into your bright eyes.

"How about I show you?"

[...]

And show you, he does.

Eagerly thrusting into your wet hole, he delights in the way you whimper, nails raking down his back as he takes you.

"Zhongli..." you cry out helplessly, with that sweet voice of yours. "Zhongli...!"

"I'm here," he pants, pressing his lips to your cheek. And he fights the moan rising in his throat when you suddenly tighten around him. "Finally..."

You're here. With him. In his arms. In your bed. Bodies pressed so close together, he can no longer tell where he ends and you begin.

And he has never felt more complete.

"Mine," he growls, hips viciously slapping against yours as your hands thread their way through his hair. "I'll never let you go."

You smile and nod, tears in your eyes.

You're so beautiful.

"My jewel," he purrs. "Mine."

"Yours," you whimper, pulling him down for a lip-bruising kiss.

And his vision turns white. Stars dance across his eyelids. He has never seen the world quite like this.

And it's all because of you.

You are better than any image he could conjure, than any fine tea in all of Teyvat, than any of the most beautiful glaze lilies.

...He loves you.

And as the two of you pant, staring deeply into each other's eyes, as your hand rubs soothing circles onto his cheek, he feels more than sees...

...That you love him too.

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

A/N: I know this is pretty fucking self-indulgent... but ngl I actually really like this

[djarrex]

Hi everyone, just wanted to address what happened last night along with some other things from before that all tie in together.

There’s multiple parts to the following post - please make sure you read all of it if you’re gonna take the time to even start.

It was midnight and y'all were still jumping in on anon and telling me how I'm awful for not commenting, owning up, or taking responsibility - I should have been in bed. I have a life and job outside this app; and with the several of you in my inbox and it being too late at night to address each, I’m gonna do it now. I can’t not say something about all of this. I just can’t keep quiet and ignore the problem - it’s not fair to you all. Deleting one post already has you guys even more riled up and all I wanted to do was offer something better than a “half-hearted apology” (it was very late at night when I wrote that very short apology, and wanted a redo tbh). 

I really didn't want to make a long post like this. I reached out to a select few on here because I care about them (there's more of you, but like I said, it was at the time after midnight and I was fucking exhausted). but I was being demanded for accountability. So here I am.

Allow me to be real with you all, if that's ok. If it's not, well, idk. First I wanna address all you anons, who, instead of speaking to me one on one about all this, want to criticize me and shame me and my writing when truthfully it feels like you haven't even read more than a handful of my work. I didn’t realize that I write the clones all the same way? That I always make them super aggressive and uncaring and dom? “you write every single clone as so dominant instead as unique individual men with their own personalities” Interesting. See, that right there tells me you haven't read nearly enough of my stuff for me to believe that's true. That's one accusation I absolutely will not back you on because I know it’s inaccurate - saying how I group the clones into some overly-aggressive, and uncaring category - that I always write all of them as mean in bed because they're men of color. And hey, if I do write rough smut - which yeah, it's out there and I write it, as do a lot of you - there are warnings at the beginning, aftercare, dialogue, reader sharing their feelings, and most importantly... consent between the two. That’s what warnings are for, so that you know what you’re going to be reading. That’s why I, as we all do, appreciate warnings listed at the tops of fics; honestly, write them sub or dom or switch or however you want but don’t come at me like that. I’m sorry if I'm coming across as rude because I'm usually not, I’m one of the nicest people you’ll meet, but I will not stand idly by while you chastise my writing (writing that is pretty much the same type of stuff a lot of you write & rb with the same characters) that you haven’t read enough of to back such claims.

Next: Sincerely, from the bottom of my heart,

I get it. Really, I do. I fully understand the problem of whitewashing in SW along with almost everywhere else, and I do not agree with it. It's a huge problem, and it needs to be rectified. Now just because I don't speak publicly about it and opt out of publicly shaming TBB, doesn't mean that I agree with what’s going on. Not everyone is comfortable with sharing their opinions on a subject, no matter what that subject is or which side they're on. You live and you learn when it comes to that. 

It has never been my intention to fetishize POC in my writing, which btw, the same people who are saying that it is my intention are the ones claiming I portray all of the clones as the same, aggressive men, lacking their individuality. It’s a claim that is simply not true, and I know I have followers on here to back me up on that. I know what I've written; how about you check it out and tell me that you don't see the words "soft" or "fluff" or "cuddling" or “gentle” or “tender” within my work linked in my ML. Clone character being a good partner and father? Tender love making? Holding each others faces in their hands? “We/you survived” sex? Taking care of their partner? Saying “I love you” to one another? Confirming the safe word and going slow at first? Oh my - riveting and harsh stuff - totally unacceptable.  

Now: My admittedly problematic writings of Rex + Zygerria,

I went into writing that rp fic totally unaware and unknowing of the true implications. For that, I sincerely apologize. When I posted the NSFW alphabet, that’s when I was called out on that rp fic - not when I first posted it. Which the timeline doesn’t matter, I know that, but it concerns me a little bit that no one spoke up about it sooner - letting me dig myself deeper into a hole that I didn’t realize I was inside of in the first place. I've apologized once, and I know that doesn't negate what happened; I acknowledged my mistake back then, but I suppose that wasn’t good enough. I had asked you, anon, to message me to give me guidance, to teach me on what to do about the fic - you stayed hidden. Well, respectfully, what the fuck? I know we're all adults but don't lecture me and avoid me when I’d literally reached out for guidance on how to properly rectify the issue. I fixed my wording in some of my fics (the things I’ve caught upon rereading them) because I recognized and more importantly learned about and from my mistakes along with the unintentional negative implications of how I wrote those characters. Some of y'all wanna tell me that I "haven't learned"? Who are you, my personal blog police? My professor? My life coach? Are you even my friend? If I'm wrong and haven't learned, then fucking educate me. I worked hard on that rp fic, just like I do with a majority of what I write, but it doesn’t matter because I will delete it knowing that it’s harmful to others and I apologize for inadvertently romanticizing slavery with what I wrote - it was unintentional, and I’m truly sorry to those who have been hurt by it. I know it’s wrong, and there’s no proper excuse for it. Can’t go back in time, but consider it gone now.

Since that first wakeup call, I’ve been working hard to ensure I avoid using certain words and ideas when describing the clones in my fics. If there’s still something you see that isn’t correct or is inappropriate, please tell me! Don’t hold it in but then jump on the “attack M” bandwagon. Private message me, or come peacefully off or on anon, there will be no hard feelings. I don’t mind being corrected when I make a mistake - that’s just part of life, we all make mistakes and we live and learn from them. Making mistakes doesn’t = scumbag human. When you hold your breath and choose not to take the time to guide me, and if I appear to still be making the same mistakes, well, idk. I’m telling you right now that I do not mind if you message me with the good intention of pushing me in the right direction. When you come at me with hostility on anon, well, no thank you. To the anons that came without rage: thank you! I read what you wrote, and I have a better understanding as to how my writing had hurt the lovely followers of mine, and tried to address as much as possible in this post. See, angry mob anons? It costs zero credits to be kind and offer up your thoughts and advice with a good heart. I’m not going to hate you or block you if you try to correct me. I don’t block unless you’re a snoopin’ minor. Just don’t hold a knife to my throat.

Now: Why did I delete the tags and then my response to that anon ask? 

Simply put: I felt awful. Deleting it doesn’t immediately mean I’m hiding from it and ignoring the issue. I wanted to come up with a better apology, explanation, whatever you wanna call it, because my followers deserve that. The ones who enjoy my work, the ones who interact, the ones who I call my friends, the ones who know that I’m a good person. Didn’t want to leave the tags/post floating around all night, giving more people time to sharpen their pitchforks and join the mob while I attempted to sleep. Trust me, I know saying that I had no ill intentions when tagging that post doesn’t make it better nor does it make it go away. I’m just trying to show you my point of view, that I knew immediately how I should not have tagged it that way, so that’s why I deleted them. I corrected my mistake. But y’all are too fucking quick I swear.

One more thing:

I know some of you who had called me out with the passive-aggressive inbox messages are still following me, and for what? You don’t like what I post, which is why one would follow another in the first place, so why bother sticking around? Do you feel like you need to police my blog? You want to be there the literal minute I make a mistake? I’m gonna turn off anon for a bit, so if you wanna discuss, message me. Just know that if you’re going to come at me with knives out, I probably won’t reply to you. 

To conclude:

I’m sorry. Truly sorry for the entire Rex + Zygerria outfit + slaver ordeal with both the fic from a while ago and then the tags from last night. We can’t go back in time; the only option is to correct past mistakes that are able to be corrected, and then move on with new knowledge that’ll aid in me working even harder to ensure my writing isn’t inappropriate or offensive, and doesn’t hurt my followers nor the characters I write for. I’m still going to write self-indulgent filth and fluff, post-order 66 Rex, and other misc shit. I enjoy writing fanfic, as I know a lot of you enjoy reading what I write and love to talk to me about it. I hope that this didn’t come off as me being a bitch, because I’m really not. I enjoy interacting with the handful of people on here that I’d call my friends, and I love reading your reactions and tags to my fics when you’re excited and/or horny (LOL). It’s just after lunch time where I’m at, so I hope you have a great rest of the day/night/morning whatever for wherever you are.  

<3 

M

[clonecaptains]

Barba Ardeat - Nathan Bateman (Ex Machina) x reader fic

word count: 1.9k rating: E/M - for smut / slight daddy kink summary: Nathan is up late working and you want him to come back to bed... a/n: this is 100% self indulgent cuz i have a trash crush on him so here goes 

Barba Ardeat

The low whirring of a computer fan on most nights lulls you to sleep. You can’t sleep with absolute silence; neither can Nathan. His mind won’t turn off in the complete silence. Though, his mind is always working. He takes his work to bed with him. That’s why your mattress is on the floor next to his work desk. The sound of his computers running is a familiar sound. You’ve had to get used to dim light from the screen coming on at weird hours in the night, or the squeak of his rolling desk chair, a scratch of his pen on a sticky note.

Tonight though, the whirring stirs you from sleep. You roll over to find Nathan at his computer desk, glasses on his nose. Normally he sits so relaxed, an elbow on the desktop, his cheek pressed against his fist. Right now, he’s sitting up straight. Alert. His fingers are clacking over the keys, and you think maybe that’s what woke you instead. You’re too tired to notice.

“Nathan?” sleep is clinging to your voice. You sit up and stretch. “Everything alright?”

“I’ve got it,” he answers you, not turning around. His fingers haven’t stopped moving once. You see the lines of code flash across the screen. You have no idea what any of it means. That’s part of the reason he doesn’t mind you being here with him. You don’t understand any of it, so you can’t tell anyone trade secrets. Not that you would, you have no other motives. Ratting on your boyfriend isn’t something you have in mind. What you want, is for him to come back to bed.

“Got what?” You rub your eyes and stand up. Coming up behind him, you drape your arms over his shoulders, your hands rub up and down his smooth chest.

“I beat my high score,” he smiles, as if he can’t believe it. You’re confused, watching the screens, he’s obviously not playing a game. Unless writing code is a game you can get points for, you’re not even sure at this point.

“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” you laugh kissing the back of his shaved head.

“Maybe,” he teases and tilts his head back to kiss the underside of your chin. “Go back to bed, baby. I’ll be up for a while.”

“No,” you whine, “Come back to bed with me,” you kiss the shell of his ear. “Can’t this wait until the morning?”

He sighs, leaning his head back to rest against your chest. Taking off his glasses, he sets them down on the desk. The metal frames hit the glass desk with a clatter.

“Yeah you’re right,” he rubs the bridge of his nose. His head pushes back into your chest a little harder, you know what he’s doing. You reach up to put your hand on his forehead to keep him secure to your chest. The back of his head cushioned on your breasts.

With another sigh, he reaches for his glasses to push them back on his nose. You let him go as he leans forward. He scrawls one more note, then spins around in his chair to face you. His hands reach for your hips; the vice grip pulling you towards him. He closes his eyes and begins to mouth at your breasts through your tank top. His tongue dampening the fabric covering your nipples. He huffs out a chuckle when your nipples peak, and his warm tongue laps back and forth.

He’s in control, never controlling, but always in control.

You’ve only recently come out to this place together. And he’s begun a project which you know little about. You’ve begun to fall into a routine. He works out in the mornings, then you eat breakfast together. He works during the day, always pausing for mealtimes with you. The nights belong to you. When he was alone, he drank to quiet his mind now that you’re here you help distract. Usually with sexual activities, but sometimes it’s just the quiet sound of your voice. He’s fallen asleep with his head in your lap dozens of times, you gently stroking his beard.

Only recently has he started to work late into the night, and you encouraged him to get some adequate sleep. So, he’s only just begun a system of making notes on sticky notes and sticking them to the wall each night. In the morning he’ll look back over them to pick up where he left off.

You know he’s made a breakthrough if he’s broken his routine to stay up late. So, you don’t push it, but you can tell he’s tired.

Well maybe not that tired.

“Nathan,” you gasp, shuddering under his tongue.

“Lay down,” he looks up at you over the rim of his glasses.

You don’t have to be told twice, though you might test him sometimes because you like when he throws you over his knee. But not tonight, you’re too desperate for him.

He kneels beside the mattress and peels off your tank top. Climbing on top of you, his midsection rests against your core – keeping you still. Which leaves his mouth level with your now bare breasts. He picks up where he left off and seals his mouth around your tender flesh. His beard tickles your skin, as his tongue teases your nipple lazily. You groan and try to buck up your hips for friction, but he won’t let you.

When he pulls off one breast, he makes a point to scrape his beard against you. He chuckles when you writhe.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ hate me,” Nathan states, kissing your nipple.

“I already hate you,” you grunt trying to wriggle out from under him.

“I know what we agreed-“

“No more working at night,” you say at the same time.

“But I’m on to something baby, I’m close.”

“I am too,” you buck your hips up again, hoping he’ll get the message. And he reads you loud and clear.

“If I let you come will you let me go back to work?”

You nod, “yes!”

“Yes what?” his brow cocks up high.

“Yes daddy.”

He grins slipping his hand down the front of your panties. Warm fingers tease your clit and your folds, warm mouth still all over your breasts. Your nails dig into his shoulders and the back of his neck. Practiced fingers bring you to the edge and toppling over quickly.

A quick kiss is pressed to your lips before he hops up, leaving you a sweaty mess on the bed. And he’s back at his computer desk clacking away.

“Nathan,” you call his name, still trying to catch your breath. You know he’s hard, he’s got to be. It makes you smile he’s ignoring his own pleasure and release because there’s an idea eating away at him. He’s always so meticulous and precise – all while remaining casual. Now he’s so driven, his one-track mind won’t let him think on anything else. “Can I take care of you?”

You want to see if you can get him to crack. If his goal was to give you an orgasm to get you to fall asleep that plan failed. You are buzzing and relaxed, but now you’re thinking about his cock.

Looking up at him, you watch. He’s still clacking away, but then he stops for a beat and his body stills. He gives one nod; if you’d blinked you would’ve missed it.

He keeps typing while you come around the front of the desk, it’s an awkward space but you do your best. His shorts show the evidence of his erection, and you’re quick to grasp him. He lets out a soft grunt but keeps typing. He’s never expressed this but it’s a fantasy he’s entertained.

You pull his shorts down while he works, and in the soft glow from the computer screen you see how he aches for you. Your prop yourself up on his thighs and take him into your mouth. He stops typing for a moment – only one. But he regains his composure. You don’t even have to look up at him to know he’s picked up on your little game.

But you know him, you know what it takes to bring him to the edge quickly. You know the ways to draw it out too. He’s trying his hardest to keep a straight face, but you can see that distinct vein in the middle of his forehead.

When you hollow your cheeks, that’s the end. His body stiffens and his hands fall from the keyboard going limp. He lets out a groan and starts to gasp looking down at you.

Composure ruined. Success.

He sees you smile around him, and he can’t help but smile back. He can’t be cocky with you because you’ll give it right back to him.

“Alright, I’ll let you get back to work,” you adjust him back in his shorts and come around to kiss him on the cheek. He captures your chin between his forefinger and thumb to pull you in for a kiss.

“You know you’re more important than all this,” he gestures wildly, “but I’ve got something here.”

You nod, you know.

“Get some sleep,” he tells you. And as soon as your head hits the pillow, you’re out.

The morning comes and you wake up alone. Which is typical. Knowing Nathan, he’s working out. He didn’t drink last night, but since it was a late night – he’s probably thinking over what he worked on the night before. He lets you sleep while he works out, but he’ll wake you for breakfast if you aren’t already awake.

Rifling through a drawer, you take a Henley of Nathan’s and pull it on.

You make the familiar path through this large place to his workout spot. You can hear him grunting before you see him and hear the blows land on the punching bag.

“Good morning!” he huffs, bouncing on his weight from foot to foot. “So, I was thinking about last night,” he says punching between words. His grey tank top is darker grey under his arms and on his chest from the sweat, he’s been here awhile.

You hum back in response, taking a seat on the leather seat of his workout equipment.

“I owe you something.” He keeps moving, and you unashamedly watch his tight ass move in his black gym shorts.

“What do you owe me?”

“Is that my shirt?” he stops, turning to look at you. His eyebrows raising up; he squints a little since his glasses are off. He starts to unravel the tape wrapped around his fists.

“It is,” you push up one of the sleeves that had fallen, suddenly it’s a little warm in this shirt. “What do you owe me?”

“A thank you,” he stands over you and pushes your shoulders back so you’re lying on the cushioned bench.

“For what?” you ask laying back, unsure of what he’s doing. Until you feel him push up the Henley on your hips and tug your panties down and off your legs. He’s kneeling in front of you, and he pushes your legs apart.

He says nothing as he buries his face between your legs, his mouth closing around your heat. His beard tickles your thighs and he moves your legs to drape over his sweaty shoulders. He eats like a man starved, and he doesn’t stop until you’ve come twice.

“You want breakfast?” he looks up at you when he’s finished. His beard dripping with your juices. He’s got a smug smile plastered to his face.

Silently you nod, trying to catch your breath.

He makes you breakfast; and spends the rest of the morning gently rubbing lotion between your thighs to ease the itch from the burn his beard left behind.

//

im working on a taglist, if you wold like to be in tagged in my future works please click HERE

///

and according to google translate - barba ardeat means ‘the beard burns’ in latin...if it’s wrong well we all know how google translate isn’t always accurate

[notnctu]

POV | PART TWO

━ ❝ i’d love to see me from your point of view.❞

❀ lee donghyuck x fem!reader ❀ genre - slow burn, fluff! angst, (optional smut is marked with ****) ❀ details - best friends to lovers!au, college!au, ft. best friend mark, slice of life?, inspo by pov by ariana grande ❀ word count - 6.1k ❀ warnings - swearing, dangerous reckless behavior, fingering, penetration, public?sex?, unprotected, slight dirty talk ❀ synopsis - Donghyuck gradually falls in love with you, his best friend, through unprecedented intimate moments that reveal more than what meets the eye and a drunken shared kiss on your birthday makes him realize how hard he’s fallen for you. You’re oblivious to it all, trying to indulge and seek a one true love through bad tinder hookups or men you meet at the club, all to only end in self doubt that Donghyuck has to reconcile. And he always tells you what you need to hear, while also leaving out the part where he so badly wishes you can love yourself the way he loves you.

❀ a/n - make sure you read the first part as it’s a continuation! please please leave me feedback, i would really appreciate it :) this is going to be my last long fic for the time being! thanks for dealing with my spam for the past few weeks after months no of writings <3

READ PART ONE

Donghyuck thought about that kiss every night since it happened, yet knowing you didn’t do the same. How unfortunate it was, when he panicked waking next to you in the morning and wondering if you were to confront him about it. However, there was nothing, no follow up. You didn’t remember it and he couldn’t tell if the sigh that left his mouth that morning was out of relief or despair. 

Regardless, that became his epiphany and the more his love for you grew, the more he wished to be around you for all his days. Donghyuck jumped at every text message, picking up the phone to see if it was you and noting the disappointment in his heart whenever it wasn’t. He found himself smiling whenever your name was brought up, fondly thinking of how you make his heart race. 

The moments that you were together, he swears on every universe that he’s the happiest he’s ever been. There’s something about you that makes him want to believe in love, and it’s not because of your unrealistic desires to find one. As selfish as he came to be, he wanted you all to himself and to be the sole reason behind your smiles.

“No Mark?” Asking as you hop into Donghyuck’s car, the clock on his dash reading the red digital numbers 2:12 A.M. 

“Why can’t we just hang out for once?” He whines, but hopes that it’s playful enough to where you can’t tell that he’s actually serious. Donghyuck hears your melodic chuckle and everything inside him rumbles with glee and satisfaction. 

He steals quick peeks over at you in the passenger seat, greedily taking in your appearance. “That’s not exactly how a throuple works, but I’ll let it pass. Mark never has time for us anyways.” 

There is something so intimate about the late nights; the outside world is dead in its sleep and vulnerable to chaos. The streets are completely empty and it truly feels as if it’s you two against the city. It brings no regulations, easy escapes, staying up all night to feel something the day can’t give you. 

You are the perfect person to spend them with. You’re the very definition of a good feeling, where he’s forgetting all his bad days and soaring through the heavens. The most accurate human form of excitement, the adrenaline and sweetest thrills that run throughout his body. 

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to do…” As Donghyuck pulls into a gas station parking lot, the small convenient store is brightly lit with a blinding white sign that reads a popular chain establishment. 

Hyuck blinks at you curiously, head tilt and waiting for you to finish your sentence. Getting out of the car, you stand on your toes and rest your chin on the roof of his car to speak directly to him, “you know that big intersection over on 34th Boulevard?” He catches the mischievous twinkle that shines in your eyes and a grin so fearless fits your face perfectly.

He nods, spinning his car keys on his finger and walking up to the store. But he’s looking back at you with eyes that ask for you to proceed with him, and you’re running towards him with a sudden youthful energy and a jump in your step. 

Your hand latches onto his arm and his gaze drops momentarily to follow it, “I’ve always wanted to just run down the middle of it. To run down a busy traffic area when it’s empty, knowing that this would be the only opportunity to do it without getting run over.” 

“Is that what you’re suggesting we should do next?” Hyuck opens the fridge and grabs his favorite prepackaged ice cream cone. Your grip on his sleeve tightens, your dazzling eyes never leaving his.

He hands you a random popsicle and you take it mindlessly, your train of thought still trying to convince Hyuck to embark on achieving this new thrill of yours. “If you didn’t have anything else planned…”

“Am I some Fairy Godmother? Granting your wishes to come true?” Using sarcasm to hide his undying desire to scream yes! may be the best thing he’s learned to utilize. However, you don’t need to beg any more when a small smile curves at his lips. He’s more than convinced.

“Ah, a happy couple. You two look great together.” The rather talkative cashier compliments while he rings up the icey treats. 

Just before Hyuck can clarify, you’re pulling him closer by the arm and using your fake saccharine smile. “The best boyfriend ever!” His throat freezes, but he’s following your lead closely. Confusion wandering his thoughts, but heart swelling at your usage of the word boyfriend to reference him. 

The friendly stranger laughs wholeheartedly at your giddy act, completely falling for your overplayed nature of a lovey dovey girlfriend. “He always buys me what I want, like this ice cream. He knows it’s my favorite.” You blink innocently up at him, but he finally understands your malicious motive.

Shooting a glare at you, he complies silently and pulls out his card to pay for both of your treats. “Right. Anything my baby wants.” He says the pet name so easily that it shocks him a bit. 

“Hey, you’re a good man.” The clueless cashier smiles even wider and prints the receipt. With a simple gratitude, you both exit the store and you’re laughing the loudest form of mockery.

Jumping into the car, Hyuck is quick to roll his eyes. “He always buys me what I want.” He imitates your previous statement with a silly voice. “I can’t believe you robbed me.” 

The ridiculous scheme actually managed to work, leaving your stomach to hurt from the intense fit of giggles. “My baby? Where did you learn that?” You say between your spurts of laughter.

Heat rises up his neck, slightly embarrassed. “So what? Nicknames are cute.” He admits bashfully, while shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. 

Your chuckles die down and you’re leaning over the middle console to get a closer look of his expression. “Really? Didn’t think you were the type. You never used them with your exes.” 

“Around you.” A cringe runs down your spine when you witness Hyuck bite his ice cream, settling back in your seat with a grumble.

“Pet names in private.” Now, his palms grow a bit slick with perspiration. “That’s endearing.” Unwrapping your melting popsicle, you don’t probe him more about the subject. Instead, Hyuck turns up the stereo to drown out any more talk about romantic gestures.

After several rounds of finding street parking, Hyuck finally swerves into a spot situated just before the large six-way intersection. The traffic lights blink in view at the end of the street and in the darkness, there are no cars around. An unfamiliar scene, this place is nothing but a wide open road with five lanes that meet in the middle and lead to six different directions. The white painted lines that divide up the road are as chaotic as it looks during the day filled with traffic.

Nonetheless, you are right. There is no other chance to see it so dead, so empty, so free. 

And you’re already hopping out of the car that Hyuck breaks his daydream and hurries after you. Standing the middle of the road is a dangerous scheme, yet these are the thrill seeking moments that you crave too well. 

Extending your arm out and your palm facing the night sky, you grin enticingly at Hyuck to join you in the middle of the chaotic lines and the adrenaline picks up within him. He, too, matches your smile and lets every form of enthusiasm fuel him. 

“Race you to the end.” Hyuck begins bolting down the long runway, causing you to scoff in disbelief at his sudden challenge. 

The wind that takes flight against his body is crisp on his skin and driving his strands into a wild mess. Turning around, he sees that you’re quick on his tail. However, the one thing that catches his eye… the one thing that makes this moment another one of your most beautiful ones is the utter bliss and peace in your facial expression. 

Eyes are closed and arms are spread out as if you’re letting the wind carry you away. The air slips between the spaces of your fingers and the night is filled with nothing, but your gentle out of breath giggles. 

Donghyuck stops in his tracks right under the colorful traffic lights at your astonishing image. And if you are to open your eyes, you’ll see the marvelous image of your sun waiting for you in the middle of the largest intersection of the city with his mouth slightly agape and marked under a trance.

An exasperated sigh escapes as a puff of smoke and his heart works extra hard to pump oxygen in his veins. In his perspective, the excellent city skyline at the horizon remains your background and you’re running toward him with a breathless joy. Another splitting breathtaking image that will live in his mind for as long as he knows you.

So he throws caution to the wind and though it feels too good to be true, he loves his best friend more than anyone he’s ever come across.

By the end of your rendezvous, you two find a secret rooftop to fully enjoy your silent city. Standing side by side, you both lean with your elbows on the ledge. 

There is something so unspoken and intimate about this very moment, where existing in each other’s presences becomes wholly more comfortable than anything in the world. And this safety allows for vulnerable secrets to spill, for questions that your heart has always been afraid to ask to fall from your lips. 

But you’re not here with just anybody. Donghyuck probably knew what was already on your mind, he just needed you to speak them into existence.

“Hyuck, do you think I’m unlovable?” 

Perhaps, it’s the intimacy that allows for him to talk more confidently about how he views you. Heart over mind, he scoffs in disbelief. “Absolutely not. You’re the most lovable person I know! From your happy giggles to your overall easy going aura. We’re not perfect people, but you’re worth every glance and every praise. I wanted to be with you the very moment you made me laugh.” 

Donghyuck passionately rambles on about your attributes and everything you’ve allowed him to experience over the years of your friendship. While he’s always been there for you, you’re always by his side and making sure he’s living a memorable life. He thanks all his sweetest memories to you, that you are the most impactful person of his entire college experience.

“I came to college thinking I’d have my nose in textbooks all day long, but you fell into my life like an opportunity to escape. I love my nights trying to crush Mark on the leaderboards, but I’d give that up any day to run down a major intersection in the middle of the city with you.” 

With a playful soft chuckle, you say something that practically makes his heart stop and regret oversharing. “You know, from how you describe me… it almost sounds like you’re in love with me.”

“Maybe I am.” He bites the inside of his cheek, unsure what suddenly overcame him. His heartbeat pounds in his ears and he’s anticipating your response, trying every way to decipher the quizzical look on your face. Nevertheless, your hesitation causes him to panic and he intercepts before you can respond. “I meant that as your friend.” 

His heart drops into the pit of his stomach, gaze averting away from you. Lies. Lies. More fucking lies. He should’ve waited to see what you would’ve said. 

Nodding knowingly, you lightly place your hand over his. The warmth of your touch soothes his aching and disappointment. Why is he hurting from a simple look? “I know.” He can’t tell what’s worse, the fact that you truly believe he only loves you as a friend or that you saw right through him and are trying to let him save face. 

“Something happened the night of your birthday that I think I should tell you.” Hyuck sighs out all his frustrations. 

He pulls his hand from underneath yours, “you asked me to kiss you as a birthday favor.” There is no confidence to watch your reaction, his eyes remain focused on the dark city. 

Instead of a painstaking rejection, you laugh wholeheartedly and somehow, he feels much lighter. “And did you?”

“How could I say no to you on your birthday?” Peering over, your fingers softly graze your lips and a wandering look is present in your dazed stare.

“It’s not the first time we’ve kissed, Hyuck.” Smiling at him, Hyuck looks cluelessly at you and doesn’t recall another time. He would’ve remembered. 

“Guess who I stole that same request from?” Your eye lashes bat firmly at him and he gulps at your implied question. There was no way.

“Me? When?” This all causes him to rack his brain of lost files, something he must’ve missed.

Sighing, you bid him a kind smile. “Your birthday party a few months ago. Drunk out of your living mind, you pulled me privately into the kitchen and asked if I could kiss you as a birthday gift.” 

Fuck, no wonder why he couldn’t remember. He didn’t remember a single thing from that night. “It was right after my break up.” 

Nodding, you affirm his realization. “You told me that you felt so lonely, and somehow…. someway… I’ve always made you feel seen. Perhaps, you do the same for me and my drunk ass was bold enough to ask for a similar request.” 

But did you kiss him as if you loved him? With the same amount of love that he did the night of your birthday? 

Nonetheless, you shrug off the topic and move on from it all. “We should go, the sun comes up in a few.” 

Hyuck notes this odd detail. You’re not one to end the nights so abruptly, so it almost seemed as if you didn’t want to speak more about it. 

Perhaps, you did kiss him like you meant it but every fear in your body about loving your best friend stops you from admitting it all. 

Because you shouldn’t love your best friend, but something deep down has always wanted to.

How ridiculous he was to believe that you could ever possibly share the same feelings as him. How foolish he felt the moment you burst into his apartment announcing how you’ve finally found the one after another random Tinder date. 

It’s as the night on the rooftop a week ago didn’t even exist or mean anything to you. But that night ate him up alive, to the point where he sought out love counseling from Mark.

“Oh dude, this is serious.” Mark watches Hyuck pace the room, double around the floorplan with his head in his hands with utter frustration and confusion. You’re the only thing that’s been running through his mind the last few days. 

He grunts and rolls his eyes at how Mark’s face had fallen sullen. “I practically confessed everything I loved about her. It’s pretty serious.”

Mark stands and stops Hyuck by the shoulders, looking dead into his eyes. “I’ve liked her before too and would have done some dumb act to get her to like me back. I get it, Hyuck. So, what do you want to do?”

Donghyuck initially scoffs and tears away from his best friend’s intense stare, “of course you liked her too.” His voice fades out at the end of his sentence. “Mark, I like her so much it’s hard to look at anyone else. She’s…”

“Mesmerizing?” Mark finishes his sentence with a small proud grin on his lips. 

Hyuck couldn’t hold the ridiculous laugh that escapes at how smug Mark looks, but then a silence falls over him. He realizes how perfect that word is to describe you. You are every dazzling trance he’d fawn under. 

“It’s wrong, Mark. She’s our best friend, I can’t ruin us.” Hyuck slumps his shoulders forward and a pout extends. His eyes are wandering the ugly carpet but he’s thinking about every moment you’ve smiled. 

“How did this happen in the first place? I thought you never would’ve liked her…” Mark’s question has Hyuck raking his brain to find his epiphany. “It’s not about your ex, is it? y/n is way too good to be a rebound.” 

“No. This has nothing to do with my old relationships, I genuinely like her… so much.” Hyuck understands the implications in Mark’s sudden abrasive questions. Even it’s difficult for himself to say how it all started and so this has Donghyuck reflecting back on his entire friendship with you.

If only he had noticed your lively smiles sooner, a little earlier, it would have saved him all this time searching for someone who would last. You’ve lasted through every college relationship he’s had and that speaks louder than any confession. 

“I never liked her because I never thought I had a chance. Have you seen her? Our best friend who has 400 matches on Tinder.” Though he blames himself for realizing a little late that he loved you, it was always hard to compete with everyone else. 

“So, what changed then?” 

Hyuck leans against the door to Mark’s room and crosses his arms to contemplate. “Not that I have a chance now, but I can’t hold these feelings back anymore. I want to kiss her until we’re out of breath, to love without any conditions, to be the reason behind her every beautiful moment.” 

Mark raises a confused eyebrow, “but you are.”

“The only reason.” Hyuck speaks his truest desires and Mark coughs aggressively before composing himself. Right, he didn’t stutter one bit. 

So, Hyuck had planned to confess, all until you gave him the very reason he couldn’t. When you showed up unannounced with one of those wide grins that has your eyes shimmering with hope, he just knew something was wrong. All his love and future aspirations were replaced with sheer disappointment and envy.

“I’m falling hard for him.” You begin and your hands are clasped together so innocently. “He brought me to this overlook on a cliff and we just talked for ages. It felt so right and then, he asked to see me again!” Your eyes are completely wondrous and distracted, like the one thought in your mind blocked out everything else. Jumping happily, you’re squealing with excitement thinking about this new person in your life and there is no consideration of Hyuck’s silence.

“That’s… great.” He barely stutters to fill the air and to replace the sound of his heart breaking. He lost you before even getting the chance to even have you. 

“I know right!” You yell joyfully and though your smile is the biggest it's ever been, Hyuck refuses to see this moment as beautiful. He’s no longer looking at you objectively, his bias tainting it all and he sees it in an ugly light. As your best friend, he should be happy for you and rooting for you. He’s known more than anyone else that you have been waiting for someone like this your whole college experience.

However, he can’t feel a single good emotion as you ramble on about your alleged one true love.

“Did you need something?” He cuts you off, growing a bit irritated by your endless praise about a man who never wishes to meet.

Clearing your throat, you take Hyuck’s hand in both of your palms. With begging eyes, you say, “my sister is getting married this weekend and they invited you. 

His hold escapes yours as he walks toward his bedroom, “shouldn’t you invite your new man to your family events now.” It’s difficult for him to hide the bitterness in his voice, but you run up to him and grip his arm. 

“But they think I’m dating you, remember? Plus, my mom referred to you by name. She really likes you.” You snicker, clearly not understanding why Donghyuck seems to be rather distant at the moment.

His ears perk up at the compliment and though it’s a selfish thought, he feels content knowing that he was able to win over your family. So, his heart burns at how your hand slowly travels down to intertwine with his own and how your chin rests on his shoulder lightly. His head turns and he is met a few inches away from your tender lips. For a brief moment, he’s staring at them longer than he should. 

“Come on, Hyuck. Be mine for one more time.” Your whisper is gentle and soft, your breath tickling against his cheek. Despite everything, he loves how you make him feel. It’s always a mixture of happiness and safety. There are no fears with you because you’re absolutely fearless. He can’t imagine how he would’ve opened up without you around, that he puts every form of trust into you. 

So, every little thing that you do. every single passing look. every touch and every spoken word. He falls harder for you every time you simply see him, every time you bat your eyelashes at him. And this love that festers inside of him feels easy and genuine. Perhaps, you’ve been his one true love all along. He’s never felt remarkably seen, where every part is exposed and right at your fingertips. 

And you… have been so patiently waiting for just anyone to steal your heart. How can he let just anyone love you? 

“I’m yours for however long you want me to be.” He lightly ruffles the top of your hair before slightly shrugging you off, afraid that your hold will eventually have him saying other sweet implications. “But don’t expect me to enjoy it.” He smirks at your small chuckle, the roll in your eyes.

“At least pretend.” But he really doesn’t have to. He enjoys every moment being yours. 

When the day finally arrived, the grand wedding may have been another day that Hyuck will never forget how beautiful you looked. Prancing out in your bridesmaid dress, you run towards him through the large field of fake grass. He catches you when you jump into his arms, practically failing all over and tripping over the ends of your chiffon dress. He hits the ground, cushioning your fall. 

“Hey..” you grin down at him breathless, hand resting perfectly on his chest as it was the night of your 21st again.

Hyuck gulps and sends you a glare, “I should have dropped you.” 

“That would have been very chivalrous of you.” Sarcasm bites back at him as you push up and off of him. He’s quick on his feet and brushing off any dust from the bottom of your expensive dress, avoiding the long open slit that runs down to expose one leg.

“Donghyuck, you’re looking ravishing.” Your mother steps out, tall and prideful, but with the most delightful expression as she opens her arms to invite him into a hug. 

He leans into it, while cautiously making suspicious eye contact with you. You shrug back, also confused at why your mother has a sudden change in demeanor. “It’s been so long since the holidays.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He bids your mother a respectful smile when she pulls away, to which she absolutely fawns at and you’re tugging at his sleeve to drag him away.

“The pleasure is all mine. You make y/n a better person.” And there is no context that Hyuck understands this single phrase before he’s walking away from your force. Your mother waves a small sweet goodbye as she watches you two leave behind a cobblestone wall behind the large reception building.

It’s covered in long vines that grow up the old stones, a beautiful background for an outdoor wedding. “Rude.” He whispers when you finally stop pulling him away.

“She was starting to say odd things.” You laugh, quite nervously actually. Nonetheless, you shake out of your nerves and a beaming expression replaces your troubles. “So, guess what? I’m meeting my man afterwards.” Yet again, the curve of your lips at the thought of another rumbles his own yearning heart.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he looks down while kicking at the loose pebbles on the ground. “Good for you.” grumbles Donghyuck mindlessly.

You don’t notice his low spirits again, you’re talking away about this man as if he’s all you’re consumed with nowadays. On and on, the same speech about how you’re practically ready to give it your all and how he fits someone unimaginable. Eventually, Donghyuck becomes fed up by how your eyes blink up to the sun with another reflection in them. “It’s like you forget who you are when you’re with someone new.” 

And you’re in mid-ramble when you hear his harsh comment that picks aggressively at your skin. It stings, “what?” You cross your arms defensively and raise an eyebrow at him. The tone in your voice is jarringly upset and he opened a can of worms that he isn’t ready for.

Donghyuck swears underneath his breath, looking away at the tall trees behind the small parking lot. “Forget it.” He mumbles, rather frustrated at himself for ticking you off.

“What are you implying?” 

“There is someone that actually makes you a better person rather than someone completely different.” He scoffs, his emotions fueling the worst of him. The words flow from his mouth full of anger and spitefulness. 

Your eyes narrow at him, crossing your arms defensively. “Like you can give me the love you think I deserve? This whole fake boyfriend gimmick has gone too much to your head.”

And his heart is bursting at the seams and all he can see is your angry expression, so he says something he never hopes to regret. Every impulse beats his rationality and in the heat of the moment, Donghyuck confesses, “if only you can see yourself from my point of view and all the emotions I feel when I look at you.” 

With a sharp intake of breath, you’re slightly shocked at his bold statement. You blink cluelessly at him, speechless and deciphering how to respond. The anger fades from the both of you, knowing that the connection you two possess is mutual. Somewhere deep down within you, a light switches on and you’re basking in your sun’s radiance in this moment. 

“Tell me about it.” Your curiosity brings much confusion, but he doesn’t wait a second of hesitation. 

“Happiness, you light up my nights in dark cars with your smile. Trust, there is no one else I’d run down a dangerous intersection with. Courage, being bold enough to dance in a crowded room like no one was watching. Love, when kissing you felt incomparable to anything else in the world. Vulnerability, looking at you and knowing everything about you.” 

Donghyuck takes a cautious step forward toward you. A whirl of thoughts and emotions overwhelmingly flood your heavy mind, but fear no longer holds you back from the one person you’ve always wished to love, harder than any person you’ve ever encountered. “Donghyuck.” 

He freezes at the call of his name, waiting patiently for your next words. “I want to love me the way that you love me... because nobody loves me like you do… even myself. So, I’d love to see me from your point of view.” 

Donghyuck releases the sigh that suffocates him and every firework lights up in his chest. His eyes wander across your canvas and absorb everything wondrous about your features. Even though you’re not entirely smiling, you’re puckering your lips cutely out of embarrassment. And he reassesses how pretty you simply look in your expensive formal chiffon dress and the bold color on your lips that has made you feel good before. 

He thinks aloud, the words leaving his mouth before they can be stopped. “This is your most beautiful moment.” 

When you’re looking up at him to meet his dreamy gaze, a new enthusiasm washes over your entire body. Looking rather inexplicably attractive in his suit, Hyuck stares at you as if you’re all he can see. So, you pull him into the only source of gratitude you can give. A kiss that gives every emotion back to him, one that resembles closely to the one he gave you on your birthday and the one you gave him for his. 

An emotional kiss that tells him more than he can see. He feels it on the tip of your tongue and every ounce of love that rushes over the both of you.

***********

Donghyuck’s wandering hands travel down your waist, over your hips, all until it reaches in between the slit of your dress. His hand instinctively grips at your naked thigh, the feeling of your raw skin driving him wild with impure thoughts. Your hands are quick on his tie, loosening it from around his collar and unbuttoning the first few as you’ve done once before.

“Can,-- Is it okay if--?” Hungry eyes search his face for confirmation, but you’re so lust driven that you’re a stuttering mess. “Do you want this?” 

“Yes.” Says Hyuck without any hesitation. Taking his hand, you’re quick to lead him inside to a more secluded part of the venue. The lavish private bathrooms are brightly lit and he lifts you on top of the marble counters.

“The reception starts in 20 minutes.” You moan as Hyuck kisses down your neck hastily, a hand up the slit of your dress to push your panties aside.

“We’ll make it quick then. I’ll show you love another day.” His knuckle lightly grazes against your erect clit and your grip on his shoulder tightens. Whimpers fall from your lips as your hips mindlessly grind into his hand. “Never took you the type to be so loud.” Hyuck raises an eyebrow and tilts his head mockingly at you.

“This isn’t even close to how loud I can get.” Your statement causes him to swallow hard. Being your best friend, he has kept a rather clear mind from any sexual attraction toward you. He had to know he loved you in order to even see you in that way. 

Gathering your slick, he rubs your clit with two fingers before dipping them into your hole. You lean back into the mirror and prop your feet on the counter to spread open for Hyuck to see. “You let all these idiots fuck your pretty pussy? They don’t deserve you, as a person or a potential partner.” He fingers you deeper and with flicking motions, he hits your sweet spot and causes you to jolt.

“Please, just fuck me. I’ve always wondered how good you’d feel.” His eyes twinkle at your bashful confession, but understands your lustful desires even for your own best friend.

“You think about fucking me?” He asks abruptly, taking his fingers out to suck your juices clean from them. A coined flattered smirk appears on his lips as he unbuckles his belt.

You’re averting eye contact, “well no, maybe just once. I get horny when I’m drunk sometimes.” You admit and he’s rushing to take himself out of his restrictive dress pants. His dick hits the air and he adjusts closer to your dripping core.

And he enters, slowly and slowly inching in so you can adhere to his size. You bite back every yell of pleasure and grip the ends of his dress shirt. Hyuck fills you up deliciously, and you two are connected through bodies beyond any way before. He leans in to give you a sloppy, yet passionate kiss before dragging out his hips and pushing them back in.

There is no guilt, no pain, no sorrows. Knowing Hyuck, he fucks you in the same way he wishes to love you. His hips drive into you passionately and quickly. The time crunch being something that causes him great distraction, but his heart is swelling simply feeling your warmth wrap around him so well.

“My baby is so tight.” Pet names in private. A small grin appears on your face at the sound of the sweet nickname and you pull him closer by tugging his shirt.

“Harder, Hyuck. Don’t hold back anymore.” Moan after moan, Hyuck relentlessly drills into you. His arm is hooked underneath your left thigh to keep it up, and your head keeps banging against the mirror.

Your eyes roll back when his thumb rubs circles on your aching clit. The mixture of both pleasures stimulate you until the build up tension in your stomach begins to reach its peak.

“Cum, I know you fucking want to.” He grunts, keeping the same rhythm that pushes you over your edge. Your walls squeeze around him tightly as your legs shake sporadically from your release. You’re smart to cover your mouth, knowing that the bathroom will only echo your erotic sounds. Your chest rises and falls from the momentum and adrenaline that Hyuck helped you reach, breathlessly trying to calm your heart rate down.

After a few more harsh bumps, he pulls out and motions you forward. Jumping off of the counter, you kneel on the ground and suck his tip lightly. Your swirls are enough for him to empty into your mouth, his hot streams of salty liquid hitting the back of your throat. He looks down at you and your wide eyed expression with his cock in your mouth drives him overboard. 

And you swallow, getting up to lightly plant a sweet kiss on his cheek. A lip stain being worn proudly for just a moment. 

“You amaze me.” Hyuck whispers, holding you against his flushed body and fast paced heart beat. 

“Hurry out you two!” A voice startles the both of you with a knock on the door and you two are quick to readjust yourselves. He hopes to love you a little longer next time, without any interruptions.

***********

After the glorious and excruciating long wedding, you’re walking Hyuck to his car in the small parking lot. During the rest of the night, he held your hand the whole way through and the love that he looked at you with was more than real. 

He talked with your distant relatives as if he’s always known them. Hyuck conducted the dinner table, always knowing what to say. There was no doubt in your head that seeing Donghyuck in the aftermath, he was always going to be someone who was going to make things better. 

The love you long searched for, the love that you had been too afraid to touch, intertwined itself so lovingly underneath the white table cloth. Donghyuck is the one and it took needing to see him a bit more to realize. A little more acceptance from the both of you had to be the final straw.

Donghyuck sheepishly scratches the back of his neck when you reach his car, unsure where the path of your friendship will diverge to next. “Have fun on your date then…” His voice trails off, kicking the rocks at his feet again.

There goes your melodic laughter that soothe his aching heart and the familiar gentle grip on his fingertips. You lift his chin up, the both of you seeing each other clearly now.

From his perspective, you’re absolutely dazzling in the low light and butterflies swirl in the pit of his stomach. He can look at you forever, until months turn into years. He can love you until you two grow old. You’re his fearless, beautiful, inexplicably marvelous best friend. And he patiently waits for the day you’ll let him finally be yours.

From your perspective, Donghyuck shines even when the night overtakes the sky and possibly, the warmth in your heart bubbles across your chest. You can stay with him forever, until months turn into years. You can trust him like it’s you two against the world. He is your silly, charming, timidly benevolent best friend. And you’re slowly falling and hoping for the day you get to be his. 

“I’m not going to see him anymore. He’s not the one.” Hyuck blinks at you, full of confusion and shock.

“But you sounded so happy.” His voice gets lost in the stillness of the intimate atmosphere. 

“No, Hyuck. You make me happy and I’ll say it again for you to hear me. Nobody loves me like you do.” Reaching up, your hand caresses his cheek and he falls into your palm lovingly. His heart runs a mile, reaching the greatest high he’s ever going to feel. He hopes his eyes don’t deceive him, but the utter perfection on your face makes him feel whole.

You wish that Hyuck can teach you to love yourself the way that he loves you. 

“Take me home?” 

“How could I ever say no?”

thank you for being patient with me! its finally done and i will be going on a writing hiatus for a bit. housemating and ridin club will come out sometime soon, but i really need to step away from writing for a bit. please understand, thank you for reading :) 

[dewykth]

—emerald (m)

muses. bodyguard!namjoon + princess!reader words. 1.4k+ contains. smut, angst, stupid mistakes  notices. explicit sexual content, 18+ entry. this is pretty self-indulgent, really just an excuse to write angsty smut. enjoy!

God, this was such a bad idea.

That's what Namjoon kept telling himself as he traced his hands over your body and pulled you in for another passionate kiss. He had dreamed of this moment many times before, during his morning showers or in the depths of the night when he was horny and all he could think of was you. Namjoon had wanted this for so long … yet why did it feel so wrong? 

Namjoon pulls away from you, his heart thumping louder in his ears when you chase his lips. He stares at your disheveled form, admiring the way your lips are a swollen strawberry red and your eyes are blown black. You look breathtaking.

You pull him back, this time latching your lips onto his neck and sucking. A breathy moan breaks through Namjoon’s bitten lips. “Fuck.”

He feels you smirk against his neck, and then your hands are trailing up his thighs, landing right on his covered erection. Your name tumbles out of his lips when you start to palm him through his pants. 

This is so wrong.

Yet, Namjoon doesn't stop you from pulling his pants down, instead closing his eyes to enjoy the way your hands feel wrapped around his cock.

Your hand is pumping him quickly, using his pre-cum to make it easier. Your thumb goes over his slit, and Namjoon groans in surprise. 

“Oh my god, do that again.”

And you do, running your thumb much slower over his head again. His hand slides under the skirt of your emerald dress, pulling your underwear aside and tracing his fingers near your entrance. A whine escapes your mouth.

“You're fucking dripping, baby.” He says, almost in complete fascination. He spreads your juices all over your clit, and begins to rub his fingers in circles.

“Fuck,” you drop your head to his shoulders, slowing your ministrations on his cock. “please.” You lick at his neck and Namjoon grunts, sliding his finger down and into your heat. You squeeze around his fingers, letting out a small sigh.

“You're so fucking tight,” Namjoon dips another finger into your core and begins to pump them out of you. “shit, baby. You're gonna kill me with those pretty sounds.” his words only make you moan louder, lifting your head and bringing him in for another sloppy kiss.

Namjoon can only wonder how amazing it’ll feel to finally be inside of you. The thought makes him slip his fingers out of you, bringing them up to your face. You look at his finger, then back at him. And then, without breaking eye contact, you envelop your lips around his digits, and suck. Your tongue licks up every bit of your wetness, and when you pull back, Namjoon is staring wide eyed at his saliva coated fingers. 

“You’re so fucking hot.” he breathes. He wastes no time flipping you around, pushing you down on the mahogany desk and angling your ass up. He lines his dick to your entrance, teasing you with his head. 

“Nnngh,” you moan prettily, “Joon, please!”

“Please what, baby?” he questions innocently, enjoying the way you push your ass closer to him in an attempt to relieve yourself too much. 

“Please fuck me! Please, I’ve been good, please! Joon—” moans from both of you interrupt your pleading as Namjoon pushes himself into you, unable to resist his own growing desire to be inside of you. He stays still for a bit, savoring the way you seem to fit perfectly around him, enveloping him like you were made just for him. It all felt too good. Namjoon begins to brutally fuck you, snapping his hips against yours until only your moans and the sound of skin slapping on skin are filling your room. It’s lewd, messy, and so wrong. Even in his lust filled mind, the thought of getting caught threatens to overcome his mind. So, he grabs your hair, pulling you up to lay against his chest as he continues to chase both your highs. You're moaning loudly, throwing your head against his chest when he lifts your leg onto your vanity desk. This angle makes him sink further into you, and you both moan at the newfound deepness.

The room was hot and filled with the smell of your arousal, a layer of sweat built along his skin and yours. “Fuck, Namjoon— nnngh, I–I’m c–close,” He brings his hand to your clit, rubbing in circles until you’re tightening around him, whining loudly as your orgasm overtakes your senses. The sudden tightness is too much, and Namjoon’s orgasm quickly follows suit, painting your walls in white, sloppily thrusting until he stops completely. You're both breathing harshly, dazed and attempting to recover from whatever the hell just happened.

It's as if everything that just transpired hits Namjoon square in the head and he slips out of you, leaving a trail of your cum mixed with his own. The sight of it sliding down your legs would have sent Namjoon into overdrive if it weren't for the fact that he felt he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Fuck. How did he let it get this far? He was always able to remain collected around you, ignoring your teasing as much as possible, even if all he wanted to do was bend you over and teach you a lesson. But today, he had been at his wit’s end, giving in too quickly and throwing away all reason. Now it was all coming back to him.

You turn around, looking at him as he walks around the room, haphazardly gathering his clothes that were strewn around your large room. “What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.” he says, only glancing at you as he pulls his pants up, in turn missing the hurt that flashes across your face.

“Why?” you ask quietly, and it's only then that Namjoon stops dressing and looks at you. You seem smaller, afraid, folding into yourself yet still maintaining eye contact with him. The emotions floating in your eyes are too much for Namjoon, too much for him to think about, so he turns, picking up his coat.

“This was a mistake, Lady ____, and you know it.” The formal name makes him wince, especially after the intimate moments you had just shared, but he hides it as he slips on the last of his clothes.

You scoff, “A mistake? Are you joking?” You walk up behind him. “What is this really about, Namjoon?”

He turns back around, making sure to look into your eyes despite how much it hurt. “You're betrothed, Princess.”

“You and I both know I feel nothing but disgust towards that poor excuse of a man.” Even the mention of your fiancé painted a grimace on your face. Namjoon knew. Of /course/ he did. You spent hours some days just ranting about how much you despised the man your parents had set you up with. But he was rich, powerful, handsome and the prince of a neighboring kingdom. Everything Namjoon was not. Namjoon could never give you what he could with all the money and jewels he had bestowed upon his name. Namjoon wasn't what you deserved, he was sure no man could ever be enough for you, but at least your fiancé had luxuries and lavish trips to offer you. Namjoon had nothing.

“I wish I didn’t have these feelings, Joon,” you say quietly, crossing your arms and breaking eye contact. “but I do. And I know you feel the same way. Is that not enough?”

“My job is to serve and protect you, Princess. My feelings only serve to complicate things,” he lets out a broken sigh, clearing his throat in hopes of sounding more sure of his next words. “I believe it’s better if we forget this ever happened.”

Namjoon turns towards your door, but not in time to miss the way your face crumples in rejection. He sees the way your eyes water, falling to the opulent marble floor beneath you. Namjoon has never hated himself more. But, there was no other way. You had a kingdom to uphold, he would only get in the way.

“Please,” your voice comes out in a broken whisper, almost too small to catch if it weren’t for how perceptive Namjoon was of everything you did. “don't leave.”

He wishes he could take you into his arms and kiss your worries away, maybe he would, in a universe where you didn't belong to someone else. Where you weren't expected to take the throne and rule a realm with a powerful king by your side, someone Namjoon could never be.  So all he can offer, now, here, is— 

“I’m sorry.”

The door shuts.

© dewykth. all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, repost, translate or modify.

[rushingheadlong]

Dear Friend, We’ll Carry On - A Brian/trans-m!Reader fic

Summary: You’ve known Brian since the early days of Queen, but when he comes to New Haven on his solo tour you haven’t seen him in years. You’re both different people now but, as the saying goes, the more things change the more they stay the same...

Wordcount: ~9.5k

Tags/Warnings: Trans-m!Reader/Brian, some light angst and H/C, eventual smut (fingering & oral, Reader receiving, and some light cumplay)

Notes: This is, I think, officially the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written. I know I say that a lot but the entire fic takes place around Brian’s October 1993 New Haven concert (the one with the Yale tank top) so that should really tell you everything you need to know. I might write a follow-up fic, or just a shorter epilogue as well - but we’ll see if I ever actually get around to that.

The only other thing I’ll note is that is the Reader is American, so American terms have been used over British ones (i.e. “pants” instead of “trousers”) and this is cross-posted to AO3 here.

It’s only been a few years since you last saw Brian, but when he first walks into the diner you almost don’t recognize him. If it wasn’t for that same wild halo of curls around his head you’d think you were looking at a stranger, because there’s a tightness in his shoulders and a stiffness in his frame that you’ve never seen before.

Even the other patrons around you seem uncertain of him, casting double-takes in his direction as if they aren’t really sure if they recognize him or not. There was a time when Queen couldn’t step foot in America without being mobbed, but too much has changed in a decade and now Brian looks more like a lost child than a world-famous rockstar.

You wave to catch his attention and Brian spots you immediately. He smiles, bright and wide and so familiar that it makes your chest ache, and he finally looks almost like himself again.

He quickly crosses the small room and you stand up to greet him. Brian pulls you into a tight hug and this is achingly familiar too, the way your shorter frame fits against his, the gentle nuzzle against the top of your head as Brian curls around you, the soft sigh as Brian relaxes into the embrace and some of the tightness starts to bleed out of his body.

“I’ve missed you,” Brian says when he finally pulls away and the two of you take your seats at the table. “You look…” His voice trails off for a moment and you brace yourself for the word that you know is coming next: Different. It’s what everyone says these days, after all, not that you can blame them. Five years on testosterone and nearly eleven months since your surgery have radically changed your appearance - and you haven’t seen Brian in person since your transition started, having been out-of-town when he last performed in New Haven back in March.

But Brian smiles and the word he goes with, to your surprise, is simply, “Good. You look really good, Y/N.”

“Thanks,” you say, with a smile of your own. “And you look…”

Sad.

There’s still grief in the depths of Brian’s eyes, a slightly haunted look that wasn’t there before Freddie’s death and the end of Queen tore his world apart. He’s allowed his grief, of course he is, but it still tears at your heart to see Brian’s kind face marred with anguish, no matter how much he tries to hide it.

You know better than to tell him any of that, though, no matter how true it may be, so you find yourself settling for a different adjective as well. “Tired. Tour getting to you, is it?”

Brian laughs, the smallest huff of amusement and admits, “It’s been rough at times, yeah. Been too long since I’ve done this, and it’s different from what it was with- with Queen.”

He busies himself with the menu for a moment, and you graciously don’t comment on the slight stumble at the mention of the band that was his entire world for two decades. “Anyway, it’s been good though,” Brian finally says. “Nice to be playing again, and the new group is great.”

“I’m sorry I missed your show the last time you were in Connecticut,” you tell him.

“Nah, don’t be. We were only a support act then, you’re getting the full performance tonight,” Brian says. A small, uncertain look crosses his face and he asks, “You are coming tonight, aren’t you?”

“Bought my ticket the moment they went on sale,” you assure him, and Brian smiles in relief.

Your conversation is briefly interrupted by the arrival of your waitress, and once when she leaves with your orders Brian says, “I have a backstage pass for you, if you want it. You can hang out before the show, watch from out front, and security will let you backstage again before the encore so you don’t have to deal with trying to leave with the crowd when it’s all over.”

“Really? That would be great!” It would certainly give you more time to spend with Brian, though you know from the many Queen concerts where you were able to get backstage that it’s likely to be in somewhat of a state of pandemonium leading up to the start of the show. “Hey, is there anyone in your road crew that I might remember?”

You know not to tack on from the Queen days, though it’s obvious that’s what you mean. Another sad look crosses Brian’s face and you know you’ve still made a mistake, even before Brian says, “Ah, not really, no. Jobby left, so my guitar tech is new, and Ratty and Crystal obviously aren’t around… Oh, Spike’s touring with me, though!” You give him a blank, apologetic look and he sighs and adds, hopeful, “Keyboard player? He played with Queen back in the 80s too…”

“You had someone different on the Hot Space tour, I think,” you tell Brian.

“God, has it really been that long since we played the US?” Brian shakes his head. “Seems crazy, doesn’t it? How quickly a decade passes…”

“And how much changes in that time,” you say without thinking. Another pained look crosses Brian’s face and you quickly try to steer the conversation towards less depressing territory. “I mean, I’m surprised you recognized me at all today!” you say with a small laugh.

“Well, of course I recognized you! Why wouldn’t I?” Brian asks, just as your waitress returns with your drinks.

You wait until she stops fussing over Brian and leaves again before saying, “I don’t know, Bri, why would you recognize me? I look pretty different than I did before…”

“Oh, yeah,” Brian says. “That.”

You didn’t really want to bring the topic up but Brian’s response, no matter how casual, is exactly why you knew you had to. You met Brian when you were still going by your dead name, before you had even comes to terms with your gender and back when you two were still hooking up every time Queen came to the US. He was one of the first people you came out to, because you saw him so rarely that if he reacted poorly it’s not like it would have impacted your normal daily life.

Brian didn’t react poorly though. No one in Queen did, and if any of the roadies had a different opinion you at least never had to hear it. Brian easily adjusted to calling you “Y/N” and “he” during your increasingly infrequent meetings in the 80s, those rare weekends when you could afford to fly to LA or he had the time to meet you somewhere on the East Coast, but this is still the first time that he’s seeing you since your transition - the first time he’s had to see you present fully as a man, without binders and baggy clothes and uncomfortably short hair to hide behind.

And you know all too well how much of a difference that can make, to some people.

But not, apparently, to Brian. He smiles and offers you a small shrug and just says, “You’re still Y/N - I mean, yeah, you look different but… Well, like I said before, you look good. You look more like yourself, if that makes any sense at all. Like you’re just a better version of who you always were.” He shakes his head and adds, “Sorry, that probably sounds ridiculous…”

“It really doesn’t,” you tell him. “That’s exactly how it feels to me.” Your whole chest feels warm with affection, and even though you’re reassuring him in the moment you feel incredibly comforted by his easy acceptance and understanding of a topic that not very many others in your life have embraced.

Brian’s smile brightens a little, and your stomach swoops at the sight. You’ve never been in love with Brian, not romantically anyway, but sometimes you still find yourself getting overwhelmed with how much you love having him in your life - as a friend and, in the past, as an occasional bed partner.

Only it seems like today your libido missed the message that the two of you aren’t hooking up anymore. You thought you had gotten past the initial spike to your sex drive that happened when you first started T, but looking at Brian now - with his wide smile and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and his shirt half unbuttoned to expose most of his chest - makes you almost squirm with how badly you want him again.

It doesn’t help that Brian once admitted to you, years ago when you were both far too drunk for your own good, that the occasional man does catch (and hold) his interest. It doesn’t help that you know Brian was always enthusiastic about hooking up with you, at least when you used to do that before you came out and started transitioning. And it doesn’t help that, when you look across the table at him, his earlier sadness has been replaced with a familiar glint in his eye that makes you wonder if his repeated “You look good” comments might hold a little more meaning than you originally thought.

You want to test the waters, see if Brian is thinking of your previous hook-ups like you now are… and you almost do, before you remember what it could cost Brian to be seen flirting with another man in public. Even the hug he had given you in greeting was risky, nevermind that that’s how he’s always greeted you before you transitioned. So you settle instead for only asking, “How long are you in town?”

Brian grimaces. “We got in late yesterday, and we’re only here for one more night. We’re driving over to Providence in the morning for tomorrow’s show, then there’s a day off so we can head out to Chicago. And then…” He thinks about it for a moment, before laughing and shaking his head. “For the life of me, I can’t remember where we go from there. But we only have seven or eight more shows in the States, and then we have some time off before we go to Japan at the beginning of November.”

At one point, you would have followed him around to all those stops on the tour - or at least spent a week or two in Queen’s bus, curled up by Brian’s side during the day and spending your evenings watching their shows from wherever you could find a spot, before eventually catching a flight home from some random city halfway across the country.

But those days are long behind you now.

“Well, you should come back to Connecticut during that break and visit me some more,” you say, and you can’t help the slight teasing note that creeps into your voice.

What you’re not expecting, though, is for Brian to give you a knowing smirk and say, “Maybe I’ll do just that.”

Your mouth drops open in a small “o” of surprise, but before you can respond your waitress comes over with your food - and when she leaves Brian launches into a story from one of his shows earlier in the year, and you let the moment pass.

No matter how much time accidentally passes between your meetings, it’s always easy to fall back into conversation with Brian. His story reminds you of a different rock show you had been to a year ago, and then Brian tells you about some festival he found himself at, which happens to be in the same area where you’re planning an upcoming vacation, and the resulting travel talk branches out into any topic imaginable, until Brian catches a glimpse at the time and swears under his breath.

“Shit, I’m needed over at the theatre.” He stands up and starts to pull out his wallet, but you stop him.

“No, Bri, I’ve got this,” you say, throwing enough bills down onto the table to cover the check (and a large enough tip to make up for how long the two lingered around just chatting). “Any time in particular I should plan on getting to the theatre myself?”

“You can head over with me now, if you want,” Brian says as he leads the way out of the diner, holding the door open for you behind him.

“Nah, I need to change into something more fitting for a rock concert,” you say, gesturing to your suitable - but certainly plain - outfit.

“You look-”

“Brian May, if you tell me that I look good again I’ll kick you!” you interrupt with a laugh. “No, give me a chance to pretty myself up for you and then I’ll head over.”

It doesn’t quite register that the “for you” slipped out until you see a look of surprise cross Brian’s face, a look that settles into something a little more amused as he smirks and says, “Well, I’ll definitely be looking forward to seeing you soon, then.”

He pulls you into another quick hug and your face is hot with embarrassment, and you can feel yourself get redder when Brian murmurs in your ear, “Don’t take too long now, Y/N.”

You know he’s teasing but there’s a note of arousal in his voice as well, and you feel your dick start to stir with interest even through your lingering embarrassment. “I’ll get changed and hurry right over,” you promise in a low voice, and you can’t help but feel smug when you see Brian’s eyes darken in hunger.

You don’t live in New Haven proper and today even the quick drive back to your apartment feels like it takes too long, when all you want to do is still be with Brian… but you’re hoping, if you play your cards right, that you’ll be spending a lot more time with Brian tonight than you had ever originally planned.

Picking out clothes feels less like a daily battle than it ever did before you started transitioning but you still take some time to consider what to wear over to the theatre, finally settling on skinny jeans and a Yale shirt. You’re considerably older than most of the university’s students but you’re still cursed with a babyface that T hasn’t aged quite enough yet, and you figure that faking some school pride can’t hurt when you’re going to be mere blocks away from the university itself.

You grab a pair of rolled-up socks and hesitate for a moment before discarding them, and tying a flannel shirt around your waist to hide the lack of bulge in your pants. An old leather jacket and a few swipes of eyeliner finish off the look, and even if you hadn’t already been flirting with Brian you’re pretty sure you’d win an invite back to his hotel room now anyway.

You take the bus back over to New Haven, rather than worrying about finding parking near the venue, and although security gives you an uncomfortable once-over as you show him your badge it isn’t long before you’re inside the theatre and looking for Brian once more.

Soundcheck is just wrapping up and you let the sound of Brian’s voice lead you towards the stage. He’s engrossed in his work and you watch him from the wings as he talks about some technical detail with one of the roadies. He seems relaxed enough, at a quick glance, but you can see his fingers tapping anxiously against the front of the Red Special and tension starting to gather in his shoulders again.

It’s a far cry from how he was before the Queen shows of old. Back then, even if he was a bit on edge or the band had fought during soundcheck, Brian retained a certain amount of confident ease - something which is noticeably absent in his demeanor now. You wonder if it’s due to the lack of Queen and the stability that Brian had based his routines around, or if it’s because of the added pressure of his role in this new band… though, truthfully, it’s probably a little bit of both.

You wonder if you still have a right to meddle, if you can ask Brian how he’s really doing and still expect an honest answer from him after all these years. Then Brian spots you out of the corner of his eye and his face lights up with happiness again and the tension starts to bleed out of his frame, and you decide to let sleeping dogs lie - at least for now anyway, because you have more important (or at least more fun) things to focus on.

Because Brian isn’t nearly as subtle as he thinks he is as he gives you a lingering once-over, before he passes over his Old Lady to a tech that you don’t recognize and crosses the stage to pull you into a hug. This one isn’t as intimate as the one at the diner, more of a quick one-armed embrace that he might give to any of his male friends, but he still whispers in your ear, “You look good, Y/N.”

You pull back, gearing up to poke fun at Brian for saying that yet again, only to see the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth and the glint in his eyes that tells you that he’s teasing you. That doesn’t stop you from huffing a little and saying, “Excuse you, I think I look damn good in fact.”

Brian laughs, the sound catching the attention of the rest of his bandmates. If he notices, though, that doesn’t stop him from murmuring a quiet, “You do look damn good. Gonna make it hard for me to get through the show, knowing that you’re-”

“Hey, Brian!” the other guitarist calls out. “The pizza for the crew just got here, we good on the soundcheck?”

“Yeah sorry, we’re all set!” Brian yells back. He shakes his head and says to you, “Sorry about that.”

You shrugs. “Not the first time your work has ruined the moment.” It used to be Roger banging on the dressing room door while the two of you were in the middle of things, but you’re still used to the interruptions.

“Well, we’re not likely to get many moments in private until after the show,” Brian says, his voice pitched low so no one can overhear the two of you.

“I was thinking that we’re getting a bit too old to disappear into a supply closet together,” you joke, though you keep your voice low as well.

Brian snorts. “Yeah, I don’t need Spike or Jamie finding me in flagrante when there’s a perfectly good hotel bed waiting for us at the end of this.” He hesitates for a moment, biting his bottom lip, and finally asks, “That is where all this flirting is heading, isn’t it?”

“That’s what I was hoping.” You grin wickedly at Brian and add, “I didn’t dress up nice just for the hell of it, you know.”

“Good to know,” Brian says, with a wide grin. “C’mon, I wanna introduce you to the band.”

Brian does have a full, proper band touring with him. Jamie is the guitarist who had interrupted Brian greeting you, Neil is the bass player, and Spike is the keyboard player that Brian had mentioned during your lunch earlier. The backing vocalists are Catherine and Shelley, and the last you’re introduced to is Cozy, the drummer. You don’t recognize him at all but clearly Brian is expecting you to, judging by his slightly exasperated sigh when you don’t react to his name.

“Oh, leave it be, Brian. Not like my pride’s hurt at all,” Cozy says before Brian can gear up for his explanation. “I’m just glad to finally be meeting Y/N.”

“Finally?” you echo, giving Brian a sideways glance.

“I may have mentioned you once or twice…”

“Or three or four or forty times,” Spike says dryly.

“You can’t count times I’ve mentioned him in passing over the last decade!” Brian tries to defend himself.

“Decade? Try the last day,” Jamie says as he too joins in the conversation. “If the drive down here yesterday had been any longer we were going to draw straws to see which one of us was going to knock you out just to get some peace and quiet!"

“I was not that bad!” Brian protests but he’s laughing, and so is everyone else, and it’s not quite Queen but you can see the niche that Brian has carved out with this new group of people and it makes you smile to listen to the friendly ribbing and jokes.

“We tried to get him to call you when we stopped so maybe he’d shut up for a bit, but he refused,” Cozy says to you.

You were at work yesterday so Brian wouldn’t have been able to reach you anyway but instead of pointing that out you join in with the teasing yourself. “Well I wish you had, so I could’ve pointed you in the direction of the right pizza to order…”

Brian groans at the familiar argument and says, “You complain about this every time I come to New Haven!”

“Well, start ordering from Frank Pepe’s instead of Sally’s and we wouldn’t have to keep having this conversation!” you tell him.

“I didn’t know pizza was that big of a deal in Connecticut,” Neil says with a laugh.

“It’s not, not unless you’re a New Haven local,” Brian says, with the tone of someone who has been forced to listen to this lecture more times than he cares to remember.

“Are you a local then, Y/N?” Shelley asks. “Or did you come down to meet up with Brian?”

“Nah, I’m a local - well, local enough, I live over in West Haven.” You pluck at your shirt and add, “Didn’t go to Yale, but I’ll pretend to support the university while I’m practically on their campus.”

“I think that’s Brian’s plan for tonight too,” Jamie says, giving Brian a friendly nudge with his elbow as he passes him. “First thing he did when we got in yesterday was have someone run out to get him an appropriately local tank top for the encore.”

“A tank top?” You can’t help but laugh. “In all the years I’ve known Brian I have never known him to wear a tank top! I’ll believe that when I see it!”

You keep chatting with the band for a little while longer but eventually everyone splits up to double-check their instruments, get changed, and take care of the thousand little things that always seem to get left for the last minute.

“You should probably head out front,” Brian tells you eventually. He still needs to get changed into his own stage outfit, even though you’ve been listening to the audience trickle in for the last ten minutes.

“Yeah, probably,” you agree. You want to lean up and kiss him but even here, in the doorway to the dressing room, you know better than to risk it. Some of Brian’s bandmates seem to have an inkling of what’s really going on, but the last thing you need is for anyone else to see the two of you like that. “I’ll catch you later then?”

“I’ve already told security to let you backstage before the encore,” Brian says. He looks like he wants to kiss you too, but he settles for giving you a bright smile and another quick hug. “I’ll see you soon enough.”

“I’ll be seeing you soon enough at least,” you joke and you let the echo of Brian’s laugh follow you out.

You hadn’t bought a floor ticket originally, but security finds you a spot by the stage where it’ll be easy for you to duck out again later. A few people near you give you curious looks, but luckily none of the double-takes that you’ve come to dread, and no one asks you about the backstage pass still hanging around your neck as the theatre fills up around you.

When the lights finally dim the audience roars and cheers, almost enough to drown out the opening bars of what you can barely make out as The Dark - before the lights slowly come on and Brian is standing center-stage, singing the title track from his debut solo album.

Brian’s voice is amazing. You’ve always known that, even if Brian has never really considered himself to be much of a singer, but you’re spellbound at his performance - the way he balances the guitar with the vocals, the gorgeous harmony of a full band supporting him, his backing vocalists providing a depth that takes you by surprise. It’s not Queen, none of it is, but it’s good, and Brian owns the stage like he was born to do this.

You’re so taken by Brian’s performance that it’s not until Brian sheds the long coat that he initially wore out on stage that you take in the outfit he’s wearing: A loose white shirt with an ornate vest, paired with a pair of tight pants that you think have buttons sewn all over them… until Brian wanders closer to where you’re standing and you realize that they’re actually grommets. You can’t tell if there’s a lining to them or not, but the possibility that that’s Brian’s bare skin peeking through the tiny holes makes your mouth go dry with want.

Brian’s solo material is as excellent as it sounded on the album. You never doubted that it would be, not for a second, but you’re taken a bit by surprise by how well the Queen songs work in the setlist as well. It’s not Freddie singing, or Roger on the drums, or John on bass… but with Brian still on guitar, and Spike clearly knowing his way around the keyboard parts, it all works. The crowd cheers as loud for Tie Your Mother Down as they do for Love Token, and your heart swells with pride for everything Brian has achieved with this album and this tour.

And then Brian grabs an acoustic, and sits down on a stool by himself towards the front of the stage, and you know what is coming even before Brian asks the audience if they’re ready to sing.

“There's a special reason for this song. I didn't write this song, so by right I don't have- I don't have much of a right to be singing it,” Brian says. “But I'm going to do it anyway, because this is in memory of just about the best singer the world has ever seen.”

Everyone around you is cheering but you think you’re going to cry. You want to jump onstage, pull Brian out from under the bright lights and somewhere quiet and private, where you can wrap yourself around him and reassure him that Freddie wouldn’t care that Brian was singing his song at all. You want to take Brian and steal him away from the world, from everyone who still demands Queen from him and everyone who won’t let him grieve in peace.

You want to find somewhere that the two of you can hide away together, until you never have to see this sort of open anguish on Brian’s face again.

The song is as gorgeous as it ever was when Freddie sang it, and the concert continues from there with Brian giving no indication that he had bared his heart and left it bleeding on the stage while the audience sang and cheered him on.

Brian loses the vest eventually, and you’re close enough to the stage that you can see the sweat starting to bead along Brian’s temple and the column of his throat. It’s a strange sort of whiplash, going from the emotional devastation of Love of My Life to feeling like you’re going to die if you don’t get your hands on Brian this very second. He’s always looked damn fine while playing the guitar, but seeing him fully in control of the stage and belting his heart out on every song - when he remembers to get back to his mic in time - is driving you crazy with want.

We Will Rock You doesn’t dovetail into We Are the Champions, like you were half-expecting it to, but even after the band leaves the stage you’re left stunned and entirely captivated by their performance.

“Hey!” A security guard taps you on the shoulder. “You’re the one who’s supposed to head backstage again, yeah?”

You nod. You had almost forgotten about that, and you follow the guard through the crowd to the backstage door, which he opens and motions for you to go through. You walk back, finding yourself in the wings near the stage where the band is quickly toweling off and grabbing a drink before heading back out for the encore.

Brian is quickly shucking off his sweat-drenched shirt and pulling on the tank top that had been mentioned earlier. It’s a simple white with YALE printed across the chest and it hangs loose on Brian’s slim frame, leaving his arms and a good portion of the sides of his torso exposed to the world. You’ve seen Brian naked before but somehow this feels more sinful, and you can feel your dick start to twitch and and your core throb with interest, especially when you realize that Brian is still wearing the same pants as before.

“Please tell me there’s a lining in those,” you say in a slightly strangled voice, motioning towards Brian’s legs and the grommet holes that have been teasing you all evening.

Brian wipes his face with a towel, and only gives you a wicked smirk and a knowing wink in response. “Catch you after the show,” he says, as he’s handed a guitar - an acoustic, you notice belatedly, not his Red Special - and he walks back onstage with the rest of the band.

You’re still distracted by the sight of Brian in an honest-to-god tank top, his sinewy arms on full display, that you almost miss Brian saying, “You might think this is a sad song, but it ain’t.”

And for the second time that evening you find yourself caught off-guard by the genuine, heart-wrenching emotion in Brian’s singing - but the pain that was there during Love Of My Life is now nowhere to be seen. Maybe it’s because you can’t see Brian’s face, or maybe it’s just the warning he gave at the beginning of the song to let everyone know that it wasn’t supposed to be sad… but for the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand how Brian is starting to move on. You think you can see the ways in which sharing his grief with the world like this is healing for him, in a way that you never would have expected.

It still hurts to hear Brian sing, “I don’t believe in being Queen anymore - I just believe in me. Just you guys and me.” But it’s a hurt that’s tempered by the memory of Brian laughing with his new bandmates backstage, the genuine happiness you’ve seen on his face despite the moments of grief that still come through, and you know that even if Brian might not be entirely okay… at least he’s getting there.

And then the song ends and Brian launches into the familiar opening riff of Hammer to Fall, and you let yourself get swept away by the energy and the music.

Your heart races at the sight of Brian rocking out to the heavy Queen tune, your arousal simmering again with every flash of the stage lights that catch on those grommets or cast dark shadows along the lines of the wiry muscles in Brian’s arms. There’s a strangeness to it still, a part of you that’s still a little turned around from the sudden change in mood in the theatre, but that part quickly fades when Brian glances your way and gives you a wink, before sidling up to Jamie to keep rocking out on the guitar part.

You bite your lip to stifle a groan and wonder if Brian is dragging this song out for longer than normal just to torment you. It’s just not fair, none of it is - not the tank top and grommets leaving Brian lewdly on display, not the hot stage lights making sweat bead along his brow, not his quick fingers flying over the strings of his guitar as the song finally, fucking finally, comes to an end and the band takes their bows one last time.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Brian asks you as he hands off his guitar. The question is innocent enough but the look in his eyes is anything but, and for a moment you feel an irrational burst of hatred that this isn’t a Queen show and you no longer present as female because all you want to do is push Brian against the closest wall and kiss him breathless.

Instead you grit your teeth and say, “Loved it, it was great... Please tell me you don’t have to stick around for long.”

Brian throws his head back and laughs, and you have to stamp down the urge to bite at the column of this throat. “Nah, no interviews or meet-and-greet’s tonight. Just have to get changed and-”

“Don’t change,” you interrupt.

“Oh?” Brian raises an eyebrow and smirks at you. You huff at him, hating that you can’t tell him exactly what he’s doing to you in that outfit, and you’re about two seconds from deciding that you don’t care who sees or overhears you when Brian says, “Alright. Let me just grab my wallet and we’ll head out.”

It doesn’t end up being quite that easy. Brian still has to check in with a few people about the travel plans for tomorrow, and it takes some time for the crowds to disperse and a car to arrive to take you two back to the hotel. But luckily the rest of the band just waves Brian off, some with knowing smiles, and none of them hop in the car with you or ask Brian to stick around backstage for any longer than he already has.

It’s torture having to keep your hands to yourself, and after a few minutes you decide, screw it, it’s dark enough that the driver won’t be able to see anything - so you reach out and trace around one of the grommet holes, dipping your finger in to tease at the delicate skin of Brian’s thigh. “These are more than a little indecent, you know,” you murmur in a low undertone as your hand creeps further up Brian’s leg.

Brian catches your hand and laces his fingers with yours, which is fair because you can hide your arousal when you get to the hotel far easier than Brian can. “Indecent is going a bit far, I think,” Brian counters.

“Mm, well, they’re giving me indecent thoughts, at least…”

“Care to share some of them?” Brian asks, and even though the question is quiet you can hear the heat behind the words.

You shrug and glance at the driver, who - if he can hear your conversation - at least doesn’t give any sign of it. “Been wondering if I could get some laces between those grommets, tie you up in a pretty little package…”

Brian inhales sharply and you smile, all teeth and wicked intentions, as he shifts next to you and says, “Didn’t think you liked being the one doing the tying. You always used to want to be the one getting tied up.”

“Oh, I still do. But I can’t help it if those pants start giving me ideas…” you say, and Brian’s quiet groan of frustration feels like music to your ears.

You’re grateful that Brian is already checked in so you don’t have to stop by the front desk, but you still struggle to keep your hands to yourself as Brian leads the way up to his room and unlocks the door. Once you’re inside, though, both of you are on each other in an instant as Brian crowds you against the wall and you finally, finally get to kiss him.

It’s just as perfect as you remember. Brian’s lips are soft but he kisses you with the same passion that you remember from years ago, fierce and demanding and just the right side of rough. He nips at your bottom lip, a move that’s always gotten your blood racing, and when you groan he slips his tongue into your mouth to plunder every inch of you.

You’re so much shorter than Brian and you know that it has to be uncomfortable for him to lean down so far to kiss you, so when you finally pull back to catch your breath you loop your fingers through the grommets on his pants and start tugging him towards the bed.

“Oh, I definitely love these pants,” you tell him, and Brian just laughs and tries to kiss you again. You push him down so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed and that puts you at a much more equal height, making it easy for you to tangle one hand in his curls and slide the other along the bare skin of his arm and shoulder. “And this tank top too, fucking christ…”

Brian is still laughing as he finally captures your lips with his again and yeah, that’s a much better use of your time than continuing to talk about his admittedly excellent wardrobe choices. You think you could spend the rest of your life kissing Brian and die happily at the end of it all but you’re still craving more, so you nudge Brian’s legs apart and move in closer to him.

“Wait, wait-” Brian says, breaking the kiss before you can press fully up against him. He’s breathing heavily and his lips are red and kiss-swollen, and you want to lean back in and keep kissing him senseless, until both of you are breathless and desperate for more.

But you know Brian wouldn’t pull the brake unless it was important so you swallow down the impulse to keep touching him and instead ask, “What is it, Bri?”

“We haven’t done this since you’ve… Well I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Brian says. There’s a flush rising on his cheeks that is no longer entirely due to arousal and his embarrassment is palpable in the room.

You know what Brian is trying to ask, even though it’s been a while since you’ve had to have this conversation with a partner. You untangle your hand from his hair and let go of his shoulder so you don’t get distracted as you tell him, “I’m fine being penetrated, if you want to go that far, but we’re gonna need lube. I don’t get as wet as I did before starting testosterone. And I have a dick. Don’t call it a clit.”

“Okay,” Brian says with a nod. He looks serious, and that’s actually a little comforting for you to see. “What about… I mean, if I, er, penetrate you, what do I call…?”

“Don’t,” you tell him. “There’s not really any term I’m comfortable with yet.”

Brian frowns. “If you’re not comfortable, I can get you off without touching that part-”

“No. I’m fine with you penetrating me, honestly I am, just don’t try to talk dirty about what you’re doing,” you say.

“Okay,” Brian says again. “Anything else I should know?”

You hesitate for a moment, because you don’t really want to talk about this… but you’d rather talk about it now rather than have it come up when you’re both naked and more in the moment. “I had chest reconstruction surgery. I don’t have much feeling up there but there’s- there’s scars, and you don’t have to touch them-”

“Do you not want me to touch them?” Brian asks, gently cutting into your nervous rambling before it can really build momentum.

“They’re… not pretty. They didn’t heal up nicely,” you admit, and getting those words out is hard. You still feel ashamed to admit that your surgical results only look good when you have a shirt covering it all up, and you’ve had more than one hookup where you kept your chest covered the entire time.

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Brian says, with a small smile to soften his words and help put you at ease once again. “Do you not want me to touch your scars?”

You have to think about that, and the only answer you can give Brian is, “I don’t know. I don’t like touching them and no one else ever has. If you want to you can, and I’ll tell you to stop if I need to?”

You don’t mean for that to come out as a question but it does anyway, and Brian doesn’t hesitate to nod in agreement. “That sounds good. Anything else?”

You shake your head. “No, that’s everything. Can we just get back to making out now?”

Brian laughs but gently pulls you back in close, keeping one hand on your waist as the other gently cups your face. “Yeah,” he breathes, and then his mouth is on yours again.

You kiss him back fiercely, tangling one of your hands in Brian’s curls again as you lean up and lick into his mouth. You rock against Brian and his legs are spread wide enough that your hips meet his. You moan at the feeling of his bulge rubbing against you and Brian groans at friction against his hardening cock. Brian’s hand that was on your face drifts down, trailing along your side before snaking between the two of you and popping the button on your jeans.

“This okay?” he asks, fingers just teasing along the waistband of your boxers.

“Yeah,” you breathe against his mouth, and as Brian’s hand slips into your underwear you deepen the kiss to distract yourself. Brian’s touch feels good and you don’t want him to stop, but there’s still a nervousness to being intimate with another person - even if that other person is Brian, who you trust implicitly and who has touched you before.

You moan as Brian’s fingers find your dick and brush teasingly along the head, but you’re surprised to hear Brian groan again as well. “Fuck, you’re big,” he breathes as he rubs over your dick, feeling out the shape of it as you harden beneath his fingers.

You can’t hold back a laugh at Brian’s comment. “I’m really not. Just grew a little, that’s all.”

“Grew a lot you mean,” Brian mumbles against your lips, but your retort is lost in another whimper as Brian slides his fingers along your dick again.

It feels so good, his nimble fingers tracing along the exposed head of your dick and trailing down to gather what little slickness they can to smooth the glide of his calloused fingertips along your most sensitive parts. Neither the years nor your transition have not dulled his familiarity with your body and all you can do is cling tightly to his shoulders and pant and whine against his mouth as Brian brings you close to your climax at a frightening speed.

“Wait, stop,” you manage to get out, and Brian’s hand is pulled out of your pants at a lightning speed. You laugh at the look of worry on his face and quickly assure him, “I‘m gonna come too soon if you keep that up.”

“So? You look gorgeous falling apart for me,” Brian says.

He starts kissing down your neck and you tilt your head back to give him more room even as you tell him, “Yeah, but I can’t go more than once now. Get too sensitive, and not in a good way.”

“Ah, well then,” Brian mumbles against the hollow of your throat. He nips at that spot and then soothes it with his tongue, before pulling back and saying, “C’mon, get up on the bed, let’s do this properly then.”

You snort but pull away and quickly start stripping down and Brian stands up to do the same. You watch, mouth watering, as Brian throws the tank top to the side and shimmies out of his tight pants. His cock is hard and precome is already beading at the tip, and you want to drop to your knees and take Brian deep into your throat until he’s coming undone around you - but you’re startled from your thoughts as Brian gently pushes at the hem of your shirt and asks, “Will you take this off too?”

You hadn't quite realized that it was still on and you hesitate for a moment, before pulling it over your head and tossing it aside as well, and then you’re left fully exposed before Brian. You’ve been in this position before but never quite like this - never with a beard and so much body hair and scars across your chest and your dick just barely poking out from your surrounding folds.

Brian takes a step closer and kisses you again, as hot and harsh as ever. “God, how are you still so fucking beautiful?” he says as he pulls away.

You laugh, your moment of insecurity forgotten as you retort, “I could ask you the same thing, Brian May.”

Brian laughs and shakes his head, and pushes you back towards the bed. You lie down and Brian follows you, covering your body with his, his cock rubbing against your hip as he kisses you once on the mouth, then down your neck and chest, and finally across both of your scars as well. “So beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin and you shudder at the feeling of this part of you being touched for the first time.

“I can’t feel that,” you admit to him when he licks experimentally over one of your nipples. “They don’t have feeling, and the scars don’t either.”

“Mm, well what about here?” Brian asks, kissing further down your torso. “Or here?” Another kiss, just above your belly button. “Or here?” Another, just above your dick, and you’re laughing and arching against him, trying to get his mouth where you need it.

And then Brian’s mouth closes around your dick and your laughter is lost in a loud moan as Brian gives a small, experimental suck and pleasure overwhelms your senses. “Bri- oh, fuck, Bri-” you pant, hands clawing at the sheets and pawing over Brian’s head as he pulls back to kitten-lick around the head of your dick.

It’s almost too much, too intense, and luckily Brian seems to figure that out on his own because you’re pretty sure you’ve lost the ability to speak. He moves away from your dick for a moment, moving down further to lick around your core. It’s messy and sloppy wet but you only realize what Brian is doing when you see him suck a finger into mouth to wet it, before bringing it towards your entrance.

“This okay?” he asks, rubbing along the outside for now. “I don’t have lube, and I don’t want to hurt you…”

“‘s fine,” you manage to get out and then Brian is pressing his finger inside of you. You whine as he starts to move it and you can feel yourself starting to get a little bit wetter with every thrust.

Brian pushes a second finger inside as he leans back down to lick a stripe along the underside of your dick, and the almost-uncomfortable fullness is a welcome contrast to the lightning of pleasure that skitters up your spine as Brian’s mouth reduces you to wordless moans and whines. He’s always been good at this, with his wickedly clever tongue and long fingers moving deep inside you, but it’s so much more now that you’re on T - more sensitive, more overwhelming, physically more of you for him to work over.

“Bri, Bri, Bri-” you moan, and his name and a tug on his hair is the only warning you can give before your orgasm crashes over you. You arch against his mouth and writhe on the bed as he keeps his mouth over your dick, his tongue flicking against the head over and over, his fingers still trying to move inside you even though you’re clenched so tightly around them that it almost hurts.

The whole thing is almost painful but in the best way possible, pleasure racing through your entire body, your dick and core throbbing as overstimulation sets in. Your loud moans turn into high-pitched whines that cause your voice to crack and you don’t know if you want to tell Brian to stop or keeping going forever because it’s too much and you’re in ecstasy but god, it’s too much-

When Brian finally moves away all you can do is lie underneath him and try to catch your breath, even as your dick still twitches with the final aftershocks of your orgasm. You came so hard that you’re nearly crying, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and your brain so scrambled that you don’t know if you want to laugh or sob but you’re boneless and riding high on endorphins as Brian kneels over you, one hand quickly stripping his cock.

“I can-” you mumble, trying to reach down to help him with a hand that doesn’t quite want to cooperate with you, but Brian uses his free hand to pin yours down, lacing your fingers together.

“Next time. ‘m not gonna last long,” Brian admits. “Fuck, you’re amazing, Y/N, do you have any idea what you look like now?”

“I’d look better with your cum on me,” you say, and where that came from you have no clue - some deep part of your sex-fried brain dredging up that idea without any conscious involvement from you. You can barely even speak and the words come out more as a mumble than anything remotely sexy, but it’s still enough for Brian to groan loudly and fall over the edge of his own climax.

His cum hits your chest, covering your scars and landing across your belly, and it’s a little gross but it’s also a little hot. It’s not something Brian ever did to you before and with how easy it was to fall back into having sex with him after all these years, there’s a part of you that lights up in happiness at finding something new to it all - even something as unexpected as this.

Brian collapses next to you on the bed, also panting heavily, and it’s quiet in the room for several long moments. “I need a shower,” you eventually mumble to break the silence. “Before this dries in my body hair.”

Brian snorts. He has one hand flung over his face as he catches his breath, but he moves it as he rolls over onto his side to look at you. “Sorry about that. I can get you a washcloth-”

“I can get it myself,” you say, though you’re not actually sure that your legs are working yet. “Especially since I didn’t even get you off myself.”

“Didn’t need you to,” Brian says. “Seeing you fall apart like that nearly did me in completely.”

“Still.” You don’t like not reciprocating for your partners, even if Brian doesn’t care. “I’ll blow you in the morning to make up for it.”

That gets Brian laughing, and he stands up and stretches out. “Well, I’m not gonna say no to that,” he says as he walks into the bathroom. You listen as he wets a washcloth in the sink, and when he emerges you motion for him to throw it to you so you can take care of the mess yourself.

He does, and as you wipe yourself down you ask, “What time do you have to leave in the morning?”

“Not that early. Noon, one o’clock - somewhere around there,” Brian says as he lies back down on the bed. “Think it’s only a two hour drive over to Providence.”

“Mm, that sounds about right, yeah.” You toss the washcloth aside and flop back down with a comfortable sigh. You look over at Brian, who’s propped up on one elbow so he can face you properly, and you grin. “If we run out for lube and condoms in the morning, you can fuck me properly before you go.”

You’re expecting Brian to laugh and he sort of does. There’s a small huff of amusement from him, but there’s also a furrow starting to form between his brows that makes you a little worried. But before you can ask if everything is alright, Brian says, “I have a better idea. Come to Providence with me.”

Out of everything that Brian could have said, you never would have expected that. “What?” you say with a small laugh. “Brian, I can’t!”

“Why not?” Brian asks. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“Well, no,” you admit. You knew that you weren’t going to be in any shape to go into work in the morning after the concert, so you had taken the day off to give yourself a proper long weekend.

“Then come to Providence,” Brian says again. “Come to the show tomorrow night, and then we’ll drop you off in New Haven on our way back through on Saturday.”

It’s a tempting thought, and you’re a little scared by how much you want to say yes. You sit up, scrubbing a hand over your face with a small sigh. “Brian, I…”

Brian sits up as well and keeps a respectable distance between the two of you - and that helps, knowing that the two of you can have a serious conversation about this even though you’re both sitting in bed together. “You’re thinking too hard, Y/N,” he says softly. “What’s on your mind?”

“That I’m not in my 20s and I can’t go on tour with a rock band on a whim anymore,” you say. “And that I don’t care, and I want to go anyway. And I’m-" And you decide, to hell with it, you can't keep dancing around this any longer. "I’m worried about you, Brian. You get this sad look in your eyes, sometimes, that scares me a little to see. And I’m trying to figure out if sticking around for longer will make things better, or if postponing our goodbyes will just make everything worse in the end.”

Brian doesn’t say anything immediately. You glance at him, a bit nervous, worried that your honesty may have been crossing the line - but Brian doesn’t look upset or angry, merely thoughtful, and you stay quiet to give him the space he needs to think over his response.

“After Freddie… passed,” Brian says slowly, “I didn’t want anything to do with Queen. It hurt too much and I just wanted to move on. And this new band, and this tour… None of it is like Queen was, and when we first set out that’s exactly what I needed. But seeing you again… having that bit of the past come back to life… It’s made me realize that I think I’m ready to face Queen again. The band may be over but it’ll always be a part of my life, and I think I’m alright with that now.”

He smiles at you and it’s small but completely genuine, and there’s no hint of sadness in his eyes as he says, “I want you to come to Providence because I’ve missed you. I liked having you backstage, and I liked performing knowing that you were waiting for me at the end of it all like you always did before. But if you don’t want to come with me, you don’t have to. I’ll still visit at the end of the US tour leg, if that offer still stands.”

“Of course it still stands,” you say, because that’s the easiest part of Brian’s response to address.

This isn’t 1978 and you aren’t 29 anymore, and maybe you shouldn’t run off with a rockstar for the weekend. But this is Brian, and despite the years that have passed and the ways in which both of you are now different, maybe not everything has to change.

“Is it going to be a problem with the band if I tag along?” you ask.

Brian’s smile brightens a little. “Nah, the band’s not going to mind - and I won’t let the roadies say anything about it, even if they want to.”

That doesn’t mean it won’t be risky, and it’s definitely more than a little impulsive - but there’s a familiarity in the spontaneity, a flashback to years past when you never hesitated to put your life on hold to follow Brian on the road. And you find yourself starting to grin a little as well at the idea of having that again, even if it’s only for a day or two.

“Alright then. Yeah, I’ll go to Providence with you,” you say and Brian, laughing and grinning madly, leans forward to kiss you in delight.

[fangirl-ramblings]

Their First Time [18+]

📷 Picture by @the-neigh-sayer 

Pairing: John Marston x Lilly Mae James ( @lilly-and-alice  )

Summary: Lilly has been running with the Van der Linde Gang for a while. During that time, her relationship with John has been hard to define. Practically the same age as each other, a rocky friendship of sorts has developed between them; which has not been helped by John's seeming indifference towards her in the beginning.

That all changed a few nights previously when John took the opportunity to kiss Lilly

Notes: Self indulgent Smut [NSFW - 18+] | (Barely) Friends to Lovers | First Time | The opposite of a slow burn fic | Wham Bam Thank You Ma’am | Pre-Canon | Pre- John x Abigail 

I'm gifting this story my wonderful friend, the lovely @gangofgunslingers​ for her birthday as a huge thank you for being one of John x Lilly's biggest fans and constantly inspiring & motivating me (and wanting to kick my ass) to try finish all my stories. (But most importantly - it’s because ilysm and I hope you have a wonderful day 😘😘😘)

Also huge thank you to @sad-sweet-cowboah​ & @verai-marcel​ who took the time beta read this story and give me some excellent advice.

Requested tags: @amina-celestial​ & @cupofhana (If you also want to be tagged in anything I write, or no longer want to be tagged, just send me a message)

Unrequested tags: For my remaining John hoes @theunholyoutlaw @the-neigh-sayer & @redeadepression (because we need more John content in our lives - even if it is my poor attempt at something)

~* Tumblr Masterlist | Stories on AO3 *~

     “Hey sugar, you look like you’re having a fine old time tonight.”

     “Why thank you, kind sir,” Lilly slurred, smiling at the stranger who spoke to her. “I am having a fine old time tonight! For, indeed, it is my birthday and I am celebrating with my friend!” She gestured wildly to where she last saw John, who had been talking to the barkeeper. A look of confusion crossed her face as she struggled to find him in the sea of people that had suddenly developed around the bar.

     “Well a very happy birthday to you Miss, but it looks like your so-called 'friend' has upped and left you.” The stranger leaned in, whispering in her ear, as he placed a firm hand on her backside. “How about we go someplace private and celebrate together instead?”

Looking down towards his hand, it took a few seconds for Lilly to realise what the man was implying to her. “Erm, no thank you,” she replied, grabbing the man’s wrist and removing it from her person, before looking around the packed saloon, yelling "Marston? Where you at, you damned fool?"

While she was distracted, she felt a sharp tug at her own wrist. The man had grabbed hold and was now pulling her towards the door. “Oh, I wasn’t asking sweetheart, now move yourself!” he barked at her.

Anger spiked immediately and Lilly was quick to attempt to remove herself from the situation. She swiftly grabbed an empty beer bottle from a nearby table and raised it high. However, before she had a chance to smash it over the man's head, she felt another arm wrap tightly around her waist, pulling her from her pursuer’s grasp. 

“Hey! You got a problem with my lady?” A raspy voice asked, appearing from seemingly nowhere. Lilly glanced at the familiar face that was now beside her, pulling her ever closer to him.

     “Your lady?” Both Lilly and her antagoniser questioned, looking John up and down.

     “As if she'd even look twice at you, ya greasy streak of piss. You can’t be much older than 18, if that!” The older man snarled as he cast his eye over young Marston, who now had his hand upon the revolver resting in his gun belt.  “No,  what she really needs is a real man, not a jumped up little boy who thinks he’s playin’ Cowboys & Injuns.”

Lilly closed her eyes, envisioning John's anger over those comments. She waited for the quick firing of bullets she knew he was capable of. However, she was surprised to hear nothing but silence. As she tentatively reopened her eyes, she looked down to find both of John’s hands firmly on her waist, pulling her against him, before gently placing his lips against hers in such a tender way that she didn't realise John Marston was actually capable of.

Not knowing whether it was the drink or the kiss that was making her feel intoxicated, she allowed herself to reply by allowing the tip of her tongue to brush against his whiskey stained lips, practically insisting that he should let her in.

The kiss itself was over within seconds, but it seemed to the pair of them that time had stood still, igniting something deep in both of them, something they had tried so hard to previously ignore and now would change their friendship forever.

Breaking away from each other to catch their breath, Lilly and John placed their foreheads against each other's. They took a brief moment to stare into each other's eyes, attempting to make sense of what was happening between them.

     "Thanks for saving me,” she breathlessly whispered, noticing out the corner of her eye that the man had moved to the other side of the bar to try his luck with some other poor, unsuspecting girl. “But did you really need to kiss me to prove a point?”

     “It was either that or shoot him, and Dutch did ask us to stay outta trouble, so...” he replied, with a smirk plastered on his face, his hands still holding onto her hips. “Anyways, did you need to try and stick your tongue down my throat?” 

Not knowing whether she was caught up in the moment, felt embarrassed by his comment, or just flushed from the effects of the alcohol, Lilly found herself breaking away from the embrace and headed towards the door. "I think...I think I need some fresh air."

***

Lilly stumbled through the swinging doors, stopping for a moment to breathe in and savour the freshness of the night air. Taking a deep breath, she made her way down the small dirt path at the side of the saloon. Placing her back against the wooden wall and closing her eyes, she tried to make sense of everything: Could it be that she truly enjoyed this kiss, and the one they shared a few nights ago? Were the butterflies that appeared in her stomach at his mere touch a new feeling, or was it something she'd unconsciously tried to repress? Maybe these feelings had gone on even longer than she originally thought. She was always disappointed to find John had left camp without her and she couldn't deny that her heart leaped with joy every time he returned.

The sound of John's raspy laugh brought her back out of her daydream.

     “So you finished celebratin' your birthday yet?” he asked, leaning against the side of the saloon with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He casually struck a match against the wall to light it.

     “For now at least,” she replied, leaning in the empty space next to him. Pausing for a second she turned to face him, “Hey can I ask you something?”

     “Sure, what about?” He replied, staring straight ahead, outstretching his hand to offer her his cigarette.

     “What is this?" Lilly questioned, taking a drag before handing it back to him.

     "It's a cigarette." John teased, though it was clear he knew full well what she truly meant.

     "No dumbass! What is *this* happening between us?” she gestured, waving her hands wildly in the empty space in between them. 

     “I thought that was obvious,” he chuckled, exhaling a puff of smoke in that calm, collected manner of his. 

     Struggling to take her eyes off him, Lilly leaned back, resting her head against the woodwork. “It's just...well...I've been running with you guys for a while now, and you hardly ever used to speak to me and all of a sudden, you keep kissing me?”

     "What? You don't like me kissin' ya?"

     "Well yeah, I do like it. But..." Before she could finish her sentence, John had flicked his cigarette to the floor. He moved quickly to face her, one hand resting next to her head on the wall, the other one back on her hip. His thumb began to rub circles on a patch of exposed skin, and he pulled her body closer to him.

     "But what?" He whispered into her ear; his breath so close she could practically taste the whiskey and tobacco.

Staring into his eyes, Lilly no longer had the words to answer him. She instead leaned forward to kiss him, her tongue prodding through his already parted lips. John took the opportunity to suck gently on her tongue as one hand moved to palm her breast. His other hand moved gently over her body, feeling every curve and groaning as he watched her succumb to his touch. 

He smirked, immensely enjoying the soft moans that escaped from her mouth into his. Her hips rolled subconsciously against him, grinding against his growing erection. Her jeans soon felt loosened as he unbuckled them. She groaned into his ear as he slid his hand in and moved a finger along her already wet folds.

     "Nice to see I have this effect on you." he smirked. He observed her expression as he thumbed her sensitive nub before moving a finger inside of her core.

Burying her head against his shoulder as she arched her hips to his touch, Lilly couldn't help but cry out a breathless, "Oh…God." 

Holding Lilly's jaw with his other hand, he rasped into her ear, "You never struck me as being so needy for my touch," he brushed a thumb against her lips, which she eagerly took into her mouth. "Yet here you are, takin’ everything I'm givin’ you."

Lilly nodded, finding herself unable to speak. Her face contorted with pleasure as he quickened his pace with his other hand, curling his fingers against her sweet spot. Grabbing a tight hold of his arm, Lilly dug her nails in as the crest of her first wave quickly built up and washed over her.

As she eased down from her high, John moved his hand away, prompting her to whine from the loss of contact. She caught her breath and watched in anticipation as John started to unbuckle his own trousers. His rock hard erection sprang free and he moved his hand over the shaft, coating it with a mix of her slick and his own precum.

With John helping her out of her jeans, Lilly was not used to the strange sensation of the cool night air nip at her exposed flesh. The heat of her core quickly returned upon catching the pure lust in John’s eyes, him staring at her as if she were the most gorgeous being he’d ever set his sights on.

Moving in closer to her, he carefully positioned himself at her entrance. "You ready for me?" he asked. 

Nodding sheepishly, Lilly pulled him into a short and sweet kiss, gingerly placing her hands on his shoulders. John eased her up against the wall and placed a hand on her thigh, lifting her leg up to rest on his waist. He slowly pushed into her, watching her face for any signs of discomfort. As her body grew accustomed to him, he began to thrust at a steady pace. Her hands moved to his backside, pushing him closer and deeper within her with each thrust. 

John firmly placed his hand under her chin, pulling her mouth closer to his own. Her hot breath breezed against his cheek as she moaned, her body tingling in pleasure from how deep he’d reached inside her. Nipping at her bottom lip, Lilly couldn't help but groan his name into his mouth. Her hands moved under his shirt to claw at his back.

     “Feelin’ okay?” John whispered, his nimble fingers unlacing her blouse. With her breasts exposed to his hungry gaze, he brought his mouth against her supple flesh. His tongue and teeth toyed and grazed against her hardened nipple, only heightening her ecstasy.

     “Mmm...better than...okay….I…..I…..” Unable to finish the sentence, Lilly’s body began to shake and tighten around him, tugging at his hair as she attempted to keep herself quiet. With another climax on the rise, John quickly moved to muffle her screams by covering her mouth with his hand. He continued to thrust deep into her, helping her ride out the ever heightening wave of pleasure.

He wasn’t too far behind, only short moments passing before he quickly pulled out and spilt himself onto the floor. He panted heavily and leaned his head against her shoulder, the night air filled with their breathless sighs.

     Lilly was the first to speak, "Wow!" she exclaimed, simply at a loss for other words. She leaned against the wall, dragging her tired fingers through his hair.

John placed soft kisses along her collarbone before he tucked himself back into his trousers. A small look of concern crossed his face, and he muttered, "Sorry."

     "For what?"

    "I practically forced myself on you just then...but it's just…I've wanted you ever since I first laid eyes on you."

Lilly smiled at him, grabbing her jeans to pull them back on. "You didn't force yourself on me. I kissed you this time, remember?" As she laced her blouse back up, she noted the look of confusion John had etched across his face. A giggle escaped her. "I obviously wanted it too. It just took me a bit longer to realise my feelings towards you." 

Her reassurance seemed to do the trick as a smile appeared on John’s lips. “I’m glad to hear you say that, didn’t want you thinkin’ that this had to be a one off” 

Placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, she linked his arm and walked back with him onto the main street. "Come on, I think I’m done with my birthday drinks. But what say we continue celebrating over at the hotel?"

[sketchguk]

Couldn't you write your smut without touching people's religion? If it wasn't Christianity you would disrespect like that but another religions the whole tumblr would be jumping on that. The hypocrisy.

I’m so sorry my response is so long, but I think it’s important we discuss!!

Hey! My main purpose of TKAA wasn’t to disrespect anyone :( I’m incredibly sorry if it came across that way. It’s a self indulgent fic, I realize, but when writing this, I wanted the themes to reflect my own personal struggle with religion. And as the author, I’m writing a fictional story from my experience. I wanted to write about the struggles of growing up in a religious household. I come from a Buddhist background, but I also spent some time in church and in youth group. I even read the Bible as a child because sometimes, it’d be the only reading material I’d have around as my dad has a ton of books about both Buddhism and Christianity in the house. I’d pray almost every night because it just felt right, even if I had nothing to pray for. Sometimes I’d have chats with God before bed because it was a way for me to relieve stress. To talk about things I can’t tell anyone else in hopes of some miracle.

Some people might say, “Oh? She goes to church? She prays? She reads the holy scripture? Well I guess she’s Christian.” And I sort of believed that for a while too. For the longest time, even I denounced pre-marital sex. From a young age, I had this idea drilled into my head that I’d have a giant scarlet red letter etched onto me if I were to ever indulge in lustful sin. I wanted to wear a white dress at my wedding, and if I had sex, I’d be forced to wear a cream one instead, and everyone would know. Virginity is such a social construct btw, nobody would know if you are a virgin just by looking at you. And I soon learned that being Christian isn’t just about the practice of the act. It’s about the principles and the foundations of being a good person. Maybe I figured that out when my pastor was forced to leave the church for cheating on his wife. It was such a shock to me, and it really made me rethink to put my faith elsewhere. If I couldn’t look up to the person who was guiding me, who could I trust?

What it means to be a Christian is different for everyone. There’s a lot more to religion that I’m probably not aware of, and I know I’m not the most educated person in regards to Christianity, I fully acknowledge this. But this story is based off of how it felt for me to teeter between a mindset of my own, and one that’s crafted for me by the adults around me.

Today, I’ve come to learn that sex is a very healthy activity so long it’s done safely. And that’s all that matters to me when people come to tell me about their endeavors. I’m not a judgmental person who’s fixated on the fact that “You’re supposed to be religious, so you should be punished for this. How could you possibly turn against your faith??” This might even apply to other religions as well, but I’m not the most educated in the matter. There are definitely irl cases in which my friends, who come from all different walks of life, experience the “falling” of faith as a child, an adolescent, and even in our adult life, I see it all the time. And a few of these cases stem from being put into the church, or the temple, or the synagogue as a child without choice. My parents took me to the temple, and they took me to church at the very beginning because I wasn’t allowed to stay home by myself. And therefore, I was exposed to religion without fully knowing what it meant to me. But when I grew older, I was allowed to make my own choices. So I stopped going to both places of worship.

I’m not trying to make this all about me though. I imagine this is a bit of a universal feeling. Maybe not everyone has experienced it, and maybe not everyone is religious. But maybe the thought of “what does religion mean to me?” has come across our minds. This is not about me “losing” my faith now that I’m an adult. It’s more of a rediscovery of how I see religion and how I choose to identify with it.

I identify as an agnostic atheist. My views on pre-marital sex have shifted since then. Perhaps this is a TMI because nobody asked about me in particular, but this is how I view pre-marital sex now (and by no means do you have to agree). I still think sex is a very sacred thing, but it’s something that I would want to partake in with someone I love and trust. With someone who is special to me, and whom I know I will not regret doing it with, even if I’m not married. And the characters of TKAA, although it may not be explicit, they’re also young adults who were birthed from a house of religion. The conflict of the story revolves around them sneaking around OC’s parents because they know it’s “inherently wrong” to do it. But just like me, and other young adults around the world, they’re figuring out how sex fits into a lifestyle like theirs, one in which they’re heavily involved in a faith that stigmatizes sex. They’re childhood friends, and even if they’ve never admitted it to one another, they’re very much in love.

Also, I’d like to mention that this story is based off of Fall Out Boy’s song “The Kids Aren’t Alright.” I love this song with all my heart because it resonates with me. For me, it’s a song for when I’m quite literally not feeling alright. It’s a song that tells me it’s okay to be down, to be hurt, and I don’t have to pretend. Most people might turn to religion, but for me, I seek solace in my best friend and in my partner. When the world is against me, including religion and my own mindset towards it, I can go to them for comfort. And that was the plan for the TKAA couple.

I mentioned from the very beginning that this story would be risqué because I would have expected criticism! It’s a sore subject, and it’s not meant for everyone. But it’s a story I wanted to tell because it was meant for me and everyone else who struggles. I mean no disrespect with this story towards Christianity or towards any other religion. And maybe there’s some truth to what you have to say. I’m not sure how the Tumblr community would react if this was written about another religion. I think they ought to keep in mind that this is just fanfiction.

Obviously I didn’t know that this fic would head anywhere. It was the 3rd fanfic I had ever written and published in my life. I literally fulfilled a request for a fwb!jk in 4 days. But I wanted the story to be meaningful to me, so that’s why I divulged into a religious theme. I got praise about the smut and I feel like that’s what most people got lost in. I would have too, but behind the story, there’s substance to it that not everyone realizes :( and maybe I should have done a better job at portraying it, please forgive me for that. I obviously couldn’t fit all that I wanted to in merely 10k words. But I want readers to interpret the story for themselves and to draw their own conclusions. To have discussions about this because it’s helpful to me and to the community to air out how they feel. You don’t always have to agree with my POV, but stories are a great way to make real life connections, even if this is fictional.

And let me tell ya, TKAA is a work of fiction with real life problems that I, the author, have faced.

Please let me know if I didn’t address anything :( maybe I missed the point lol sorry but this was basically my purpose for writing TKAA. The public perception of it isn’t in my control when my intentions were to write for me, as all of my writing is. Some users have asked that I write a sequel, but I have no idea honestly. I don’t even know how I could go about that. If anything, I think a prequel would be more appropriate in which I discuss all of these thoughts. And I really don’t mean to come across as offensive or hypocritical, that’s the furthest thing I want to do, but I can’t express how sorry I am if I did.