Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader || Smexcerpt
Plot: You're nothing but sweet to Bo, and he's so damn mean! When you offer to wash him, its no different.
... "Come on, Bo. You're filthy."
... "Shower's nice and warm, Bo, come on. Don't be grumpy, please?"
... "Just relax, Bo,.. "
Warnings: Smut. Shower sex and Degradation. Age difference relationship (Mean older man (36 y/o) / Soft younger AFAB person (Early 20's)). A tiny little bit of daddy kink, and a creampie. Wrap it before you tap it folks, don't be like Bo. (Unedited)
When Bo finally gave in and joined you in the shower, chucking his hat off and to the corner of the bathroom last and giving a simultaneous frustrated sigh as he slides into the small little cubicle with you, you give a pleased grin. So he's not in that terrible a mood, then. If he was, he never would've listened to you.
"Y'better start washin' the fucken day off me, honey, or I'm kickin your ass outta here."
Your jaw drops, the sponge in your hand two inches away from Bo's chest. "Wh- I started this shower!! I- I was here first!" You sound immature, you know it, but its totally warranted! Pouting, you squeeze the sponge so all the soapy water drenches your hand. He could be so charismatic, but never for you!...
"Yeah, and I'm gonna end it if you don't get to work." There's a ghost of a smirk on his handsome face, now, watching you get all sulky in front of him- and all covered in soap suds and running water, too. It was definitely cheering him up after the day he had. "What? You gonna get all huffy now, darlin'? Y'asked for me to come in here."
"Why are you always so mean to me... I'm always nice to you!"
"Awww, was I mean?... " The smirk is real, now, as Bo backs you up against the tile wall. When the cold hits your skin you jolt and gasp; leaning in towards Bo's warmth, instead.
Still, you cross your arms and look away from him. "Yes. And you're always so nice to visitors, before you kill them I mean, and I- "
Here he chuckles, shaking his head. "You're so fucken dumb, doll, jesus christ."
"Hey!- "
When Bo's lips crash into yours, wet and tasting of water, you let out a quick gasp- but calm down immediately at the taste of his tongue in your mouth. Dropping the sponge in your fist, you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck; pressing your naked bodies together. This time when he pushes you against the wall, you're so warm and content against him, connected to him, that you don't even wince.
Immediately your pussy is throbbing, soaking wet and aching to be filled up with his cock. That always happens when Bo takes control of you like this- you hate it, you think it betrays you, but what can you do?? Its so hot. Moaning, you turn your nose to the other side of Bo's, adjusting the kiss and letting him deepen it by sucking on your tongue. The hot water from the shower beats down his back, drips off the tips of your fingers, and slides down your thighs.
His hands find your thighs and wrap them around his waist, grinding his half-hard cock against your lovely, slick, plush pussy with a growl. He separates from your poor swollen lips and flashes you a devastating smirk. "You ready for me, little baby?"
Slow on the uptake, head full of steam and Bo, you give another little pout at his words. "I'm not a baby- "
"Yeah you are." With his cock fully hard now, thick and standing tall against his belly, he slips in just half; watching you slap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out. "Hey hey hey, hold on there- " He gets in close to your face, tut tut tut-ing, the feel of his hot breath a little extra in the hot steamy shower. "Don't do that, princess~ Dontcha think Daddy wants to hear every little thing he's doin' to you?" You just look mortified back at him, your hand still over your mouth. Daddy?!? "It'd cheer me up, for sure."
... oh, you think, eyes widening. Well- if it would make Bo happy, then- "O- okay... "
Slowly you take your hand away from your lips, watching Bo's eyes flicker down to your mouth and the little lecherous smirk spread across his. "There you go... "
Then he thrusts all the way into you, filling you up so entirely and riding against your clit your eyes slip up into the back of your head; your skull falling back and thudding gently against the tile wall behind you. "Booo... "
"Heheh, thats right, sweetheart, fuck you're so fucken tight- "
Bo's words race right through you as he pounds your little cunt with his admittedly impressive dick, stroking the tight ball inside you developing into a perfect delicious orgasm. You hold on the best you can though, you try so hard to stay together, you don't wanna cum too fast!, you want this to last-
Your pussy squeezes Bo like a vice as he pummels your clit, the hot shower water coating you both adding a layer of pleasure thats so new and so good. "Bo Bo Bo- "
"I know, sweet thing, I kn- fuck!- " When you squeeze around him hearing him call you 'sweet thing', he cant stand it. He squeezes your hips so tight he'll definitely leave fingertip-shaped bruises behind and presses his full cock deep into you so his pelvis pins yours against the wall.
A hot, fulfilled feeling explodes in your cunt and you let out a guttural moan, rolling your hips against him, riding out both your orgasms.
~
" ... huh, well I guess y'are useful for somethin', huh, baby doll?" Bo tells you a few minutes later, still holding your tired, sleepy form up against the shower wall; keeping you close as long as possible while you're all sweet and tired like this. His foreheads leaning against yours and his hand's on the side of your head, stroking your face lovingly with his thumb.
Your eyes are closed, half-drifting off. " ... sh- shut up... fuck you... asshole... "
Bo gives a grin. "Fuck you too, sweetheart."
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Angsty Bilbo dying Bagginshield art giving me another story idea~ 😂😭💕
But no, seriously? A play on the popular time travel fix-it, but one where Bilbo dies protecting Thorin during the Battle of Five Armies? And Thorin is inconsolable, I can’t even. And he might pull himself together long enough to stabilize Erebor, but there is No Way he can be a good ruler in his grief, so he has to pass it on. (I was going to say to Dain just to twist that knife a little harder, but actually there are reasons hinted below on why Fíli & Kíli must have lived.) And Thorin just… he wanders, probably. A shell of himself for the rest of his days.
And yet, when he inevitably passes away, he awakens on the road to the Shire. And he’s younger. And he’s so confused, quickly suspecting he must be dead and this is nothing like what he was taught to expect. But then his instant impulse to check Bag End has him walking in on that same meeting from so many years ago, his Company intact, the wizard smiling at him, introducing him to… to…
Bilbo. His Bilbo. The sight of him makes Thorin want to weep and hold him and never let go again, but he is instantly terrified to do anything, because is this a dream? Will he wake? What happens if he says something new, will ‘this’ be ruined somehow? He doesn’t want that, doesn’t want to change anything, save for the end. The very end.
But, even as he strives to mimic himself, he knows something is wrong. He’s off-script from the start purely due to his shock, but he tries to recover, get back on track, and within words, he’s managed it. The discussion is righting itself, and no one there could possibly know the difference, right?
And yet, Bilbo stares at him. From the instant Thorin walked in, Bilbo was staring, looking lost. As he had before, that first time, but it wasn’t the same. Bilbo had been confused then as well, but it had been a light, anxious uncertainty then. This time? He was frowning, his expression tense.
His eyes haunted.
Because Bilbo has also lived that night before. Just once as far as that night was concerned, but it was familiar to him. So familiar. That first night had haunted him for decades, to the very end of his long, long life, when he thought he might know rest, and perhaps — if he was truly as lucky as some once claimed — he might get to see his friends again. See Thorin again.
Instead he had slept, drifted away, and awoken to a battle about to start.
And he had questioned it, had stumbled that first time, but he adjusted. He tried to save Thorin. To save them all.
And he failed. Again.
Then, when he finally slept for the first time afterwards, he awoke to the battle starting again.
And again.
And he tried, over and over, day after the same horrid day to find a way to get through. And sometimes Thorin lived. Sometimes the princes did. Sometimes, new people died. The wrong people.
Once, in his darkest moments, he thought that perhaps someone was trying to teach him humility, teach him to accept fate as it was and not try to fight it, not change anything. And so he went through the motions as well as he could remember them after all those years, following them to the letter, save for when he sobbed all the harder when it was done.
He sobbed again, the relief bone-deep, when he awoke again the next day, the battle still awaiting him.
He lost count of his attempts, and no one could rightly vouch for his state of mind when he finally resorted to the one thing he had refused to try: Not since that fourth (or fifth?) time, when he managed to be there for the fight and threw himself in Azog’s way, but Thorin pulled him out of the way, and screamed at him with such outrage and fear and despair in the few beats he bought by pushing Azog over, that Bilbo never attempted it again.
Until that final day. And that time, Bilbo didn’t give Thorin a chance to stop him.
And it broke a heart Bilbo thought long since shattered to hear Thorin scream, to feel him pick him up and hold him close and hear his voice like that. But the words faded soon enough, and he couldn’t feel anything, nothing except for regret and acceptance, because this was different. He felt it. This time, he would not awaken again, and that was fine. He had saved his king, kept all of his dwarves safe that last time. If that was to be the last, then that was all he could ask for. It was alright. He could sleep.
Then he woke up.
Not outside Erebor, but inside a hole. His hole. Bag End.
He walked outside, stood in the sun, and watched a wizard walk up the road to his door.
He did not understand.
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