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beardedjoel · 7 months

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pretty little wife | meet cute, part 1

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | ✨kofi ✨ summary: 8.3k words; you didn't feel like going out for your friends birthday that night, but it turned out fate had very different plans for you. or a flashback to the night joel and pretty wife met. warnings: 18+ MDNI! no apocalypse au, relationship not established here like the other chapters, unprotected piv, public sex, rough sex, sub/dom relationship, dirty talk, pet names for reader, alcohol consumption a/n: this was getting super long and has been so much fun to write so i'm splitting it into two parts to also show their first date! i'm actually so obsessed with them its getting delusional and not even funny anymore but i digress

You hadn’t particularly wanted to go out tonight, but it was your friend Hanna’s birthday and her soft, doe-like eyes when she’d begged you to come had you giving in quickly. Sure, you had what felt like a million things to study for, homework piling up, but the more you thought about it, the better a night out sounded.

She’d picked a relatively nondescript dive bar as her venue of choice, saying that it had cheap drinks, and seeing as it was her 21st birthday, she wanted to get drunk for as little money as possible.

You and about ten other girls file into the bar, immediately having what feels like every set of eyes in the room on you all. You’d bet it’s not every day that an overdressed, loud group of young twenty-something’s walks into this place ready to get plastered.

You all crowd around a few tables, pushing them together, and Hanna spots a jukebox, excitedly gushing over the way she’s going to put on all of her favorite songs later and dance when she gets drunk enough.

After your first cocktail, you’re already having so much fun that you wonder why you even had any doubts about coming out tonight. You laugh hard at something one of your friends, Rachel, says and your face falls immediately as your attention catches on something across the room. Not something, but someone.

A man, who you’d guess is somewhere in his forties or fifties from the looks of it, is sitting with his own group. Even in the darkened shadows of the room, you’re mesmerized - he has a grumpy smile on his face as he chats with the person next to him. He runs a hand through grown out, dark curls and you can see the top half of his body above the bar top, muscled and broad and so inviting.

You force yourself to blink, about to look away, when you see his eyes catch on yours. You feel your heart sink, hoping he didn’t catch you staring so intently, but swear he gives you a little wink before turning back to his beer that he’s nursing in one hand. Your insides flutter at the gesture, hoping your delusional self didn’t just imagine him sending that wink your way.

You feel your stomach twist, and realize that despite how attractive you think he is, you’re typically way too shy to make the first move, so it’s unlikely much will come of this newfound attraction. You couldn’t help but continue to glance at him while you chat with your friends for the next hour, drinking in his mannerisms and ruggedly good looks, wishing you could hear what he was saying across this crowded, noisy room.

You’d never felt like this before upon simply seeing someone, and it made your brain buzz more than the alcohol was, a steady little humming in the back of your mind. In fact, you hadn’t had more than a cocktail at this point, and were actively trying to blame this crazy feeling you were having on anything other than the handsome stranger you just couldn’t seem to stop staring at.

You decide maybe another drink would help, so you break off from your friends to go up to the bar and order something.

You’re looking over the list of cocktails on a concerningly sticky laminated menu, scrunching your face up in disgust. You knew this place was divey, but their list of cocktails is downright depressing. Your first one hadn’t been very good, either, so you decide to change directions and order a beer instead.

You glance around the room as you wait to catch the busy bartender’s attention while they flit around, taking orders and making beverages. Your eyes widen a bit as they land on Handsome Stranger, who is now openly meeting your gaze without shame.

You try to avert your eyes out of pure embarrassment, but you keep yourself staring for a moment too long before nervously chewing your lip and gazing down at the bar, pretending to be overly interested in the menu again.

When you gather the courage to glance back up at where he was sitting, Handsome Stranger is gone, and you survey the area in a tiny panic, swinging your head to the side only to see him curving around the edge of the bar and walking straight towards you.

He’s coming over. Oh god.

He settles himself against the bar right next to you and clears his throat a little, cocking his head.

“Hi, there,” he says, and your jaw nearly drops at the husky, rasping accented voice that drips off his tongue like one of the sweetest sounds your ears have ever heard. You actively fight a shudder that wants to wrack your body, thinking of what that deep rumble would sound like against your neck, your lips, your everywhere.

You give him a nervous chuckle and swallow hard, hoping he doesn’t notice. “Hey,” you reply, wishing you suddenly felt less shy under his dark, brooding gaze. You suddenly are overly aware of how loud the room is, a myriad of classic rock, pop, rap, and everything in between blaring through the speakers from the jukebox the entire night. The realization hits you that you two may have to get closer to hear each other coherently and your stomach twists a little in anticipation.

“Listen, I don’t usually do-“ he starts, but you can’t catch what he’s saying over the noise, so you scrunch your brows together and cup your ear in his direction.

“What’s that?” You feel like you practically yell the words to him, your cheeks heating as he starts to lean closer. His face is merely inches from yours now, his mouth angled towards your ear. You get a better look at his face now, his dark, wiry beard with a few graying patches, and some deeper set lines in his face surrounded by speckled, tan skin. He’s rugged and handsome and everything that turns you on personified. It’s actually insane, now that you think about it, to see someone so seemingly perfectly made for you looks-wise, let alone have them interested in talking to you.

“I said…” the man says, clearing his throat again. “I don’t usually do this kinda thing, but…” he trails off, studying your face for a few moments. You watch on intently, already enraptured by his words, not even able to form a follow up to prompt him to continue speaking.

“But you’re so damn beautiful I had to say somethin’ to ya before you snuck away,” he says. His voice hits deep in your core now that it’s closer, sending you belly swirling in a sickly addictive feeling, one that you already know will be hard to shake tonight. You blink hard, wondering if he’d managed to speak to the wrong girl, but he’s looking right into your eyes without an ounce of doubt hidden behind those dark irises.

“I… don’t know about that…” you mumble, but he cocks his head further, brows knitted together.

“Would never say somethin’ like that if I wasn’t telling the truth,” he replies a bit more seriously. You bite your lip and decide that maybe you do trust him - that this handsome, mystery man really does have eyes for you in a bar full of attractive women.

“Well, thank you,” you say, puffing your chest up a bit with a smile. “You’re not too bad looking yourself,” you add on, finally feeling a bit of your icy shyness melting away.

He chuckles lightly, rubbing a nervous hand behind his neck, leaving a red mark in its wake. “Would you have a drink with me?”

You lick your lips and then bite the bottom one, contemplating. You don’t fail to notice Joel’s eyes flick down to that exact spot, then to your throat where you swallow again.

“I’d like that.”

“Somewhere quieter?” he calls out towards your ear, and you nod enthusiastically. He orders you two drinks, shooting an eyebrow up when you request a beer as well, and leads you to a small, cozy booth off to the side where there at the least aren’t speakers directly over your heads.

“Now,” he rumbles out, folding his hands on top of the table “What’s a girl like you doin’ here?” he asks as you slide into the seat across from him and settle in.

You breathe an amused laugh through your nose. “My friends,” you say, motioning with a thumb over your shoulder in their direction, where they’re seemingly still having a great time together, a fit of giggles as they all sip their drinks. “One friend wanted the divey experience tonight for her birthday, I guess. Cheap drinks.”

Handsome Stranger’s eyes flick past you to your friends, and you see a flash of recognition as he processes Hanna’s extremely gaudy 21st birthday sash. You can see the gears turning, see him putting the pieces together as his lips part from the tight line they’d been settled in.

“Hmm,” he grumbles, eyes back on you and seeming to consider you for a moment, taking in your face and making you feel your body temperature suddenly rising. You want to tug on your collar, do something to alleviate it, but can’t give him the satisfaction.

“Shit,” you mumble under your breath, breaking completely under his stare. “I- I’ll be twenty two soon, so… I’m not…” you trail off, losing all conviction in whatever message you were trying to convey. Handsome Stranger has been too quiet, too guarded regarding this new information, and you feel your stomach turn nervously.

“Did I just mess this up?” you blurt out, your face betraying you completely and contorting into a worried expression. He gives you a tired sounding chuckle, running a hand through his beard then back around to his neck.

“No, darlin’, sorry. I - I don’t have a problem with it. Jus’ needed a second. You look… a bit older, so I was surprised, I guess.”

Your shoulders sag in relief - you hadn’t expected to be so devastated at the prospect of losing your new acquaintance’s attention so quickly, and only because of your age. You’d always been interested in older men, and had even been on a few dates with some, but nobody that pulled you in immediately like the stunningly gorgeous man sitting in front of you now.

You lower your eyes to your lap, wringing your hands together. “You don’t have to be nice, I understand if you’re not interested. I’ve ended up being too young for a lot of guys I’ve talked to.”

“You’re talkin’ to a lot of guys my age, are you?”

Your eyes shoot back up to him, finding a new confidence that he’s still flirting with you. You shrug casually, fluttering your lashes a bit as you smirk. “Maybe, maybe not.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, frowning. “I gotta say, I don’t think I like that.”

You lean forward on the table, folding your arms in front of you as you rest your forearms down to support yourself. You stare into his dark yet warm eyes and try your best to cock an intimidating eyebrow.

“And why is that?” you ask, upping your voice an octave, trying to sound more innocent.

Handsome Stranger takes a deep breath, sighing and mirroring you by leaning himself closer to you. You can inspect him even closer now, smell the beer on him and whatever that musky, manly scent is that he carries with him, something you can already tell will be addictive.

“‘Cause I want you all to myself.”

You stun at his words a little, knowing that your face is giving it away - your confident, fierce facade fading in an instant. You lick your lips nervously, his dark, desirous tone digging deep inside of you, lodging itself in your core and starting another pooling of arousal between your legs. You finally turn your lips up a little, meeting his gaze with a hard stare again while you put your chin in your hands.

“You’ve got me right here, don’t you?”

He seems to like that, breaking the intensity between you two with a small laugh, leaning back and taking a long sip of his beer.

“I’m Joel,” he says, and your smile widens as you consider the name on him, finding it suits him perfectly. It dawns on you that you’d been so absorbed in the conversation you didn’t even realize that you had no clue what his name was, that you may have even been content to fall in love with the man right here tonight and not even know his name.

You tell him your name in return and it gets a genuine grin out of him, like hearing it for the first time was an answer to a question he’d long been asking himself.

“You know, I could ask you the same thing - what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

“Don’t think I look like the kind of guy who spends his nights in a place like this?”

“I mean… sort of…” you say shyly, trying not to laugh nervously. “You come here a lot?”

Joel seems amused by the way he’s getting you to blush and stutter. “Sometimes, with some crew from work. But that‘s what I'd expect, not… someone like you, honey. Ain’t no place for someone like you.”

“Well,” you twist your lips to the side teasingly. “I’m here, whether you like it or not.”

“Or not?” Joel chuckles incredulously. “Think I made it clear I certainly like it.”

You just give him a smug smile and sip from your drink, trying not to make a sour face in front of Joel, who seems to actually be enjoying his beer quite a bit. You’ve never been a big fan of beer, but it’s at least better than those stomach churning cocktails.

“So, here with people from work… what do you do?”

“Contracting. Jus’ started my own company, actually. With my brother.” Joel tells you, and you give him an impressed raise of your eyebrows.

“That’s really cool. Very impressive that you’re the big boss.” You lean in again to show your interest and toss your hair over your shoulder.

Joel’s eyes flash a little darker. “Like hearin’ that name from you,” he chuckles, “Otherwise it’s been a lot of pressure to be the boss, I guess.”

“Is it going well, though?”

Joel nods with a little shrug. “S’okay. Pickin’ up now so we’re doin’ good.”

You give him an encouraging smile, trying to think of what to say next, feeling like a nervous mess around him, wanting him to think you’re interesting and worth his time, not just some young girl with nothing to offer.

“Now what about you? Assume you’re in school?” he asks.

You try not to roll your eyes at the sore subject and breathe out a sigh. “Yeah, I am. I just… I’m not really into it.”

Joel looks on curiously. “Uh-huh. Boring classes?”

“Not even that. I just don’t… like it. I’m so tired of having no clue what I’m doing. I thought about teaching, doing something like that, but I don’t know…” You let out a small sigh. “Sounds entitled or stupid maybe, but I just can’t find my passion there.” You feel your frustration coming out unfairly onto Joel, dropping your hands onto the table with an irritated thud.

“Not at all, sweetheart,” Joel says, laying one of his hands on the table, offering it to you as he slides it over, resting it on top of yours. “Some people ain’t meant for school. I didn’t really have a choice to not go to college, but worked out alright for m’self, right?”

You nod with a thoughtful look, despite barely knowing much of anything about how things worked out for Joel, but you believe him. Or at the least, he sounded happy enough to be owning his own contracting company.

“Thanks,” you say simply, offering him a grateful smile.

Joel leans forward again on the table, not moving his hand from yours, and you feel hot all over. “‘Course. Now how ‘bout I help you find what you’re passionate about, hm?”

An hour and several more drinks later, you’ve moved over to Joel’s side of the booth at his insistence, where he pulled you nearly onto his lap, your thighs crossed over his as your ass is planted in the booth right next to him. A steady arm of his is wrapped around your back and pulling you close to him, stroking relaxed circles as you two chat. You feel perfectly content, buzzed from the alcohol and comfortable in Joel’s embrace, despite this being the first night you’ve even met him Something about him has put you at ease yet excited you, a consistent skittering of electricity across your skin where it connects to his.

You’ve discovered that you have more in common with a man in his mid forties than you might have thought. But along the way you’ve noted enough differences that you two have to keep the conversation balanced, having different interests and perspectives to add into the mix. Your banter has some kind of alluring pull with Joel, never stopping the beautiful flow of chatter and laughter you’ve found together until he leans in on a quieter moment, kissing your cheek and then moving to your neck. You feel your breath hitch at the warmth of his lips, your body stiffening yet going soft for him, breathing out shakily.

“Mm,” you whimper quietly, unsure if he can hear it over the noise of the room.

“Like it when I kiss you here, hm?” he rumbles, moving his lips to your ear where he ghosts his lips over your sensitive earlobe then back down to your neck.

“Uh-huh,” you manage to say, eyes fluttering as you lean further into him. He keeps kissing every sensitive little bit of skin on your neck, trailing down to your collarbone and inward. “Jesus…” you whimper as he suddenly sucks lightly on your neck, testing you.

“I gotta mark you, let everyone know…” he murmurs, sucking another spot not even inches away. You squirm, grinding your ass into the seat as you rub your legs together, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Joel. “You’re mine tonight.”

You feel your cunt clench around nothing, squeezing tightly and wishing some part of him was filling that void, letting you squeeze around it while he practically makes you come just by putting his lips to your neck.

“Mhm… yours…” you mumble, lolling your head back in the throes of your pleasure.

“Taste so good, sweetheart, bet you’re just as sweet everywhere else, too,” Joel says, his tongue flicking along where he’s just sucked harder, testing the waters.

You can only moan quietly, not even daring to think about the other people in the crowded bar who could be witness to your overly raunchy public display. In fact, you find that you barely care, not with the way Joel’s lips feel like heaven every time they touch you, the way he’s making little satisfied noises next to your ear as your body responds to him.

“Joel…” you moan wantonly, starting to go more limp in his hold as he continues teasing you. He slips a hand between your tightly squeezed together thighs, bringing his palm up to cup the outside of your jeans. You know he must feel how warm and damp you are, even through the few layers there - he’s thoroughly teased you to a point where you’re hurting, your cunt aching and pulsing for him, dripping and soaking your panties.

“Christ…” you hear Joel exhale, his breath catching for a moment in his throat. “Fuckin’ soaked for me. Someone needs to get taken care of, doesn’t she?”

You only nod as he palms you harder while he’s speaking, desperate and unable to even find the words. You’re completely undone, trying to come to terms with the fact that Joel is about to ruin any other man for you in just a few short moments together.

“C’mon, then, let’s go,” Joel announces, patting your thigh, urging you to move. You follow him, beckoning you out of your seat with him, grasping your hand as he leads you to the bathroom. Your skin tingles where he holds your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours, and your palms sweat as heat courses through you, settling and pooling deep between your legs.

You two burst through the door, saying a silent thank you that it’s just a single person restroom at this bar - no stalls, no other people to shoo out of the way. Joel slams the door behind you with built up aggression and you hear the lock click.

He’s on you before you can even register that it’s happening, pressing himself close and wrapping one of his large palms around the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. He pulls your head towards his eagerly, crashing his lips into you, not giving you an inch of space with the way he’s tugging your head closer.

You both ravenously clash teeth and tongues and lips until you’re practically breathless. One hand bunches on his shirt, clutching him to you, the other wrapped around his neck, burying itself in the dark hair that curls down. Your bodies draw together over and over, starting a steady grind on each other, barely even registering where one body begins and ends as you both chase pleasure using the other's body.

You moan quietly when you start to feel him against your steadily aching cunt, his erection warm and pressing against his jeans. Your hands shake a little with excitement as you reach in between your bodies to grab him outside the denim, and he groans into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, finally pulling his lips away from yours. He looks down at your swollen, puffy lips, chin red underneath from his scratchy facial hair. He can’t take his eyes off of yours though, so bright and eager for him as your pupils blow out with desire.

“Don’t usually do this either, get random girls into the bathroom with me, swear,” he adds, and you laugh a little against his lips.

“I’m hearing a lot of that from you tonight,” you tease.

“Jus’ the effect a girl like you has on me,” he quips back, and you find your cheeks warming and flushing at his words. Despite having just met him not even a few hours ago, you find that you believe him, that you are someone special to him. This strange connection, this pull you feel towards him has you questioning many things, and especially the fact that you’re fully about to fuck someone in a public restroom - something you’d never have imagined yourself doing.

Until Joel.

He seems more in control now, leaning forward to pepper your face with kisses, catching the corners of your mouth and pulling away just before you can meet his lips again. You pout as he does it for the third time, moving his lips right underneath to your chin, soothing the irritated skin there from his beard hairs. He finally gives in, kissing you with an open mouth, lapping his tongue sensually against yours, while his hands slip down your back and to your ass. You nearly melt, the intense softness of the way his mouth is moving on yours is starting to make you dizzy. You lean closer for support and Joel catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger as soon as he pulls away from the kiss.

“Get on your knees f’me, hm?” he says, studying your expression to read your reaction to his request.

You only consider it for a moment, the hardness of the floor on your knees, the dirtiness of it all, but your body and mind both tug at you, your knees feeling a buzzing, like they need to go down and touch this cold, unrelenting floor for him. You’d never considered yourself a very dominant person in your past relationships, but you’d also never had anyone trying to dominate you.

Not like this, at least. Not with the tone he’s using, the way he’s looking at you like he knows you’ll do it for him, like he knows you want to listen to him. To be good for him.

Your knees bend, settling in front of him as you place your hands on his hips. You lick your lips absentmindedly, thinking about them settling around the cock you can see pressing against his pants. You feel a new flood of arousal at the thought, the way you’d never have considered doing something like this in the bathroom of a bar, but you like this side of you that Joel is bringing out.

“Fuck. Good girl,” he rasps, and you stop, your lips popping open at his words, like something in your brain suddenly clicked into place at what you heard.

“Can you s-say it again,” you ask quietly, reaching up slowly to his belt.

“What? Like being called a good girl, do you?” Joel’s smile curls into something sinister, and he tucks his fingers under your chin, making sure you’re looking up at him from where you kneel. “Jus’ happens I like to fuck good girls, so you’re in luck.”

You can only remind yourself to breathe as his words flood you, douse you in complete and utter arousal on every inch of your body, leaving you speechless. Your skin practically tingles as you wait for his next move, hands frozen on his belt.

“I’ll be good for you,” you whimper when he releases your chin, your head falling down a bit with the sudden loss of his support. Your hands get back to work, and Joel watches with satisfaction, a hand coming down to stroke the back of your head. You nearly find yourself purring like a cat, feeling a rumble of satisfaction deep inside of yourself at the gesture.

“Mm,” Joel says, his eyes narrowing down at you. “Much as I want your mouth on me, we’ve got our whole lives for you to suck my cock, pretty girl, and tonight… I need to fuck you. Like nothin’ I’ve ever needed before in my life.”

Before you can even reply his hands tug you up from the floor and you stumble into his arms, caught by the sheer size and strength of his entire body against you. He swings you as you crash into him, pressing you back against the sink counter. His hands expertly unbutton your black, skintight jeans, unzipping them and starting to shimmy them down over your ass, his lips still attached to yours.

“God damn it, makin’ it hard, ain’t you, with these tight little pants…” he murmurs, moving his full attention to pulling down your jeans, finally getting them to your ankles.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t like my jeans?” you ask innocently as you step out of them, and Joel takes in your black lace panties, wetting his lips at the sight. Joel just growls in response, a resounding yes, bumping you so that your ass hits the counter again.

“Up” A simple command, but you’re too lost in the moment, feeling every inch of his body burning into yours, so you hesitate. “Don’t make me ask again,” he snips, and you feel your insides twist, your cunt clench around nothing inside of your soaked panties at his commandeering tone. You stand on your tip toes and let him help hoist you onto the counter. He steps forward between your legs, his face now level with yours and his hips coming flush with you.

“Look at that… perfect fit,” he comments with a smirk, looking over the way your bodies are coming together, the way his cock will shortly have the perfect angle to slide into your tight hole.

You give him a little giggle. “Perfect…” you echo, smiling as you look between your legs and then back up to his face.

Joel’s thumbs dig under the waistband of your panties, starting to pull them down with the help of you lifting your hips. He holds them up, inspecting the slick, shiny stain you’d left, taking up most of the underwear. He simply shakes his head, fingering the wetness and smirking before balling it up and stuffing it into the back pocket of his jeans.

Amused, you smile dazedly at him and reach out to grab at his arms, pulling him closer. Your fingers dig into his muscled biceps and you bite your lip at how absolutely fucking hot it feels.

“Look at that little pussy, doll, so pretty, ain’t it. Gonna be all mine,” Joel says, peering in between your legs as he works on his belt and zipper. When his cock springs free from his jeans you try to hold back your stunned gasp, but Joel notices it, the way your eyes widen as you breathe in sharply. He’s not just big, he’s thick, and while you have some experience, this is certainly new and uncharted territory for you.

“Hey,” Joel says, pulling you back to reality as he puts both hands on the sides of your face. “I know, but we can go slow if you need. Won’t be upset.”

You’re reeling with so many different thoughts - the rational part of your brain wanting to take Joel up on that offer, but the absolutely batshit crazy for him part of your brain doesn’t care one bit, only wanting him to take you, make you his.

You slowly shake your head, meeting his stare from under your brows. “Don’t…” You wet your lips, pouting them out for him. “Go slow. Fuck me like you mean it, like I know you want to.”

Joel completely breaks, shaking his head and his expression twists into something completely feral, part of him gone to that other side of him, the one you know that needs you just as badly as you need him.

“So fuckin’ obedient. Such a good girl.” You clench at his words, finding your body practically has an involuntary response to hearing his praise, drunk on it and desperate for more. He smirks, pressing himself close, both hands snaking around to the globes of your ass as they sit on the counter and squeezing. He delivers a swift slap to one of them before tugging hard, bringing you flush with his cock now resting at your entrance. You moan and gasp with the pain and pleasure of his palm smacking your flesh but give him a needy look as encouragement.

“Gonna take me like the dirty little slut you are, lettin’ me fuck you in this bathroom,” Joel growls out as he presses forward, the head of his cock bursting into your entrance with one swift push of his hips. You whimper and nod to answer him, completely distracted now.

You can feel yourself clench all over, just the thickness of his head is overwhelming, but he doesn’t stop, just slides into you inch by inch and you swallow hard and try not to tremble too much. You feel his head kissing deep inside of you, and your mind is swimming, wondering how you’re even taking so much of him right now.

“Good girl, that’s right, take it so good…” Joel mumbles, his eyes hazy and dreamy as he feels you tighten and contract around him. He gently kneads where he’s holding onto your ass to try to soothe you.

Your hold on his shoulders reaches a death grip as he starts to move inside of you, slowly at first. You find yourself appreciating that despite telling him to fuck you hard, he’s still being careful at first just in case. You buck your hips forward, pressing him just the tiniest bit deeper. Joel hums a little and chuckles at your insistence.

“That eager, are you?”

“I told you to fuck me like you want to,” you snip back, rolling your hips into his again.

Joel leans forward to bury his face against your neck, sighing. “Gotta stop sayin’ that, darlin’, makin’ me crazy.”

His lips flit down to your chest, where your low cut tank top is askew now, tits half falling out. He palms one of them before pulling your shirt down so that they’re both spilling out.

“Don’t keep these pretty things from me, wanna watch ‘em when I fuck you,” he says, and you smirk, seeing how worked up Joel already is over you. It makes you feel so good, so desired, so unlike any other man you’ve been with before.

He slides his cock into you a little faster, picking up speed with each thrust until you’re sure you can’t take it anymore. You know your face is contorted into a mixture of pleasure and pain, unsure how your body is even accommodating his girth right now, feeling like you’re being split open, your insides completely full of him.

“My god, oh my god,” you mumble breathily, your brows knit in a concentrated look, trying to focus on the pleasure rather than the pain.

“Thas’ it, babydoll, you got this, focus on me,” Joel encourages you, and you try to relax your body, feeling yourself finally adjusting more to his size. “Good girl, take it so good, yeah.”

He looks down to where your bodies meet with a satisfied smile, seeing you stretch over and over as you take his cock repeatedly. He’s starting to hit a heavenly pace now that your body is molding to his, taking him like you were made for it as he starts to jackhammer into you. You moan his name quietly under your breath, holding back as you hear the drone of the muffled music outside the bathroom, reminding you that you’re in a public space.

“Feels good, don’t it?” Joel grunts out as he, “Be a good girl and be loud f’me. I can see you holdin’ back.”

“Feels so good… so big, Joel,” you moan out a little louder,

“Thas’ right, baby, my big cock fits perfectly in this tight little cunt, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, yes,” you nod eagerly, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, anchoring yourself to him while he pounds into you. You’re deliriously accepting all of it through the pain, the kind that’s nearly addicting because your body knows it’s good. You respond heartily to him, squelching, pornographic sounds reverberating in the bathroom as he pumps his length in and out of you.

“Christ, you’re so fuckin’ eager, so fuckin’ wet… c’mere,” Joel says suddenly, pulling out of you and yanking you by the hips off the counter where you land on shaky feet. He spins you and thrusts you against the counter, fumbling slightly as he grabs at your ass cheeks and spreads them apart. One hand slams onto your back as his cock slides between your legs and splits you open again, the sting of the stretch coming right back to you for a moment as you gasp. He pushes down, laying you flat onto the cold countertop, your bare tits pressed against it.

“Up a little, let me see those perfect tits, honey,” Joel says, a hand going to your hair to yank on it, making you arch your back enough to get your chest off of the linoleum. “That’s right, there we go, so fuckin’ pretty,” Joel says, keeping his hand buried in your scalp, your locks gripped tightly in his palm to continue keeping you right where he wants you. You feel your tits bouncing like he wanted, your nipples grazing against the countertop each time he thrusts you forward. The sensitive buds send wave after wave of arousal through you each time they contact the cool surface, and as he lifts your hips slightly you nearly choke as he hits something deep and pleasurable inside of you.

“Oh… oh… n-no it’s too much…” you mumble, feeling like your eyes could start to cross every time you feel him pressing near this part of you, so you flutter them shut.

“Uh-uh. Eyes open, wanna see you lookin’ in this mirror at how pretty y’look right now.” Joel yanks tenderly on your hair, not as hard this time, keeping your attention. You pop your eyes open, and look at yourself, heavy lidded, cloudy, hardly recognizing yourself or anything around you. Only able to feel the way Joel is impaling you with the strangest, most intense, pleasurable feeling you’ve ever had inside of yourself.

“Wh- wh- it feels so - o-oh my god, I c-can’t,” you cry out at the tail end of your sentence as Joel jolts his hips harder, flesh slapping against flesh repeatedly.

“S’okay, you’re takin’ it so good, doll, that’s jus’ your g-spot, baby, don’t worry,” Joel says soothingly, switching over to a protective mode for a moment when he can see the worry flash in your eyes.

Your mouth falls open and you let out a languid, fraught moan as he tilts your hips a little more, catching the spot on a new angle. If you were being honest, you’d never stimulated your g-spot before - not by yourself, and certainly not with any other men, and now you were wondering how you’d lived without doing it for so long. It felt like the sweetest build up of pleasure, filling a hole deep inside of yourself with warmth, starting to tingle all the way through your body to the tips of your limbs.

“Fuck… don’t stop, don’t stop, please,” you cry out, feeling your knees shake, supported by Joel as he presses against you and keeps a tight hold on your hips. “I’m - shit - I’m coming, Joel. Harder, please.”

“So,” Joel spits out with a thrust. “Fuckin.” Thrust. “Polite.” Thrust. “Pretty girl.” He ups his pace even more, something you weren’t sure was possible and you’re bouncing forward, the edge of the counter digging into your torso and head nearing the mirror as he gives you his all.

You explode, a scream of his name clawing out of your throat when the pressure snaps suddenly, sending you practically convulsing, limbs taut and shaking as you clench in spasms around him.

“Babygirl, she feels so tight, squeezin’ me like that,” Joel murmurs in a wavering voice, continuing his unrelenting pace. He wraps his hands underneath where you lean against the counter, cupping your tits and pulling you up as he leans down to meet your body - flesh against flesh, the sweat forming on your back soaking into his soft flannel shirt. You can feel the damp warmth of the fabric, like he’s been sweating through it this entire time, and it smells earthy and like sex already. You feel your orgasm reach a peak at the thought of leaving your scent on him tonight.

“J-joel, come inside me, fuck,” you cry out, meeting his gaze in the mirror with a heady look. For once, Joel follows a command instead of giving one, grunting with a final push of his hips, shooting his spend deep inside of you.

“D-dirty little cumslut, wantin’ me to fill you up, make you mine, mmm” Joel says with a groan, his hips bouncing a few more times while he rides down his high.

You can only nod, feeling fully fucked out and limp while he finishes using your spent cunt. You know it’s risky, that you should have thought more before tossing the idea of a condom aside in your mind, before asking a virtual stranger to pump his seed into you, but you truly don’t care. You only care about Joel, about giving to him what you knew he wanted. He didn’t even have to say it, but the way he fucked you, so rough and unrelenting, he wanted this, wanted to mark you in some way that would stick with you long after he pulls out. He wanted you to go home, find his cum leaking out of you onto your legs for the rest of the evening, be reminded of what he gave to you, how he ruined you.

You both stand in place, breathing heavily until Joel makes the first move, pulling himself out and tucking his cock back into his jeans. You feel raw, achy in the best way, and Joel notices your hesitation to move and wraps an arm around the front of you, bringing his lips to your ear.

“Good girl,” he whispers, biting the lobe and you shudder. “Good fuckin’ girl, y’know that? God…”

“I like being a good girl for you, Joel,” you say lazily, shutting your eyes as you lean back into him.

“Music to my ears, sweetheart. Now let's get you outta here, it’s late and you need some rest.”

Joel leads you out of the bathroom after you both adjust yourselves back to some semblance of normal, a hand on the small of your back as you enter the loud bar, seemingly much less crowded now than when you’d entered the bathroom.

You see your friends, still grouped together but with a few more young, attractive men in the mix, crowded around a tiny table. Your friend Georgia spots you, waving you over with a slightly tired, exasperated look on her face. She’s the assigned designated driver for the night, and you can see that she’s more than ready to start heading out. You peek at the time on your phone and it’s after one in the morning.

“Come on,” she mouths, beckoning you dramatically and you can see your friends gathering up their things, saying their goodbyes to their new male counterparts.

You turn to Joel with an anxious look, and he grasps one of your hands, squeezing tightly.

“Go on, then,” he says softly, “Don’t keep them waitin’.”

You nod with a disappointed smile, wondering if you should have offered to go home with him instead. But the fact that he didn’t ask has already gotten in your head, so you lean forward to kiss him goodbye instead. He gives you a hungry kiss, one you could easily fall right back into, drag him to the bathroom again and let him do everything he just did all over again.

He lets you go, nearly pushing you away with a small growl. You hurry over to your friends, who are shoving your purse and jacket back into your arms and ushering you away. You sneak one last glance back at Joel, standing with his hands in his pockets, wondering how your life could ever be the same after tonight.

You’re in a complete panic, only minutes from your house, tears brimming in your eyes.

“Please, Georgia, we have to go back, we have to - I don’t,” you feel around your bag for something that isn’t there, that you know isn’t there. A scrap of paper, a note, anything.

“Babe, you need to calm down and tell me what’s going on,” she replies, cool and collected as usual.

“Th- the guy. The one I was with. I didn’t get his phone number. Fuck, I don’t even know his last name. I -” A small sob escapes you, and you don’t know where all this emotion is coming from all of a sudden. It’s like when you’d been with Joel, you felt so calm, so even, and you hadn’t even had a chance to think about your emotional investment in what happened tonight.

“Shit. And you think he would have wanted you to have it?” Georgia asks.

You blink, looking over at her, stunned that you hadn’t even thought of whether he wanted to see you again or not. You two hadn’t had a chance to discuss it before you’d been dragged out of the bar, but you’d gotten the sense he was intoxicated by you just as you were him.

“I - think so? It seemed like maybe he would have. But now I’ll probably -” your voice cracks and shakes a little bit. “Never see him again.”

Georgia squeezes your shoulder softly, rubbing circles on it. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s going to be okay though, alright? You never know, the world has weird ways of working things out sometimes.”

You sigh, knowing the chances of that are slim, seeing as nothing that spectacular has ever happened to you before, and you don’t see why the universe would start now. “What if he’s still there, though? We could go back, please…”

“The bar closed twenty minutes ago, you know he’s not there anymore. I’m sorry,” she replies, giving your shoulder a final squeeze before putting both hands on the steering wheel and pulling up in front of your apartment. The last thing you want is to go up to your cramped space, shared with two roommates, nothing feeling truly yours. You want to scour the streets, walk around Austin until you find Joel again, until you can throw yourself in his arms and know you’re going to see him again and again and again. You can’t believe it took you losing him to realize just how much of a hold he has on you after those few short hours spent together.

You hug Georgia a teary goodbye and trudge up to your apartment, each step feeling heavy and painful, until you reach your bed and lay down, crying until you finally find it in you to get up and get ready for sleep.

You’ll be okay, just like Georgia said. You’re still drunk, and that’s it, that’s why you’re so emotional right now. Tomorrow you’ll just be happy you had incredible sex and can move on with your life. Surely, that’s exactly how it will go.

In the morning, you find the pit in your stomach hasn’t dissipated in the least, flashes of memories from last night torturing you as you try to function the next morning. You could barely sleep last night, the few drinks you had not even able to lull you into any kind of rest. You pace your room, thinking hard with a hot mug of coffee clutched between your hands.

You know now that you have to see him again, talk to him again, even if just to confirm whether or not it’s what he wants to do. Then you could have something definitive - closure, or a new, budding relationship with the man who absolutely fucking ruined you.

You stop dead in your tracks as an idea hits you, one that could potentially lead you back to Joel. Your heart pounds anxiously as you pray that the idea works, that there’s something there, not just delusional, hopeless hoping. You rush over to your phone and quickly dial Georgia’s number.

“Georgia!” you call out a bit too loudly, barely able to hear yourself over the rushing in your ears. “Hey,” you say more timidly.

She groans sleepily on the other end of the line, and it’s not until then that realize you’re up way too early for how late all of you stayed out last night.

“Shit, s-sorry, I know it’s early, but…”

“What, babe? What could possibly be this important?” she groans into the phone teasingly, and you feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment and shame that you woke her for something as silly as this, but you’re a woman possessed, on a mission to find Joel.

“I know, I know. I just couldn’t sleep. I feel like… he’s the one, or something. The guy from the bar. The connection was so crazy, and the sex, and I’m rambling now, god, sorry.” You take a breath, steadying your nerves. “My point is, you were sober last night. Joel said he was there with his work crew, so did you see anything? Any shirts or trucks or anything with a logo or a name for a construction type crew? Please,” you say, murmuring the last, begging word more to yourself or whatever higher power is in control of your current predicament.

You can hear the rustling of Georgia’s sheets on the other end and another sleepy sigh. “Let me think on it, okay? When I can wake up some more. I promise I’ll text you about it later.”

You two end the call and you start pacing again, your heart thundering in your chest, knowing every minute is going to be agony waiting to see what Georgia ends up texting you. The day drags on, hour by hour a wasted mess of a day, with your nerves too frayed to concentrate on much of anything - homework, studying, TV - none of it helps to distract you enough.

When your phone pings that afternoon you pounce on it, flopping down onto your bed with shaky hands, opening the notification from Georgia.

Miller Contracting.

Two words and you’re off to google after shooting her a thank you text with as many exclamation marks as you could slam out in the few seconds you wanted to spare before moving on in your search.

You find his business immediately, their shoddy little website that’s clearly was not made by any professional. It kind of makes you chuckle to think of Joel trying to make a website. The page features an uncomfortable looking photo of Joel and another man, who you can only assume is the brother he said he owns the business with. You immediately smile looking into his eyes, his hair looking a little more cropped and coiffed in this photo than it had last night. Underneath it, their phone number is listed, and your eyes widen, mouth going desert dry as you punch it into your phone.

You hesitate, your finger hovering over the send button, needing to be sure of what you’re even going to say. What if he doesn’t answer, or it’s his brother, or they even have a secretary or something? Your mind spins but you force yourself to dial the call, anyways, driven forward by an unseen force that you’re quietly grateful for as the line trills in your ear.

Ring. Steady breath. Ring. Another. Ring.

taglist: @aphterthoughtt@bbyanarchist@amy172@hazzaismyreligion @ohheypedrito@msmorningstaarr@kamcrazy123@madhere@huffle-punk@jupiter-soups

#your honor i love them!!!!!!!!#fic: pretty little wife #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #x reader

606 notes · View notes

blublublujk · 4 months

Text

bound 2 (falling in love)

oneshot

word count: 6.5k

genre: fwb to lovers

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary:

You and Yoongi were okay with being friends with benefits... until you weren't.

warnings: i tried to focus on fluff (did you catch it or did i fail), explicit sexual content; unprotected sex (they make love to each other), choking and breath play (hello it's yoongi), multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, crying (is it really my ff if there's no crying involved), creampie, very cute aftercare and i think that’s all, this is more sweet than anything lol

a.n: believe it or not this wasn't apart of my drafts i wrote this all one night because i couldn't sleep so thank my insomnia for this, it was about time i write about yoongi :D

also i noticed a lot of you are reading it was destiny and love always wins and i wish you guys wouldn't only because i plan to rewrite some of it and continue them at a further time (chaptered ffs are so hard for me rn since i don't have all the time in the world to dedicate myself to them but i promise to be back with those two series) thank you for everyone who takes time to read what i write it really means so much and your comments have been so motivating. thank you so fucking much for 2k notes on good girl, gone bad i havent seen numbers like that ever im so so grateful, thank you from the bottom of my heart. i'll try to be back one or two more times this month and happy late birthday to me hehe <3

—> m.list

—> welcome me on ao3 & twt

—-

It happened again.

Another failed date to add to the sad list of people that simply will never workout for you.

The list was growing longer as months passed. When you started this list, it was barely the start of a very hot summer. Probably the hottest it’s been in years, one can only assume the winter will not be any easier.

And you were right. Winter was only beginning and it was brutally cold. The streets were moist from the previous night of harsh rainfall.

What better time to date and settle down than now. When the world gives you rain, settle for the warm arms of a lover.

Unfortunately, you made a grave mistake thinking this would come easy. Ten first dates later and you are still very single and loverless.

It is not easy to go out during a time like now, suffering at the sight of happy couples and their stupid happy lives. Really, it should disgust you. It used to. The whole concept of devoting your entire life to someone. The need to constantly feel the tender touch of another person. The desire to fall in love and do it all over again, you get it now. At least, you think you do.

“I don’t think this is gonna work.” The words fall from your mouth in a quiet rush. The man across you sits in silence before he smiles in his loss.

“Don’t worry, I figured. It seems your mind was elsewhere. I know you don’t want to pursue anything romantically, and that’s fine with me, but is everything okay?”

Is everything okay? Well currently, yeah you’re okay. As for your heart, it’s heavy and strangely, you feel there’s a hole in your chest and it needs to be filled. That would fix things, you think. You have been single for so long that you forgot what it was like to love and cherish someone. Not that you have ever truly loved or cherished anyone, but you’ve gotten close. If a silly relationship you had in your sophomore year of high school counts. Then yes, you’ve totally been in love.

“I’m okay. Thanks for asking. I didn’t mean to lead you on, if it ever felt like I did.” The apology seems bitter in your mouth. Another failed fucking attempt. How difficult can dating be? Have you really been this disconnected with the world around you?

“Don’t stress it! Things happen. I hope you can find what you’re looking for. See you… around?” The man’s understanding response makes you feel worse. Maybe you should consider deleting Tinder and finding love naturally, if that’s still a thing in the contemporary life.

“Yeah, totally!” And like that you’re off to the next. Giving yourself plenty of time to bathe in your disappointment and miserably cry about your failed attempts at finding what you’ve been missing. Who knew dating could be so difficult?

The walk back home is just as cold as the outcome of today’s date. Your date insisted he could drive you home and if not that then pay for a cab, but you didn’t live too far from the restaurant you both met at. Though he insisted, you figured this walk could refresh you after yet another failure. You were starting to regret it as the cold wind started roughly hitting your skin. Preserving the chilly weather, you genuinely couldn’t wait to get home and wrap yourself in a bundle of warm blankets and comfortable clothes.

Cold hands struggle to open your door, you blow on them with warm puffs of breaths, soon making your way in and getting comfortable in your humble apartment.

yoon: you up?

And that, that is what made this harder. The fact that you knew there was someone completely capable of loving and caring for you the way you desired. You have seen it with your own eyes. Every time you ended up in his bed, in his arms, you felt it. Deep down you know something is there and that something beats everything else. Maybe you’re just delusional, but you look for him in everyone else and you hate it. Hate because you will never be anything more than his personal little whore that comes at the sound of his call.

me: yeah

Normally, you aren’t dry over texts, especially not with him so he’ll see right through you. You’re hoping for once, he can ignore it.

He won't.

yoon: you ok?

me: been better

yoon: wanna talk about it?

me: no, i'm ok

yoon: ok, wanna come over?

Yes, because during a time like this all you want is the comfort and warmth of someone else’s touch and Yoongi has never failed at giving that to you. But he is not yours.

And you are not his.

me: not feeling well. sorry.

yoon: sick?

A white lie never hurt anyone.

me: yeah, throat hurts

yoon: im sorry

me: it's not your fault maybe another time.

Though you really shouldn’t say that. There should be no next time. That way you don’t suffer any longer and drag him down with you, considering everything you’ve been feeling and dealing with lately. It’s not fair to Yoongi, but especially yourself.

He doesn’t reply anymore and you can’t even hide your disappointment. You aren’t disappointed at him, okay maybe a little bit at him, but mainly yourself and your recently found complicated feelings.

You and Yoongi started this whole mess a year ago, before you even realized what you truly wanted. It started off with subtle flirting here and there. They say not to mess with coworkers, given that it can complicate things at work and one should never play with their main source of income, but you did it anyway. You are still young and he only made you feel younger, like a teenage girl crushing over her forbidden crush at church. It was silly, but Yoongi made it easy.

The flirting turned to one thing, then another.

“We shouldn’t, not here.” Yoongi had you pinned outside the club you both worked at, leaving trails of wet kisses down your throat.

“Five more minutes.” His words were muffled into your skin as his hands explored your body. Yoongi’s touch was always way too soft for his own good and you fell victim to his deadly warmth.

“If Mr. Kim finds out, he’ll kill us and fire us both.” That was a bit dramatic on your part and you swore you felt the taller smiling against your neck.

Yoongi drops one last kiss on your cheek as his hot breath hits your ear. “Not if I kill him first.”

You gasped, pushing him off you with a quick smack to his chest. “D-Don’t even joke like that.”

Yoongi just laughed.

“Okay, okay baby.” The term of endearment fell from his lips too easily and you melted into the dark night. “See you after work?”

You only nodded, not being able to deny his temporary warmth and sweet presence. Then he dropped a kiss on your lips, leaving you just as quick as when he first found you. You were fucked.

From there, it only got worse for your sake. Your heart could only take so much.

Really, you should blame things on him. It was his fault you fell in love with him and his stupidly soft hands. It was all his fault! He left you no choice but to love the feel of his lips against your skin, to easily melt under his soft gaze, and find comfort in his unnecessarily warm bed. Yoongi was perfect. Everything you could ever want.

That’s why it was so fucking hard. Dating was hard enough, but after feeling Yoongi’s intimate touch, you were a complete goner. Though he was far from it, Yoongi touched you like you were his and he would fuck you like a lover would. Kissing and making love to you as if you were the most beautiful woman on Earth. It was all too much.

Fuck, you really needed to get a grip.

The knock on your door makes you jump from your couch.

Ten minutes longer and you would have fallen asleep exactly where you were lying. In outside clothes and all. You didn’t even bother taking off the outfit you had carefully planned thinking that this lucky outfit would have finally taken you somewhere. It didn’t.

“Coming!” There’s not a single person that should be outside your door, especially at this hour. Your feet make their way to the door regardless and the blood from your face drains when you see the person standing behind the door.

Quickly, you unlock your front door, rushing the taller inside. “Hurry! It’s freezing! What are you doing out here?”

Yoongi’s cheeks are surely frozen, a pink dust decorates his cheeks and the tip of his nose. It almost makes him look cute. You were far more gone than you imagined.

He hustles inside, carrying a fairly large brown bag with him. He brought… groceries?

“Took you long enough.” The taller one makes himself at home, laying his bag on your coffee table.

“What are you even doing here?” You ask again.

He ignores you. “Thought you said you were sick. You don’t look very sick?”

Yoongi looks at you with a questioning look, his eyes wander your outfit and guilt starts eating your insides.

You cross your arms, an attempt to hide yourself in shame, but what’s done is done. “I- I had plans.”

“Yeah, I see that.” He simply says, standing awkwardly in your living area.

If this doesn’t convince you to delete that forsaken app for the sake of your dignity and shameful behavior, you don’t know what will.

“Anyways, w-what brings you here?”

“Brought you some stuff.” His hand waves over to the bag he carried inside.

“Stuff?” You question, a bit dumbfounded, planted still in your place.

“Tea, cough drops, some soup I made earlier this week. Oh and flowers.” Yoongi doesn’t seem at all embarrassed or fazed about the situation. Not that he should be, but he speaks with a puff to his chest, as if he wanted to ensure you understood his every word and action. Like any concerned lover would be. As if he was yours and you were his.

Oh.

This was so so bad. For you and your weak heart. Fuck.

“I-“

He cuts you off before you even get to speak. “I don’t know if you’ll like it. It’s just some plain seaweed soup. Usually helps me when I’m sick. I’m not sure what flowers you like, or if you even like flowers. Do you? Their tulips. I did a bit of research before. My mom likes tulips. I figured you might like them too.”

He did research? Double fuck!

Yoongi was nervously rambling, now he was slightly embarrassed. Pink flushes his cheeks and it wasn’t the weather’s doing this time.

“Yoongi…” You start breathlessly and in disbelief.

“What?” He nearly stutters, his hand is shaking. He’s nervous. Who would have thought?

“Why.” Is all you manage to ask.

“You were sick.” Is all he replies. As if things were really that simple. What next? Would he come rushing to the hospital if you suddenly fell ill? God forbid, but it was a valid question.

What was going on? For a second, you entertain the idea. Maybe he fell in love between the blurry lines of this complicated relationship. Were the shared intimate memories too special for him to forget too? You weren’t sure anymore, but what did this all mean? Maybe he loves you, as much as you love him.

Thoughts keep spinning and you wish there was an easier way to turn off your brain. Not now.

“I know, but why? Why all this? Why for me?” Your vulnerability is showing and it makes you feel weak. Maybe your hands are shaking too.

“I don't understand?” Yoongi searches for the answer in your glossy eyes, he’s tempted to reach out and comfort you. Have you in his hands, but he’s too coward. He doesn’t want you to feel the shiver of his touch right now. His vulnerability peaks through as well.

Why not you? It’s always going to be you.

“I-I’m nothing to you.” There’s a shiver again and then you break.

Yoongi doesn’t care anymore. He’ll consider the consequences later. Right now, none of it matters.

His hands hold your face, ready to wipe the tears that threaten to leak from your precious eyes. He hopes his hands aren't cold anymore from standing outside for so damn long, but he couldn’t stop himself, in his selfishness and all.

His hands shake slightly, trying to stay strong as he lays it all on the table. “Y/N, you’re everything to me.” He whispers, eyes never leaving yours.

You lay your own hands on his, you feel so delicate around him when you wrap warm hands around his cold wrists.

“I-I am?” You ask between sniffles. His hands are still pretty cold, but they’ll soon warm up against your soft skin. Nobody knows how desperately you need to be touched until you are and then it’s like little fireworks spark inside your body. It consumes you in the best way possible.

“Of course. I thought I made that obvious.” His eyes are soft, different to how he typically looks at you, but you’ve seen these same eyes before. They are no stranger. It’s similar to the look he gives you when you catch him staring at you while you are deep in work. He pretends to look away as if he wasn’t admiring you from afar and you pretend that you don’t notice his curious eyes. It’s the same look he has after you both end up in heated makeout sessions, behind the rusty club you both work at. And it’s definitely the same look he has while he settles on top of you, whispering sweet words of praise and promise.

Nothing should feel different but it just does, there’s something in the way he looks down at you that lets you know that everything you’ve been searching for has always been right here. Right where you’ve been all along.

The taller leans in and you freeze struggling to keep your eyes on his. Yoongi’s thumb brushes against your cheek with a soft touch. You were fragile between his hands and he’s willing to do anything to keep his precious flower safe. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes. Please.” You whisper back in a hurry, scared that this would be nothing but a dream. It wasn’t time for you to wake up yet.

His eyes zero-in on your lips and then he’s kissing you. It’s not much different from other times. After all, you guys have shared plenty of kisses, probably more than you should have considering you guys were friends with benefits, at most. But this time, the kiss isn’t just a careless lust-filled doing, no this time the kiss is a promise. The promise to never again allow you to question his feelings and intentions towards you.

If Yoongi has to spend his whole life making this up to you, he simply would because that’s how much you meant to him. He can’t believe he even let this go on for this long. He should have been more clear and careful, but he doesn’t regret a damn thing. Not when he has all the time in the world to repair the time lost. And especially not when his reckless actions led him to this. To you.

Yoongi’s lips are soft and bend with yours with ease. He takes his time, never in a rush. Especially not when he has you in-hand.

The taller doesn’t escalate the kiss. He keeps it sweet and gentle, like he always has been. “I’m so sorry baby.”

Kiss.

“For?”

Kiss.

Yoongi has the whole world in his hands right now as he looks down into the sparkles in your eyes and he’s never been so sure about anything in his life. “For being a fucking idiot.”

Kiss.

“It’s okay.” A kiss is shared again. “I was an idiot too. I was just scared that you wouldn’t want that with me.”

“Want what?” The taller questions, fingers trailing your face, admiring the imperfections and all.

“A relationship, I mean. You seemed content with how our relationship already was. I was afraid of losing that. Of losing you.” You admit, eyes fluttering at his touch.

“Of course, I want that. I want that and more. I-I’m not the best with relationships. I’m only saying this because I want to be open and honest with you. There’s not a second you aren’t on my mind. While at work, you are all I can see. In a crowd of a hundred, my eyes always find yours. I don’t know how to explain what you do to me. But I don’t mind. I think if I ever lost that, I would lose my mind. So I’m sorry if I ever made you feel the opposite. There’s so much more I want to say, but I just don’t know how. I want that. I want that so bad. A relationship and whatever more you give me. I might not be the best boyfriend but I’ll do whatever it takes. I- I love you.” Yoongi’s words are heartfelt and he’s so relieved. One because he’s been keeping this in for so long, any longer and he would have exploded, but second because he’s been dying to say those three words. He really does love you and Yoongi doesn’t love many people in life, but if he had to choose, it’s always gonna be you.

The tears that were creeping on your eye-lids fall prettily down your face, but Yoongi comes to your rescue. He’s quick to wipe them off your pretty face, tempted to kiss them away, but he keeps that in for now. “Y-Yoongi… I love you too. So much. I think I always have. You are so easy to love. The way you look at me, care for me, and always show up for me. That says more about you than anything else. I tried dating to get over what I felt for you, as you can probably tell, but nothing worked. It was so easy, Yoongi. So easy to fall in love with you. You’re perfect and I don’t doubt that you’ll be the best even after all this. I love you.”

“I love you too, I love you. Fuck, I love you.” Yoongi kisses you again and this time he isn’t as gentle. His lips are still soft as ever as they curl around yours. His tongue comes out and you immediately allow access, letting him explore your mouth. The taste is much better now that there isn’t anything you both are holding back. Everything down on the line and you couldn’t be happier. The hole in your heart was never empty, it was just waiting for this exact moment to remind you that you’ve always had it all.

“Yoongi.” In between breaths you call his name and Yoongi feels his knees lock. “Take me to bed.”

Yoongi just nods in a trance with the way your tone drips of arousal. A long strand of hair falls on his face when he picks you up with ease off your feet. He takes you to the place he’s had the honor to visit a hundred times before, but it’s different this time, much different.

In the process of it all, something falls and it causes you both to laugh until you run out of breath.

“I can’t believe that just happened.” You laugh into his ear. “You owe me a new lamp. My mother bought me that, you know. House-warming gift.”

“Fuck, sorry.” Yoongi mumbles near a whisper as he grips you harder like he’s afraid he might drop you next and the idea makes you giggle because you know he would never purposely hurt you. “I’ll apologize to your mother directly. Buy you and her a new lamp, whatever it takes.”

“What makes you think you are meeting my mother?” You tease with a smile on your face, watching the blush rise on his cheeks.

“Well, I figured we could, you know, if you would like–” Yoongi doesn’t often get shy about many things but he can’t keep calm around you and that kills him softly.

“I’m just teasing you.” You say and he bites his lip. “Of course you’ll meet my mother and my father and my nosy ass family. I hope you like annoying, persistent grandma’s that stuff you full. My grandma’s the worst of her kind, but she’ll love you.”

“I would love to.” Yoongi simply replies, still whispering as if you guys had to keep quiet or else you’d be in deep trouble.

“Why are we still whispering?” You whisper back, roaming fingers through his long, gorgeous hair. He needs to remind you to thank his mother personally for insisting he keep his hair long because it made him look pretty and you could never disagree. Yoongi’s so pretty.

“I-I don’t know.”

You both smile at each other before sharing another kiss. It’s so sweet and if you weren’t already off your feet, you would be floating by now. He’s gentle when letting you drop into the sheets below, he finds space between your legs and you wrap them around his hips. Lips still in contact, never losing the plushy feel.

Everything starts to feel hot. Your hips start to slowly grind against his begging for any sort of friction. But the kissing doesn’t stop.

Not when you start whining against his lips.

Not even when Yoongi starts trailing his fingers down your waist and around your curves. He teases his fingertips against your waistline, soft to the touch.

It’s not until you mewl loudly into his mouth, skillful tongue playing with yours, as you feel him start unbuckling your pants, button-by-button.

Yoongi’s eyes are heavy-lidded, his gaze burning fire. “Gonna take care of you now, is that okay?”

You furiously nod, coming up to kiss him once more, both your lips are raw and sensitive, but it gives you more of a reason to fix it with even more kisses.

He drops one quick kiss onto your mouth before he trails down your jaw. Yoongi breathes in the sweet scent on your skin, wishing he could feel you even closer. “Smell so damn good.”

His voice is raspy against your ear and it makes you blush, while you feel his hand finally touch you where you had been aching with need. “Wanna hear you.”

Breathing lightly, you whisper. “Make me.”

And of course, Yoongi makes you regret how fast you said the words because he delves his fingers forward with little resistance. Two fingers stretch you at the same time, gasping at the sudden sensation.

By now, you were molded to fit Yoongi’s fingers. On days where you were really in need, you would take four, all at once. Yoongi was best at reading every expression, every crease and scrunch to your face, especially emotions. He knew exactly how to curve his fingers, the way to build you up, and bring you back down. Yoongi knew it all and he was so lucky too.

He never anticipated it would have gone this far. It was just sex to begin with. But who were you both kidding, it was always much, much more.

Yoongi curves his fingers in the way he’s used to and watches your mouth drop, sweet noises soon leaving your lips. “Feels good?”

There’s no need to ask because he can tell. Your expression tells him everything he needs to know. That and the fact that you are dripping around his fingers but it’s sexier hearing it from you.

“Yeah… f-feels so good.” With his other hand he tugs your clothes off, leaving you bare on the bottom. Remembering the first few times is a bit embarrassing, but Yoongi always made sure to take his time and make you feel comfortable. It was special and memorable in its own way, and Yoongi felt it too.

This is unlike any first time, but it was technically the first time you could officially make love to each other until you fall lovesick and that had to be impossible around someone like Yoongi.

“Hold your legs open for me, flower.” You try to ignore the warm feeling that buzzes in your chest, but you are sure your face says it all. Without another word, you spread your legs open, tucking both hands behind your thighs.

“Flower?” You breathe out with a bit of a struggle as his two fingers continue to pump deep inside you, brushing repeatedly against your g-spot.

“Do you not like it?” Yoongi smiles slightly, biting his bottom lip while he watches you start to tremble, making the prettiest sounds.

“I do. Why the new name?” Voice a bit unsteady but it does the job. Yoongi thinks of all the times he thought you were as pretty as a flower, which really was all the time. Especially, in the way he has you right now. Pretty, pretty as a flower.

“I’ve always wanted to call you that. You’re pretty, sweet, delicate. Just like a flower.” He justifies his reasoning and you melt into puddles.

“Yoongi.” Voice sweet as honey.

“Yes baby.” He replies with ease.

“Make love to me, Yoongi.”

There was a time in his life where Yoongi believed he could live without love. How foolish of him to think so. When he met you, it was a complete three-sixty. Suddenly, Yoongi started to look forward to his shit job. He looked forward to that time between breaks where he could admire you from the back like a pinning loser. Yoongi even started to like the walks he had to take to get to work because he knew that the path would eventually lead to you. He started looking forward to tomorrow's and to the bright future that led ahead. His mom would often complain that he was wasting his life away waiting for it to start, but Yoongi thinks life truly started the day he met you.

It was a bit awkward because you couldn’t even look him in the eyes, intimated by the staff and new environment. You had previously worked in different bars so you assumed it would be no different and it wasn’t, but the intimidation of a new job was there nonetheless. Yoongi was there every step of the way. He had a crush on the new employee and you needed help on fitting in. Either way, your friendship was very platonic until it wasn’t.

Yoongi knows he should have said something along the lines “hey, maybe we shouldn't be doing this anymore. I’m in love with you and I have been since you started working here” but the stupid words never made it out. He felt it would be too much to hear and it would only make him look like a complete loser.

And you felt the same. It was silly really, because everyone around you knew it and there was no reason to fear someone as easy going and non-judgemental as Yoongi, nonetheless it brought you both here. After many failed dating attempts, you were finally happy and in the arms of someone who you truly love and want to be loved by.

There was a time in his life where Yoongi believed he could live without love, now Yoongi believes your precious, sweet love brought him back to life and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Clothes now discarded on the floor, heavy breathing filling the room, and Yoongi could get wasted on the smell of your intoxicating perfume. “Breathe flower.”

Yoongi felt you shiver at the sound of his words, throwing your head back as he thrusts you full of cock. He pushes inside you with gentle movements, struggling to keep himself up while feeling the tug of your warm velvet-like walls.

You gasp feeling him hit your cervix in a calm, slow pace. It was breathtaking regardless of the gentle rhythm. “You’re so deep...”

“I know flower, breathe baby, breathe.” He is struggling to keep from coming inside you, overwhelmed by his own emotions as your eyes roll back, feeling the pressure rise in your belly. Without a condom, everything feels so different from other times, feeling every ridge and crease fold inside your drenching heat. You take him so nicely, like you always have. Like you’ve always belonged to him.

You don’t even notice you stopped breathing until you start feeling lightheaded and desperate for fresh air. Breathing just as much as necessary so you don’t faint, you shake your head against his hold, his eyes watch yours, observing with curiosity.

“No?”

“Mm, n-no.” You shake your head again, whimpering when you feel him kiss your cervix with his swollen tip, over and over and over. “Can– can you…”

“Can I what, pretty flower?” Yoongi rolls his hips a bit faster, feeling his orgasm build too quickly. He wishes he could have days with you like this always. Days to love and worship you from head to toe.

“Choke me.” You manage to say. “Don— don’t wanna breathe.”

Yoongi growls deep, increasing his speed even more, desperate to fill the deepest part of your glistening folds. He feels you tense underneath, the sounds coming from your mouth are loud enough for your neighbors to hear, but Yoongi stopped giving a fuck about everything around him.

He places a hand on your throat and squeezes gently, not blocking off your airways completely, but leaving you just enough air to work with. It drives you insane. The more you breathe, his rough thrusts take the air out from your lungs and the process repeats. It feels so good.

“M-more. Harder.” You barely hear your own words, but Yoongi seems to understand because his dick is moving rapidly inside you, nearly splitting you in two. You wrap both hands around his wrist, loving the heavy weight against your chest. It’ll end too soon and it disappoints you in a way, but you have all the time in the world to make this up. “G-Gonna come.”

Yoongi nods, concentrating on the way your face scrunches with pleasure. With love. The way your eyes tell him a story. God, Yoongi’s madly in love. “Come, my precious flower.”

With those final words, you come on his bare slick cock, blossoming in the blissful afterglow. Yoongi doesn’t stop thrusting inside you, but he takes his hand off your throat, kissing your face gently when he sees tears start leaking down your cheeks.

“It’s okay, you’re okay baby. Breathe for me. Slowly.” Yoongi’s words bring you back down and you throw your arms around him, crying against his shoulder. You don’t even know what invoked this strong emotion to sob your eyes out, but Yoongi allows it, caressing the back of your head. Yoongi doesn’t judge, he only holds you until you settle down. “It’s okay baby, let it out. Breathe, pretty flower.”

“C-Come inside muh-me, please.” Even after all that, you still beg for him and Yoongi wants to laugh but for your sake and the fact that it’s endearing to him, he delivers accordingly without further questions.

Right as he’s going to paint your walls white, he pushes himself up with one hand, still holding you with the other. “You sure?”

You’re confused about the sudden question, the tears still decorate your face but then you understand. “Birth control. Just come in me Yoongi, fuck me, fu-fuck.”

Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to regain his brutal pace, fucking you with purpose. Not that he doesn’t want kids in the near future, but he sure as hell doesn’t want any right now. He’s glad you are on the same page but maybe one day the conversation would spark and he wouldn’t want the mother of his kids to be anyone else but you. You were perfect for him.

“Gonna come.” That’s the only warning you get, then he’s emptying himself inside your tight walls. He doesn’t stop rolling his hips, his slit leaking puddles, until he’s pumped himself dry. With one last thrust, he groans and carefully pulls out.

He brings you with him, head falling against his chest as he continues to play with your hair, leaving kisses into your bare shoulders. “You okay baby?”

“Perfect. Feel so good.” You mumble into his skin, feeling around his waist. “I’m leaking your come into the sheets though.”

“I’ll take care of it, pretty flower.” You nod sleepily into his chest with a quiet ‘thank you’, feeling completely sated and satisfied, aching with exhaustion. “Sleep baby, I got you.”

With that, you fall deep into the shackles of sleep. Yoongi rubs your back until you completely fall asleep in his arms. He struggles to unwrap himself from your hold, but when he finally succeeds, he tucks you in and kisses your cheek a few times before getting up to clean up after the mess you both created.

He’s light on his feet, bringing a warm towel to your slick folds and wipes as best he can, being gentle so you could continue to enjoy your sleep. Even like this, you look so beautiful and Yoongi is an extremely lucky man.

Yoongi makes sure to also pick up the lamp he dropped from earlier as well. He blows out a breath of relief when he notices that the damage is nothing big and nothing that can’t be fixed. He’ll make sure to fix that as soon as he can.

While he’s out there, Yoongi places the tulips into a vase and fills it with water, placing it near a window where it could grow and blossom beautifully near the sunlight. He even cuts the tips into slants because he had heard somewhere online they last longer that way, making sure to get rid of any dead leaves and petals. Yoongi couldn’t be happier.

After he’s done with the light cleaning, he washes his hands and feels the exhaustion hit him tenfold. He’s careful when placing himself back in bed, lifting your arm and placing himself underneath you. The man smiles when he feels you curl yourself around him, sleeping soundlessly.

“I love you.” He whispers and even though you don’t say it back Yoongi feels it with the way you melt into his arms. Yoongi falls asleep easily that night.

…

“Baby.” Yoongi hears someone call him and he ignores it. Sleep calls his name louder and he doesn’t feel like waking up right now so he groans and cuddles deeper into the bedsheets below him, unaware of the life around him.

“Baby wake up.” You keep calling sweetly and it’s tempting but he persists.

“No. Don’t wanna.” Yoongi grumbles like an old man and you can’t help but to laugh. “Just ten more minutes.”

When you woke up the next morning, you were so thankful Yoongi had kept his promise. Your apartment was flawless and you were as clean as you could be. The tulips looked prettier today as the sun shined on the delicate petals. You even had time to warm the seaweed soup he brought from home and you couldn’t wait to get a taste. The smell alone is delicious and it warmed your home up nicely, you truly couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that this was no longer a dream but your reality. You could definitely get used to this.

You drop kisses onto his warm cheeks until his eyes flutter open, almost similar to a cat. “There you are.”

Yoongi pulls you into his arms again with quiet noncoherent grumbles and closes his eyes once more. “Give me ten minutes.”

“It’s already been ten.” You whisper lightly laughing.

“Oh. Ten more then.” You get comfortable on his chest and cuddle for a bit longer because you can’t say no to his cute sleepy self.

Yoongi starts to sniff the air with curiosity. “Is that the seaweed soup I brought you?”

“Mhm.” You hum. “Better get up soon before it burns.”

That manages to be convincing enough and Yoongi forces himself up, with you in his embrace.

“Wanna wake up like that forever.” He says, voice filled with sleep.

“You can.”

Yoongi snaps his heavy eyes towards you. “Are you–”

“Move in with me, Yoongi.” Yes, you skipped every step to this, but nothing was ever to code between you and Yoongi. One thing you were so sure of and that was spending the rest of your life with him. “Please.”

“I- yes, of course.” Yoongi wraps his arms around you for a tight hug, kissing your temple. “I love you. I love you and I’ll prove it to you every single day.”

“I know, I love you too. I love you.” Those three words come out from your mouths so easily and it’s nice that you no longer have to ever hold back. The man of your dreams is in the palms of your humble home and he’s in love with you. This was better than any dream.

“Let’s eat?” He says after some time of hugging and kisses being interchanged.

You nod, letting him take you there. Your kitchen is filled with the cruel aroma of food and your tummy rumbles as you sit comfortably while you wait for him to serve you a bowl of the warm tasty soup.

“I should be doing that. I’m a terrible host.” Yoongi shakes his head while smiling, the fluff of hair moving with him, then your phone dings. “Hold on, give me a second.”

Your heart drops when you see it is a Tinder notification from a man you promised to get back to. You look over to find Yoongi serving your bowl, making his way to the table. He leans in puckering slightly and you immediately lean into the sweet sudden kiss while he places your meal in front of you. This Yoongi is new because it wasn’t often you could act domestically towards one another, however this was perfect and just what you needed.

“Everything okay baby?” Yoongi asks while caressing your soft cheek and you immediately nod in his palm.

“Yes, everything’s perfect.” You reply in awe. “Thank you Yoongi, for everything.”

For letting me love you and for loving me back.

The older man just smiles and joins you for the meal.

It turns out you didn’t need Tinder after all.

You quickly delete the app off your phone and start to eat with the love of your life, conversation flows while you enjoy each other’s presence and fall deeper in love.

Alike Yoongi, you couldn’t imagine it happening any other way. You were bound to fall in love, one way or another, but that man was meant to be yours as you were meant to be his.

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #yoongi x reader #bts fluff #bts x y/n #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #bts smut

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writerslittlelibrary · 7 months

Text

He started it

masterlist

summary: when a guy in school gets really handsy with you, you break his nose, yet your moms don’t see it that way

pairing: Blackhill x reader

warnings: yelling, disgusting man

genre: fluff, angst

words: 1143

a/n: I forgot to post this and I feel so bad because I said I was gonna post it yesterday 🥲, so sorry @nattynatoosh for the false promise 🫣

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

You’re not even sure how it happened. At one point, you were grabbing some books from your locker, and the next, you were sitting in the principal's office.

You were a great kid. You had amazing grades and were outstanding in all your classes. You were the kid every parent would want to have, and Maria and Natasha never hesitated to talk about your great skill and achievements.

You could see the principal looking at you with pure disappointment. “You’re not like this…” you can still hear him saying when the boy told him the story. His story.

You hadn’t said a word. You knew that whatever you said, would just make it worse. If you started talking, you’d quickly lose your temper and you would either be yelling or crying, or both. So you kept your mouth shut. You were waiting for your moms to get there. Surely they would understand and help you.

When your moms did come in, you could see the steam basically coming from Natasha’s ears. She was furious, and everyone in the room noticed it.

Maria followed her, looking way more collected than Natasha was. She was always better with handling stressful situations, especially if it was about you. Maria stood behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder while Natasha sat besides you. The parents of the boy were already there, and from the looks of it they were real entitled rich people.

The mother was crying, and the dad was almost as furious as Natasha, though you’re not sure that’s a possibility. “She hit my baby boy,” the mother cried. “She broke his nose,” she continued sniffling, and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

Natasha looked at her unimpressed, and then at you. “Is that true?” she asked, and you shook your head. “Yes it is!” the boy yelled from beside you, and you sighed.

You weren’t going to say anything. You didn’t want to give that to them.

“Well, according to the state both of the kids are in, it’s obvious who’s telling the truth. I suggest a former apology for y/n, and a three week suspension,” the principal suggested, and the mother let out a sob. "Suspension?! She should be in jail for what she did to my boy!” she yelled at the principal, and you heard Maria let out a sigh while she gently squeezed your shoulder.

“Ma’am, jail is a bit harsh for a situation like this, and with the record y/n holds, I really don’t feel a harsh punishment like that is necessary,” the principal said calmly, trying to calm the woman down.

“And you? You’re not just going to let her get away with it are you?” the woman asked your moms, looking at them with anger.

You’re moms assured you’d be punished. Your phone would get taken and you’d get some extra chores at home.

Once the woman finally settled, Natasha pulled you up from the chair and led you to the car. With the grip she had on your arm, you could feel she was still angry. She opened the door and pushed you inside, a little rougher than necessary.

You sat quietly. You didn’t want to cry in front of your moms, yet you wanted to yell at them what really happened wasn’t your fault.

Maria got in the driver's seat, and Natasha sat next to her. You felt their stares through the rearview mirror, but you didn’t dare stare back. You just looked out the window, trying to hold back your tears until you could cry them out freely in the comfort of your room.

“Do you understand what you did?!” Natasha suddenly asked you, and you could feel the anger in her tone. “This is serious! It’s not just some sneaking around or skipping class. Something like this could have serious consequences! Do you even understand that!?” she yelled, and you didn’t dare say something.

Maria sighed with disappointment, “We just want to know why,” she said, looking back at you when she stopped in front of a red light.

You shrugged, and continued looking outside.

“Just so you know, we weren’t kidding. You will have serious consequences at home,” Natasha told you, before she too, silently started out the window.

Once you got home, you quickly ran to your room. You could hear your moms yelling at you, but you didn’t care. You jumped into your bed, finally letting yourself cry. You were full on sobbing, and you could hear someone come in.

You felt the bed dip, and you felt a hand stroking your back. From how it felt you could tell it was Maria. You tried to talk, but it was hard through the crying so instead Maria pulled you in a sitting position, hugging you tightly to her chest.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” you cried out in between your sobs, and Maria sushed you. “I’m sorry mom. I didn’t do anything I swear! He was touching me and he wouldn’t stop. I’m sorry…” you kept crying, and Maria could feel tears in her eyes. “It’s okay, everything’s okay. I’m not mad at you,” she told you, rubbing her hand up and down her back.

You heard Natasha come in, and you felt the bed dip on the other side of you. “I’m sorry for yelling,” she told you, wiping the hair from your face.

“I was unfair, and we should’ve listened to you before we made assumptions,” she continued and your sobs died down to sniffles. “We’ll make sure he’ll get punished, and you’ll stay home next week with us okay?” she said, and you nodded, as you let Maria go and clung onto your other mom.

“I’m sorry mama. I didn’t mean to break his nose, I just wanted him gone,” you cried out, and Natasha nodded as she stroked your hair. “You made the right choice,” she told you, and you nodded.

The next day, your moms contacted the school, and you went to the principal’s office again. This time to watch the security footage. It was clear to see the boy had tried to get in your pants, and it was clear how he had you cornered while you were trying to push him off. After he didn’t let go, you punched him, and he fell to the floor as he started yelling.

The principal apologized, and said the boy would be punished and reported to the police.

On your way home, you were happily murmuring along to the song on the radio, looking out the window. “I just wanted to say I’m really sorry for not asking you what happened first,” you heard Natasha say, and you turned to her with a smile. “It’s okay,” you told her, and she smiled back.

“That was one hell of a punch though.”

#black widow #marvel #natasha x reader #blackhill #mcu #avengers #natasha romanoff #natasha x daughter #natasha x reader platonic #blackhill x daughter #maria hill #maria hill x daughter #natasha x maria x reader #maria hill x reader #maria hill x natasha romanoff #reader insert #marvel reader insert

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mitch-the-silly · 2 months

Note

Heyyyy! Could you do a oneshot with Husk and fem!reader where she and Angel are best friends and he's trying to be wingman and get them together??

Yesss!!! I love the Husk suggestions! I srsly love that old man... Anyway, I just KNOW Angie would be THE BEST wingman!!!

This is set before Angel and Husk bond, so passive-aggressive Husk and Angel ahead!

Husk x fem!reader

"Three's a Hangout, Minus One is a Date!"

From the couch of the lobby, you looked down at your phone. Thinking of getting a drink perhaps, since you didn't have anything to do on that particular day. But you could go without one, you were sure.

However, your best friend who was sitting next to you thought otherwise. Angel Dust got up with a sigh and looked at the bar then at you. “Alright girl, let’s get some drinks. You know you wanna.” He chuckled.

“Ain’t it kind of early for drinks? It’s 3 pm.” You sighed, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. You’d told him you didn’t need him to do it, but it was sweet of him to try anyway.

He chuckled leaning down towards you, “With a bartender like yours, hon? It’s drinking hour every hour.” He whispered at you. “Alright get up bitch.” He added, grabbing your arm and lifting you up.

“Ugh, I swear…” You sighed, walking with him as he led you towards the bar. You looked up at the man behind it. Husk… he made you sigh, but you couldn’t tell him yourself. Not in a million years. He kept to himself and even Angel’s flirting disgusted him. You liked talking to him; it made your heart flutter.

“Hi, Huskie~” Angel waved at him, giggling coquettishly. Of course, it was just playful, he knew very well you liked him. His goal today was to get them to go out on a date.

“Don’t call me that.” Husk huffed.

“Whatever, my girly and I wanted to get some drinks. Just trynna have a good time here. She says you give good conversation, but in my experience you always reject me, so you better prove her right.” Angel spoke jokingly, sitting on one of the stools. You sat next to him, smiling at Husk and waving at him shyly.

“Yeah, it’s 'cause she’s alright, unlike you, she ain’t full of shit.” Husk chuckled, shooting a friendly smile at you. You let out a small laugh at his comment.

“You’re lucky I’m here for a drink and not in the mood to argue.” Angel huffed, making himself comfortable.

“Forgive him, you know how he is.” You chuckled, “Could I get a… uhh… I’m feeling mimosas, how about you Angie?”

“Whatever you’re havin’ toots. I trust ya.” He chuckled, checking his phone. But he was in fact not checking his phone. He was texting you.

You felt your phone buzz and you checked what the notification was for. Upon seeing a text from Angel, you opened it.

Girl, talk to him. You’re just sitting there.

You sighed, readying yourself to listen to Angel’s suggestion. You looked at the way he was making your cocktail and admired it for a second. You didn't stop zoning out until Angel nudged you.

“So, I know you’re technically forced to stay here, but do you like bartending? You seem to put a lot of effort into the drinks.” You asked him curiously.

“Guess it’s something I’ve had a knack for. I’d rather not be here, but it’s not as bad as I make it sound like.” He shrugged, giving you your mimosa and beginning to make Angel’s.

“If you weren’t here, where would you be? …Just out of curiosity.” You asked, hoping you weren’t overstepping.

“Hmm…” Husk hummed, pensive.

Angel continued to pretend he was on his phone, texting you in actuality.

You’re doing great, girly! <3

Go get him!

Don’t bombard him with questions tho

You know how he is

You kept his advice in mind, as you waited for Husk’s reply.

“Honestly, gamblin’ somewhere. Old habits die hard. But, as I said, it ain’t that bad being here. The princess’ got a bleeding heart, her girlfriend cares about her, Pentious looks like he’s doing better… and you look happier than when you first walked in here.” He smiled, placing Angel’s drink before him.

“You think so?” You asked, feeling a slight blush scatter across your face.

“Sure, I mean, you didn’t talk much when ya’ got here. Now look at you.” He chuckled.

Angel, chuckled to himself, “You two should hang out more often. You guys seem like you would be good for each other.”

“Angie-”

“Look! A new food joint opened up near the center of the Pentagram. We should go, all three of us. Charlie did say we had to fraternize more.” Angel suggested, stopping you from speaking anymore.

Husk huffed as if the idea was funny to him, “Even if I were to say yes, Alastor’s not gonna let me out of his sight.”

“Nuh-uh! I’ll just tell Charlie to talk to him. Come on! You should go with us! If not for me, do it for her!” He pleaded.

“If you can get him off my back, you’ve got yourself a deal.” He answered, cleaning some shot glasses.

“Oh, that’s awesome!” You smiled, squeezing your palms together, receiving a subtle wink from Angel and a nod from Husk.

Angel had followed through and begged and pleaded Charlie to talk to Alastor. Of course, upon hearing that it was to arrange a date between you and Husk, she immediately tried her best to convince Alastor. And due to Charlie’s words, he obliged.

So when the day came around, you were ecstatic but nervous. But Angel was gonna be there with the two of you, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. So you got ready with a cute outfit, prepared to go downstairs to the lobby and wait for Husk to get ready.

Angel said he had some errands to run for Val, so he’d meet the both of you there. Nothing to panic about, right?

You waited patiently, scrolling through your phone. Then you saw him at the top of the stairs. Fur slicked back and bow tie steamed out of any wrinkle. He wore something similar to what he always wore, but somewhat fancier (he already wore mostly formal wear). You felt a bit of red creep onto your cheeks.

“H-hey Husk!” You smiled, waving at him, “Angel said he had some errands to run for his boss, so he’d meet us there.” You informed him. He nodded at you and you got up to walk out of the Hotel with him.

You two had some conversation on your way to the restaurant, and you were about to call Angel to see if he was on his way when you suddenly got a text from him

I’ll be a little late, toots

You two pick a table for us

Love ya <333

You sighed, but shrugged it off. Valentino was overbearing, and he’d been sort of mad at Angel lately and had given him more work. So you didn’t complain.

“Angel said he’s gonna be a bit late. He wants us to pick a table.” You spoke, seeing the restaurant’s sign a few blocks away.

“I figured, he’s busy isn’t he?” Husk responded.

“Yeah, but I don’t blame him. Valentino is kind of an asshole to his workers. Didn’t think he’d have work today, though.” You added, thinking about your friend’s situation.

“Guess when you put it that way, he doesn’t sound as fake as he is. But he’s always gotta hide behind that persona of his. You ought to tell him it’s not gonna get him anywhere.” Husk said, giving his two-sense on the topic.

“I try my best to, but I guess his persona is his escape. I’d rather not take that from him. It’s all he has left of confidence in himself.” You sighed, turning to him, showing him with your expression that you felt the need to look out for Angel.

“You’re a sweet soul, you know? I don’t know what it was you did to end up in this shithole, but I know why Charlie chose you out of the bunch for this redemption thing. You’ve got good in ya’.” He smiled, giving her a sympathetic smile.

You blushed, turning away in embarrassment, “Oh… you don’t have to say all of that…”

“I’m not lying, I can read people like a book and yours is very pleasant.” He joked, chuckling at your red face.

You two entered the restaurant, and come to find, it was not only a restaurant but a Jazz club. Husk found a table for the both of you. And right when you were about to suggest waiting for Angel to order, you got another text.

Hiii girly!!

Val’s being an ass today :/

You guys can order without me!

Great… “Hey… I don’t think Angel’s gonna make it... He just texted me telling me we should order without him.”

“I see… well, guess we’ll get this date started. Since he’s not joinin’ us.” He spoke.

You paused, a bit taken aback by his choice of words. “D-date?” You stuttered in surprise.

“Well, haven’t you heard the saying, ‘Three’s a hangout, minus two’s a date?’ Or am I just that old?” He chuckled.

“No no! I just… I was a bit surprised, that’s all.” You chuckled softly, fidgeting with your fingers.

“Either way, I wouldn’t mind a date with ya. You’re not half bad.” Husk admitted with a soft smile.

You thanked him after which the waitress came by to take your order. Your small hangout, now updated to date status, was going great! So much so, that when the Jazz band present began to play, you debated if you should ask him to dance. He seemed like he liked Jazz, but you didn’t want to assume. So you simply continued eating and chatting with him, but your wish would be granted anyway

“You know how to dance Jazz?” He asked you after wiping his mouth with his napkin.

“As much as the next girl, yeah.” You chuckled. You didn’t know much, but you had rhythm and that was a start.

“They used to have a jazz band at the casino I gambled at back in the 40s, back when I was young and alive and all that. Oh, I used to down bottles and dance all night. I can’t do that now, but I still know how to dance.” Husk added, reminiscing on the fast life that had landed him here. He’d had fun, that was something he was sure of.

“That sounds like it was fun…” You smiled softly.

“You wanna dance? I could teach ya’ a move or two.” He offered, extending his hand for you to take it.

You nodded, giving him your hand, letting him lead you to the dancefloor. He held you, moving you to the sound of the smooth Jazz. Spinning you gently and swaying with you. It all felt like a dream. The dim lights and the gentle strums of the acoustic bass resounding in sync with your heart. Until eventually, after enough dancing, he brought you in for a kiss. A kiss just as deep and smooth as his voice. The slight taste of liquor on his lips and the smell of the herbs on the food he’d eaten, enchanted you.

He parted the kiss and continued to sway you around. The two of you danced the night away, arriving at the hotel very very late. You had like 50 unread messages and 4 missed calls from Angel, but you didn’t care. And the second Angel saw you walk in through the main entrance with your arm around Husk’s forearm, he couldn’t even be mad! His job had been done.

#hazbin hotel #husk x reader #hazbin hotel husk #husker #hazbin husk #husker hazbin hotel #husk fluff #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin fluff #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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fettuccinealfred0 · 3 months

Text

Til Death Do Us Part | Part 6

Series Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 14.5k

(CW: SMUT 18+, vampire biting/blood drinking, unprotected p in v sex)

Summary:

“Fine, you want honesty?” Astarion's voice takes on a desperate, forlorn quality. “I ache for you down to my very soul. I feel as if my heart is clawing its way out of my chest and I’m powerless to stop it. Love is a sickness and you have infected me and for that, I despise you and I despise myself for ever being so weak.”

He sounds half like he’s accusing you and half like he’s exalting you.

“I have experienced the worst forms of torture and yet, this past week without you has made me wish my suffering had a tangible wound,” he continues. “My heart does not beat and yet I feel it flutter in my chest when you are near. I do not need to breathe and yet I feel as if I am suffocating when we are apart. You are stubborn and impudent and reckless. You are lovely and clever and kind, beneath it all. I fear I will spend the rest of my life trying to fall out of love with you.”

Trying to fall... out of love with you. Which means... he's currently in love with you.

Read on ao3 here.

You hardly ever see Astarion anymore. It feels as if you’re simply going through the motions of your life, trapped in a haze.

Obviously I haven’t been thinking clearly from the blood loss or I would have never let you touch me!

You shouldn’t have spoken to him like that. It wasn’t even true.

In reality, you greedily took every scrap of affection that Astarion was willing to offer you. But he had been cutting at your heart so painfully and the only way you knew how to make it stop was to make him hurt, too.

You miss him.

You hadn’t noticed how Astarion had managed to become such a fixture in your life in such a short amount of time. You hadn’t realized how accustomed you had become to his presence until you were forced to feel its absence. It seems every corner of the manor is tainted by Astarion’s ghost.

You sit by yourself at meals, eating but not tasting. You stare at books in the library without really reading. You take yourself on walks in the garden that are meant to cheer you up but end up making you cry when you see how the moonflowers had been trimmed back for winter. The bush was almost unrecognizable. It felt like some disgusting metaphor for the state of your marriage, which Astarion had cut and brutalized into something hideous.

Halsin finds you that afternoon- crumpled in a heap on the ground, hands caked in dirt from where you had been digging the plant out by the root. He doesn’t say anything, just pulls you into his warm arms and lets you sob into his shoulder, dampening his shirt until you run out of tears.

The comforting embrace of sleep does not offer any reprieve from your anguish, either. Without Astarion, sleep eludes you and you spend your time twisting and turning in the sheets, craving Astarion’s cool touch.

Even the bed in your room feels foreign to you. After spending so many nights together in Astarion’s, your room feels empty and lifeless. It’s yet another reminder of how suddenly Astarion had cast you aside. Another reminder that he didn’t need you- that he had found someone better, someone who wasn’t so desperate.

The days and nights blur together, endless and unrelenting. Time is determined to sweep you along in her current even if you’d rather drown.

Shadowheart forces you to at least rise out of bed and get dressed every day. You can tell she’s growing concerned about how little sleep you seem to be getting. The circles under your eyes are growing darker with every passing day.

About a week after your fight with Astarion, you find one of his shirts folded in between your chemises. When you look at Shadowheart inquisitively, she just shrugs her shoulders. You know this is her way of acknowledging that she has done this for you, that she has slipped you one of his shirts from the wash in an attempt to help you feel better.

When you’re alone that night, you lift the white muslin material to your nose and the sweet, familiar smell of bergamot and rosemary sends you into a tailspin. He has forever ruined those scents for you, they will forever be tied to him.

You clutch onto the fabric like a lifeline, holding it against your chest as if that will miraculously ease the aching in your heart. As you rub the soft material between your fingers, your thumb catches on a patch of raised thread at the hem of the shirt and you find small, evenly stitched letters lining the bottom of the shirt in pale red thread. It’s masterful work. Had Astarion embroidered this into his shirt himself?

You recall your wedding dress, with the shimmery gold embroidered flowers and how Astarion had seemed so concerned whether you liked it or not. Had that been his work, too?

It all terrifies you- to think you were in love with someone and to realize that you hardly knew them at all. And how well you thought you knew him, too... All your careful studying was for naught.

You finally focus on the words sewn into the shirt. Clearly, they must be important to him if he felt the need to sew them into his innermost layer of clothing.

Lamentable is the autumn picker content with plums.

The words are beautiful and fill you with a deep melancholy.

Oh. Is that how Astarion saw you? A late season plum with no taste, the unwanted scraps given to the poor.

He had cast you aside because he felt he deserved better than some foolish girl with romantic dreams and clumsy hands. You were bland. You were desperate. He wanted someone experienced, someone with taste- a ripe, juicy pear that would satisfy any autumn picker.

Lamentable is poor Astarion, you sneer to yourself, for being content with a boring, easy wife who dared to love him.

The words are a second gaping wound to your already damaged heart. It feels as if they had cut down to your very bones. And still, you curl helplessly around the shirt in bed, desperate for sleep to claim you so that you could have a momentary reprieve from this suffering.

The more Astarion avoids you, the more your sadness begins to turn into a familiar anger.

Does he truly respect you so little that he would so callously remove himself from your life? Who is he to pretend these past few months meant nothing to him?

For when you were wrapped together at night, did he not caress you so softly like you always imagined a lover would? Did he not kiss you with the reverence of a man worshiping his deity?

Even Astarion is not that good of an actor.

“I’m not sure how much longer I can continue like this,” you whisper to Shadowheart one morning, when you hardly recognize your haggard, pained reflection in the mirror. It had not even been a fortnight since your fight and the prospect of living with this heartbreak much longer seems exhausting.

“You still haven’t even told me what the two of you are fighting about,” Shadowheart says, rolling her eyes. “Who can stay away from each other the longest? Which one of you loves the other more? There are never any winners in those types of games.”

“Astarion isn’t capable of love.” You repeat the words to her that have become your mantra, “You have to have a heart to be able to love.”

Shadowheart huffs out a laugh, “Please. I’m not stupid. Anyone with half a brain can tell he loves y-”

“Stop,” you interrupt.

You must remind yourself that she doesn’t know what he has said. Although Astarion’s words seem to repeat in a vicious loop in your mind, you didn’t dare speak them aloud. You were still too embarrassed by how cruelly he had thrown you aside, too ashamed of how desperately you still needed him.

She doesn’t know that her words are yet another reminder that even if at some point Astarion did hold some scrap of affection for you, he had grown tired of you since then.

“The Lord’s been miserable, too,” Shadowheart says, attempting to comfort you.

“He doesn’t get to be miserable. Not when he-” you cut yourself off. Not when he was the one who ripped the beating heart out of my chest and crushed it into dust. Not when he was the one to replace you.

“Well, Gale said the wine cellar has been decimated,” Shadowheart offers you a friendly smile, as if she’s just offered you up a salacious bit of gossip.

It just makes your skin crawl to know they’ve been talking about you behind your back- that her and Gale have been comparing notes about your and Astarion’s misery.

“Glad to know he’s been drinking himself stupid while I’ve been miserable,” you scoff.

“That’s not what I meant.” Shadowheart sighs in frustration. “Gods, you two are perfect for each other. You’re both prideful idiots.”

—------------

You nearly run over Astarion a couple days later as he trudges down the hallway with his shoulders hunched and a haunted look on his face. Other than Shadowheart’s report from Gale that Astarion had been drinking through his collection of expensive wines, you’re not sure what he’s been up to since your fight. He spends nearly all his time locked away in his study.

And admittedly, Astarion looks as bad as you feel when you see him. It’s a rather stark transformation for someone who normally takes so much pride in their appearance.

When was the last time he bathed? His beautiful curls are all askew, greasy and unwashed. And he’s obviously starving. His skin is pale and ashen, the dark circles under his eyes are too prominent. That lovely pink undertone to his skin that appears after he’s fed is missing. Gone are the days of pretty flushed cheeks as he looks up at you from between your thighs.

He told you that he didn’t want to drink from you anymore. Had yelled at you that he had found someone else, someone better, as he nearly chased you out of the room.

So then why did he look this miserable?

You’re unsure what to do, torn between reaching out to pull him into a hug and that anger burning in you that’s a little bit satisfied at his suffering.

You know Astarion can see the shock on your face. And after so long of dedicated study, you know his mind almost as well as your own and so you know that he’s probably interpreting your surprise as pity.

He growls at you, baring his fangs in warning as he shoves past you. The sound of his study door being slammed hangs heavy in the air while you stand frozen, skin still tingling where his shoulder had brushed against yours.

Your body still calls out to him, even now.

Your feet move seemingly of their own accord, taking you to the study. You try the doorknob, but it’s predictably locked, so you raise your hand to knock at the door. When Astarion doesn’t answer, you pull a pin out of your hair and wiggle it into the lock. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Get out!” He growls at you when the door swings open.

You think he might throw the book he’s holding at you. It makes you waver- this man who is so similar to you, who lashes out when he’s scared and feels small. It’s the same response you had that first morning after you were imprisoned, when Shadowheart had entered your room.

You wilt a bit under his gaze, his fiery red eyes looking at you with something akin to… hatred.

Ignoring the way your heart feels as if it is freezing inside your chest, you square your shoulders, refusing to succumb to the intensity of his stare.

“No. You don’t get to tell me what to do!” You say and Astarion rolls his eyes in disgust.

“Oh, don’t act like a child,” he sneers back at you.

You cross your arms in the most unchildlike way you can manage and resist from stomping your foot on the ground in frustration.

“I am not the one who has been acting like a child here.”

“Gods, what do you want from me?” Astarion yells.

His response nearly makes you laugh. Since when has he ever cared what you wanted? He didn’t care when he forced you to marry him. He didn’t care when he rejected you right after you had opened up to him. Even now, as he asks you directly, you doubt he will truly listen to you.

No, Astarion is only capable of caring for himself. It doesn’t matter how many people he has to hurt to get what he wants.

But you watch as he deflates almost immediately, his anger turning into fatigue as his hands come up to massage at his temples like he’s got the worst headache in the world. When he speaks again, he just sounds like a broken man, “I told you that whatever was between us is done.”

“I want you to stop pretending like I don’t exist! I want you to be honest with me for once! I want-” You cut yourself off, chest heaving.

I want you.

The truth that you cannot ignore, the truth that doesn’t dissipate even in your darkest moments.

“You want honesty?” Astarion scoffs. “I’ve been honest with you!”

You bristle.

“You lied to me when we first met! You chased me down and threatened me and then didn't kill me. You run around all the time whispering in the shadows with strange people that don’t work here. You go on weird business trips and come back on the brink of death. You tell me you hate me and want me gone from your life and then mope around like I’m the one who broke your heart. Everything you do is a lie!”

“I never said that I hate you,” is all Astarion says in response.

“That’s the only thing you got out of everything I just said? That was like the least important detail!” You shout back at him, incredulous.

Of course, he continues to evade all the very real issues you have just mentioned. You decide that you will offer him one last chance to be honest.

“Tell me the truth,” you spit out through gritted teeth. “Or at least tell me to my face that you never want to see me again and I’ll be gone by morning.”

Please, you think, say the words. Then, you can be gone from this place and can somehow try to salvage a life without Astarion. But you cannot stay here any longer and suffer. You cannot bear to continue to live as a ghost. You cannot watch as he gives his happiness to another.

But you know Astarion. You know when you’ve caught him. There’s that momentary shock in his face before his jaw locks in frustration.

“You’re a nuisance,” he says, but his words don’t hold the usual fervor.

“I am,” you agree. “So why didn’t you just kill me the night we met? You could’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble.”

“It would have been a crime to take your beauty away from the world,” Astarion says, but the answer seems too rehearsed. You doubt you’re the first person to hear this line.

“No, I want a real reason!” You demand.

“What do you want me to say?” He cries out, palms slamming loudly against the desk. He’s nearly frantic as his red eyes bore into you- desperate, pleading. “That perhaps you reminded me of myself? That perhaps I am indeed very lonely and you’re the first interesting person I’ve met in years? And here I was, presented with this opportunity to have you. Only a fool would say no to that.”

“I’m a person, Astarion. I am not something that can be kept.”

“And you never let me forget it,” he says, chuckling darkly.

“Fine, you want honesty?” His voice takes on a desperate, forlorn quality. “I ache for you down to my very soul. I feel as if my heart is clawing its way out of my chest and I’m powerless to stop it. Love is a sickness and you have infected me and for that, I despise you and I despise myself for ever being so weak.”

He sounds half like he’s accusing you and half like he’s exalting you.

Trying to fall… out of love with you. Which means… he’s currently in love with you.

“You love me?” You ask in disbelief.

Although your heart is singing in your chest, chirping and trilling how it always does when Astarion grants you any affection, your mind is clouded by anger. You can tell by the shock on Astarion’s own face that he half-expected you to be placated by his words and did not anticipate that you would turn on him.

“Then what the fuck was the other night about?” You shout. “Because, remember, it was you who pushed me away. It was you who told me that you had found someone new and cast me aside like I was no better than the dirt under your boot. It was you who called me easy and shamed me for my desires.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Astarion crumples in on himself, head hanging in his hands. “And then there were all the times I took advantage of you in your compromised state. I’m sorry. There will never be enough words to tell you how sorry I am. You should hate me for what I’ve done to you.”

He’s practically on the verge of tears. And although Astarion deserves to suffer your wrath far longer, you rush to wrap him in your arms because you are weak and cannot bear to see him in pain. He sags into your embrace immediately.

“I should have never said that. I’m sorry, Astarion. I assure you, I was a very conscious, very willing participant in all our evenings together. You just- you vex me.” You huff out a frustrated breath. “You’re like a puzzle with pieces missing. And every time I think I’m starting to see the picture, someone comes along and messes it all up again. I feel as though I’m being driven to the point of madness.”

With your hands on his cheeks, you move his head from where it is tucked against your chest, forcing him to look into your eyes. You need him to hear what you are saying, to feel the words down to his very bones. “You must know I never meant it when I said that I wasn’t clear headed.”

“I just…” you take a deep breath, attempting to collect your thoughts. Astarion’s eyes are desperately searching your face. You cannot tell if he is more scared at the prospect that you are telling the truth or that you are lying.

You speak, gently tracing your thumb down Astarion’s sharp cheekbone. “It felt as if you had frozen my heart inside my chest and I needed you to stop talking, to stop reminding me that I don’t mean as much to you as you do to me. The only way I knew to do that was to make you hurt, too. But you must know I treasure every moment we spend together, every book we read, every night we share. Whenever you…” you trail off, a bit shy. “Touched me, I was painfully, blissfully aware of every moment. I asked for you to share yourself with me because I wanted you. I will always want you.”

“If anything, the blood loss just made it all the more exciting,” you place Astarion’s hand over your chest so he can feel the beating of your heart. “Had my heart racing nearly as fast as it is right now.”

Astarion breathes out a breathy, astonished laugh and you’re sure he can feel the way your heart stutters in response.

“You are my north star, Astarion,” you say with a soft smile on your face. “You are the gentle light that guides me home, that helps me remember myself in the dark.”

“You really mean that?” Astarion asks, looking up at you with adoration.

“I love you. Every beat of my heart is for you.”

And, in fact, perhaps you had loved him since the moment you first danced with him. Love and hate are very similar emotions, indeed.

Astarion’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, a wide smile on his lips. He’s radiant, like the stars in the night sky- something whose beauty could never be captured by something so mundane as oil on canvas, something who’s beauty could only ever be experienced.

“Are you going to be insufferable now that I’ve admitted that?” you ask and Astarion tips his head back to let out a loud laugh. It’s perhaps the hardest you’ve ever seen him laugh.

“Absolutely, my love,” he murmurs, leaning up to press a soft kiss to the side of your mouth. He continues peppering your face with kisses between each word as he says, “Completely and utterly insufferable.”

“I need you to promise me something.” You catch his face between your palms again so he is looking into your eyes. “If- if you still want this to work, if you still want me, I need you to promise that you’re going to be honest with me from now on. About everything.”

He frowns for a moment and you can see him thinking. Apparently, you had found the dealbreaker in his love.

“I swear on my life,” he finally says with a little smile.

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re not technically alive.”

“It’s a figure of speech, darling.” He rolls his eyes, but you can tell he’s a bit disappointed he didn’t get away with it. Damned lawyer. “I swear, full honesty from this point forward.”

“Thank you.”

“But I need you to promise me something in return,” Astarion says, turning serious.

“Anything,” you promise.

One of Astarion’s hands comes up to cup your own cheek and his cool skin sends a little shiver down your spine. “In the future, if you ever do decide you want us to be intimate again, we save my feeding until after. It’s important to me that you’re able to think clearly. That you’re able to say no.”

Okay, well, you hate that idea. Apparently he had also managed to find the one condition you were unwilling to agree to.

“I don’t want to agree to that because I like it when you drink from me. It’s… exhilarating.” There’s nothing quite so electrifying as the feeling of your lifeblood being pulled from your veins, knowing that it will be used to nourish Astarion’s own body. You attempt to negotiate, though you are sure Astarion will be unimpressed with your skills, “So, I propose an amendment- we check in with each other before we do anything? Just so I can assure you that I am a level-headed, very willing participant.”

“Those are terms I can agree to.”

Astarion’s finally pulls you down into a kiss. Your lips slide against each other’s and it tastes faintly salty, though you’re unsure if the tears belonged to you or Astarion.

“I love you,” you murmur against his mouth and he’s descending again, hungrier. Your hands move up to curl in his hair and Astarion has wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to straddle him on the chair.

It’s one of those toe-curling kisses that has you feel like your very soul is leaving your body, that has you feel like the very essence of your beings are singing together in harmony.

“Say it again,” he commands in a low rumble. And, oh, you like that low, commanding voice he gives you. You can feel your thighs tighten around Astarion, feel the way his hand claws at the fabric of your dress.

“I love you,” you say before your lips press against each other again. You let your tongue trace along one of his fangs, snagging just enough so that you can taste the bitter, metallic tang of blood. Astarion becomes ravenous as he licks into your mouth.

You kiss, over and over again, until you are satisfied that Astarion is assured just how willing and enthusiastic of a participant you truly are.

“I love you, too,” he breathes and you can feel how his lips curl up into a smile.

When you finally part from him long enough to see his face, he looks all wrong as you push his greasy curls off his forehead.

“You need a bath.” You wrinkle your nose and Astarion chuckles.

“You’ll join me?” He asks in a rich, deep voice as he gives you a devilish smile.

You stand up and hold out your hand to him, “Come, pretty boy, let me take care of you.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you will,” he says and his arm wraps around you from behind so he can catch you, playfully nipping at your neck. You laugh as you detangle yourself from his arms.

The servants swarm to set up a bath in Astarion’s room and you watch in the corner with him, a bit embarrassed that all the servants know you will be bathing together.

When you are finally alone, you help Astarion out of his clothes first. He doesn’t really need help, but it’s nice to take care of him for once. A little shiver runs up his spine when your fingers ghost against his stomach as you help him pull off his shirt.

When he turns around to check the water, you see the huge scar on his back. It’s massive, spanning the entirety of his back. How have you never noticed this before? You had seen Astarion naked. Evidently, he had taken great care so far as to not let you see the scar. You can’t help but wonder why he had been hiding it from you and why he suddenly was allowing you to see it?

Your hands reach out to trace the patterns and Astarion jumps, but lets you continue. You’ve seen this pattern before, on the drawing you found in his study the day you broke in. And because Astarion cannot see his own reflection in a mirror, that must be the only way he knows what his scar looks like.

“How did you get this?” you ask, horrified by the pain he has suffered. You try to keep your fingers light against the jagged tissue, unsure of how sensitive the skin is.

You can see the wheels turning in his head and you know a lie is about to spew out of his mouth.

“Honest,” you make him promise.

He swallows hard and nods. “The man who turned me was cruel. This is a relic of that past. I don’t like to talk about it.”

And because you are trying to trust him, you respect him enough to not ask about the past he had just told you was too painful to bring up. Though, if he’s answering questions, you might as well try to get at least some new information out of him.

“And the trips?”

His words are careful when he speaks. Like he’s being honest, but not giving you the full truth. “Just business. Sometimes we go to dangerous areas. I take Karlach, Lae’zel, or Wyll with me for protection.”

You’re satisfied enough with that answer and thoroughly distracted when Astarion’s fingers begin to slowly undo the buttons down the back of your dress. Unfortunately, you still haven't been able to master those slippery little devils. Astarion seems content with taking his time on the task- letting his fingers trail teasingly along your spine and occasionally dropping soft kisses along your shoulder. It’s maddening.

Your corset somehow manages to take twice as long as the buttons on the dress. Astarion seems perfectly happy to let the bath water grow cold as he runs his fingers over every inch of the satiny ribbon that ties the garment to your body.

When you’re finally undressed, Astarion steps into the tub and settles back in the hot water, resting his head on the edge of the tub with a sigh.

It’s awkward- you aren’t sure how you’re supposed to position yourself in the large bathtub. Sitting in his lap seems too direct. But you need to make up your mind quickly. Even with the warm fire burning in the room and the steam rising from the hot water of the tub, your bare skin is growing cold the longer you take to decide.

After you step into the tub, you sit on the opposite side, facing Astarion. Pulling your knees up to your chest, you chew on your lip. You’re nervous- partially because you’re a bit new to showing so much skin around a man and partially because you aren’t sure how much you’re allowed to touch Astarion. You aren’t used to this level of physical intimacy. You had only seen Astarion’s body once before and you had been so caught up in the haze of how silky soft the skin of his cock had felt against your hand and how his eyes were screwed so tightly shut with pleasure that you hadn’t really gotten that good of a peak at what said cock actually looked like.

And that night had ended… poorly, to say the least.

“Gone shy, pet? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Astarion says with a cheeky smile.

You love him, your heart sings. He’s reverting back to that easy banter, trying to help make you more comfortable. Gently, Astarion tugs on your arm and guides you into his lap.

“See,” he leans his forehead against yours, “much better.”

“Much,” you agree, knocking your nose against his before you remind him, “you need blood.”

“Are you offering?”

“Always,” you tease. Astarion’s eyes are hungry as he watches you tilt your neck to the side for him.

“Devilish woman.” His eyes crackle dangerously, all crimson and fire. It’s a total contradiction to how softly his hand cradles the back of your head as he leans down to your neck.

He presses a long kiss to your skin. The simple act nearly brings tears to your eyes. For weeks, you had let Astarion drink from you. For weeks, he would kiss you so gently before he dug his teeth into your skin- an act of apology, an act of worship. An act of love.

So much had changed this evening. Your worldview completely shifted, yet again, as you grew accustomed to the idea that Astarion loved you. With every heartbeat, you are reminded- he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. And yet, that one little habit remained the same.

The soft cold of Astarion’s lips gives way to that familiar sting, to that chill that seeps down to your very bones. You fight to orient yourself for a moment, inhaling deeply to focus. The coldness fades. The familiar lick of desire burns bright within you.

Astarion’s cool tongue swirling against your skin does nothing to tamper the heat growing within you and the arm he has wrapped around your waist tightens, dragging you in even closer. You feel him everywhere and still, you need more- it’s not enough.

Too quickly, always too quickly, Astarion parts from the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving one last kiss on the hollow of your throat.

When you look at him, he’s got that gooey, drunk look in his eyes like he always does after he’s fed. The pinkish tint has returned to his cheeks and the tips of his ears now that he’s got some blood in his system and you feel a sense of pride bloom within you.

I did that, you think, that was me.

Astarion reaches his thumb out to swipe up a stripe of blood that must have been leftover from the bite mark on your neck, runny like blood always is when mixed with water. His pretty pink lips close around his thumb as he lewdly sucks it into his mouth. Your mind goes blank as you watch him, entranced.

“Delicious,” Astarion says with a wicked grin. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“I’m not too bland for you?” You ask, repeating his words from the fight back at him. You’re teasing him, mostly, but that jealous, insecure part of you deep down is looking for his reassurance. “I’m not the late autumn plum that you lament picking?”

“What are you talking about?” Astarion looks at you, brow furrowed in confusion. It takes him a moment before his expression clears and he laughs. He has the audacity to laugh at you. “That’s not what that poem’s about at all, darling. How did you even know about that? Is that why my shirt went missing?”

“That’s not… important… right now…” you say, feeling your face heat up. Astarion’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, tracing his thumb gently over your cheek bone.

“Do you want to know what that poem means?” He asks, in perhaps the quietest, shyest voice you’ve ever heard Astarion speak with. “For many years, I had nothing except my hunger. My own body didn’t even belong to me. What’s lamentable is someone who is content with that life, with living on scraps of rats and insects. The poem is a reminder to me that I had to keep fighting, a reminder that I refuse to be broken.”

Astarion leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. “You remind me so much of myself, little flower. Your will and your determination, even in a losing fight. That’s what drew me to you that night we first met. In the face of certain death, you couldn’t resist telling me I was wrong.”

You laugh. He’s right, of course- you do love telling people when they are wrong.

“In truth, your blood is the best I’ve ever had. I fear I have tasted perfection,” he says, letting his nose dip down to trace along your neck. You shiver, keenly aware of how your cunt is resting tantalizingly against one of Astarion’s thighs. All it would take is a little roll of your hips to provide some sweet relief.

But Astarion still needs a bath and your neck still stings a bit. You know from experience the stinging of the twin bites on your skin will last a while longer, so you distract yourself by wetting a hard bar of soap in your hands. You run the soap over Astarion, working it into a lather on his skin.

It’s an excuse to touch him. You know this. He knows this. Neither of you are complaining.

You take a moment to stroke along the muscles that run from his neck to his shoulders, chasing away some of the knots and sore spots that had developed after so many days hunched over a desk. Astarion lets out content little hums as you work, his eyes slowly falling shut.

You move to his arms, which he’s draped elegantly over the side of the tub as if in preparation for your work. Moving the soap, you trace along those beautiful, pale blue veins all the way down to the inside of his wrist. Bringing his hand to your mouth, you press a soft kiss to each of his fingertips before repeating the same pattern on his other arm.

When you wash his hair, Astarion practically melts into your hands. It reminds you of Tara how he purrs when you let your nails scratch gently against his scalp.

“Tilt your head back,” you instruct him. You let the water run through his white curls and wash the soap away.

When he comes back up, the two of you just stare at each other for a moment before you’re falling together. It’s one of those hungry kisses that leave you wanting more. All teeth and tongue crashing against one another. One of Astarion’s hands palms at your ass, pulling you closer to him. You tug on Astarion’s lower lip with your teeth and you feel the growl reverberating in his chest.

Astarion’s length is hard where it presses against your stomach. You move your hand under the water, aching to touch that satiny soft skin again. Astarion deftly catches your hand, intertwining your fingers with his own.

You huff, frustrated. He always did this. It was as if he thought he didn’t deserve pleasure, too. Or thought you were inexperienced and incapable of giving it to him. You wanted to learn how to please him, desperately, but he was always batting your hands away.

“Are you truly so cruel you would deny your wife this simple pleasure?” You ask, trying your best to pout in that way that always makes Astarion cave and give you what you want.

“You’re dramatic,” Astarion brings your entwined fingers up to kiss the back of your hand. “And I’m not cruel. I just refuse to let the first time I have you be in a lukewarm bath. I intend to savor every moment and for that, I will need much more space.”

Astarion speaks in that husky, arrogant voice that sends a shock of electricity straight to your cunt and has you clenching around nothing.

You try to move a bit and end up banging one of your elbows painfully into the side of the tub. Okay, maybe he has a point. More space would be good. Even if you ache to feel him inside and don’t want to wait.

He helps you out of the tub and your legs are a bit shaky, which puts a self-satisfied smirk on Astarion’s face. He finishes towel drying his hair, curls messy and beautiful as the wet locks lay flat against his skin. His towel drapes around his shoulders and you use it to pull him down for a kiss, your tongues sliding against one another. You feel Astarion’s hands against the back of your thighs and he’s lifting you off your feet so you can wrap your legs around his waist. You’re keenly aware of how your cunt rubs against the thatch of hair at the end of his navel as he walks you over to the bed and gently sets you down on it.

Astarion kisses down your stomach and you know where he’s going. You cup your hand around his cheek, guiding his face up to look at you.

“Need you,” you practically whine. It’s annoying, how Astarion is able to turn you into this needy little child, how your very being is addicted to him.

“I know just what you need,” he gives you another kiss above your hip bone and you whine again.

“No.” You’re trying to pull him back up now, hands grabbing at his shoulders and arms, trying to settle his weight on top of you again. “Need you to fuck me.”

“Oh? How can I refuse when you beg so sweetly?” He has that sinful look on his face that makes you ravenous for him. “But you’ll have to wait,” Astarion says, moving to settle between your thighs. “You need to be ready so it won’t hurt. And besides, I’ve missed your taste. You won’t deny your husband that, will you?”

He probably has a point. You had barely been able to fully wrap your hand around his cock when you had touched him. And the most you had ever taken inside yourself was, what? Two of Astarion’s beautiful, dexterous fingers? And those already had you feeling stretched to a point where you thought you might shatter.

Astarion’s tongue swirls on your inner thigh, tracing over the faint bruise left from the last time he bit you. He blows cool air over your cunt that has you nearly jumping out of your skin. It forces you to be painfully aware of how wet you are. But Astarion quickly takes pity on you and his cool mouth presses a soft kiss against your cunt before his tongue is darting out, licking so wonderfully.

Gods, the miracles he can perform with his tongue are sacrilegious.

Astarion eats you out like his very life depends on it. And when he slowly slips one, and then two, and then three fingers into you, your worldview shrinks to red eyes looking up at you hungrily from between your thighs.

There’s that familiar warmth rising in your stomach as your trembling hands clutch onto Astarion’s damp hair like a lifeline. A distant part of you laughs about how his normally perfect curls will be a mess when his hair dries.

With Astarion’s lovely fingers curling inside you and his tongue dancing against your clit, you settle into the warmth that seeps into your bones.

"So good," you manage to pant out when his tongue moves in a particularly delicious way. You feel the coil tightening in your belly before it snaps, waves of pleasure rolling over you as you climax.

When you’ve finally started breathing normally again, Astarion crawls up your body like a fucking predator and you’re practically drooling over him. As he moves, his leg catches yours and he hooks your knee over his thigh, draaaging your leg up with his own.

You’ve never been this aroused in your life. You feel like putty in Astarion’s hands- his to mold and move and control how he wants you. And you know Astarion’s noticed the effect it’s had on you, too. You see that arrogant gleam in his eye that lets you know you are dangerously feeding into his already inflated ego.

And he knows what he’s doing. In this position, he’s opened up your cunt that much further and his own hard cock is pressed against your center. It’s wet- gods, it’s almost obscene how wet it is. And the way Astarion’s cool skin rubs against your most sensitive spots sends a delightful shiver down your spine.

“Astarion-” you manage to choke out. “If you don’t fuck me soon, I think I’m going to die.”

“Perish the thought, dearest, I’d never let that happen.” He says in that cocky, teasing tone that lets you know he’s enjoying this too much.

He stops moving and grips your chin with his hand. You mewl, letting him force you to look at him. His eyes have softened and his face is so open and loving that you think your heart might very well flutter out of your chest and settle inside Astarion’s own rib cage.

“You’re good?” He asks, voice gone soft with concern.

“So good,” you try to roll your hips against his, ignoring your confusion at his complete change in tone. But at this point, if you don’t have him inside you in the next minute, you think you might spontaneously combust.

“Not what I meant,” Astarion chuckles darkly, his grip on your chin tightening just a bit. “You’re clear headed? You promised me we’d check in.”

Oh, that’s right, the promise.

“All clear,” you say, tapping the side of your head, trying to ease his concerns with a bit of humor. It seems to work based on the gentle grin that tilts up one corner of his mouth. You focus on committing this moment to memory. “How are you?”

A look of shock passes over Astarion’s face for a moment, so quickly that a lesser trained eye might have missed it completely. It makes you wonder if you’re the first person that has ever bothered to ask Astarion if he’s okay.

“I’m going to remember this forever,” Astarion reassures, like he’s reading your mind. He gives you one more serious look. “Any point you want to stop, tell me and I will. No questions asked.”

How could this man exist? He seems unreal. Your guardian angel perched above you.

“Same goes for you,” you tell him, turning your head a bit. Astarion loosens his grip on your chin to allow for the motion and you press a kiss to the inside of his palm. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he leans down and kisses your lips, soft and sweet. “You ready?”

You nod and he shifts his weight onto one forearm so he can grab his cock with his hand. He runs the tip along the length of your cunt teasingly and oh, it feels wonderful against your wet folds. Slowly, he starts pushing into you.

You hiss at the initial sting and Astarion pauses immediately, just sitting with the tip of his cock inside you. He’s kissing all over your face, whispering about how ‘you’re doing so well,’ ‘you feel so good I can hardly stand it,’ and ‘think about how good we’re going to make each other feel, my love’ that has the part of you that feeds on Astarion’s praise soaring. When you start to get used to the stretch, you nod again and Astarion presses in a bit further.

It takes what feels like a small eternity before he’s fully inside you. And oh, the stretch, the fullness has you feeling like you’re ready to shatter at any moment.

“Gods, your cunt is perfect. Like you were made for me,” Astarion says, through gritted teeth. It causes liquid fire to shoot through your veins and your cunt clenches around him. You think you actually manage to catch his brain short-circuiting as he lets out a strangled noise that’s a cross between a growl and a moan.

“Tight… s-so tight. And wet,” Astarion groans, his mouth nearly hanging open.

You feel a spark of pleasure deep within yourself over seeing this man- who acts so confident and above everyone- nearly disintegrate into a babbling mess from just the feel of your cunt around him.

And then, Astarion begins to move and it’s you who becomes a babbling mess. The pressure stings a bit at first, but it doesn’t take long for the sweet feeling of pleasure to overwhelm you completely.

His pace feels torturously slow, as if he’s determined to make you feel every wonderful inch moving in and out of you.

“More,” you plead, trying to move your own hips to speed up the rhythm. “Faster, please.”

Even when he picks up speed, it feels like he’s holding back.

“I won’t break,” you tell him, hooking one of your legs around his hips to urge him that much deeper inside you.

Astarion listens to you then, finally, and begins thrusting into you at a rhythm that has your mind spinning. His hand snakes down between your bodies, moving to trace tight circles over your clit.

You feel as if you are ascending to the heavens. It should be impossible to feel this good.

And you’re so close to the edge, so close to that precipice of pure bliss.

“So close, Star,” you manage to gasp out. “So good.”

“Let go, little flower,” he says. “Want to feel you.”

Your second orgasm is earth-shattering. The kind of orgasm that makes it feel as if your soul itself is fracturing like beautiful glass inside you. The kind that has you arching your back and digging your nails into Astarion’s skin as you desperately try to tether yourself to reality.

Astarion fucks you through it, rocking his hips into yours with a clinical precision that has stars dotting at the edges of your vision.

He slows for a moment and then stops, hard cock still nestled firmly inside you. You let out a pathetic whine that makes Astarion give an involuntary little buck of his hips. You chase after him with your own, but he rests more of his weight on top of you, effectively trapping you underneath him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight when you come. I need- I need a minute,” Astarion says, eyes screwed shut.

“Why?” you ask, pushing a lock of messy hair out of his face. It’s a good thing he can’t see himself in a mirror, he’d be distraught at the state of his hair. “What are you waiting for?”

“Need to- fuck, need this to last. Never want this to end.”

It sends your heart soaring- the fact that Astarion is so determined to try to make this moment last as long as possible. Perhaps, beneath all his layers of pretend smiles and barbed wire guarding his heart, he’s secretly a romantic.

“Doesn’t have to end,” you murmur, nails scratching lightly at his scalp in the way you know he likes. “We can do this forever.”

And then, the most glorious thing happens. Astarion whimpers.

It’s one of those involuntary sounds that worked its way up from the back of his throat. You think you could grow used to the surge of power you feel inside you at forcing Astarion to lose his carefully practiced control. You want him to whimper again.

You use your grip on his hair to move his face towards yours to kiss him and you speak against his mouth, “Let me take care of you for once.”

You feel his nose rub against yours as he nods and you grin wickedly in triumph, gently pushing him off you so he’s laying back on the bed. Astarion looks confused for a moment before you settle on his lap, moving to guide him back inside you. You’re still so sensitive after your last orgasm, you feel every wonderful ridge and vein of his cock inside you.

You lean down, biting his ear before you whisper, “You deserve to not have to do all the work for once.”

And then you move, rising and lowering yourself against his cock. This new angle has him hitting impossibly deeper, has him pressing against some secret, sponge-y spot that makes your toes curl every time he’s fully inside you.

So, this was what all the fuss was about. Why men waged wars and forsook religion. For what gods can compete with the way that Astarion moved inside you? And what cruel gods indeed if they forbade this act of your salvation. You felt as if you had been born anew atop Astarion’s cock.

You bite your lip, trying to dampen the barrage of noises that threaten to spill out of you.

“No,” Astarion nearly cries out, his thumb coming up to pull your lower lip out from between your teeth. “Need to- fuck, need to hear you.”

Oh, he’s desperate in the best way possible. You stop holding back- let out every gasp and moan and curse. Astarion’s hands come up to your breasts- kneading and squeezing them and pinching your nipples and he’s looking at you with such awe that you think you could tell him you were an angel sent from the heavens and he would believe you.

Your thighs are starting to burn when Astarion’s hand moves from your breasts to curl around your throat and you mewl at how perfectly his hand fits around your neck. His thumb traces gently over his bite mark from earlier, his eyes getting even more desperate and hungry, all fiery red like he’s going to consume you alive.

Astarion is not subtle about his obsession with the marks and bruises he leaves on your skin.

You think that animalistic, instinctual part of him is proud of the idea that everyone knows he was the one to give you those marks. And you have never tried to hide them, even if particularly nasty marks on the column of your throat sent Gale’s eyes skittering to look anywhere but you and caused Shadowheart to make snide comments about them as she helped you dress.

You toss your hair over your shoulder, displaying the bite even more proudly, still rolling your hips against his own.

Astarion uses his grip around your neck to pull you down against him and press his mouth to yours in a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. One of his fangs must catch on something because there’s that wonderful metallic taste of blood being shared between you two.

“Where?” He pants out against your lips.

And because you’re a little dizzy with the influx of new sensations, your brain can’t quite decipher what Astarion means. “Where what?”

“Where can I come, darling?”

Oh. Oh.

Although Astarion could have told you simply that the sky was blue in that husky voice and it would have caused your eyes to roll back in your head, those deliciously racy words out of his mouth have you practically turning into mush.

“Gods,” you breathe out. “Anywhere you want. Inside?”

Because the idea of being separated from him for even a moment seems unbearable. And that was the right answer based on the way Astarion’s hips start to buck into you with wild abandon.

You continue to move together, two inseparable bodies- unable to tell where one ends and the other begins. His cock pulses inside you before he lets out a strangled moan and you feel him come inside you.

Tired and spent, with aching thighs, you settle yourself on top of Astarion. You have laid your head on his chest many times and his lack of heartbeat will never get less foreign. Though, you do feel a sense of satisfaction that he’s also exhausted- panting beneath you and trying to catch his breath. Astarion’s cool chest feels wonderful against your flushed, sweaty skin.

“Where did an innocent thing like you even learn about this position?” Astarion asks and you can hear the delighted little teasing tone in his voice. “Here I was thinking I’d have all sorts of fun things to teach you.”

Despite the fact that Astarion cannot see your face, you roll your eyes. You know he thinks you naive and bashful because you are inexperienced.

“Married women whisper rather loudly if you know how to eavesdrop,” you tell him. “You can find out all sorts of salacious secrets- whose husband has a mistress or whose child might have been born a bit too early after the wedding. More interestingly, you learn all about what scandalous things happen in the bedroom between married couples. ‘Riding Saint George’ caused quite the uproar a few seasons ago.”

“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?” Astarion laughs and you feel his chest rumbling underneath your cheek.

“And I know all sorts of things,” you defend yourself to Astarion. “Most other ‘prim’ and ‘proper’ ladies would have balked the moment your head went between their thighs.”

“Well, I can’t wait to see the extent of your knowledge. And fill in any gaps that might arise,” he says in a low, seductive voice that makes you keenly aware of the fact that his cock is still inside you.

Propping your head up on Astarion’s chest, you look at him, giggling a bit at the way his dark, sultry eyes contradict rather comedically with the mess that had become his hair. He’d need a small fortune’s worth of pomade to tame it.

“We probably should have saved the bath for after that, huh?” you grin, reaching up to brush some of the loose curls away from his forehead.

When Astarion laughs, you use that as the opportunity to slip off of him, hissing at the dull ache between your thighs and the feeling of how desperately you already miss him inside you.

Astarion gets up to find the towel that had somehow ended up thrown over the folding screen in the corner of the room as the two of you had desperately clawed at one another and stumbled over to the bed. Astarion wets the towel and returns, gently wiping it in between your legs.

You hiss. Astarion looks at you worried, like he just committed the greatest crime in the world by hurting you.

“Sensitive, s’all,” you explain and he returns to carefully wiping away any residue of your coupling.

Astarion’s arm wraps around your waist as he settles next to you on the bed. He has a book on his bedside table that you grab and read aloud. It’s wonderful how easily the two of you settle back into your old patterns. You read until your eyes start to grow heavy and you instead shift your focus your attention to studying Astarion’s beautiful face. His eyes close and he relaxes as you gently trace your fingers over his strong brow, down his lovely nose, over the curve of his jaw.

“Can you turn into a bat?” You ask, half on your way to sleep.

“Why would you possibly be wondering that after I’ve just given you the most memorable night of pleasure you’ve ever known?” Astarion asks, eyes opening to look at you as if you’ve grown a second head.

You giggle and poke him on the tip of his nose. He playfully catches your finger in his mouth and gives it a gentle bite.

“I don’t know. I always thought they were cute when I was a girl. And I think you’re cute now. And you’re a vampire. My mind just connected some dots.”

Astarion rolls his eyes, “I’m not cute, darling. Dashingly handsome or devilishly good-looking, maybe, but not cute.”

“I think it would be weirder if I called a bat dashingly handsome than if I called you cute,” you say, scrunching up your nose.

You had missed this- the easy back and forth that you always managed to find with Astarion. You had been so lonely without him, your best friend. Yet another reason why you love him is because he understands you innately, because the two of you have managed to dig your way so far under each other’s skins and find a home there.

“I’d rather you didn’t compare me to a bat at all,” Astarion says, still acting as if you have gravely offended him by daring to call him cute and like he doesn’t require your compliments as a basic necessity to survive. He lets out a sigh, as if you are greatly annoying him (you both know you are not) and finally answers your question. “And no, I can’t turn into one. As a general rule, I try to stay as far away from rodents as possible.”

Weird rule, you think.

“Pity, I’d bet you’d be cute. You’d probably be white, like one of those albino ones,” you tease, bringing your hand up to tug on his mess of white curls.

“I worry for your sanity, darling.”

You gasp, a big dramatic one that Astarion himself would be proud of. “Don’t tell me you just passed up an opportunity to make a joke about how you ‘fucked me stupid’ or something obscene like that.”

“I would never debase myself with such vulgarity.” He says in mock offense at your words before his lips twist up in a lecherous grin that you know means trouble. “Besides, it sounds so much better from your lips, my love.”

Astarion leans forward and kisses you on your vulgar mouth.

The two of you resume holding each other, wrapped in your little cocoon of love. But your mind is still elsewhere.

“I found one when I was younger, you know,” you break the silence.

Astarion hums. “One what?”

“A bat,” you remind him. “It was right after my mother died. The poor thing was injured. It had a broken wing and was just crawling helplessly on the ground. I brought it home with me, foolishly thinking I could heal it. When my father found it in my room that night, he made me watch while a servant killed it. He told me I shouldn’t be messing around with nature, that I was lucky it didn’t give me rabies.”

You shiver a bit at the memory of the bat’s tiny head caved in where your father had ordered a servant to take a shovel to the animal. You think of that poor man’s distraught face, how he had been unable to disobey if he wanted to keep his job, if he wished to be able to feed his family.

You continue speaking, “It felt like my father was telling me that caring about something doesn’t matter. But I disagree with that- I think we should try to help the things we love no matter what. Even if it is a stupid bat that might give you rabies.”

“I’d still love you. Foaming mouth and all,” Astarion smiles at you.

“Liar,” you say, poking his cheek.

Astarion frowns, but doesn’t say anything for a long time. You see him chewing on something in his mind but you give him time- you try to trust him to tell you when he is ready.

“You’re going to die some day,” his voice is grim when he speaks. “Unless…”

Well, that’s a bummer.

“Unless I’m a vampire,” you complete his train of thought.

And you can’t say the idea had never occurred to you. Especially as you had sat at Astarion’s bedside when he was injured.

At times, he had been thrashing and screaming so violently that he would reopen the wound on his abdomen. You had been frantic watching him like that. Shadowheart had to practically pry you away from him so that he didn’t accidentally injure you in his flailing.

You never speak of those memories with Astarion, no matter how deeply they haunt you. You know they would only serve to embarrass him, that he would only interpret your care as pity. You know this because you would think the same.

But as you sat and watched him, useless except for your blood, you had a long, long time to think about what would have happened if you were the one that was injured. Would Astarion have cared? Would he have sat at your bedside in anguish as you recovered?

No, you had realized. Because a wound like his would have left you dead.

“When I asked you if you’d ever want to be a vampire, you said you didn’t know if you would. That it would depend on the circumstances. Is that still true?” Astarion asks, searching your face for an answer you’re unsure you’re able to give.

Because it’s not that you don’t ever want to be a vampire. It’s just all too soon. You and Astarion had only been married for six months and you had just gotten back on solid ground after a very rocky two weeks.

And you know that you do want Astarion forever, but you also want to settle into this new life with him for a while longer. There was still so much he was hiding from you and you don’t want the memory of your turning to be tainted by doubts or hesitation. It should be a joyous occasion- the true union of your souls that you didn’t get at your wedding.

“I don’t know…” you trail off, a bit unsure of how to put your thoughts into words that will not hurt Astarion’s feelings. Instead, you choose to deflect, “Do you want to turn me? Is that why you’re asking this?”

“I can’t stand the thought of you being harmed. Of you dying.” Astarion laments, his eyes all blood red, reminding you of that monstrous gash in his side. “What a miserable existence that would be, not after I have known the ecstasy of being with you. Everything else just seems dull in comparison.”

And he’s right, the idea of a life without him seems hollow. Survivably, certainly, but lackluster. It reminds you of how Astarion can only see the gardens at night- still beautiful, still worth experiencing, but not nearly as vibrant or wonderful as you knew it could be.

“I know I want to be a vampire someday,” you say. “I dread the thought of growing older while you remain unchanged. I hate the idea of becoming a burden to you in my old age.”

“You could never be a burden. And that’s a long way off,” Astarion tries to reassure you.

Because for him, time isn’t running out. For him, time stretches and flows lazily like a river into the sea. And he had been like this for so long, had been a vampire many lifetimes longer than he had been alive. You can’t even begin to help him conceptualize what you mean, but you try anyway.

“A long way off for me, but that’s nothing for you, Astarion. It will pass before you even notice.” You take a deep breath and try to communicate the thoughts that you yourself are not sure you fully understand. Interlacing your fingers with Astarion’s, you guide his hand to your mouth so you can press a kiss to the back of it. “I do want this, I want a life with you. Forever. I’m just- I’m not ready yet. Let me enjoy being alive a while longer. Let me choose when and how it happens.”

With a gentle smile, Astarion says, “Of course, my love. Just say when.”

—----------

Astarion hardly even lets you leave his bed the next few days. Not that you’re complaining about it. He separates himself only long enough to tell Gale to bring your meals to his room for the foreseeable future. Astarion’s very specific about how Gale is only supposed to knock and how under no circumstances are you to open that door.

From your spot in the bed, linen sheets pulled up over your chest in an attempt to protect your modesty, you think you overhear Gale saying, “Under no circumstances would I want to,” before he leaves.

The next couple of months are a blur of sitting in front of warm fireplaces and reading and you and Astarion wrapped together, his cool skin only intensifying the burning desire within you. With the warmth in your heart, you wouldn’t even be able to tell it’s the dead of winter. The weather outside is dreary and miserable and you don’t even notice because you and Astarion are too consumed in one another.

And touching. Always touching. Astarion seems unable to ever let you be out of his grasp, even if it was as simple as your feet being pressed against one another underneath the table at meals.

The best part about winter is the long nights which allow you to keep the curtains open that much longer without fear for Astarion’s safety. He relaxes in the darkness, comes alive like those silly moonflowers you planted for him. In the dark, he’s less restrained, more confident (if it was possible to describe Astarion as more confident).

You come to realize that Astarion doesn’t like the cold based on how he’s unable to resist warming his hands when he sees a fire and the pile of quilts he stacks on top of the two of you in bed before you sleep. You would wake up stifling if not for Astarion’s cool touch beneath the sheets.

It’s wonderful how easily the two of you balance each other- hot and cold, alive and dead, sun and moon.

And although Astarion hates winter, with enough carefully timed pouting, you do force him to humor you one evening when there’s a particularly beautiful snow. He bundles himself up in about ten layers and grumbles the whole time he’s pulling on his thick woolen greatcoat.

“Enough layers,” you laugh, tugging on his hands to pull him outside.

“I’m freezing,” he says, stopping completely and tugging you backward by your interlaced hands when you’ve only made it about three steps out the door.

The sky is cloudy and there’s no silvery moonlight to highlight Astarion’s beauty tonight. You have to be content with the way the torches that line the entrance to the manor make his face all shadows and sharp angles.

“Poor star,” you say in a mocking tone. You step back toward him, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek as you promise in a low voice, “I’ll warm you up later.”

“I’d much prefer if you would warm me up now.”

“Patience is a virtue, my love,” you tell him and drag him out further into the snow.

He catches you around the waist, pulling you against him to whisper in your ear, “I’m not a virtuous man.”

And for a second, you do consider the merits of letting him drag you back inside. But it’s been so long since you’ve seen a snow this pretty and it’s getting late in the season and you aren’t going to let your lust-addled mind win out. Astarion could wait- you would have a lifetime with him. You need to appreciate fleeting moments as they come.

“Help me build a snowman,” you say, attempting to distract yourself from the flames of desire burning hot within you.

Astarion looks incredulous, “What do you take me for? A child?”

“I take you for a man who loves his wife very much and would make her very happy if he listened to her,” you say, looking up at him and trying to bat your lashes in that way he can’t resist.

He sighs, one of those big dramatic ones that is meant to make you feel like you’re the biggest inconvenience he’s ever encountered. Always an actor, your husband. You have grown to appreciate it now that you can understand the man beneath the performance.

“The last thing I want is to ruin my beautiful nails,” he says with a frown.

“You’re wearing gloves,” you point out, laughing at his theatrics.

“It’s the principle of the thing, darling,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I’ll supervise. That suits my talents far better.”

And so, Astarion sets to work micromanaging you like his life depends on it. Over a stupid snowman that he called childish.

You can hardly even pack a bit of snow into a ball before Astarion is complaining about it being lopsided or that the ratio between the different snowballs is off and making the thing look ugly. It takes entirely too long to complete.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You look at the completed snowman for a second, feeling a sense of accomplishment in your work. And then, you reach out to kick it over.

“See,” you grin up at Astarion. “That’s the fun part.”

“Gods, you’re ridiculous,” Astarion says, leaning down to kiss you.

But you also know he’s secretly disappointed he didn’t get to kick down a snowman.

“C’mon, I’ll build another one for you,” you tell him.

When he isn’t looking, you roll a ball of snow in your hands and throw it at his back. He stiffens and turns, shooting you an angry glare over his shoulder. Trying to hold back your laughter, you reach down to collect another bunch of snow in your hands.

“Don’t you dare-” Astarion starts to say, but is interrupted by the snowball that strikes him directly in the center of his chest. “Oh, you’ll pay for that, you insolent little-”

You let out a little shriek as he starts to chase after you. With your feet sinking into the snow, you aren’t able to run very fast and Astarion somehow manages to move so deftly and sneakily, as if the snow itself was helping to hold him aloft. He gains on you quickly. It feels so different than that first night in the garden, when you had been running for your very life. This time, you sneak peaks over your shoulder, admiring Astarion’s beauty and eagerly awaiting for him to catch up to you.

You’re a bit off-balance when his hands finally wrap around your waist. The two of you end up tumbling into the snow and you land on top of Astarion with a loud ‘oof.’

And although Astarion hates the cold, he settles into snow beneath him, wrapping his arms around you tighter and pressing your foreheads together as you both shake in laughter. He looks beautiful like this, underneath you. The tip of his nose is red from the cold air. He looks alive.

After your laughing fit subsides, Astarion says with exasperation, “Well, if I’m already down here.”

He starts moving his arms up and down in the snow and it’s a bit jarring considering you’re still laying on top of him.

Oh, you realize. He’s trying to make snow angels.

With a delighted giggle, you roll off him into the snow to join him, moving your arms and legs in time. With every stroke of your arms, you make sure to reach out so that your gloved fingers brush against his.

Eventually, you pull yourself up out of the snow, carefully brushing the snow out of the fur lining your coat and thinking about how Shadowheart is going to scold you tomorrow for getting the beautiful fur all wet. Astarion stays on the ground, elegantly sprawled and content to watch you. His pale skin and white hair would almost blend in if not for the rosy pink on his cheeks and nose. You feel a sense of pride simmering within you that it was your blood which gave him that lovely coloring.

“Help me up?” Astarion asks, holding his hands out for you to grab.

“No! You’re just going to pull me down again! You’re not nearly as clever as you think you are.”

Astarion pouts. You hate to admit that you are just as susceptible to giving him what he wants as he is to you.

“Spoiled little rich boy,” you huff, grabbing his hands to pull him up. You can tell he’s pulling back against you, trying to be difficult. “Come on, you’re making this hard on purpose!”

Astarion laughs and finally stands up, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tight against him. The wool collar of his coat is soft and a bit fuzzy where it brushes against your cheek.

“Thank you, my love.” Astarion says in a quiet voice, dropping a kiss along your hairline. “I haven’t laughed that hard in years. You help me remember what it’s like to feel young again.”

Oh, there goes your little heart. Thumping away like a racehorse.

“You are still young. Or at least, you still look young,” you tease.

“Not everyone can age as gracefully as me,” Astarion says wistfully, as if his beauty is some great curse that he is forced to live with.

“Like a fine wine,” you agree, playing into his ego.

“I do recall that you promised to warm me up,” Astarion murmurs huskily in your ear. It has your head spinning and your cunt aching. “I’d like to take you up on that offer now.”

You nod, breathless, and let him lead you back inside. The two of you strip out of your wet clothes, spreading out on a blanket in front of the fire and you thoroughly warm Astarion by sinking to your knees and using your mouth on him.

You curl around one another after, Astarion’s head against your chest as you cuddle together underneath a blanket.

“I have to leave tomorrow,” Astarion says, interrupting the comfortable silence.

“Have to?” you challenge him, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “And let me guess- I can’t come. That’s why you humored me tonight.”

“You know I worry too much about your safety. So no, you cannot come. Not while you’re still human.”

“I don’t appreciate you using my humanity as a bargaining chip,” you hiss back at him.

You know he doesn’t mean to make you mad. You know that deeply, down to his core, Astarion is terrified of losing you and that fear will always be present until you ascend past the confines of mortality.

Astarion takes a deep breath, shifting his weight onto his arm so he can hover over you and see your face. His voice softens as he looks down at your angry, furrowed brow, “I apologize, little flower, that’s not my intent. I just- I would be too worried about you, it would jeopardize everyone else’s safety and they don’t deserve that.”

He’s right, of course. And you appreciate him listening to you and reframing his words in a better way. That is what love is- challenging the other person to do better.

But you can’t help feeling that you could be of use if Astarion would just tell you what’s going on. You have your own anxieties. You worry greatly for his safety, too. And it just feels a bit like he’s prioritizing himself over you. It doesn’t feel equal.

When you’re still silent, Astarion drags his thumb gently across cheek, “We can take another trip when I get back. Just the two of us, anywhere you want to go.”

You smile at him. You really do see and appreciate him trying.

You do not know Astarion’s romantic history, but you are sure he must have had many, many lovers based partly on how skilled he is at sex, but based mostly on how wonderful he is. Who wouldn’t want to be around him? Who wouldn’t fall in love with this man immediately? He was snarky and funny and somehow still managed to be impossibly sweet and gentle.

But you also had a feeling that Astarion was not very experienced at being in love. There were times where he seemed so unsure, times where he seemed almost clumsy with his love, and many times like this where it felt like the two of you were speaking different languages. You were both still learning how to work together and how to compromise after so long of only looking out for yourselves.

“Where are you going?” You ask.

“To the Underdark,” Astarion says. And he must expect your displeased response because he rolls to lie next to you, so that he is looking at the ceiling instead of your upset face.

“Why on earth would you be going to a place like that?” You ask, surprised. The Underdark was a lawless, dangerous place. It was where criminals and lowlives congregated and festered. You can see the wheels in Astarion’s head turning, trying to come up with some lawyer-y answer that doesn’t answer your question at all so you use the promise. “Honest.”

And so far, he has respected that promise. Usually, his answers were purposefully vague. But sometimes he gave you answers that were actually useful. You had finally learned who the strange people he was always whispering with were. Astarion had even introduced you to them over dinner the next time they had visited.

Karlach you had met previously, when Astarion was injured. You didn’t like to think about that time. It was much easier to pretend you first met Karlach over dinner, where she was all big smiles and boisterous laughter. You got along with her easily, but she seemed like the type of person that everyone got along with.

Lae’zel was the mean-looking lady and she was from very far away, Astarion had explained. Her homeland didn’t have the same restrictions for women, so she was raised and trained to be a warrior before they met in Baldur’s Gate. She didn’t say much at dinner, just chewed her meat angrily.

And Wyll was the man with the two differently-colored eyes. He was very polite and very cordial- the perfect gentleman. He promised to dance with you at the next ball after Astarion had made a mocking comment about his fancy feet.

But tonight, Astarion’s voice is measured when he speaks, each word carefully chosen. “I’m looking for something. And I just got some new information that leads me to believe I’ll find what I’m looking for there.”

Humming in acknowledgement, you choose not to pry further, no matter how desperately you want to. You respected Astarion enough to use the promise of honesty sparingly. He deserves the opportunity to tell you things of his own free will.

But really, you could have guessed he was looking for something. At least now you have confirmation. Now, you just need to figure out what he’s looking for. And why.

“How long do you expect to be gone?” You ask instead, turning your head to study his profile.

“A few days. A week at most. I’m going to take both Lae’zel and Karlach with me. The only thing I want to repeat about my last trip is to see you welcoming me home, full of blood for me to drink.” Astarion turns his head to give a mischievous little grin.

You know he is trying to deflect, trying to lighten the mood with playful banter. But you can’t help but feel your heart stutter in your chest as you picture him, bloody and wounded, bleeding out in front of you. You tear your gaze away from Astarion, back to the ceiling so you can close your eyes, willing away those horrible images.

“I’ll miss you,” you tell him and you feel his pinky finger brush against your own. It makes you smile. Touching. Always touching. You sigh, “I get bored when you’re gone. And it’s winter, so I can’t even work in the garden to keep me busy.”

“I fear what happens when you grow bored,” Astarion teases. He’s probably right to fear considering the last time you were too bored you had broken into his study.

Astarion presses himself up again to lean over you again, eyes hungry and redder than blood. “You’ve given me such a lovely memory tonight to think of when my time on the road grows dull. Perhaps I need to give you one, as well.”

He leans down to give you a lingering kiss. You savor the way his lips glide against yours, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Astarion’s hand begins to trail up from your hip slowly, over the curve of your waist, heading toward where your hardened nipples press against his own chest.

“Not tonight, too tired,” you yawn and Astarion’s hand dances back down over your ribs, instead, his thumb moving in little circles over your skin. You give him your own imitation of one of his signature sinful smiles as you say, “And I have plenty of those memories already, but they’re a poor substitute to actually being with you. My hands just aren’t as adept as yours. Makes me miss you worse.”

“It’s true, I do have wonderful hands.” Astarion lifts one of his hands up between the two of you to admire it. You bring your own hand up to meet his, pressing your palms together and appreciating how his hand compares to yours.

Astarion twines your fingers together. The fire crackles and glints against his gold wedding ring.

His wedding ring.

Which had been noticeably missing from his ring finger since the night of your wedding.

“You’re wearing your ring,” you point out, a thrill of pleasure running through your veins. You continue moving his hand, watching how the firelight twists and shines off the gold.

Good, you think, let the world know that this perfectly imperfect man is mine.

“Have been for weeks, pet. I thought you noticed it already and just didn’t say anything.” Astarion says with that soft voice reserved especially for you.

You detangle your hand from his, sliding the ring off his finger as you go.

“What are you doing?” Astarion asks, trying to pull it back out of your grasp so he can put it back on his finger.

You push Astarion off you and sit up and Astarion looks utterly lost about what’s going on. You’re content to let him sweat for a little bit because you feel he didn’t make a big enough deal about the fact that he had started to wear his ring again.

Pulling your hair over your shoulder, you turn to look at Astarion. “Help me.”

Astarion- dutiful, devoted husband that he is- sits up to help you unclasp the necklace chain which holds your own ring. You slide the delicate gold band off the chain for the first time since you had put it there and press the ring into his palm while you hold onto his own.

“Let’s try this again. Do you, Astarion Ancunin, take me to be your lawfully wedded wife?” You ask in a low voice, trying to be serious in what feels like a childish, silly moment.

You are worried that Astarion will laugh at you for being foolishly sentimental but when you look at him, Astarion is gazing back at you with a matching goofy grin on his face, like you had just hung the sun and stars in the sky for him.

“I do,” he says and his lovely, beautiful voice lilts through the air and dances its way into your heart. You slip the ring back over his finger, cherishing the way the gold looks nearly incandescent against his pale skin.

Mine, you think, now and forever.

You motion with your hand for him to go next.

Astarion clears his throat. “Do you take me to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” you choke out in a whisper and Astarion slips the ring onto your finger, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. You think you might have seen tears welling up in his eyes and your own vision is starting to go a bit blurry. It feels like the wedding you never really got.

“Where’s Gale to tell you to ‘kiss the bride’ when you need him?” You ask with a watery laugh.

“I think I can manage that perfectly well by myself,” Astarion huffs. “And knowing Gale, we’d be here all day before he got around to saying the important part.”

“Who’s the one being wordy now? Just kiss me already,” you tease.

And he does. Over and over and over again until your lips are swollen and your head is spinning.

“I’ll miss you,” Astarion murmurs against your lips.

His words tear you back to reality, force you to remember a world outside of this perfect moment, which has wrapped around the two of you like a warm blanket.

“You don’t have to miss me if you take me with you,” you point out, nudging your nose against his.

“Cute,” Astarion says. “But not going to work.”

You pout in that way that always makes Astarion give you what you want.

Astarion kisses the tip of your nose. “That won’t work either.”

Alas, that’s all the dirty tricks you have left in your metaphorical pocket.

“You better bring me back something really good, then,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him.

Astarion laughs- all golden and shimmery and filling the room with the warmth of the sun.

—-------

Astarion wakes you up with a gentle kiss the next evening, when the sun is just about to slip past the horizon into night. He’s kneeling beside the bed, dressed in what can only be described as armor. It’s concerning, to say the least. The Underdark is dangerous, certainly, but the implication that whatever he’s doing is dangerous enough warrant armor has you even more worried.

“Goodbye, my love. I’ll be back in a few days,” Astarion’s voice is soft and his fingers run gently through your hair. It would be the perfect way to wake up if he wasn’t leaving.

“Be safe. I love you” you tell him, feeling hopeless at your lack of control over whether he will return home safely.

“I love you, too. Go back to sleep,” he urges you, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

There’s something gnawing at you as you watch him slip silently out of the bedroom door. It still feels like he’s not telling you the truth.

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

Notes:

Yay! Everyone is happy (for now…)

Not going to lie, I had a whole blowjob scene written for this chapter and decided to cut it because this thing is already monstrously long without it and I honestly didn't feel like it was contributing anything new to the story. So I'll probably repurpose it for a later chapter or I might post it as a separate little side fic because it did have some dialogue that I thought was funny that wouldn't work later. We'll see…

Fun fact, the 'lamentable is the autumn picker' poem is something that Astarion did have sewn into his shirt in early access and as a poetry lover, I think it is one of the loveliest lines I've ever read. He's also got a funny little line sewn into his underwear in the game that makes me laugh: 'If you're reading this, you managed to bed or behead me. Either way, you got lucky.'

Another fun fact, 'Riding Saint George' was actually a regency era slang term for riding a guy. It comes from the story of Saint Georgy and the Dragon, where the dragon looms over St. George. So the phrase essentially means that the woman (like the dragon) is on top during 'amorous congress.' I heard about this term in a different regency era fic I read forever ago and I thought it was so funny and I'm so happy I finally got the chance to use it somewhere.

I'm going to try to have chapter 7 out at around the same time as normal next Sunday but I am in grad school and going to a conference out of town next weekend so it depends a bit on when I can sneak away to post. Fair warning, the next two chapters are going to be very plot heavy and then we will be back to more fluffy, smutty goodness for the final two chapters.

I love you guys so much!!! I wish I could give all of you little kisses on the foreheads! It makes my day every time I read a new comment and I felt like an evil overlord all week feasting on your suffering from last chapter lol. Thanks for sharing this crazy journey with me- it makes it all the more fun!

As always, hugest thank you to my beta-writer AliensNSuch on ao3.

Taglist: @ayselluna @idkbrodontaskme @maruichio @fanfic-share @the-littlest-bruja @asterordinary

Feel free to let me know if you would liked to be added/removed from the taglist for future chapters!

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #x reader #my writing #til death do us part

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erodasfishtacos · 23 days

Text

hiiii.

this is the first two parts of an exclusive trope i have on pateron. it is completed and all together eight parts.

if you’re interested in the rest, you can sign up here for $3USD and have access to 100s of stories and blurbs.

YN doesn't know why she thought that a hockey game of all things would make her feel any better about her breakup with Adam.

YN really can’t imagine that anything will lessen the sour taste of her high school sweetheart getting another girl pregnant.

All YN had known was Adam which she was now realizing how much she had been missing out on experiencing through her earlier twenties.

While Adam snuck around behind her back to experiment, hook-up, and do whatever else with other woman.

YN, unfortunately, only knew Adam intimately.

YN always knew that had been lackluster, always more to desire because he chased his own needs and very rarely helped her reach her own pleasure.

It was bittersweet.

There’s a massive relief that she doesn’t have to imagine her entire life with him and open it to new possibilities.

However, the hurt that came with his infidelity still ached enough that she sometimes physically felt her chest twinge.

A hockey game with a few of her close friends.

Her best friend, April, worked for the arena which meant that she was able to secure pretty close-to-the-ice tickets for a fourth of the price.

As they sat down, a few of them had already had a drink or two in them, and YN didn’t want to mix alcohol with a broken heart so she stuck to a soda instead.

After they’ve filed into their seats, YN was at the one end of her group which meant the chair next to her would be filled by another attendee.

She didn’t think anything of it, leaning across her friend Henry to chat to April, her back towards the empty seat.

YN does not realize that someone is trying to sit down until someone bumps her in the back with their elbow, not hard enough to hurt but enough that YN glances back.

“Sorry for that,” The most gorgeous man she’s ever seen apologizes, a big genuine smile that makes dimples pop in his cheeks, “Got my hands full.”

And he did, he managed to carry three bottles of beer by the neck in one hand, his other filled with a tray of food.

His friends follow shortly after, tugging the beers one by one out of his hand until he can sit down comfortably with his carton of food on his lap.

“It’s okay,” YN assures him, trying to not make it too obvious that she’s giving him a sneaky once over because damn.

He was in a pair of well fitting jeans, a shirt that looked vintage but hugged his broad shoulders tight, looser as it tapered down.

The man continues to smile at her as his friends appear to be quite a rowdy group in comparison to him as they settle in.

“You’re pretty,” The stranger tells her, no shame in his words but not much meaning because he’s already turning back towards his friends like he didn’t just rock her world.

YN questions whether she heard it right because did he just call her pretty?

She tries desperately not to hyper focus on it like a schoolgirl with a crush but it’s hard when his shoulders are so broad, his biceps were built.

It was impossible for their bodies not to be frequently touching.

YN attempts to focus on her friends until the game starts, having to face forward and not be able to have her back to the man.

“You want a fry?” The stranger asks randomly after a few moments.

YN assumes that he’s talking to a friend until he nudges her with an elbow, “Do you want a fry or a chicken strip?”

YN normally wouldn’t accept food from someone she didn’t know but their dinner had been disgusting and inedible which meant her stomach was rumbling.

He’s offering the basket up to her, letting her pick out a fry, and his smile was still just plaster on his face as he watched her.

“Thank you,” YN replies after she’s finished it, giving him more of an unsure grin back.

“Help yourself,” He tells her casually before he’s placing the basket between them so she could grab a fry or strip more easily.

This was weird.

After a few minutes, YN hesitantly plucks up another fry, and the man next to her doesn’t acknowledge that she’s eating out of his basket at all.

When YN’s hand hits paper, she looked down in utter embarrassment, “Oh my god. I am so sorry. I didn’t even realize that I was eating all your food.”

The guy looks over at her for a moment, confused until he glances down at the basket balanced on his leg, and then back to her.

“I’ll go grab you another one right now-“

YN moves to stand up and his hand lightly comes to her shoulder to keep her sat, his expression is somewhat unreadable, somewhat amused.

“I offered them to you? Why are you apologizing?”

“You didn’t offer for me to eat the whole basket,” YN points out with a heat in her cheeks, this was embarrassing.

“Are you still hungry? I could go grab more,” He asks easily, it wasn’t a jest or teasing, he was being a hundred percent serious.

If YN would have ate Adam’s food, he would have demanded she go immediately to get more and then bring it up for the rest of the night too.

This man, who was unfairly attractive but more than that, suspiciously nice even though it didn’t come off as creepy or predatory.

“I’m good. Thank you for asking. I’m sorry again,” YN apologizes again for good measure as she picks anxiously at her thumb.

“No apology needed,” He shakes his head with a laugh as he puts the empty remnants on the ground in front of him and swigs from his beer.

YN has to keep her eyes on the ice, she is much too focused on every time his shoulder brushes or his knee knocks in hers because he has to spread his legs an ungodly amount.

There was no conversation between them until another attendee who was further into the middle row was attempting to exit by their side.

The man was a bit wobbly, there was surely a lot of alcohol running through his system and he wasn’t being careful.

He trips over his own feet, over the debris on the ground, and rumbles right on top of YN who yelps in surprise.

The man next to her is quick to action, standing up and tugging the guy back up so that he was standing off his feet.

He was visibly annoyed with the drunk, voice sharp as he warns, “Watch where you’re fucking walking, mate. You could have hurt her.”

The guy mumbles an apology before staggering up the stairs, most likely to get more alcohol.

“Thank you,” YN says once again to him, adjusting her top and brushing off the pants of her leg, heart still pounding.

“Harry, bro. Johnson almost scored!” One of his friends pats his arm excitedly.

Harry.

Well, Harry gives her that signature smile before biting the corner of his lip, and his eyes stay on her a moment longer than acceptable before going back to his friends.

When a commercial break cuts, towards the end of the game, it’s the crowd's favorite time.

The kiss cam.

YN doesn’t think much of it, she’s not with anyone nor loving up on someone.

And it’s an area with fifty-thousand people, it’s next to impossible for her to-

But then her friends are squealing, shoving at her to look towards the Jumbotron, and there she is, projected on the screen.

The frame is decorated with corny swirling pink hearts, balloons popping, and most importantly bold letters that read, ‘KISS CAM’.

In the frame with her, however, is Harry.

As if they were a couple.

His friends must point it out to him because he’s glancing at the screen before he’s making eye contact with her.

Boldly, wildly, he grins and asks, “Can I kiss you?”

YN boldy, wildly nods ‘yes’.

He leans into her space then, big hands coming up to cup her face, and he pulls her into a kiss with an intensity that’s unwarranted but welcomed.

YN can feel her heartbeat in her throat, blood rushing through her ears, and her hand trembling when she wraps her fingers around his wrist.

It’s not chaste.

No, Harry is swiping his tongue against her bottom lip as the crowd goes absolutely insane, roaring and hooting.

Not to mention their friends.

At some point, the camera finds a new couple but YN is positive that they’ve kissed for much longer than they were on the screen before they both pull back.

His lips are puffy, pink, and his eyes are intent on her.

YN feels like panting and her heart jumps when he leans back in for another kiss, a shorter, more sweet one but his hand is grounding on her jaw.

“I’m Harry.”

“YN,” She smiles back at him, her hand still gripping onto him and he doesn’t seem to mind one bit as they just can’t take their eyes off each other.

“Would you want to get out of here?” Harry asks brazenly, hopefully as he appears like he wants to devour her.

YN who’s never been a risk-tasker, who’s never had a hook-up, or anyone other than Adam finds herself agreeing, “Yeah, I do.”

+ second part +

After Harry had opened his apartment door, the arousal and excitement has warped into a trembling nervousness.

What the fuck did a random hookup look like?

YN didn’t even know if she was good at sex because Adam only had a few trusty positions that he liked.

Harry locks the door behind them, the apartment is small but cozy and clean, it smells like his cologne and the lighting is just right for the mood.

He steps up behind her, leaning down to kiss her neck, and his hands on her hips, bigger and stronger than anything she’s ever felt before.

“Do you need anything first? Bathroom, food, water?” He asks against her skin, he was forward in the way that he was already pressing his hips into her backside.

YN shakes her head, trying to keep up, “No, thank you.”

Harry laughs softly, lips smooth against her pulse, “So polite. Let me know if that changes, baby.”

Baby.

They just met and it sounded sincere, not like a corny pickup line.

Harry moves in front of her, not once ounce of shyness as he crosses his arms over his chest and tugs his shirt up and off.

He was ripped.

Surprisingly so, not that he didn’t look fit with his shirt on but YN wasn’t expecting him to have abs, a sharp vee cutting towards his groin, nor the defined muscle near his ribs.

He looks like he walked out of a magazine.

Was she being pranked?

YN didn’t think this could possibly be real life where the most handsome man she’d ever seen was stripping for her.

He moves towards his jeans, unbuckling his belt, and shimmying them off his narrow hips before kicks them to the side.

Just in his briefs and socks, his groin was prominent, and YN’s heart lurches at that because she’s only taken Adam who was a little below average in size.

His wasn’t average, she could tell from here.

A nervous flip of arousal churns in the bit of her stomach, she wanted this man so much that she felt like clenching her thighs together.

Harry’s brow knife in concern when he notices YN stood like a statue, just staring at him, and making no effort to move.

“Is everything okay?” Harry checks cautiously, stepping towards her but not touching her as he looks unsure.

Fuck, she was embarrassed again.

“Uh, ye-yeah,” Her voice cracks like a boy going through puberty, “Just my first time.”

Harry’s eyes widen in alarm, startled, “Oh fuck, I would have done shit different if I knew that you’ve never-“

YN realizes she could have used much better wording and waves her hand, “No no, I’m not a virgin. I just got out of a long-term relationship. I’ve only ever been with him. This is my first time…just randomly hooking up with someone.”

A relieved smile crosses Harry’s face, “Shit, baby. I’m glad you chose me. How could someone let you go? Prettiest face I’ve ever seen, cutest set of tits too.”

“I just might not be the best but,” YN shrugs sheepishly, this has to be the most mortifying experience ever.

“Don’t be worried ‘bout a thing,” Harry assures her as he steps forward, “Now I gotta give it my all to prove m’better than your ex.”

YN decides to take a step out of her comfort zone, reaching forward to grip him through the cotton of his briefs, and he fills her whole hand.

“You weren’t going to give it your all before?” YN teases, feeling her confidence grow by the moment as she moves to thumb over the sensitive head.

“Fuck,” He curses under his breath, eyes meeting hers under his lashes, “I was always going to, baby.”

“Mhm,” YN hums, not convinced as he twitches in her palm, easy for her already.

“Gotta get you naked, my room,” Harry’s breathing is heavier as he reaches out for her hand, guiding her towards his bedroom.

Once they’re in, it’s surprisingly big, and has a comfortable looking king-sized bed that was actually made nicely.

“Please,” YN hears him asks after a moment of her being distracted, “Let me undress you. I’m fuckin’ dying to see you.”

YN can’t help but look over his body once more and she knew she was nothing in comparison to his athletic build.

However, pushing the insecurity down, she nods with a smile for him to undress her.

It was worth the nerves.

By the time she’s down to just her panties, Harry is groaning as he acts like he’s never seen anything better in his life.

“Knew you’d have the cutest set of tits I’ve ever seen,” Harry rumbles as he ducks down to cup them in his big palms, mouth wrapping around one and sucking.

It felt amazing.

Adam didn’t pay any attention to her body when they had sex, never had, and it did feel like her first time in a way.

She wouldn’t want it with anyone else but Harry.

His hand trails from her breast down her belly, fingers dipping into the front of her cotton underwear.

“Fuck, wait,” YN reaches down to hold his wrist, cheeks warm, “You don’t have to.”

Harry pulls his mouth back from her chest, frowning as he stands up straight again, “Do you not like that?”

“It’s not that, I just haven’t you know…” YN trails off, hoping that he would catch on.

He doesn’t.

“You haven’t….” Harry repeats back, he was still soft and gentle, unhurried and patient with her as she hesitated.

YN looks past his right ear as she replies, “I haven’t shaved in a while. We’ve been broken up for a few months and I haven’t maintained-“

Harry is letting out a humored snort, leaning forward to kiss her quiet before he’s kneeling down in front of her, mouth laying wet kisses on her belly.

“Baby, you’re insane if you think I mind hair. Anyway, I can get your pussy is fine by me. I like it, knowing I’m the first to have you like this in a while,” Harry replies, voice scratchier as his arousal grows, and his lips stay on her hip as he tugs the underwear down her legs.

Adam would refuse to have anything to do with her if she wasn’t freshly shaven.

Not shaving for the past few months had felt like the most freeing experience, she hadn’t ever thought she would be randomly having a hookup or she would have shaved.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Harry groans when he finally gets a look at her, his thumb coming up to smooth down the downy curls that were lightly dusting her pubic bone.

“Harry,” YN giggles anxiously, “You don’t have to act like -“

“Can I get my mouth on you?” Harry cuts her off, his eyes were glued to her center, where his thumb was pressing between her folds to nudge at her clit.

YN raises her eyebrow in surprise.

Adam had rarely done that, maybe five times total in their entire relationship, and YN never requested it because it didn’t feel good enough to want it again.

“If you want,” YN breathes out, still in a bit disbelief that this man was kneeling in front of her, asking to put his mouth if her.

“If I want,” He chuckles with a shake of his head before his hands are gripping his hips a bit firmer and keeping her still.

He doesn’t waste another moment, burying his face into her center, nose bumping against the curls on her mound as his tongue swipes through the split of her.

Harry knows what he’s doing.

His lips find her clit in seconds flat but he’s grunting at her, communicating without taking his mouth off of her, and shoulders her legs apart wider.

YN reaches for balance, finding his hair as something perfect to weave her fingers into, and hold steady.

He then just casually, again refusing to take his mouth away, hefts one of her thighs over his shoulder, and makes it possible to lick even deeper.

“Harry,” YN moans kittenishly, a sound she’s never heard out of her own mouth as she tugs harshly at his hair.

He lets out his own moan between sucks and licks, nose buried in the curls, and he’s taking heavy breathes because of his refusal of air.

YN has had orgasms when she had sex with Adam, occasionally, and with her own fingers.

This was the first time someone other than herself made her come.

Holy shit, it was life-changing.

“M’close,” YN warns but by the time she gets the words out, she’s throwing her head back and bucking her hips into his mouth as she rides it out.

His hands move to grip her ass hard, bruising enough as he pushes her as close as possible to help her feel it for as long as possible.

YN realizes just how much she was tugging his hair when her fingers ache, unwinding them as she pants, “I’m sorry. I pulled your hair so hard.”

Harry sits back on his heels, face shining as he swipes his thumb across his bottom lip before sticking in his mouth.

He was fucking obscene.

“Loved it,” Harry replies, voice raspy and deeper than ever, “You tasted just as good as you look. I think I’m in love with the bush.”

YN giggles as he helps her unwind her leg from over his shoulder, he stands up and kisses her hard.

It shouldn’t be hot that she can taste herself.

“Want to see you,” YN murmurs shyly, her fingernails trailing down his stomach, his abs twitching in response.

“Yeah, baby?” Harry goads as he watches her hand, “Hopefully it’s to your liking.”

YN takes that as permission to tug his briefs down his thighs, he was beautiful here too, unsurprisingly.

YN had experience with this.

Kinda.

Adam was less than half the size, not as pretty nor as thick.

It was a bit intimidating.

Harry must sense it, pressing a kiss to her lips, and huffing when she wraps her hand around him, stroking upwards.

“S’gonna fit, nice and snug, huh?” Harry whispers sweetly before he bites her bottom lip, he takes it upon himself to reach down again.

He slips in index and middle finger through her folds, crooking them up inside of her, and cursing under his breathe.

“Baby, you’re tight,” He tells her as he goes slowly, working her open as she pumps him in slow, firm strokes.

YN bites her lip, brave as she thumbs over his shiny tip, “Fuck me, please. Want it.”

“What do you like?” Harry asks as he walks them backwards to the bed, YN landing on her back and squirming up to the middle center.

“What do you mean?” YN asks between a gasp when she feels him brush against her mound, tip bumping at her folds.

“What position gets you off the best?” Harry elaborates as he peppers kisses over her collarbone, tweaking a nipple in his fingers.

“Whatever you like,” YN replies because none get her off.

Harry glances up at her, “But what position is good for you?”

“They’re all the same, aren’t they?” YN shrugs mulishly, “I don’t usually, well, I can use my fingers in any one.”

Harry looks at her like she’s grown a second head, voice sharper, “Did you ex really never make you orgasm during sex without you using your own fingers?”

YN tucks her bottom lip between her front teeth for a moment, “He said it’s easier if I just did it so yeah.”

Harry shakes his head, a scoff of disbelief, “How did he not worship this perfect little pussy, baby? I’ve never seen anything more magnificent.”

YN tries not to let the compliment go to her head, he defiently says that to every other girl he’s been with, it’s just a line.

“Your fingers aren’t going to be anywhere near your cunt tonight,” Harry rumbles as he reaches over to his night stand, rummaging until he finds a condom and rolls it over himself.

“Sweetheart, you’re drippin’ to your bum,” Harry laughs but it’s not mean, it’s fond as he has her bend her knees and spread them.

Harry paints himself up and down her entrance, hitting the heavy weight of it against her clit a few times before pressing in.

“O-oh,” YN gasps because he’s big.

It’s not painful but it is a stretch, as he makes room for himself, and he goes slowly.

He leans down, kissing her, and murmuring encouraging words to her.

Much too sweet for a causal hookup.

“Look at you, never had anyone look so pretty while taking my cock, baby.”

“See? S’room for me, hugging me perfectly.”

“Shit, darling. Never going to want to pull out, just want to stay all tucked up inside you.”

“Fuckin’ beautiful, I can’t decide whether I want to look at your pretty face or perfect pussy. M’spoiled for choice.”

“Please, please,” YN hiccups, she feels needy as he starts to put in more force behind in thrusts, and on every odd motion, he manages to hit a spot she didn’t know she had.

The spot that barreled her towards her second orgasm, nails digging to Harry’s bicep as she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Fuck, there it is, pretty baby. Come around my cock, squeezing me,” Harry lets out a low moan when he feels her walls contract around him.

YN has never come twice like that.

When Harry reaches down to press a thumb to her clit, she squeals with the overstimulation but he kisses her and assures her that she can give him one more.

YN has pathetic, fat tears streaming down her face as her third orgasm hits her.

“There we go,” Harry croons, pleased as a peach as he kisses her damp cheeks, “Came on my tongue, on my cock twice, see how good you are for me? S’all mine, right? Only cock you’ve ever come on.”

The possessiveness in his words makes her stomach flip with something good, validating that she wanted.

“Just yo-yours,” YN manages to agree through bated breath, he was pounding into her now, barreling towards his own end.

“Good girl, fuckin’ making me come for you,” He grits out, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple as he stills, pulsing inside her, “Fuckin’ hell.”

YN wakes up before Harry the next morning, quietly as a mouse slipping back into her clothes, and leaving his apartment.

Was it a shitty thing to do?

Yes.

Did she do it to avoid him kicking her out after they used each other because it felt real to her and this was just plain fun for him?

Also yes.

YN guesses this is how hookups go.

#harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic

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restinslices · 4 months

Note

More sub!smoke??? 👀

I’ve actually never fully written out smut. Idk why I didn’t just make another headcanon post. Shit’s gonna be off, be nice. It’s a miracle I graduated on time😭

Tomas would say he's a good boy 99% of the time. He has good manners, he knows when to close his mouth, he's very obedient, he tries not to be too needy, etc. he's very well behaved.

There's that 1% though. There's always a small chance that he'll act up. He won't do as you say, he'll talk back, rub himself against you when you tell him to stop, even swear at you.

So realistically, Tomas had no one to blame but himself for the predicament he was in. He was completely bare, laying ass up across your lap. His breathless pleas fell on deaf ears as you continued to move the vibrating dildo in and out of him.

“You haven't even came that many times. Calm down” you said dismissively. He could feel your eye roll, even if he wasn’t looking at you.

He'd beg to disagree. He lost count of how many times he came by now, but what he does know is how bad his cock is aching and how much of a mess he made. He couldn't see it, but everytime he orgasmed you'd land a slap on his ass and tell him he was making a mess all over. You'd chastise him for making a mess he'd eventually have to clean.

He begged you to stop again, it coming out a desperate whisper. His eyes rolled back and his mouth hung open when he felt you push the dildo inside him deeper, it vibrating right where he needed it too.

“Here's what I don't get about you. You complain when I don't fuck you then you complain when I do. You just seem like an ungrateful slut. Is that true? Are you ungrateful Tomas? Do you even deserve to be addressed by your name?”

“No”, he managed to get out.

“No, what?”

“I don't know,” he muttered. His breathing increased as he felt that familiar feeling of an orgasm approaching but when he was ready for another wave to wash over him, you stopped. He looked back at you, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What're you doing?”

“I'm stopping. It's what you asked for so I'm done” you said as if it was the most obvious thing ever. “Get up”

“No”

“No?”

“That's not what I want”

“You want a lot of things that I'm not sure you deserve. Get up”.

But Tomas didn't get up. He reached around to grip and spread his cheeks, his hole still wet with lube being shown off. “Please…”.

What Tomas didn't expect was for you to slap his hands away and shove him to his knees on the floor. Your foot patted his softening dick, earning a grunt from him.

“You're such a fucking slut. All you want is to be filled, isn't that right?”.

Tomas nodded with no shame. That's why you liked him, right? Because he'd let you take him anywhere and at any time?

“I'm your slut. Only yours”.

You hummed in response then sighed. “I'm not without a heart” you looked down at your foot. “You know what to do”.

Tomas huffed. You knew that's not what he wanted. If he wanted to grind against your foot, or any part of you, he'd ask. He'd never want to anyway and especially not now. He felt empty without something inside him, and he'd take anything. Your tongue, your fingers, even riding a dildo while you recorded would be better than this.

But you seemed to read his mind though because the next words you spoke came out sharp. “It's either this or nothing. Maybe I should tie you to the bed for the rest of the day. Maybe then you'll be grateful for all I do for you”

“I am”

“Liar”

“I am not a liar”

“Prove you're not a liar”.

Tomas sighed deeply then, knowing he really wouldn't get what he wanted. He grabbed your leg and moved until his cock was placed on your foot. He went to complain again, but it seemed like you read his mind again since you grabbed his jaw and pushed the dildo that was once inside him in his mouth. It was absolutely disgusting and he'd be humiliated if anyone found out this happened… but for some reason that all made him move faster against you.

And although Tomas claimed he hated when you did this to him, his orgasms seemed to hit him harder when he was like this; completely exposed and being treated like he was nothing but a pathetic whore.

Is English my first language? Yes. Is my grammar still off? YES. I wouldn’t have left the womb if I knew it’d be like this

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #tomas vrbada smoke #tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas vrbada smut #sub smoke #sub tomas vrbada #mk1 smoke #mk1 smut #i’m so feral for him #he consumes my every thought

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mxfylds · 9 months

Text

TILL DEATH DO US APART

ONE; ever afters

TWO MONTHS BEFORE THE MURDERS

ೄྀ࿐

It was obvious that you could have felt the heavy stare on you ever since you had stepped foot into the party. Billy couldn't take his eyes of you no matter what— not that he ever really could but tonight he believed you were on a whole other level.

He was dying, it's been almost six months your relationship ended between you and him, and not once had you paid attention to Billy at all. Even though you guys were in the same friend group, yoy never bat your eyes towards him, talk to him or even acknowledge him.

He watched you talk to Casey, one of your close friends, whom had matching costumes with her. Casey was a devil, and you were an angel. Typical. He thought to himself.

Anyone could notice how Billy was watching you, even his own new girlfriend Sidney. He didn’t have the mind to give a shit. He still loved you, even though he was the one that cut off things, he could remember the day clear as day...

FLASHBACK START

You had sat still on your place on the bed, tears not failing to come down. Your head had hung low, hands in your lap, fingers fidgeting. You tried to distract yourself from anything that wasn't the boy i front of you.

"Stop crying." Billy said, finally stopping his pacing upon hearing the silent sobs coming out of you here and there. Though you didn't, you couldn't bring yourself to stop crying no matter how hard you tried.

"Fucking stop!" He yells suddenly, bringing his hand to brush out his hair from his face. "I don't get it, was it me...did i do something?" You say, looking up at Billy with eyes filled with afflict.

"You have to understand I'm just tired of this," he says pausing for a moment before bringing his hand in between them. "I'm tired of this relationship!" He says struggling to find the right words to not make you hurt more. Which he was kind of failing to do so.

"Please don't leave me i need you," You say wailing softly, struggling to take in steady air. Billy watches with a numb face showing no emotion as you bring your hands to cover your face.

"No you don't, you'll get over this, you don't need anyone anymore." He says, knowing damn well she'll never move on, and she’ll need to have someone there for her.

"Maybe let this be a life lesson, never get attached to a person who brings you temporary happiness." He says continuing, bringing more and more guilt to himself and more hurt to you without trying.

Though he had to remind himself that it was for the sake of his plan, he had to get together with Sidney, then after everything, he and you could be one again. It would be easy.

"Pretend there was never us, pretend we were never together...it's truly for the better." He says trying to ease the tension, though only making it worse.

Billy hears your crying come to a stop suddenly , he watched as you lifted your head up, eyes still filled with tears, looking at Billy with disdain. "You know what, fuck you!" You say with disgust filled in your voice.

"I trusted you with everything! But this is what I get... get the fuck out of my room!" You yell standing up, finding the courage to finally walk over to your bedroom window, opening it.

"Get out." You say, straightening your posture as you point out if your window.

He scoffs in disbelief, "You really expect me to go out from a window?" He says looking at you with annoyance.

"You sure have a history of entering through windows, so get the hell out the same way you entered." You say trying to keep the tears in.

"For fuck sake." He says walking to your window, before looking at you one more time. "You'll see why I did this in the future." He says not bothering to listen to anything you were shouting at, as he left through the window.

END OF FLASHBACK

"You're girl is on fire tonight." Stu says whistling, cutting Billy’s daydreaming short. "Has she talked to you yet?" He asks quietly, looking at Billy with a knowing gleam written on his face. Though as he was going to answer someone answered for him instead.

"Nope, and i don't think she ever will." Casey says plopping down on the seat next to Stu. "Weren't you just with her?" Stu asked confusingly looking at where you now stood with Randy...alone.

"I left doofus, her boyfriend came anyways." She said to Stu in a 'duh' voice, only her eyes were focused on Billy as she said the word boyfriend. Billy snapped her eyes on Casey the second the word came out of her mouth.

"Since when have they been dating?" Billy said. He was clearly pissed with the whole idea of you dating someone after almost five months.

"Out of all the people she's dating Meeks? Man she could pull way better," He says before snorting a laugh. "How long have they been dating?" Stu asked curiously, changing the subject. Looking at his girlfriend, who was very entertained at that moment.

"Like three months now, ever since billy boy here broke up with her, Randy took her under his wings taking care of her, they've been keeping it on the low though." She shrugged, before taking a-hold of Stu's cheap beer he had been holding for awhile now.

"Hey," Stu says, annoyed at how she took his drank and downed it in almost five seconds. Casey brought the bottle down from her lips before passing it back to Stu, "Thanks, i’ll see you guys later." She says standing up from her seat.

"Your leaving now? I thought you would have stayed longer."

"And stay here and third wheel with them?" she says pointing back at You and Randy who now are kissing each other hungrily. "No thanks, come over tonight if you can Stu." She yells over the music before disappearing in the ocean of crowd.

Billy clenched his jaw as Randy pulled away from you. He seemed to notice that Billy was looking so he met back his gaze, with a smug look before bringing your face closer to his and he started kissing you once more.

"What's your plan with him," Stu says quietly, making sure no one around them hears. Though Stu doesn't need an answer as Billy stared at Randy, he already know his answer.

"Distract him, I need to talk to her." Billy says, not waiting for Stu to say anything, he just walks off.

ೄྀ࿐

"Y/n go get a keg for me would you, crowds getting thirsty." Stu says with a smile, noticing that you were pointing at the other kegs on the floor in the opposite corner of the room. "But there's some over there—"

"They're warm, no one wants warm beers right?" He says bringing his hands to your shoulders and pushing you towards the hallway where it was less crowded.

"What am i the beer witch." You scoff to yourself before walking to the garage.

As you entered the garage, you were surprised to see the light already on. Entering yoy walked over to the old fridge, opening it.

Suddenly the door closes. You almost trip over your foot as you go over to pry the door open. But as you looked up you were scared when Billy was standing there looking at you already.

"What the fuck do you think your doing, open the door." You said, taking the chance to take him in after a couple of months that had gone past. His familiar cologne hitting you like light day.

"You've haven't even been talking with me for months now, and you're dating someone almost immediately after our breakup."

He says ignoring your question, drawing closer to you by the second, while you take steps back, as he stops walking forward you stop walking back.

You let out a fake laugh, "You're one to talk, at least I didn't go and date Sidney whom is one of my best friends, almost immediately the next day after our breakup! You have the nerve to speak."

You say trying to keep your voice down, throwing the words at Billy as if you were spitting venom.

"You've been avoiding me, you don't even fucking look at me anymore nor you talk to me." He says, before continuing. "Talk to me."

"You were the one to break up with me, remember, so don't act like the victim here, now please I want to get out of here before anyone suspects a thing."

You say walking past him to the door, though as you walk past him he grabs ahold of your forearm pulling you back in front of him.

"You're not going anywhere until we speak this out." He says darkly, gripping at your forearm for one more second before letting go. "You're my girl y/n, you always will be." He says looking at you.

"That's just horseshit billy! Sidney is your girl now. We are nothing but the past Billy, just like you said before walking out on me." You say taking a breather. "I'm in a healthy relationship now, and you are too, so don't ruin it please." You say with sincerity placed in your tone this time.

"You and i know damn well that we're not over yet." He says loudly, making you put your hand over his mouth. "Any louder asshole, they're going to hear."

You say, keeping your hand on his mouth for a couple of seconds before bringing your hand by your side once more. "No one can hear, the music is too loud." He says earning an annoyed scoff from you.

"Your going to break up with him, i don't care how you do it, or how you say it, but you will never talk to him ever again." He says.

"You don't have any say in my relationship, i will do whatever i like Billy! You have to understand."

"I'm not going to fucking understand Y/n." Raising his voice. "Your killing me, he's just fucking using you."

"You know what fucking killed me, is when you left when i needed you the most! My dad died that night and on top of that you threw out the whole break up thing on me! That's the shit that kills Billy!" Your the one yelling this time, not caring anymore if people outside the hallway could hear you.

You needed to get Billy to hear you instead.

"It's complicated-" Billy starts only to be cut off by you. "It's not fucking complicated, you should have known not to leave me when i was at my fucking lowest point of life, so don't stand here and tell me what to do and what not too!" You say watching how Billy's face morph into anger.

One of the looks you saw rarely when you guys were together. You knew that look clear as day. It was the night where Billy had snuck into your house from your window, knuckles all bloody, weed like eyes.

The night his mother left him and his father all together.

Billy walked towards you not caring if you walked back, he grabbed your face softly pulling you closer, cherishing your face. "You were there for me when no one else was, there's no where in hell i'll ever let you go, i fucking love you, i'll do anything for you, i'll kill for you." He said darkly.

"We can't do this Billy, not to them." You say trying to grab ahold of his hands to push them away but he doesn't let you, instead his hands trail down to your hips, holding you softly in place.

"Stop talking about them for one goddamn second! There's no them, there's us! Forget them!"

You roughly pushed his hands away from yourself. "You should have thought about us before everything that has happened, i loved you but you never cared."

"What makes you think I don't love you?"

You looked away from Billy, tears filling your eyes, but you told yourself you’ll never let your guard down again, ever. Especially not when he's around.

"Hm? look at me." He says, whispering the last few words. Not listening, Billy lifted your head up by your chin, making you look at him. "If you love me then you'll break up with her." You say coldly.

Billy knew he couldn't break up with her just yet. Sure he doesn't love Sidney but there were no chances that he would break up with her, it would indulge in the plans.

"Not right now, you have to understand, when the time comes I will." He said, grabbing ahold of your hands, kissing your knuckles. "She's having a hard time coming by, but i promise you when the time comes you will be mine again, and no one will stop us from being together."

"let's just be friends for now, it's for the better—" Though your cut short when Billy pulls you closer, indylging you into a passionate kiss.

It was as if everything that was going on between you guys disappeared that moment. You slowly kissed back, but soon came to a realisation.

You roughly pushed him back, making him stumble. "What the fuck are you doing!" You shout, wiping your lips, looking at him with widened eyes.

He looked at you smirking, "Blame yourself as well princess, you were going to give in." He says laughing.

"Dickhead." You say, walking past him this time to go open the door. This time successfully.

"I'll see you at school." He shouts as you walk out, laughing to himself.

ೄྀ࿐

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vintageshanny · 1 month

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Waiting for Love - Part Seven

Letting Go

Content: December 1970-February 1971, infidelity, smut, fluff, 18+

Catch up here: Waiting for Love series

Early December 1970

“So you’re telling me Elvis was laying here in this very bed last night?” Roxanne buried her face in the pillow and inhaled deeply. “The pillow smells good,” she said dreamily.

“Hey! He’s mine,” Vivien laughed, snatching the pillow away and clutching it to her chest. “Only I get to smell him. And taste him,” she added in a muffled whisper as she lowered her head into the pillow, feeling a little tingle at the memory of him telling her he hadn’t been in anyone else’s mouth since hers.

“You like swallowing him down?” Roxanne asked, crinkling her nose in disgust. “I always just go in the bathroom right away and spit it out when Michael does that in my mouth.”

“Spit it out?” Vivien sounded like she didn’t even know that was an option. “No, I like it. I love the look on his face when he, y’know, finishes,” she giggled. “It feels magical to make him feel so good. Don’t you ever feel that way about Michael?”

“What would be magical is if he ever felt like returning the favor,” Roxanne muttered, trying to quell the feelings of jealousy that were bubbling up. She was happy that Vivien looked so happy, she really was, especially after these last few months of uncertainty, but the look in Vivien’s eyes when she talked about Elvis made Roxanne question if she’d ever really been in love with Michael at all. “So, when do I get to meet him?” she asked, trying not to bring down Vivien’s mood.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Vivien said nervously, fidgeting with the hem of her green sweater dress. “Are you going to be polite to him? And don’t tell him I told you anything about his…penis,” she said, her voice dropping to an embarrassed whisper.

“Don’t worry, hon, I won’t tell him how in love you are with his foreskin,” Roxanne teased as Vivien’s face flushed hotly. “I just figured I’d say something like, ‘When are you gonna divorce your frigid wife and marry my best friend Vivien?’”

“Ha ha, very funny!” Vivien retorted. “You are not saying that!”

“Fine,” Roxanne sighed. “I’ll just think it and send the message telepathically.”

“Okay, I’ll allow that,” Vivien giggled.

“Speaking of penises, did you guys do the deed last night?” Roxanne asked nonchalantly.

“Not the full deed,” Vivien blushed as she thought of what they had done and how intimate it felt. Too intimate to even share with Roxanne. She felt somehow protective of the way Elvis had sat in front of her and stroked his most private, sensitive area while he looked in her eyes, softly moaning. She quickly continued before Roxanne could ask any more questions, “I think I might be ready soon though. He told me that he loves me.” Roxanne’s eyes widened with surprise, and a look of concern flashed across her face. “What? You, um, think he’s just saying that to make me feel better?” Vivien whispered nervously, her stomach dropping.

“No, honey, no,” Roxanne quickly cut in. “I’m just worried about you. He’s telling you that, and I’m sure he feels that way, I mean why wouldn’t he? You’re sweet and beautiful and funny. But he disappeared on you for four months. And he is still living with his wife. And he hasn’t made any move to change that yet, right?”

Vivien could feel her stomach tightening up into knots, all her hope from the night before seeming to dissipate. “Well, what am I supposed to do?” her voice quivered. “You told me I should go for it, and now you’re saying I should just forget about him? I can’t do that.”

“No, Vivien, I don’t know what I’m saying. I just want you to be careful.”

“How do you be careful falling in love?” Vivien asked, brushing a tear off her cheek. “You either love someone or you don’t, right? You have to let go of the doubts. You can’t love someone halfway.”

“Maybe you’re right, Viv,” Roxanne gave her hand a little squeeze. “Just follow your heart and see if it was meant to be. Just know I’ll always be here for you, okay?”

Vivien nodded just as they heard pounding on the door. Vivien jumped up and ran to the living room, wondering whether it was possible that he’d come back so soon. “Elvis! You’re back!” she exclaimed, her spirits immediately lifted into the clouds.

“Of course I’m back, baby,” he said, wrapping her in a big hug. “I didn’t like havin’ ta sneak out earlier, but I didn’t wanna wake ya, and I had some things ta take care of. I had ta come back though cuz I just got some big news and you’re the first person I wanted ta tell.” Elvis was almost breathless with excitement.

“What is it?” Vivien asked eagerly.

“I’m gonna be gettin’ an award next month - the Jaycees Ten Most Outstanding Young Men award!” Elvis was beaming like a little boy, and Vivien had to stop herself from giggling at how cute he looked.

“Don’t you get awards all the time?” she asked, smiling.

“W-w-well sure, but this is different. This ain’t for jus’ singin’; this is because they think I’m a good person. They recognize how I try to be good and help people and ever’thing.”

Vivien’s heart melted that the award he wanted so badly was just to be recognized as a decent human being. “Well, I think that’s the perfect award for you, then. They couldn’t have picked a better man.”

“Ya wanna celebrate, baby?” Elvis whispered as he leaned down and nibbled on her ear.

“Oh, am I interrupting something?” Roxanne asked, wandering out of the bedroom at that exact moment.

Vivien blushed as she pulled away from Elvis’ embrace. “Elvis, this is my best friend Roxanne. Roxanne, Elvis.”

“Oh, the famous Roxanne,” Elvis exclaimed as he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “I understand you’re to thank for the dress Vivien used to try to seduce me at the movies when we first met.”

Roxanne laughed. “That would be me, yes,” she said. “And apparently it worked?”

“Well, it was actually her copy of The Prophet that did me in,” Elvis said with a smile.

Roxanne’s expression turned serious. “You seem very kind and charming, Elvis, but as Vivien’s best friend, I need to warn you that you better not break her heart.”

Elvis looked surprised for a second before responding. “I’m just hoping she doesn’t break mine.”

Vivien and Elvis both smiled as Roxanne whispered, “Okay, he’s pretty good, I’ll give you that.”

*************************************************

January 12, 1971

“Honey, I need ta see ya. I’ve been practicin’ this speech for the award ceremony, and I wanna know what ya think.”

“Okay, do you want me to come over?” Vivien asked, never sure of the etiquette for asking if the man you love’s wife was home or not. It had been so difficult to not get to spend Christmas or his birthday with him, although he’d sent her over a beautiful pair of emerald earrings. She prayed that next year would be different, that she wouldn’t have to ask if she was allowed to come over.

“Yes, if you could, I really need ya.” Elvis sounded relieved.

Twenty minutes later, Vivien was walking up the driveway to Graceland. Elvis must have told the security guard to expect her because he opened the gate without a question. Before she could even knock on the door, Elvis flung it open and pulled her upstairs to the study next to his bedroom.

“I-I-I’m so glad you’re here, baby, I’m gettin’ nervous, I jus’ really wanna do a good job,” Elvis seemed agitated in the same way he’d been before filming the concert documentary last summer.

“Elvis, you’re going to do great.” Vivien looked over what he’d written. “Wow, this is really beautiful and heartfelt. I think people will love it,” she said sincerely. “I just wish I could be there with you, to support you.” She smiled wistfully.

Elvis pulled her onto his lap and stroked her back tenderly. “I wish ya could too, baby. It’s just not time yet. But remember, we’re in this together. You’re supportin’ me just by bein’ here now. I love ya, honey.” He laid his head against her chest, soaking in her warmth and love for him.

“I love you too, Elvis. It’s just hard.” Vivien swallowed harshly, trying to fight the tears that were welling up.

“Honey, ya make things hard for me all the time,” Elvis said, trying to hold back the laughter at his own dirty joke.

“Elvis! I’m being serious!” Vivien said, laughing in spite of herself.

“Me too, baby, me too, just touch it and see,” he groaned, lifting his head to kiss her as he grabbed her hand and rested it on his crotch. “See what ya do to me?” he murmured between kisses. “The way you’re always so sweet, always here when I need ya, it-it-it turns me on, baby.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to take care of you then,” Vivien whispered, sliding off his lap so she could kneel between his legs and unzip his pants. “If you’re gonna get this speech right, you need to be nice and relaxed. I have the perfect trick for that.” Elvis panted softly as she pulled out his dick and set to work on her mission to relax him, her tongue caring for every part of him.

*************************************************

February 2, 1971

“Hey, princess! Did ya like Daddy’s show last night?” Elvis scooped Lisa into a big hug as she came charging into his bedroom suite at the hotel.

“Yes! Elvis sing so good and dance funny,” Lisa giggled.

“Not Elvis, baby, call me Daddy,” Elvis laughed as he tickled her tummy.

“Okay Elvis!” Lisa tried to tickle him back with her little fingers.

“I’m glad ya enjoyed your birthday, my yittle Yisa.” Elvis blew a big raspberry kiss on her cheek. “You’re gonna go with Mommy, and I’ll see ya at home in jus’ a few weeks, okay?”

Priscilla cleared her throat where she’d been hovering in the doorway. “Should I, I mean am I supposed to come back for closing night?”

“Uh, n-n-no, ya ain’t gotta come back, that’s alright,” Elvis responded as he pulled her in for a hug, partly just to avoid making eye contact.

“Oh, okay,” Priscilla sounded surprised but almost relieved. There was a certain freedom in accepting that things were coming to an end, in letting go.

As soon as they’d left, Elvis went to the phone and lifted the receiver, his heart beating with excitement as his long fingers dragged the rotary dial around. “Baby? I need ya out here with me. Don’t worry ‘bout packin’ anything. I’ma take good care of ya, honey. How soon can ya leave?”

*************************************************

One week later

Vivien sat nervously on the edge of the bed in Elvis’ giant hotel suite, eyeing the dress he’d laid out for her to wear. She hadn’t actually gotten to see him yet, and since it had been almost a month, she felt nervous, hoping he would be as excited as she was to be together again. Joe had picked her up at the airport in his usual gruff manner, although he had kept his judgments to himself this time. Elvis must have given him a piece of his mind.

True to his word, Elvis had provided everything she might need - a whole rack of sparkly dresses was hanging in the closet, with matching shoes and even a handbag. She would have been worried they were Priscilla’s, but they all still had the tags on from some swanky boutique. One dress was draped across the bed with a note on top of it.

Sweetheart, wear this tonight. I want everyone to be green with envy that you belong to me. -EP

After wiggling into the dress, Vivien examined herself in the full-length mirror. The dress was emerald green with little rhinestones sewn in that sparkled in the light. The fringe on the skirt swished when she walked, and the dramatic halter top V-neckline was so deep and tight that she thought she might pop out of the fabric if she moved the wrong way. It was certainly the most daring thing she’d ever worn, even more than the dresses Roxanne lent her.

As she studied herself, the conversation she’d overheard at work replayed itself in her mind. She thought her boss had seemed sympathetic when she told him she needed two weeks off for a family emergency. She felt bad about the fib, but she could hardly tell him the truth. Later, as she walked by the lounge, she’d heard his voice drifting out into the hallway as he talked to one of the other lawyers. “A family emergency, right! I heard rumors she’s been whoring herself out to Elvis Presley, if you can believe that. I always thought she was a good girl, but you never can tell these days…”

As they had that day, tears started stinging her eyes. Vivien tried to push all that out of her mind. Elvis wanted her here with him, and nothing was going to ruin that for her. She slipped on a pair of strappy gold sandals and headed toward the door.

After Joe dropped her off at her own booth toward the front of the showroom, he leaned in and smirked. “I’ll get ya during the last song so we can get back to the suite safely. We wouldn’t want ya gettin’ lost in the shuffle of all the women.” Vivien just nodded, tight-lipped, and rolled her eyes as he walked away. Jealousy did not become him.

Vivien was in a state of euphoria as Joe led her back to the suite after the show. There were really no words that could explain the magic of seeing Elvis up on that stage, sharing his gift with the world. Vivien felt like she’d been under a spell watching him, a spell that might never be broken. She waited anxiously for him to arrive, ignoring the glares and curious looks from Joe and the handful of other people who were waiting for the man of the hour. Her heart skipped a beat when Elvis burst through the door with some of his entourage. He looked absolutely stunning, still glistening with sweat. Beauty and sexiness radiated off of him. Vivien smiled as she noticed how the green on his jumpsuit perfectly matched her dress. Elvis caught sight of her and his face lit up as he gathered her into a big hug and planted a kiss right on her lips.

“Y’all can go, I’m tired tonight,” Elvis announced to his crew as he turned back to Vivien with a wink. Everyone cleared out with a slight air of disappointment.

“Are you tired, baby?” Vivien asked with concern, brushing a sweaty lock of hair off Elvis’ forehead. “Did you want to lie down?”

“Naw, honey,” Elvis said with a sly grin. “I jus’ wanted ya all ta myself. I missed ya so much.” He leaned in and caught her lips with his, pushing his tongue gently into her mouth. Vivien softly moaned and Elvis pulled back with a blissful little smile on his face. His smile widened as he looked down. “Y’know the way ya fill this dress out honey, reminds me of our first little pool party where ya decided to come right outta your top and seduce me with your womanly wiles.”

Vivien tilted her head back and laughed. “Oh, it was me doing the seducing? Not you giving me a swimsuit that was two sizes too small?”

“Honey, all I know is that I was tryin’ ta have serious discussions with ya, and your eyes kept wanderin’ all over me,” Elvis teased. “See? You’re even doin’ it now.”

Vivien blushed as she realized her eyes were indeed taking in every part of him. He had removed his heavy gold belt, and every contour of his body now seemed visible through the tight black and green jumpsuit. She put her hand on his chest and then let it trail gently down over his lean stomach until it rested softly on the bulge below his waist. “Can you really blame me when you look this sexy?” she whispered. “I want you so badly.”

Elvis’ eyes sparkled as he responded, “You’re looking quite sexy yourself, baby.” He deftly reached behind her neck and untied the halter straps of the dress, letting the fabric fall down to Vivien’s waist, her soft breasts on full display, her hardened nipples showing just how aroused he made her. Elvis cupped her breasts with his warm hands and leaned down to kiss and lick each nipple.

“Elvis,” Vivien moaned softly.

“Yes, baby?” he murmured, rolling the rest of the dress down and helping her step out of it.

“I’m, I’m ready,” she whispered. “I’m ready to give you every part of me. I want to belong to you completely.”

Elvis stood straight up and looked at her with surprise. “A-a-are ya sure, honey? I want ya ta really be sure.”

Vivien nodded and pulled him close, her naked body trembling in his arms. “I’m nervous, but I’m sure,” she said softly, reaching to help him peel off his jumpsuit, still damp with sweat. Elvis looked at Vivien shyly as he stood before her in just his briefs. “You look more nervous than I do,” she teased as she pulled his underwear down his legs and took in the beautiful sight of his bare body.

“I-I-I jus’ wanna make sure it’s perfect for ya honey,” he said, blushing a little bit at the pleasure she took in looking at him. “You’ve waited a long time, so I want it to be special.”

Vivien smiled at his sweet thoughtfulness. “It will be perfect and special because it’s with you. I’ve been waiting for love, and now I found it.”

Elvis helped her onto the bed and laid himself on top of her, gently kissing her lips before he reached down to guide himself in. He rubbed his hard dick against Vivien’s clit, her arousal growing as she felt his silky soft skin right against her most sensitive spot. “Ya sure you’re ready baby? It might hurt a little at first, but I’ll be so gentle. I’ll take care of ya honey, okay? You just gotta relax and let go.”

Vivien nodded and kissed his soft lips. “I’m ready to let go, Elvis. I’m ready to give you everything.” She could feel his tip start to enter inside of her, her body opening up to accept all of him.

Tag List: @whositmcwhatsit @lookingforrainbows @arrolyn1114 @thatbanditqueen @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @from-memphis-with-love @pebbles403 @deniseinmn @everythingelvispresley @little-laamb @annapresley8 @leapresley @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @atleastpleasetelephone @gatheraheart @richardslady121 @helen06dreamer @arg-xoxo

#elvis #elvis fan fiction #elvis fan fic #elvis smut #elvis x oc #waiting for love #i love this man

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gaybitchfx · 6 months

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✰𝓞. 𝓓𝓪𝔃𝓪𝓲✰

you always go to the parties—★

to pluck the feathers of all the birds

★—on your knees

i would not beg you please -beach house

𝓣𝓦: angst, just pure angst, modern au, spelling errors/grammar mistakes, intentional lowercase

✰ DAZAI who was a well known playboy amongst mainly women, yet someway somehow had gotten you, a man, to fall for him. it was surprising yes, but you didn’t bother telling him due to your fear of rejection so you continued to act friendly towards him as usual. but of course seeing him flirt with other women just made your blood boil. but you couldn’t do anything due to him only liking women so in your eyes you didn’t have a chance. but of course your feelings began to bubble up to the surface making it unbearable so you decided to tell him after encouraging yourself for a bit. “you like me?” dazai asked with a raised brow as he looked at your flushed face as you nodded your head. for just a second you had caught a glimpse of disgust written on his face, but it had to be your imagination…right? “well, i like you too (name). you’re a sweet guy.” he said as he took your hand in his, a smile gracing his lips causing s small hiccup to leave your mouth. “you..do?” you asked him, your words a little breathless due to you being so surprised, you thought he would’ve just rejected you instantly. “of course i do, you make my days better. you even shine as bright as a thousand stars, darling.” he said, his voice soft and alluring as he cupped your cheek making you lean into his touch. oh how happy you were to have the one you loved most accept your feelings. but such happiness has to go one way or another, let it be in the future or present.

✰ DAZAI who started off as overly loving to you began to grow more distant as your relationship progressed. you’d catch him glancing at any women that would walk past, but that’s normal, it’s dazai after all. when you first told him how you didn’t like how he was looking at other people he would just scoff and tell you not to worry about anything and how you were being insecure about yourself. and so from that day on you’ve kept all that sadness and angry bottled up since being with him was a one time opportunity, you didn’t want to fuck it up. you loved him too much to be the cause of the break up. all that came crashing down once he took you to some random party he had gotten invited to. once the two of you were there it was like he vanished but you didn’t bother going to look for him so he stood by yourself to the side with a drink in hand looking around. that was until you caught a glimpse of dazai talking to some random women. then he kissed her. a deep passionate kiss. by now you didn’t know how to feel your mind was racing and you felt like you were going to cry as you watched him take her upstairs.

✰ DAZAI who didn’t know np how much he fucked up entirely. by now you were just sitting in a corner, mind blank and numb till he came back with a smile. “there you are, i was looking everywhere for you!” he said with his signature smirk, you felt like you were going to throw up. as he reached to touch you, you slapped his hand away almost instantly catching him by surprise. “what wrong love?” he asked with a nervous laugh as you stood up. not even a second passed when you slapped him and that’s when everything went quiet. the music stopped, the loud talking turned into small whispers and gasps, there were even phone cameras on recording the whole thing. but you didn’t care in the slightest. by now, tears had already flowed down your cheeks like a never ending waterfall as some hiccups left your mouth. “i’ve been nothing but loyal to you, i treated you like you were something of value to me, i made sure i put you first over everyone i knew and this is how you repay me?! cheating on me with some god damn home wrecker?!” you yelled at him as you continued slapping him, letting out all of your frustration, anger, and sadness onto the one you thought loved you back. “i bet you didn’t even love me to begin with!” you said before landing one last hard slap onto his face leaving a red hand print. dazai hadn’t done anything and allowed you to slap him and yell at him, he knew he was in the wrong too. “no..i didn’t truly love you (name)…but please listen to me—” “you keep that mouth of yours shut before i sew it shut!” you shouted at him as you wiped away your tears. “we’re over, i don’t want you texting me, calling me, asking my friends to leave messages for me, none of that shit you understand?! do you fucking understand dazai?!” you screamed at him making him quickly go quiet before he nodded his head. “i understand…” he said, his voice cracking a little as he watched you leave. the others there all looked at dazai as they began to whisper and eventually the music continued and everyone continued talking to one another, but the atmosphere was suffocating.

✰—tags: @jkloserdazai @reallyromealone @lostsomewhereinthegarden

#kay★rants #male reader #x male reader #male y/n #make reader insert #bungou stray dogs x male reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs dazai #bsd dazai #dazai x male reader #dazai x reader #osamu x male reader #osamu x reader #angst #fiction #anime

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icequeenbae · 1 month

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Boy Next Door (m) Ch.3 | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Neighbor AU, slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut

Warnings: Baek being the neighbor we’re all dreaming of, harassment (nothing graphic), a bit of body image/ insecurity, MC sucks at relationships, explicit content, unprotected sex

Word Count: ~18.5k (total), 5.3k (pt.3)

Summary: Your neighbor Baekhyun has been a pleasant acquaintance since you moved into your current apartment almost a year ago. Could he also be… a perfect match?

Chapter Masterlist [ongoing]: Pt. 1 > Pt. 2 > Pt. 3 > Pt. 4 (fin)

Author’s note: Hiiii sweethearts!! I learned yesterday that my blog has earned 10k likes from you, so I decided that there was no better way to say thanks than to post part 3 of this story hehe Hope you like this little token of appreciation! 💕 And prepare thyselves, this is gonna be pretty intense 🔥🔥🔥

Tags: @bbh-net @k-vanity @ksmutsociety @lavnderluv @cupreoussyzygy @byunbaek-hyun-04

PART 3

‘I hate my life, Yu…’

‘Wow, haven’t heard that one before,’ your friend responded sarcastically.

‘I’m serious this time!’ You shrieked.

‘Stop yelling in my ear,’ she grumbled, shifting on the bed. ‘Your life sucks just ‘cause you’re too sensitive.’

You whined loudly, which couldn’t prevent her from continuing her lecture for the nth time.

‘I get that you were caught off guard. But who’s that chick to make such disgusting comments? I’m sure you looked hot as hell in his shirt, and she was jealous of you.’

‘Thanks, but you have no idea what she looked like…’

‘She probably isn’t even that pretty; you just thought she was in the spur of a moment. You get confused easily.’

‘No, I don’t! I can’t say her face is the prettiest I’ve seen, but she was dressed in expensive clothes, her hair seemed perfect, and she was skinny.’

‘Who cares? Is that why you’re not eating tteokbokki for the first time in your life??’

‘I’m not hungry,’ you groaned.

‘You’re always hungry! I’ve never seen you turn down street food! Can you at least eat the egg?’

‘Eat it yourself.’

Yuki gasped.

‘Are you sure you’re not terminally ill? Shall I call an ambulance?’ She asked and then shifted in place. ‘Or better yet… shall I call him?’

‘What? No!’ You almost pounced on your friend out of fear.

She was kidding, but you knew what she was capable of.

‘Y/N… It’s been a week. You can’t be avoiding him forever.’

‘I can. And I will.’

‘Come on! Why would you? It’s obvious from their convo that she isn’t his girlfriend, more like an annoying ex. If even that. Maybe she’s a stalker… So why are you retreating to your shell again?’

‘Because! What if she is his ex? I don’t think we’re exactly similar in any way, and if she is his type, then…’

‘Then what? Didn’t he mercilessly kick her out? So what exactly does she have on you?’

You sighed, turning away. It wasn’t that you were ugly or had low self-esteem. But people had their… preferences and beauty standards. And you imagined that guys like Baekhyun usually went for girls like her. Not the girls next door. It wasn’t as much about beauty as…

She just seemed more exciting. And you were anything but.

‘Just talk to him. Pretty sure the abundance of missed calls means that he wants to clear up the misunderstanding.’

‘Do you have soju?’

‘I’m not pouring you alcohol when you’ve been starving yourself for days! Besides, you have work tomorrow, don’t you?’

‘I thought I was the boring one,’ you grumbled, pouting at your friend.

Although you didn’t have a drop of anything, the next day at work was just as agonizing as the entire week prior. You were usually pretty happy about Fridays (with the whole weekend ahead), but you were in a sour mood this time. Going home meant getting anxious about running into your neighbor, and you hadn’t come up with what to tell him yet. So, the sooner the end of your working hours approached, the more uneasy you felt.

Baekhyun hadn’t tried calling or texting you today, and this was hardly a relief. Did he give up on you and your weird tantrums? Most likely. But then again, maybe it was for the best. This way, you wouldn’t have a chance to live in the world you’d imagined. At times, especially right before you went to sleep, you’d think back to the events of that day. And inevitably, the memories of the two of you making out on his couch would pop up in your head. Then the intruder barges in and looks down on you. Humiliating you with her comments in front of Baekhyun. Goosebumps marathoned across your body every time you recalled that. Especially your own pathetic reaction. Why didn’t you tell her off? Why did you suddenly feel so insecure?

Your desire to avoid going home was so strong that you ended up drinking with some of your colleagues at a bar. Secretly, you’d also hoped that alcohol would erase the unpleasant memories. And at least for a bit, you’d stop beating yourself up forever thinking you and Baekhyun could work. You were hurt many times when your exes left for someone, but the incident in his apartment was different. It was like a quick sneak peek into this situation, and you didn’t like how it made you feel. And it shouldn’t have affected you this way. You and Baekhyun weren’t even a thing.

But Yuki was definitely right about denying you access to alcohol. Too bad you were an adult with all the means to get as much of it as you desired.

‘Why is this button dancing around? It’s not supposed to move,’ you slurred out, unable to call the elevator. ‘Jinwoo-yah, it’s not working.’

‘Let me press it for you, Y/N-ssi.’

Your colleague leaned in, still holding you close to his side to prevent you from collapsing to the floor, and pressed the button. His ‘heroic’ action made you giggle.

‘Jinwoo-ya-ah, you’re the bestest!’

He snickered at your expressiveness and helped you inside the elevator.

‘Which floor?’

‘Thirteen.’ You giggled throughout the ride up, although you didn’t know what was funny about that number.

‘You’re in pretty bad shape, sunbae.’ He sighed, catching you when you almost tripped, walking out. ‘What’s your passcode?’

‘No-no-no!’ You shook your index finger in front of his nose. ‘I don’t tell all the pretty boys my passcode!’

Jinwoo looked at you helplessly, probably grasping that you were unable to actually press it in yourself.

And he was right. After about five minutes of you trying and failing, he suggested again.

‘Just tell me, and I’ll do it.’

‘Okay. It’s 3-2- no, 1-… 2-1-6… Wait. Was it?’ You were confused by your own thoughts now.

‘Y/N?’

You turned your head towards the voice.

‘Baekhyunie!’ You jumped on the spot and almost dropped yourself on the tile if not for your helpful colleague’s hands on your waist. ‘Do you remember my passcode? Jinwoo doesn’t know it…’

Baekhyun didn’t respond, scanning you and the man beside you.

‘What happened?’ He addressed the guy, earning a pout from you.

‘Our team was out, and she had too much soju on an empty stomach,’ he explained. ‘Tomorrow morning’s gonna be bad, so she should lie down ASAP. Do you know her passcode by any chance?’

‘No.’ Baekhyun answered. ‘But I’ll deal with her. You can go, thanks.’

Jinwoo was reluctant to let go of you.

‘Uh- wait. She’s really drunk. I don’t think I can just leave her-’

‘She’s been alone with me many times. Don’t worry about it.’ Baekhyun pierced your poor colleague with his eyes, gripping your waist.

‘Are you taking me home, oppa-yah? Can we make out on your couch again?’ You murmured, leaning into him.

‘Aish. You’re shameless.’ He chuckled, turning to Jinwoo, who was still by your side.

He was less sure that he needed to be there now.

‘I’ll… Uh- I’ll just go then. Take care!’ He blurted, nodding at Baekhyun before walking away.

‘Bye, Jin-jinwoo!’ You waved at him happily.

‘Come on in,’ Baekhyun shooed you into his apartment. ‘How did you even get this drunk…’

He crouched in front of you, helping you out of your shoes.

‘…and with a bunch of male colleagues, I’m sure. He can’t just leave you with me? Pfft!’ He kept grumbling as he almost carried you into the kitchen.

After making you drink some water, he brought you to the next destination – his bedroom.

‘Can you stand here while I change the sheets?’

‘No-ho!’ Your knees instantly grew weak, and you’d fall if not for Baekhyun’s hold.

‘Wow, your condition is worse than I thought. Let’s sit you down then.’

‘No! Don’t change them!’

He looked at you in bafflement.

‘You don’t want me to change the sheets?’

You closed your eyes, head too heavy to shake to indicate your answer.

‘I want… Baekhyunie’s sheets.’ You shoved him away, stumbling over nothing and falling onto his bed face first.

‘Y/N-ah…’ He sounded like he was about to scold you.

‘No. Baekhyunie’s sheets smell nice.’

‘The clean ones smell even nicer.’ He tried.

‘No. They don’t smell like oppa.’ You quipped, burying your nose in his pillow.

‘You like how oppa smells?’ He asked, lifting his eyebrows.

‘Yes. Comfy.’

‘Comfy?’

‘Yes. I like him. But he likes other type.’ You muttered in an injured tone.

‘Other type?’ He asked, sitting down on the bed next to you.

You ignored him at first, but he poked at your shoulder to get you to elaborate.

‘Mean skinny girls.’ You mumbled begrudgingly. ‘Not Y/N.’

‘You’re drunk. You should sleep,’ Baekhyun sighed, giving up on you.

He pulled the duvet from underneath your body to cover you with it. While he was busy tucking you in, you started sobbing.

‘Y/N? What is it, does anything hurt?’ He asked, voice growing alarmed from your sudden change of tune.

‘Why doesn’t oppa like me, though?’ You sniffled, hugging his pillow. ‘I know I’m not fun, but I like him so much…’

‘That’s just not true.’ He replied, stroking your hair gently. ‘Calm down. Sleep it off, and then we’ll talk, okay? Get comfortable, and I’ll take the couch.’

But you continued wetting his pillow with your drunken tears even more devotedly.

‘Are you gonna leave me alone? Is it because I’m not- You really don’t-’

‘Oh, Y/N…’

Baekhyun allowed you to tug him closer, basically lying down next to you. At once, you latched onto him, trading his pillow for his body without hesitation.

‘Don’t go,’ you bleated, holding onto him, head on his chest.

He sighed, arms slowly reciprocating your sudden embrace.

‘I’m not going anywhere, Y/N-ie. Oppa’s staying with you.’ He sounded reassuring, but you weren’t entirely convinced.

‘What if she comes again?’

‘No one will come.’

‘What if she does!’ You pressed.

‘Then I’ll tell her to go away. Because I like my Y/N-ie best,’ Baekhyun responded, and you could’ve only been more surprised if you were sober.

‘Me?’

‘Yes, you. Now, go to sleep, or I’ll relocate to the couch.’

‘No!’ With how sleepy you’d become, you were protesting to the latter rather than the former.

‘Shall I count to three?’

‘I’m asleep,’ you whispered, before adding in a tiny mischievous voice. ‘Oppa-yah.’

‘Tsk. Silly.’ He hummed softly, hugging you tighter.

It was warm and secure in Baekhyun’s arms. Comfy. You’d never dozed off so quickly and so peacefully.

***

The next morning was rough. No, it was brutal.

Took you several hours to simply wake up. On the first go, you couldn’t bring yourself to even open your eyes. It was still early, and your head hurt so much… Yelping like a puppy, you sank deeper into the sheets, breathing in more of the calming scent. Somehow, it lulled you right back to sleep.

The second time around though, you did fully wake. Although not for long: only long enough to notice a cup of water and a single pill that Baekhyun had already left for you on top of the nightstand. Taking a few gulps to wash it down, you dropped back and blacked out again.

By the third time you opened your eyes, the sun was so high in the sky that you could tell even though the curtains were closed. Your head was heavy, and your mouth tasted awful, but the headache was gone. Taking your time, you looked around the room, recalling how you got into, what you realized was, Baekhyun’s bed.

You sat up cautiously, rubbing your eyes to wake fully before noticing that your fingers were turning black.

‘Ah damn, my makeup!’ You cursed, nearly falling off the edge of the bed.

It was decided on the spot that you needed to move your bones to the bathroom before Baekhyun saw you in your hungover glory.

‘You just had to end up at his house,’ you gritted at yourself, walking to the bathroom door shakily.

Locking yourself in, you evaluated your appearance in the mirror.

‘Jesus Christ. My face is enormous!’

You almost cried. Did you have to look this awful? Surely, Baekhyun took notice of your extreme swelling and panda-inspired ruined mascara and left the bed as soon as possible.

‘Don’t go.’ Yesterday’s events were gradually coming back to you, brick by brick.

Did you beg him to stay in bed with you? He must have found you laughable. How could you even look him in the eye ever again?

You washed up as thoroughly as possible. As if any amount of face rubbing could decrease its puffiness to a bearable extent. Well, at least you got the remnants of your makeup off.

Unwilling to risk running into Baekhyun like this, you decided to be an audacious guest and use the shower, too. After all, you were sure you wouldn’t leave the apartment unnoticed. This way, you’d at least postpone the inevitable.

However, your oblivion only lasted long enough for you to finish up. Because as soon as you opened the door, you were met with the person you wanted to avoid at all costs.

‘God!’ You were startled and caught off guard.

‘It’s just me,’ Baekhyun shrugged, trying to ease the tension with a joke.

‘I- I’m sorry. For the inconvenience…s. I’ll be out of your hair in a second.’

You hurried to gather your things, but his hand prevented you from taking another step.

‘Why are you always fussing around?’ He asked, raising his eyebrows.

Unsure how to answer, you stayed silent. Baekhyun chuckled, thinking something to himself. Before you could ask what it was, he cleared his throat.

‘Let’s have breakfast. I made ramyeon; it’s great for hangovers.’

‘Uh- but-’

‘Do you have somewhere to be?’ He asked with an eye smile.

He was definitely amused. Probably because of your reprehensible performance yesterday.

‘Come on, you need to replenish your energy. Do you feel nauseous or dizzy?’

You muttered ‘no’ shyly, and he nodded.

‘Good. Let’s go then.’

While being dragged into the kitchen, you could only swear at yourself in your mind for your life choices.

‘I boiled a couple of eggs for you too. Do you want kimchi?’

You shook your head, frankly quite blown away by his forethought. He gave you a full bowl of noodles, placing the pot in the middle of the table.

‘Dig in.’

‘Thank you.’ Grabbing your chopsticks, you followed his suggestion.

Surprisingly, the ramyeon was spicy.

Slurping the noodles quickly, you realized how hungry you actually were. The bowl became empty in just a couple minutes.

‘Wow, I guess making four servings was the right choice,’ Baekhyun mused, removing the lid. ‘Have more.’

In the back of your mind, you still wondered why he made spicy ramyeon for you when he couldn’t eat spicy food that well himself.

Your second bowl went slower than the first, so you noticed how he observed you.

‘What?’ You asked, chewing on the egg.

‘Nothing,’ he smiled. ‘You’re eating well.’

You lowered your chopsticks, thinking about what he’d said. It was your first big and unhealthy meal this week, now that you were thinking of it. And maybe it was a good idea to slow down.

‘Why did you stop?’ Baekhyun asked, looking concerned.

Forcing out a small smile, you turned to him.

‘You’re right, I should cut down on it anyways.’

‘That’s not what I said,’ Baekhyun frowned, putting his chopsticks down. ‘But now I’ve come to think of it, that colleague of yours said something yesterday, too. That you drank on an empty stomach. Why?’

‘No reason,’ you mumbled, suddenly interested in the color of the broth.

He took his time inspecting your face, and you tried to ignore it.

‘Don’t tell me… Is it because of what she said?’

You dropped a chopstick you were still holding into your bowl with a loud clank, almost jumping out of your skin. How did he come to that conclusion? Were you that easy to figure out? Maybe you said something yesterday… What could that be?

‘I can literally read your thoughts on your face,’ Baekhyun sighed. ‘You really are silly, Y/N-ah…’

You pouted, saying nothing to this. Because you didn’t know what to say and also because you weren’t sure what he meant.

‘Hm. No one asked me, but… I like a girl with a healthy appetite,’ he said, tilting his head slightly to the side while his eyes kept watching you closely.

Meeting his gaze, you swallowed. The spicy ramyeon was making you sweat.

‘Makes me think she has a healthy appetite for everything. You know?’

Turning crimson, you bit down on your lower lip.

‘Now, you decide whose opinion resonates with you,’ Baekhyun added lightheartedly, returning to his meal as if nothing happened. ‘Wah, should’ve added cheese to it…’

Reluctantly, you picked up your chopsticks.

‘Can’t let it get soggy,’ you said unintelligibly.

Baekhyun gurgled out a laugh before slurping more of his noodles.

The day went by unfathomably fast since you had only finished your ‘breakfast’ in the late afternoon. Your neighbor’s hospitality made you feel at home (as usual), and you were already used to hanging out in his apartment for hours. And although you were too embarrassed to even think of looking Baekhyun in the eye, it had all cleared up somehow. He even managed to seduce you into staying for a few hours longer.

Most of that time you spent chilling on the couch, reducing his lemon ice-cream stock while he played video games. Which you enjoyed watching, actually. Despite having no clue about how to play them or what the goal was, you liked to be around when he played. He always seemed so focused and relaxed at the same time. You could tell that he was good at it, and he always made sure to win whenever you were watching.

However, by the time he was done, you noticed it was pretty late already.

‘Damn, I’m overstaying my welcome by far. You’re a perfect host,’ you chuckled sheepishly, scrambling off the couch to head to his bedroom to change back into your clothes and go home.

‘You can stay as long as you like. I don’t mind,’ Baekhyun murmured, following in your steps.

‘I can’t stay in your apartment forever, can I?’ You mused, turning to face him.

‘Can’t you?’ He deadpanned, approaching you steadily.

You searched his face in puzzlement, and he didn’t stop moving closer until there was less than half an arm’s length between your bodies.

‘What if you do?’ He asked softly, backing you into the wardrobe door. ‘You wanted oppa to stay with you yesterday. Aren’t you going to return the favor?’

He was referring to your drunken ravings, you were sure. Your cheeks heated up, and you swallowed to soothe your dry throat. Baekhyun was so close, and you had to hold yourself back to keep your hands off of him, his messy hair, broad shoulders, and loose sweats.

‘I wonder if you only said that because you were inebriated… Or…’ He trailed off, leaning on the door behind you.

‘Stop…’ You whispered, unable to withstand his slow seduction.

Baekhyun paused, a breath away from your face, and straightened up slightly, allowing more space between you.

‘… beating around the bush.’ You finished, firmer this time, and looked up at him.

There was no need to ask him to do anything. He pressed his lips to yours with zero hesitation, and you were ready to welcome his initiative. Sliding your palms up his arms, you squeezed and hugged his shoulders, using them for balance. Baekhyun’s hands pulled you closer until your body was flat against his, and you could feel the heat of his skin on yours through the fabric of your (actually, his) shirt.

He groaned into the kiss as you slipped one hand under his clothes to trace your fingers from his lower back. The muscles flexed under your touch, and you felt more pressure against your chest. He pushed you into his body firmly, and you couldn’t think of anything but how much you wanted this to be skin-to-skin contact.

Baekhyun, as if reading your mind, backed away just to allow you to roll his shirt up and get it off. Your eyes examined his bare waist greedily, memorizing each line and each mole. He interrupted you by occupying your mouth again, and you let him do as he pleased, trailing your palms down his chest. Happy to investigate, you allowed your fingers to wander around everywhere, exploring his beautiful body.

As your hands reached his lower abdomen, however, you were interrupted by the loud ringing of his phone in his pants pocket.

‘Damn it.’ He cursed under his breath, almost pissed off by the unnecessary pause. ‘Hold that thought.’

He looked at the screen and sighed, seeing that the number was unknown.

‘Yes, hello?’ He responded, voice mildly annoyed.

Someone spoke on the other end, and he frowned.

‘Who is this?’

Baekhyun fell silent for a couple seconds and then rolled his eyes.

‘How did you get my number?’

The caller’s voice was faint, but it seemed familiar… Was it that woman again?

Suddenly, you were straining your ears to hear what she was saying.

‘…couldn’t enter, and I brought dinner for us!’

She did what?!

You looked at Baekhyun, who stepped away and turned his back to you.

‘I’m not sure why you thought it was a good idea. But I did blacklist you in my apartment complex because you enjoy invading my privacy.’

At least your neighbor didn’t want her here; that was a relief. What bothered you was that he was still on the phone with her. In his bedroom, half-naked, and with you on hold. In your mind, this wasn’t at all an ideal scenario.

And tonight, you were in the mood to make it known.

So, you crawled into bed and took his shirt off, crumpling it into a ball of fabric and throwing it at his back. Baekhyun turned around, finding the item on the floor and staring at it momentarily. His eyes darted up to discover that you were in his bed, almost fully naked, with just the blanket held up to your chest covering you. His tense expression promptly changed into one of playful anticipation.

‘Um- I’m busy right now. Please go home and don’t bother me again. Bye.’

He said the last word with his knee on the bed, and you snatched his phone out of his hand as soon as he ended the call. Picking up exactly where you’d left off, you resumed kissing, only to be interrupted by the buzz of his phone on the pillow again. You growled in irritation.

‘Let me block her.’ Baekhyun said, kissing your neck while reaching for the device.

But you grabbed it first.

‘Are you desperate, or is your hearing impaired? Stop calling him.’

Ending it before she could say anything, you quickly blocked the number, switched the sound off, and got rid of his phone. Turning back, you noticed Baekhyun’s unyielding gaze.

‘What?’ You barked.

‘Nothing,’ he shook his head, seemingly holding back a smile. ‘I’m just surprised.’

‘By?’

‘How vicious you are when you’re jealous. In a sexy kind of way.’

You huffed, reasoning with him like a five-year-old would.

‘I’m not jealous! She can’t set foot in the area, and I freaking live next door.’

‘Right.’

His teasing tone made you even more determined, so you pushed him down to lie on his back, and got on top.

‘What do I need to be jealous of? I got you right here.’

‘Oh yeah, you got me good.’

Spurred on further, you narrowed your eyes at your mildly infuriating neighbor before finding his pants and ripping them off of him. Just to realize that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

Meanwhile, Baekhyun wasn’t at all fazed by your brazen actions. In fact, he was noticeably aroused by them, which you could tell from the way he watched you with half-lidded eyes.

‘Now what?’ He asked, still lying down comfortably and enjoying the show. ‘Gonna ride me raw?’

‘Yes.’ You shot out without thinking, earning an eyebrow raise from him, and settled on his thighs. ‘Gonna keep mocking me?’

‘Yes.’ He mirrored, long fingers traveling up your thighs to get a good hold of your hips and push you down slightly.

The friction between your bodies made him hiss, the thin and slightly damp fabric of your panties grazing over his bare cock.

‘Shit, Y/N.’

It was finally your turn to be smug.

‘I thought you didn’t swear in front of ladies?’

He let out a short laugh, letting you know he was onto you.

‘I actually swear a lot,’ he admitted, smirking at you as he continued. ‘When I’m angry, when I’m surprised… When I really wanna fuck Y/N.’

You dragged your hips over his in retaliation, causing him to grunt. His hands made your movements more confident and consistent, and you could feel the glide of his skin with your core as you moved back and forth. It was pleasant, but you knew it would be much better without that last layer between you.

While you were thinking it through, Baekhyun’s eyes were glued to your body. One of his hands reached for your breast to squeeze lightly, testing your sensitivity, and you put your palm on top of it to ensure he wouldn’t retract.

‘You’re so… soft,’ he stated, chest flailing. ‘Does it hurt?’

‘No. My breasts aren’t overly sensitive to that type of touch. Ow!’ You instantly reacted when he pinched you.

‘Your nipples seem sensitive to me,’ he hummed, tugging you close enough to kiss your exposed nub quickly. ‘What type of touch, though… Maybe this?’

A quick lick made you whine, startled by the explosion of warmth in your lower belly. However, Baekhyun quickly caught on to your reactions, so he opted to suck your perky nipple into his mouth to fondle it gently. You shivered, fingers diving into his hair and pulling at the roots.

‘Mm, Baekhyun-n-’ He ignored your cry, tongue still swirling around the tiny area while his eyes studied your face. ‘God- damn you.’

He released it slowly, licking his sufficiently wet lips afterward.

‘Shall I move on to the other one?’ He inquired with a ghost of a smile on his face, noting how quickly he was making you disintegrate with simple petting.

‘Wait!’ You pressed on his chest to have him lie back.

The further delay seemed impossible. Reaching down, you quickly moved your panties out of the way and pressed the tip of his fully hard cock to your leaking entrance. Your fingers were instantly slick with your own arousal, and Baekhyun could only groan as he slipped inside you effortlessly. His hips jerked voluntarily, and you yelped at the intense yet welcomed sensation.

‘Sorry… Couldn’t help it.’ Your lover’s hand patted your thigh apologetically, and you shook your head.

‘Just- give me a second,’ you muttered, clenching down on him. ‘It’s been a while…’

He stroked your thigh up and down for a bit, probably reining his desires in. You could feel the twitch of his length in a tight lock of your walls.

Seeing something in your eyes, Baekhyun moved to sit up with you still in his lap. You met him halfway, finding his lips already waiting for yours. The kiss was deep and slow, accompanied by the caress of his hands on your back and waist. You were so consumed by it that you didn’t even notice when your hips started rocking.

But your hunger grew exponentially, and just minutes later the leisured pace couldn’t keep you satisfied anymore.

‘Baekhyun,’ you whined, too overwhelmed and loved-up in your chase after pleasure.

Holding on to his firm shoulders, you threw your head back. He continued pressing kisses into the damp skin of your chest, kneading your ass with one of his hands simultaneously. The position wasn’t the most convenient, but the affection you received was worth every strain on your muscles.

‘Baekhyun, please…’ You sobbed the anticipation building and slipping out of grasp again.

Somehow, he understood what your plea implied. It was time for him to take charge, and you were ready to give him the opportunity to do so.

And it seemed like he was only waiting for the opening.

Your partner was quick to fling you onto the bed. Before you knew it, your panties were on the floor, and he was between your legs, spreading them wider. His first thrust made you whimper with its steadiness and intensity, and so did the second and the third.

‘I got you, baby.’ His voice seemed lower, void of teasing now and laced with fondness and passion.

‘Mmh-’ You arched your back, thighs quivering in pleasure around his middle.

‘Fuck,’ he swore, enduring your tightness and going hard to bring you to your release as fast as possible. ‘Fuck, Y/N-ie…’

‘B-Baekhyun…’ You hiccupped while he reached the spots inside you that made your eyes roll backward. ‘I’m close…’

Your hand slipped down his sweaty back, and the pounding became so precise that you felt tears prick your eyes.

‘Mm-baby, you need to come,’ Baekhyun growled into your ear, breathing heavily. ‘You’re too fucking tight.’

Shrieking as if in pain, you clawed at his shoulder to keep him in place, still teetering on the edge of your release.

‘Ah- yes, yes,’ You cried out as he gave you his all, bottoming out each time, sweat running down his face. ‘Baekhyun!’

His hold on you became rigid while you writhed through your high. He slowed down and kept jerking his hips forward to allow you to milk every drop of your pleasure until you couldn’t take it anymore. Both of your breathing was loud and labored, and it took you some time to be fully reinstated in reality. Slowly, the sensory feedback deciphered, and you noticed how sweaty you were. It was also still slick and swollen between your legs. In fact, you seemed to all be covered in bodily fluids, but that couldn’t detract from your level of satisfaction.

‘Wow,’ you heard Baekhyun say from beside you. ‘I really risked it all for this. Hey, was it worth it?’

You blinked at him several times, brain too slow to catch his meaning.

‘Your orgasm,’ he added, snorting at your absentmindedness. ‘I barely managed to pull out on time.’

Smiling weakly at his statement, you licked your dry lips.

‘I’m glad you have so much more willpower than me…’ You flinched as he wiped his cum off your lower belly before pulling the covers over you.

‘What willpower? I’ve never had so little.’ Baekhyun hummed, moving closer to you and invading your pillow. ‘I don’t have sex without condoms. And I generally last longer, but you almost made me bust a nut before you.’

‘Oh damn, I feel special,’ you chuckled, loving how his fingers caressed your face while brushing your hair back.

‘You are, Y/N-ie,’ he murmured, leaning in and kissing you. ‘I assume round two is for later?’

‘Later??’

‘I’ll give you till morning,’ he suggested playfully.

‘I need to shower first. And rest.’

‘Why do all that when you can just come again?’

‘Stop talking like that, or I will marry you.’ You fired at him, squirming under the influence of his affectionate touching.

‘Great thinking. Then I won’t have to pull out.’

You gasped, causing him to laugh.

‘It’s alright. We’re only a bit too young to become parents. But you know, my hyung was younger than me when he became a father. That was by accident, though.’ He paused for a second. ‘Come to think of it, I’m not a big expert on pulling out, so who knows how it’s gonna-’

‘Baekhyun?’

‘Hm?’

‘Shut up.’

Masterlist

A/N: Okay, here goes!! Just another installment left to finish this mini-series, how are we feeling?? Hehe As usual, big thanks for your messages and comments, I appreciate all of the feedback from you my darlings💜💜💜

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