#this blog should come with a warning for that i think
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Where Do Broken Hearts Go - Chapter 6 (18+)
Pairing: Model, ex-boyfriend!Jungkook X Child psychologist, Fem!Reader X Lawyer, Single Dad!Hoseok.
Summary: Jungkook stripped your emotions naked, left you bare in the chilly wind of despair and self-doubt with an unending heartache. You tried your hardest to move on from him, to live for yourself but failed miserably. Each night you had to come back to your empty home where memories and broken dreams were scattered all around the floor, until one day a little angel and her unbelievably beautiful father came into your life. Finally, when you find yourself healing, maybe falling too, Jungkook had to show up! Again!
Theme: Angst, pining, heartbreak, break-up, smut
Warnings: SMUT AHEAD!! Explicit sex, hair pulling, tit slapping, nipple play, body worshipping, doggy style, protected sex, Hoseok is just so whipped for her, confessions, mina makes an appearance, multiple orgasms, argument, drama!!! NSFW!!!
Word count: 4.1k+
Taglist requests are closed.
Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog
A/N: This chapter was so fun to write. I hope it's fun to read for you too. Please let me know what you think of it.
Main Masterlist
Chapters:-
Prologue/Masterpost || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 - Finale
It’s been long since you had any physical action.
Jungkook was far too unattached for the last couple of months of your relationship that he couldn't offer more than a few kisses and touches.
And then when he left, you were far too drained to give yourself a moment of release.
So, this can be a reason why you currently feel that you are being touched for the first time ever. This can be a reason why your skin is ablaze, your heart is pounding so hard that you can hear it in your ears and your panties getting soaked at the speed of light.
Hoseok groans in your mouth when you manage to slide your tongue inside of his. He tastes like the red wine you two just had. But he feels like everything you have been missing in your life.
“Stay the night.” Hoseok whispers in your mouth, parting for a second. A string of saliva connecting both of you.
“Should I?” you reply breathlessly.
And then you are kissing him again. His hands hold you steadily by your hip, squeezing your ass occasionally.
“But first, let’s keep these away.” you murmur in his mouth and he groans in affirmation.
Parting from your lips again, Hoseok places a quick peck on your mouth and takes the wine glass from your hand. When he exits the balcony to keep the glasses on the dishwasher, you follow him.
Calling Hoseok only handsome would never be justified.
You stare at him thirstily as he puts the glasses inside the dishwasher. His forearm veins flexing with every movement he makes. The black turtleneck is tight around his well-built chest. His dark styled hair has come loose around his forehead so a few strands are covering his eyes.
You start blushing but not because you are horny. It’s more than that.
No matter how independent you are, you have always wished to have a small family. Some people, who you would always come back to. Someone of your very own.
And you have always pictured Jungkook with you in those moments.
But now, when you have a glimpse of what you could have in future (only if Hoseok feels the very same way), you feel greedy.
You want to wake up in the morning beside Hoseok, kiss him good morning, take Sua out of her bed, kiss her too, and at night you want to tuck her to her bed, kiss her good night and end your day in Hoseok’s arms.
You don’t know if it’s right for you to ask all these and you don’t even want to think of that. For now, you know you are in love with the man in front of you.
You know he is attracted to you too, and it probably doesn’t match the intensity you possess for him. But for now, you want to live in this feeling. It’s been long since you have felt anything akin to butterflies and you want to enjoy it all as long as it lasts.
“Do you know how beautiful you are?” It's Hoseok who speaks. He takes a step towards you.
“Am I?” you mirror his actions.
“Yes. very much.” he takes a hold of your hand and places a kiss on top of it, “so much so that I want to make you mine… only mine.”
Hoseok intertwines his fingers with yours, making your heart go even wilder. You can’t remember the last time when you felt this loved, this cherished, this much adored.
His eyes stay on yours. You can’t find the least bit of mockery in those. His words are sincere, he is sincere and right now, you can read him like an open book.
Placing your other hand on his cheek, you whisper, “then.. What’s stopping you from doing so?”
His skin is smooth much like his words.
Hoseok halts his movements at your question. His eyes flood with emotions that are not quite positive. You know what he might be thinking. And you want to dismiss his thoughts as soon as possible.
“I- I don’t see why you would want someone like me? I am in my thirties, a single father on top of that. You can have hotter younger guys swooning over you, offering you the world and what not. And me? I can only offer you myself, my love and Sua as a bonus. That’s all.”
You smile at his admission. He probably thought his words would discourage you from stepping towards him. But in reality you fall for him even more.
Encircling your hands around his neck, you reply, “and what if that’s more than enough for me? What if that’s all I want? You, your love and Sua as a bonus? Will you make me yours then?”
“I have been alone for far too long, Y/N. and… and I might not let you go if we step into this. I might never let you slip away from me. Will you be okay with that?”
“I will love that, Hoseok. I.. I have come to like you a lot in the past few weeks. And would love to fall for you in the near future.” you connect your forehead with his.
“Too bad, because it took me only the first glance to fall head over heels for you.” as soon as his confession ends, his lips find yours.
This time the kiss is slow.
Hoseok takes his time to explore every corner of your mouth while caging you between himself and the kitchen counter.
You kiss him with utmost sincerity as well.
Hoseok bites down on your lower lip, making you release a low moan. His kisses shift to your jaw, then to the column of your throat, painting bruises all over your skin.
His hands find their way to your thigh. And within a moment he lifts you up and sits you on the counter.
Slotting himself perfectly in between your legs, Hoseok nips on your throat.
“Hoseok” you moan breathily.
Hoseok’s hands venture underneath your dress, discovering your bare thigh. Your breath hitches when his fingers reach closer to your leaking core.
Just when he is about to touch you there, the door lock chimes in.
Hoseok detaches his mouth from your skin. You can see all the color from his face start draining as he whips his head to look towards the main entrance.
“Hoseok” a high pitched voice comes out of the narrow passage that leads to the door. And at once you know who it can be.
Her stilettos clink against the marble floor as she invites herself inside.
You don’t make any effort to demount the kitchen counter or shoving Hoseok away from your body. You stay still, holding him by his arm and so does he.
“Hoseok, why didn’t you-” the woman comes into your sight wearing a tight bodycon dress that certainly emphasizes her curves a lot.
You gotta admit the fact that she is indeed pretty. And if you’re a tiny bit jealous then it’s a discussion for another day.
“Mina! What the hell? How do you know my passcode?” Hoseok screams at her. But she is too busy scanning the position that you and Hoseok are in.
“That’s not important now, Hoseok. Who is she?” she points her finger towards you.
“Why are you here?” the man asks calmly now.
“Because you won’t reply to my texts or receive my calls! And I suppose she is the reason why?”
“Mina. Let’s talk about it later. I need you to leave now, you can see I am busy.”
“Who is she, Hoseok?” Mina asks again, determined to know your identity.
Hoseok looks at you.
Maybe he is hesitant to name your relationship and it’s natural. You are definitely not only in a professional relationship with him anymore but you are nothing more than a person he just kissed.
So you decide to answer on behalf of him, “I am Su-”
“She is my girlfriend.” Hoseok cuts you off.
Damn! Did he just call you his girlfriend?
When you look up at him, he is already smiling at you, “she is my permanent.”
You two are too busy staring into each other’s eyes that you don’t see the third figure bolting out of the door and banging it way too loudly. Before you can register it and say something, Hoseok is picking up where he left off earlier.
His hands work faster this time, undoing the knot of your dress and pulling the cloth away from your body. Your dress falls limp on his feet.
Your hands grab Hoseok’s turtle neck as if they are on auto-pilot and tug it out of his slacks. He helps you in undressing himself.
As soon as his honeyed skin comes into view, you start salivating.
“Fuck! Is it really legal for you to be this sexy?” you speak the words out loud. Your hands explore the expanse of his chest, his stomach, his torso.
“Why? Are you going to report me?” Hoseok chuckles, trying to tear your hands away from himself so that he can see you properly.
“I might… report you to my bedroom.” You place a kiss on his throat.
He groans, finally grabbing your wrist, he pins those on your back and says, “I’m one hell of an attorney. I know how to win cases.”
He swiftly unclips your bra and takes the article off your body.
“Holy shit! Y/N! You are so fucking gorgeous!” Hissing at the sight of your bare chest, Hoseok garbs your right tit with his free hand.
“So big! Damn! I bet your nipples will taste heavenly on my tongue!”
His praises turn you on beyond repair, so you whine.
He takes your left nipple inside his mouth. At first he rolls his tongue on the bud and then he starts sucking it. His sucks are so powerful that the action produces loud wet sounds. You bite back a moan even though it’s tough to do so.
“Come on, baby! Let me hear you.” Hoseok speaks into your tit. His saliva runs down your bosom.
“B-but Sua is-”
“Her room is upstairs, remember?”
“O-Oh. I completely forgot you fucked Mina neumerous tim- Ah” a bite of sharp teeth on the sensitive skin of your nipple restricts you from completing the sentence.
Hoseok slaps on your other tit harshly and bites on your nipple again.
“Hoseok!” you let out a thunderous moan.
When he finally leaves you tits, those are covered in red, purple bruises.
Hoseok winds a hand around your naked waist and picks you up easily. You wrap your legs around his torso, letting him take you to his bedroom.
On other times you would take a look at the decoration of someone’s bedroom as that tells a lot about a person. But right now you can only think of Hoseok’s body, his mouth and those damned set of fingers.
He drops you onto his plush bed and hooks his fingers around the waistband of your underwear. Once those are discarded, he takes off his own slacks.
His strong thighs make you wanna ride him till you come undone. But then your eyes fall on his bulge. The anticipation of his rock hard cock filling you up makes your head spin.
“Let me see you, baby!” Hoseok cooes at you and only then you realize, you have been clenching your thighs and blocking the views.
Hoseok urges your legs open. Hungrily staring at your leaking core, he licks his lips.
“Fuck! The most beautiful cunt of the most woman I have ever seen. You are a fucking goddess! I will worship the ground that you walk on.” Hoseok groans briefly before he dives down into your heat.
As soon as his mouth comes in contact with your cunt, you start seeing stars.
He kisses your mound, then your folds and then your clit. He takes it into his mouth and sucks the bundle of nerves as his life depends on it.
And when he enters a finger into your core, you feel your heat building.
His tongue plays with your clit as two of his fingers plunge into your hole at a rhythmic pace. It’s too much to take, so you voice, “Ho-Hoseok! I’m gonna c-cum.”
“Yes darling. Cum on my mouth.” he takes out his fingers from your hole and replaces those with his tongue. His fingers do the job of drawing tight eight figures on your clit in the meantime. And as a result, he rips out one of the best orgasms you have ever had. Your scream accompanies your release as you cum in Hoseok’s mouth.
“So sweet. So fucking sweet.” Hoseok stands on his feets.
You are so fucked out already that you miss the moment when he releases his cock from its confinement and strokes it twice.
When your eyes finally fall on his naked body, you start getting wet again.
“Oh god, Hoseok!” you try to sit up and take a hold of his meat.
Wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock, you give a kitten lick and wipe away his pre-cum. Hoseok shudders with your touch.
But he takes his cock away from your hand and murmurs, “You can suck me dry later baby. I really really want to be inside you now. Will you let me?”
Sitting on your knees, you place a kiss on his lips, “Do whatever you want, Hoseok. I am all yours.”
Hoseok grabs you by your neck and smashes his lips on yours, “You drive me crazy!” His words vibrate into your mouth.
He tactfully lays you down and snatches a packet of condom from the drawer of his night stand before climbing on the bed. Rolling down the same around his girthy length and lines his cock on your entrance.
“Can I?” He asks briefly before pushing himself inside your greedy hole slowly.
He gives you a few moments to adjust first and when you are done he starts moving.
“Fuck! So tight! Fuck!!!” Hoseok growls as he holds you in your place by your waist.
The first few thrusts are slow, he takes his time with preparing you. But then you whine, “Hoseok! Faster!”
“Whatever you say, baby.” Hoseok mutters briefly as he urges you to sit up and change position. He pulls himself out of you.
Within a moment you are on your fours.
He grabs you by your waist and slams himself inside again, pulling out an earth shattering moan from your mouth.
His other hand reaches for your neck and then ventures into your hair. He grabs and pulls your hair gently as he thrust into you harshly again.
The thrusts are so powerful that your words morph into nothingness and come out as gibberish. You start clenching around him sooner than you would like to admit and you know you are gonna cum again.
“I- c-cu” and you cum on his cock even before Hoseok could offer you a reply.
“Shit!” He growls as he cums in the condom.
Your body falls on the bed, you are too exhausted to even get up and clean yourself.
But soon enough you feel one strong arm sliding underneath your stomach and flipping you over. Hoseok lays you down on your back and then places a damp cloth in between your legs. He cleans you thoroughly.
Honestly, you want to cry. When you peek at his face, you see nothing but admiration. He gives you a small smile and continues.
Once he is done, he lays down beside you. Greets you a small good night, wraps his arms around you and kisses on your crown as you slowly melt into a dreamless sleep.
He still can’t believe it.
Hoseok still can’t believe that you are now his. His to hold, his to kiss, his to love and do all the things he wants to do to you, with you.
Without any doubt, last night was one of the best nights of his life until now. And now that he knows how it is to fall asleep beside you and wake up with you sleeping in his arms, he doesn’t want a life without this.
He traces the contour of your face with his thumb as if to make it into a muscle memory. Your eyes, your nose, your lips.. He wants to remember everything, he wants to engrave it into his brain.
Your alarm goes off, breaking your sleep.
You stir awake and then look for your phone on the nightstand. Turning it off, you look at him and give him one of your most beautiful smiles.
“Good morning.” gosh! Your sleepy voice is perfect.
“Good morning, darling.” If hoseok isn’t wrong then he can clearly see you blushing at the nickname.
“How did it come here? I definitely left it at your dining place.” You ask him, pointing at your phone.
“I brought it. Thought you might have an alarm set and see I was right.” he reaches down and places a kiss on top of your nose.
“Umm. so considerate.” you mirror his actions. He giggles at that.
“I need to get up now. Do you have an extra toothbrush?” you ask, starting to get up from the bed.
“Y/N! I could drop you. It’s not a big deal.” Hoseok whines. He wants to spend as much time with you as possible. Or better he doesn’t want to let you go. But he knows you have work to attend and he values that.
“I know, Hoseok. But I don’t want you to wake Sua up and drop her to your sisters’ this early. And on top of that the cab is almost here.” you take your purse and follow Hoseok outside his mansion.
Hoseok intertwines his fingers with yours and pulls you closer once you are at the porch, “I don’t want to let you go.”
“Neither do I want to, handsome. But Namjoon will kill me if I take another day off. I slacked off for two entire weeks after my break up.” The mention of your break up somewhat dims the light in your eyes but Hoseok knows he can make it better. He can heal you.
He puts a hand on your cheek and places a chaste kiss on your lips, “So, today is our day 1?”
He knows he has successfully diverted your mind when your cheeks turn darker and a sheepish smile takes over your lips.
“If you say so.” you murmur.
Just right then the cab pulls in outside Hoseok’s mansion. You hug him and bid him goodbye.
“Y/N” he stops you when you are about to tear apart from him, “what are you doing this weekend?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Great then.”
And with that you leave. Even though it upsets him, it also fills him with a new excitement of seeing you in two days.
Saturday comes painfully slowly.
But the prospect of seeing Hoseok not as your counselee’s guardian but as your boyfriend has kept you filled with an incredible amusement.
You two pondered on what to do and where to go for your first official date. But no options satiated you. You kept making excuses for whatever he came up with and there is a reason why.
You wanted to spend time with him inside the comfort of your home. And when you presented the idea to him, he agreed in a heartbeat.
The preparations have kept you busy since morning and it’s almost the time of his arrival.
So you change your clothes, slip into a fresh pair of tee and shorts, wash your face and apply some lip balm.
As always, Hoseok is right on time. He rings the doorbell right at 7 pm, just as you two decided.
“Hey, come in.” you open the door wide open, welcoming him inside.
He has arrived with a large bouquet of red roses and a plastic bag full of soju bottles.
“Flowers for a flower.” He offers you the bouquet and you can’t help but tsk.
“So cheesy, Mr. Jung.”
“I’m sorry.” he laughs out loud.
Once you are done putting away his presents, you take a good look at him.
He has his hair down today, unlike the other times you have seen him. His fluffy hair covers his forehead, making him look younger. His lips, as always, are inviting. And he has chosen to dress himself in an oversized white hoodie and baggy jeans.
“You.. are looking so beautiful, baby.” It’s hoseok who compliments you first. Wrapping his arms around you, he takes you in his embrace.
“I was about to say the same. You look so handsome, so domestic.” letting your lips capture his in a kiss, you show him how much you have missed him for two days.
“Is it okay for you to stay the night?” You ask Hoseok in between your ragged breaths. His mouth sucks on that one spot on your neck, that gets you all weak.
“Sua is with her grandparents and she likes them more than me.” He replies, pulling his mouth away from your skin for a second.
“I doubt that. She loves her daddy the most.” You giggle as Hoseok’s hands slide inside your t-shirt.
He shuts his eyes as soon as you emphasize you on “daddy.”
“Can you call me that again?” his voice trembles a bit.
“What? Daddy?” It's such a pleasure to tease him like that.
“Don’t tease me, Y/N!” his nails dig into the flesh of your waist.
“I’m not teasing you. I am asking. Is that what you liked to be called? Daddy?”
“Fuck it!” Hoseok growls as he captures your lips in a hungry, rough kiss. His hands reach up to your tits, groping the flesh to snatch a moan out of your lips.
And just then the doorbell rings.
You whine into his mouth before breaking the kiss.
“Who is it now!” clearly being very annoyed, you charge up to the door.
“Hello, who is it?” asking through the door dash cam, you wait for an answer.
Whoever is outside, is wearing a helmet and from the angle of the camera, it’s impossible to tell if it’s someone you know or not.
“Courier service.” the muffled voice of the person replies.
You don’t think much. You usually receive a lot of mail for seminars and stuff that has become a common feat.
So you open the door.
But to your dismay, the person wearing that damned helmet and bikers’ jacket is none other than your ex-boyfriend.
The scene slowly unfolds in front of Hoseok.
He sees your good mood turning sour as soon as you see the person standing at your door.
“What is it again?” you grit through your teeth.
This is the first time Hoseok is seeing you losing your cool and if he is not wrong then the person on the other side is your ex-boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook.
Even though your body is blocking the view, Hoseok can see the man taking off his helmet.
“I need to talk to you, Y/N. please.” he speaks in a calm voice as if it’s no big deal to knock on your ex’s door at 9 on a saturday.
Hoseok’s hands ball into fists. His blood boils at the thought of your ex-boyfriend trying to win you back even after he left you for someone else.
“I don’t understand what the fuck is left to talk about?” you scream at his face.
“Y/N, Please. I know you can’t forgive me for what I have done to you but I understood it. I- I realized my mistakes. I thought I fell out of love with you but-” the man sighs, his voice trembles constantly, “but I was wrong. I broke up. I- I ended things with her as soon as I realized I still love you. I never stopped loving you. I never-”
For a moment, Hoseok is afraid. What if you take him back? What if you accept his apologies and take him back into your life. What will be left for Hoseok then?
But, “It’s too late, Jungkook.” you cut him off.
“Y/N, please.”
“I don’t feel anything for you anymore. And I will appreciate it if you leave now.”
“Y/N, listen to me-”
“Didn’t you hear what she said? She asked you to leave, Mr. Jeon.” Hoseok intervenes. Even though he knows he should not butt in, but you are now his, and it’s his responsibility to protect you.
You turn your head to meet his eyes. Your face is apologetic as if you are ashamed of whatever is happening right now. He assures you a small “it’s okay”.
Then he looks at the man standing at your door, only to find him glaring already.
“And who are you to come between us?” Jungkook’s voice is now laced with venom.
“I am her boyfriend.” Hoseok replies as he walks up to you and stands between you and Jungkook as if protecting you from an impending danger.
Taglist 1:-
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Taglist 2:-
@llallaaa @mikrokookiex @parkinglot-nights @hiqhkey @diamonddia-mond @00frenchfries00 @koalasandcuddles @superchamchi88 @ttanniett @coralmusicblaze @multiasf @kookscumrag @sumzysworld @knjjjk @xtrataerrestrial @survivalistghost @kelsyx33 @aann95 @btsffreader92 @jjk174 @dragonflygurl4 @xwniazx
#bts angst#bts smut#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#hoseok angst#hoseok smut#bts x reader#jungkook x reader#hoseok x reader#bts fanfiction#jungkook fanfic#hoseok scenarios#jhope angst#jhope smut
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My Favorite Fairytale
Kento helps your daughter with her first loose tooth, but does she have to grow up so fast?
1.7k ⁑ slight mention of depression
@ittosbigfatmantitties @ner-dee @luneariaa @jaix-chan-blog @stressed-cryptid
"Don't touch it. Your hands aren't clean."
Kento placed his hand over your daughter's which inched toward her mouth. A soft sigh left her tiny body as she watched the screen.
Connecting ... connecting ... the blue screen disappeared once you filled its space.
"Hey, did something happen?"
"Mommy!"
Kiyomi's brows jumped up to her forehead, eyes widened with a huge smile to match. He'd only taken in a breath when she grabbed his phone.
"Look," she wiggled her tooth.
"Kiyomi..." Kento gently pulled her hand down again.
"Ohhh, is it ready?"
"I think so, but papa said to wait."
"Really?"
He glanced at you then nodded. Moments ago, he attempted to pull the tooth (with a gentle hand) at his daughter's request. Her brows pinched ever so slightly, eyes shut, muscles tensing for what was to come next. When he heard the beginnings of a squeal, he'd let go. His hand rested on his knee as he'd knelt down to her level. Looking into her eyes felt like a mirror. The familiar mix of frustration and determination, much akin to stubborness.
"We should wait."
"Let's call mommy. She can help us!"
Kento was pulled back to reality by the sound of your voice.
"If papa said to wait, we should wait, sweetheart."
"Ugh," her dramatic groan aimed toward the ceiling as she threw her head back.
"Kiyomi." Kento and you said in unison.
"Can we try one more time?" Please?"
For a moment, the two of you stared at each other. Speaking a secret language only parents could understand. Kiyomi watched then beamed when she saw you both nod. Thus, the daily ritual began once more with Kento washing his hands, grabbing a paper towel, and kneeling in front of his daughter. His fingertips held the small ivory in her mouth. A slight tug... she held her breath and so did he.
"It's not ready, darling." he rested his hand on his leg.
"You can pull harder. I'll be okay."
His hazel eyes met hers. He found himself attempting to commit the moment to memory in the moment of silence. The truth was: he couldn't bring himself to do it. It was only a tooth, but she was his little girl. His stomach twisted at the thought of her yelping or crying. Then there'd be blood and another tooth that'd grow in... would she ever need braces?
"We'll try again later. How about a snack?"
"Hm... okay." she hung her head.
His chest tightened at the sight while the guilt seeped in.
"What would you like?" your voice filled the dead air, "We can have papa make Super Special Salad?"
Kiyomi nodded as she wiped her slowly falling tears.
"You'll have that tooth out in no time."
Kento placed his hand on her shoulder as your words worked to comfort her.
"We can have taiyaki too."
She looked up at him, "Really?"
"Yes," his thumb wiped the damp tears from her cheeks "but until then, it's Super Special Salad."
Without warning, she wrapped her arms around his tall frame. He patted her back then gave her a small squeeze, "Aishiteru."
"Suki."
He chuckled, realizing they needed to work on her Japanese a bit more.
"Alright," he patted her back once more "let's make that salad."
"Wait, I have to use the bathroom first."
She ran down the hall before he could utter a word. The man rose to his feet then glanced down the corridor. A remnant of a smile flashed across his face before washing his hands to start on the snack for his daughter. If you aren't a regular at the Nanami household, then you may mistake Super Special Salad for your usual lettuce, tomato, and carrots. This is where you're tremendously wrong. Kiyomi hates tomatoes... and lettuce... though she doesn't mind the "orange sticks" as she calls them.
Super Special Salad is a Kento classic of fruit cut into a medley of shapes. It's one of the ways he helped her learn circles, triangles, and such. Kiyomi's absolute favorite are the flower shapes. He's made sure to add more of those as she's gotten older.He proudly prepared the area for his sous chef, straightening the cookie cutters as they lay on the cutting board.
"Kiyomi!" he stood in the kitchen, listening for any sound of her. "Kiyomi?" his fingers untied the apron he'd put on then set it onto the counter.
"Kiyomi." his voice was steady and stern, unlike his heart which beat hard in his chest with each step he took toward the bathroom. The light poured out into the hallway, a sliver of a shadow decorating the center. "Ah!" its limbs flinched back. The sound caused Nanami to rush forward. His hand pressed against the doorframe, eyes looking dead ahead for the threat only to find Kiyomi holding her tiny tooth between her fingers.
"I did it!" she held it up at him. Her eyes were slightly damp from the tears that dared to spill over moments ago. "It didn't hurt that much! Can we have taiyaki now?!"
His heart resided to its usual rhythm as he stared at her in disbelief.
"Are you mad? ... I washed my hands first like you said! See." she held her free hand up to his face.
The smell of soap wafted toward his nostrils. He knew that he should've chastised her then. I said we would try again later. You should've waited for your mom and I, so he knelt down to her level. She drew her hand back and clutched onto the tiny ivory victory she'd been fretting over for days. He placed a hand on her shoulder "I'm very proud of you." His eyes softened when he looked at her gap-filled smile.
For the last few hours, his face remained that way. As if he were frozen in time in a perpetual state of bliss. Rosy cheeks, soft lines gracing the sides of his mouth and eyes from smiling or laughing at something his daughter said. Hands that were consistently making their way over to you, whether it was to take the spoon from you so he could make dinner. Occasionally, they'd squeeze your thigh, rest it on your waist, or find their way to your very own hand. Lips that started to tell Kiyomi a bedtime story as he held onto her.
"You're smushing him." she gestured to Paprika the Red Panda, as she'd so aptly named him.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Paprika." he grabbed the stuffed animal then placed it on his lap "Do you think he wants to join us?"
"Of course," you peeled back the covers so Kiyomi could tuck him in next to her.
"Ready for storytime?"
You nodded along with Kiyomi then Kento cleared his throat. "Once upon a time, there was a man. He wasn't very happy. He was sad a lot but he didn't talk about it, so --"
"Why was he sad?" Kiyomi glanced up at the storyteller.
"We'll get to that later." Kento brushed a spot of leftover taiyaki from her cheek. Your fingers found their way to her hair which you mindlessly played with. She leaned a bit more into your touch, her head in your lap while her arm rested near her father. He took his hand in hers.
"So, he'd eat, work, and go to sleep. Only to do it all again the next day."
"Did he have any friends?" Kiyomi chimed in again. Kento went silent then shook his head, "Not really. He did but he wasn't very good at talking to them."
"Why not?"
Your fingers gently grazed over her scalp "Kiyomi... sometimes people don't feel like talking and... it feels better to be alone."
"But if your sad, you should talk to someone?"
"Right," Kento squeezed her hand. "If you're sad, you should talk to someone. Promise you'll do that, okay?"
Kiyomi nodded "I promise... but what about the man?"
"Well, he lived like that for a long time until he met a lady who was," his eyes landed on you "... incomparable."
Your eyes flicked up at him and he saw the light in them immediately. In the few seconds of silence, you two exchanged a loving glance.
"What's incomparable?"
"It means that there's nothing else like her."
"Flowers?"
"Nope."
"Super Special Salad?"
He shook his head.
"Taiyaki?" you challenged him and he chuckled then shook his head once more "Nothing."
"She's warmer than the sun and softer than moonlight. If I tried to compare her to anything, I think it'd be quite rude... we can say.. she's magic and I can't imagine living in a world without magic."
"I like magic!" Kiyomi's eyes lit up "Uncle Gojo showed me a magic trick."
Your laughter filled the room and Nanami only smiled to himself. "Let's stay away from his magic tricks for now."
"Okay, continue with your story." your laughter died down.
"Anyway... a few years later, the man found that he couldn't live without the magic woman so he asked her to grow old with him and y'know what she said? She said yes."
"Was he still sad?"
"Hm... sometimes but being with her helps him... they're kind of like a quilt. He has these holes and pieces missing, but she comes in and fills it with a patch."
"Mommy, what's a quilt?"
"It's like a blanket," you caressed her cheeks as she started to blink slowly, giving in to sleep.
"Papa, why'd you tell that story?" she rubbed her eyes.
"I kind of like it. Did I bore you?"
He glanced down at her then noticed the steady rise and fall of her chest. Her lashes unmoving as she slept soundly.
"It was a great story. Even if it wasn't a fairytale." You looked at your husband and cupped his cheek.
"Who said it was a story?" his eyes gazed into yours, skin growing hot from your tender touch. The remark made your breath hitch, you were stunned by his words. He placed his hand over yours, never breaking your gaze.
The Look of Love fails short when describing the emotion that resided in his face. Yes. his hazel eyes were warm. A soft smile permanently stuck on his face... yet, there was something more. You'd felt it in the way he squeezed your hand. The silent "thank you" for simply existing and making everything better.
#dividers by pommecita and inklore#madebyjade#jjk nanami#jjk x reader#jjk#nanami kento#nanami x reader#kento nanami#nanami kento fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen nanami#jujustu kaisen#dad!nanami#dad nanami
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IN THE DYING SUMMER SUN — BBH
PAIRING: baekhyun x female reader
SUMMARY: a weekend up at the beach house might just be enough to make you crack and come clean about your little (big, fat) crush. alternatively, park chanyeol is possibly the worst wingman ever.
GENRE: friends to lovers! au, crush! baekhyun, romance, fluff, a pinch of angst, pining, humour
WARNINGS: swearing, alcohol consumption, sexual tension!!, slightly suggestive, reader and baekhyun are both kind of clueless tbh
WORD COUNT: 9.4k
NOTE: happy birthday baekhyun!! thought it would be fitting to start off this blog with a fic for bbh on his birthday. this was supposed to be a 4-5k piece of fluff but somehow it ended up being double that and a lot more serious than i originally intended (oops?). kinda nervy posting such a long fic for the first time ever so feedback is most certainly welcome and i hope you enjoy!
“You definitely rigged this.”
Chanyeol only rewarded you with a shit-eating grin.
The scrap of paper couldn’t weigh more than a few grams, but in your hands, they felt like the barbell plates at the gym that he could never leave alone. Especially since a certain someone was also holding another scrap of paper with ‘ground floor twin room’ hastily scrawled across it.
You shook your head vehemently, fixing the tall boy with a dagger-like stare that he seemed completely unfazed by. “I demand a redraw.”
“Which is not going to happen,” was his gleeful response. “We all agreed — no take-backs before picking.” The hat that you had all drawn out of, now empty, was tossed on the coffee table as everyone else began to move their bags into their freshly chosen rooms. Somewhere down the hallway, Jongin tripped over the wheels of his suitcase, his pained groan and Kyungsoo’s laughter bouncing against the walls of the AirBnb.
“Besides,” Chanyeol continued, hand coming up to ruffle your hair, “if I had actually rigged it, you should be thanking me. I’d be doing you a favour.” He gestured towards Baekhyun, who was busying himself with packing his hoodie back into his duffle bag, hopefully oblivious to the fact that the two of you were conspiring about him less than three metres away.
“Yeah, say it any louder, why don’t you. And no, that wasn’t an invitation,” you warned, catching the wicked glint in Chanyeol’s eyes. He opened his mouth, as if to make good on your request and let the whole house know, only to choke back a groan at the elbow you shoved into his side. Behave, said the glare that you shot at him. His replying smile was anything but reassuring, before he picked up his bag and headed upstairs.
That was what you got for getting a little too drunk at Jongdae’s housewarming get-together last month and accidentally slipping up about your big, fat, debilitating crush on Baekhyun after the third glass of pinot noir in one night. If it had been anyone else made aware of your juvenile secret, you would probably be feeling a little less uneasy — but it just had to be the one person who couldn’t keep his mouth shut to save his life. Not to mention Park Chanyeol was a terrible wingman, having heard about the ridiculous escapades he put Jongdae through before he finally cuffed his girlfriend. Lucky for you, you were now getting to experience it first-hand.
“I can ask Jongin to swap, if you really don’t want to room with me,” came a soft voice from your right. Baekhyun regarded you with an expectant, if somewhat hesitant expression.
“No, it’s okay,” you replied, trying your best to mask the panic that was fighting its way into your voice. It would be just your luck, that he would think your reluctance to share a sleeping space with him was because you didn’t like him enough, and not that you liked him a little too much. The slight furrow in his brow seemed to melt away with your words. “I just wanted the big room with the queen bed, but somehow Chanyeol got it. I seriously think he did something to these,” you said, waving your slip of paper that matched the one he was holding.
Come to think of it, you and Baekhyun had also been the last ones to draw out of the hat, since Chanyeol had insisted on going counter-clockwise around the dining table. How he managed to game the room allocations was beyond you, but you were now almost certain that he did.
“It’s good that he’s by himself though. The snoring would drive anyone mad,” Baekhyun mused, and you had to chuckle in agreement.
“That time he passed out at my place after Saturday drinks…I genuinely thought I’d end up with a murder charge that night.” you said, chest squeezing at the way his eyes crinkled into crescent moons at your words. You busied yourself with your own bag, hoping he wouldn’t see the dumb smile on your face, and be able to tell how pleased you were to have teased a laugh out of him. Laughter was not something he usually withheld — he gave it freely, if not a little too generously — but it always did a funny thing to your heart when you were the cause of it.
“Definitely can’t have that. Pretty face like yours would not last a day in jail.” With one hand around his own duffle, he draped the free one around your shoulders, letting the warmth of his arm wrap around you as you headed down the corridor to the room you’d be sharing for the weekend.
Having a crush on Baekhyun was no big deal. Probably even normal, if his college days were anything to go by. But what made it so debilitating was things like this — the little comments he’d throw around that could easily be passed off as just friendly flirting if you were so inclined, though you sometimes let yourself imagine his intentions came more from the flirting than the friendly part. He was a generally touchy person too, never missing a chance to pat Kyungsoo’s ass when the opportunity arose, but sometimes the brush of his fingers against the inside of your wrist felt a little too affectionate for two people united solely through friendship, even if you were the only one who internally crossed that line a while ago. It was things like this that made you question, every once in a while, if your feelings were as one-sided as you believed. Most of the time though, you chalked it up to his disposition, his easy-going magnetism, and concluded that whatever signals you thought he was sending were merely due to your overactive imagination running wild with hopes that he felt the same way.
“Dibs left,” he said, plopping down on the twin bed closer to the window. His arms raised above his head in a long, yawning stretch, revealing a thin strip of skin at the waistband of his jeans. Just the sight of it was enough to control your blood, sending a rush of it to your face, and you internally cursed yourself for being so weak to such a small thing. It was obvious you had been alone for way too long. He was too comfortable to notice the flush on your cheeks, eyes shut and enjoying the tension leaving his body after the long drive up.
You sat yourself down carefully on the remaining bed, noting the gap between the two mattresses. Whether you wanted to push them together or against opposite walls of the room, you couldn’t be sure. It was hard to form coherent thoughts when he turned to you with a boyish playfulness that curled the corner of his mouth upwards.
“You’re not going to sleepwalk your way into my bed, are you?” he asked, chin in his hand, a teasing glint in his eyes. You tried hard to catch yourself from choking on your own saliva.
“I’ve been known to kick in my sleep,” was your reply, voice much more nonchalant than you thought you were capable of, given that he had just planted the seed of the two of you sharing a twin mattress that was definitely not big enough to lie down on without touching in at least three different places. The glint in his eyes faded immediately, giving way to thinly-veiled concern at the threat underlying your words.
“I was kidding,” you clarified when he sat up and started to back away from you. “At least, I haven’t done that for fifteen or so years. But you never know, it might come back again tonight, when you’ve finally fallen asleep, and then BAM! Foot to the face. You better sleep with your eyes open, Byun Baekhyun,” you warned, giggling at the realisation dawning over his face before his pretty features settled into mock annoyance.
“You just think you’re so funny, don’t you?” He was on all fours now, making his way towards you with a wolfish grin. In no time, he had crawled over the gap between your two beds and suddenly his fingers were prodding at your ribs. It was a well-planned tickle attack, and one you had no chance of escaping from, since his legs had caged you in and the rest of him was pinning you down. You were helpless against the ambush of his fingers, succumbing to them with gasping giggles, punctuated by desperate pleas for him to stop. He showed no intention of letting up, fingers digging even deeper into your waist.
If you were going to die like this, you thought, at least you’d be dying while lying under him.
“When you two are done canoodling, we’re going to go set up on the beach,” came a voice from the doorway. Baekhyun’s merciless fingers paused, and the two of you looked back to see Chanyeol’s amused face at the foot of your bed, smirking like he knew some big secret that neither of you were privy to. God, you were seriously regretting that third glass at Jongdae’s new apartment last month.
Baekhyun turned back to you, your noses almost touching, and you could feel the air from his exhales fanning against the skin of your cheek. There was a mole just above the corner of his mouth that you don’t think you had ever noticed before. Warmth from his jean-clad legs radiated into your hips and meandered up and down your spine, and suddenly the late summer air around you was becoming sticky and heavier than usual.
As if just now noticing the proximity you were in, he slowly untangled himself from your limbs, making sure not to crush you in the process. You sat up, still breathless, having just calmed down enough for full inhales again, but so was he, you noted. Surely tickling wasn’t that exertive of an activity? Or maybe you’d put up a better fight than you had thought.
“Don’t forget your towels,” was the last thing Chanyeol said before he ducked out, yelling at Jongin to grab the beach umbrellas, not the rain ones. There were a few seconds just filled with the sounds of your slowing breathing.
“I’m going to go get changed,” Baekhyun said, turning around to dig through his bag for his swim shorts. You couldn’t see his expression, but you could hear the slight tremble in his voice that indicated he hadn’t quite recovered from whatever was afflicting him. “We’ll probably just be setting up the umbrellas, so no rush, just come down when you’re ready.” As he turned around to head towards the bathroom, he flashed you that familiar smile, the one that always resulted in one of your own to mirror his, and set you at ease again.
“And make sure you bring your sunscreen,” he added, before disappearing down the hallway. You watched him go, throwing yourself back onto the bed with a frustrated groan once you were sure he was out of earshot. Two whole days and nights in this tiny room, in the languid death of summer, with his body just an arm’s length away from yours — you had no idea how much of this you could stomach and emerge with your sanity intact.
This was shaping up to be the longest weekend ever.
The afternoon sun was unforgiving when you emerged from the house. Though you had thrown on a cover up before leaving, you could feel the heat tingling on the surface of your skin through the thin cotton. From the top of the bushy path leading down to the beach, you could already hear the tell-tale signs of a competition brewing between the boys, even if you couldn’t quite see them yet. A few steps down and you could make out their figures, managing to catch the view of Chanyeol flipping backwards off the jetty before plunging into the water, where the rest of them were bobbing around. Baekhyun’s voice floated above the others the way it always did when he was teasing, liltingly distinguishable, though perhaps that was only because you were now so attuned to it that other voices naturally started to sound more foreign.
It was hard to pinpoint exactly when he went from Baekhyun, your friend who tended to get a little too rowdy after half a can of beer, to Baekhyun, your friend who made your heart pick up a little faster when you thought of him. One day his hiccuping laugh was teetering on the edge of obnoxiousness, and then all of a sudden it became endearing to hear the raw joy in his voice. If you knew exactly when the switch flipped, maybe you’d be able to retrace your steps and stop yourself from ever setting off down this path to end up where you were now, watching the sunlight glisten against his wet face with an overwhelming affection, wondering what it would be like to be the private audience of his radiant smile everyday.
You set your things down on the sand next to the pile of clothes and towels that were already there, recognising Chanyeol’s hat somewhere in the mix. The beach umbrella that Jongin had set up was already beginning to lurch towards one side, the brim rather close to the ground. Fixing it back in place and digging it into the sand a little deeper, you let out a fond laugh — some things, like the way Jongin used his hands like they weren’t his own, would stand the test of time.
You had hoped that your friendship with Baekhyun would be one of those things, but the more time you spent casting longing glances his way when he wasn’t looking, the more you weren’t sure if you could ever recover from his rejection if you ever did decide to be honest about your feelings towards him. So you did your best to bury them, content to enjoy his company in the way you were both familiar with, afraid that if they did surface, they’d taint your friendship with something unpleasant and irreversible. If you couldn’t own the sun, at least you could still revel in its warmth.
Satisfied with the position of your towel underneath the shade of the umbrella, you looked back at the water, returning Baekhyun’s sweeping wave with a small one of your own. It was just enough of a distraction for Chanyeol to turn around as well, and Baekhyun seized the opportunity to dunk him, gleefully howling as the taller boy’s head disappeared below the waves. Before Chanyeol could resurface and enact his retaliation, Baekhyun was already making his escape, swimming towards the shore with fearful determination. Chanyeol made to follow, but upon seeing you sitting on the beach with your eyes fixed on Baekhyun’s approaching figure, he thought better of it, turning back around to continue the diving evaluation as Jongin took his turn to leap off the jetty.
With an amused smile, you watched as Baekhyun hurried out of the ocean, wet hair flying in all directions and flicking droplets of seawater across the sand. The water trickled down the planes of his bare torso, and you tried to keep your eyes away from the firmness of his pec, or the flexing movements of his abdominals as he made his way over to you. One thing was for sure — the gym sessions with Chanyeol were paying off.
When he finally reached you, Baekhyun slumped onto your towel, ignoring your protests for him to stay away, and proceeded to soak you in the remaining water that was still clinging to his body. The skin of his stomach was cool against your calf, and he giggled delightfully at your attempts to push him off to avoid getting more water onto your clothes.
“Stop trying to fight it, you’re going to get wet when you go in anyway,” he said, finally rolling off you.
“I wasn’t planning on going in. I’m scared you’ll try to drown me,” you huffed, lightly flicking some sand onto his shoulder with your toe. He turned back around, chin cradled in his left hand, and flashed you a boyish smile.
“I would never do that,” he said, though the glint in his eyes was anything but convincing. “Besides, what are you going to do at the beach if you’re not getting in the water?”
You picked up the book nestled in between your shoes and waved it at him. “Read, of course.” He regarded the worn paperback with amused disbelief, eyebrows slightly raised. It was only when you flipped the book open to the paperclip you’d been using as a bookmark that he realised you were serious, and let out a scoff that was laced with something akin to fondness.
“You are such a cliche. Pretty girl reading at the beach? Unbelievable, seriously,” he said, before wriggling his head into your stomach, relishing in your shocked squeals as your cover up began to dampen again. His mischief had left a few wet patches on the fabric that were beginning to stick to your body in the uncomfortable fashion of late summer. You reached for the hem, pulling it off not without some struggle, and immediately felt the sun kissing against your bare shoulders. Though you were mostly covered by the shade from the umbrella, the last thing you wanted was a blistering sunburn where the straps of your tote bag usually rested, so you grabbed the sunscreen you had so diligently packed and began applying it on the parts of your skin that were exposed.
Baekhyun had gone uncharacteristically quiet. If you had been paying attention to him instead of so attentively rubbing the cream into the underside of your knee, perhaps you would have noticed the way his eyes lingered on you for a little longer than would have been polite. They followed the path your hands took, from the expanse of skin below your neck, across your stomach, and down the length of your legs.
“Do you want me to do your back?” he blurted, his voice a little more strained than usual. He was wearing an odd expression on his face, something you couldn’t quite place, but it was different from the usual playful one you were most well acquainted with. Nevertheless, you agreed, passing him the tube and turning around so your back was facing him.
His fingers were still cold from the water, and you jumped when they first made contact with your skin. He only laughed, squeezing both hands around your shoulders to hold you still before he got back to work again.
The first graze of his hands across your shoulders was tentative. You could feel the heat of him behind your back, the smell of salt and sun clinging to the air around you. His breaths fanned the skin on the back of your neck, sending goosebumps down your arms and legs despite the thick heat of the afternoon. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. Slowly, his hands made their way down to your lower back, and it was then that you realised you might be in trouble. His hands pressed against the grooves of your spine, curving ever so slightly around your waist, and if you shivered, he pretended not to feel you tremble in his grasp.
It was when his fingers slipped underneath the ties of your bikini top that the alarm bells began to go off in your head. His movements were hesitant, fingers stuttering in their dance across your skin before they gingerly pulled the strings aside to spread the sunscreen between the top and bottom halves of your back. It was too much, feeling his warmth, knowing there was only an inch of space between your bare torsos, having his hands on you doing such a thorough job with the task he had assigned to himself. When the tips of his fingers brushed the side of your ribs, just under the edge of the fabric, you couldn’t help the breathy noise that escaped your lips.
“Actually, I think I left something back at the house,” you said suddenly, words hurriedly running into each other as they tripped over your tongue on the way out of your mouth. Twisting away from his dangerous touch, you bolted to a stand and hoped he’d attribute the pinkness of your cheeks to being outside in the brightness of the afternoon. Your words came out staggered, the slight tremble in your voice betraying the composure you were fighting so hard to maintain.
Baekhyun’s gaze was careful, if not a little confused. The more his eyes ran over you, the more you were sure that the depth of your feelings towards him were beginning to surface on your face. Another second and he’d be able to tell, he’d figure out the little secret you’d been trying to conceal for the last couple of months. And then you wouldn’t be able to deny its existence anymore.
So you fled, tossing a rushed promise to be right back over your shoulder before scurrying up the bushy path again. Away from the scrutiny of his eyes, away from the truth you did not want revealed to the world. The ghost of his touch lingered between your shoulder blades and along the ridges of your spine, your body already committing to memory the caress of his skin against yours. You realised then, that it would not be possible to continue living on as usual, now that you knew the taste of his closeness, as fleeting as it may have been.
“I think you should just go for it.”
Your fingers tightened around the glass at his words. Chanyeol’s tone was light and pragmatic, speaking as if the act of unfurling your heart were nothing more than a decision about whether to have steak or pork belly for dinner.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoffed, bringing the bottle to your lips.
“I’m serious though,” he continued, nudging your arm with the lip of his own beer. “I think you should just tell him, and see what he says. And stop expecting the worst. You’ll never know how things could turn out if you never do anything.”
You let your head fall back to lean on the doorframe you were both standing against, gazing out at the patio that had begun to darken following the sunset. Baekhyun and Jongin were placed at opposite ends of the ping pong table that had been wheeled out of the living room after dinner, neither seeming to mind the soft prick of grass at the underside of their bare feet. Whether the game was proceeding well was difficult to deduce, since both were sporting wide grins and rosy cheeks, courtesy of the glasses in their hands — but judging by the cluster of orange balls around Baekhyun’s feet, you had an inkling that victory would not be his. He didn’t seem to mind yet, laughing gleefully as Jongin swung his racquet too hard and launched a ball over the fence.
“Not everyone is as good as you when it comes to talking about their feelings, you know,” you said, fixing Chanyeol with a knowing look that was halfway between admiration and resentment. If you only had his courage of expression, perhaps you would’ve put an end to your suffering a while ago. Ripped the band-aid off cleanly instead of peeling away at it, day by day, bit by bit, until it was hanging on by the last of its adhesive. You weren’t sure how much longer your resolve could last, if it would even survive this weekend without snapping under the force of your attraction.
He only shrugged. “You can’t get good without actually doing it.” You pondered his words in the short silence that settled while you both took another sip. He was right, of course, you knew that, but it didn’t make hearing it any easier.
“I think… I’m just scared,” you began slowly. Realising you were about to put his advice into action, Chanyeol turned to you with reassuring and patient eyes, waiting. You took a deep breath, swinging the contents of your bottle back and forth, and continued, “I’m scared that if I do tell him, it’s going to change our relationship and then I’ll lose him completely. At least if I don’t say anything, he’s still my friend, and I get to keep being in his life.”
He regarded you for a moment, brows furrowed thoughtfully, as he decided on his next words. It was no easy feat to try on honesty the way you just did, having so carefully avoided it for your entire life, and he was well aware of it. The slight tremble in your hands was a dead giveaway.
“And I think that’s completely understandable,” he finally said. “There’s always going to be a trade-off, no matter what you choose to do. But I guess you have to weigh up which one means more to you, and if you’re willing to take that risk on the chance that it does work out between you two. I’m only telling you what I think you should do. You’re the one who knows your own feelings the best.”
Another silence fell over the two of you again. Your bottle was nearly empty now, the beer inside already lukewarm from being out of the cooler for too long. Jongin let out a cheer as the ball sailed over his head, landing far behind him on the grass and ignoring Baekhyun’s flagrant attempts at contesting the point. Even under the patio lights, he was still so pretty, cheeks pink and glowy, the shape of his mouth so endearing as it settled into a pout. By now, you were used to the longing, and paid it no mind as it filled your chest with a bittersweet warmth.
“Aren’t you two best friends though?” you asked, the thought suddenly occurring to you. “You’re telling me you don’t know anything about how he feels about… whatever is going on?” The look you gave Chanyeol was suspicious, but he stood strong, resisting your prying eyes.
“I wouldn’t be much of a best friend if I went around blabbing to you about his feelings, would I?” was his response, accompanied by an elusive smile. There was something in his words that lingered in your mind, some important detail you felt as if you had overlooked, but his amused expression gave you nothing to hold onto. “You’re both so clueless,” he chuckled after a beat of your thoughtful silence, downing the rest of his drink.
Baekhyun was skipping over now, having officially lost 18-21 to Jongin, who was heartily celebrating his victory with a series of hoots and giggles. He headed straight for you, hair all messed up from running his hands through it during the game, and a rosy flush to his face, though you weren’t sure if that was from the game or the glass that he had left at the ping pong table. When he wrapped his arms around you and buried his head in your shoulder, you knew that it was probably the latter.
“I lost the game,” he whined, petulant and firm against you. His hair tickled your chin, and you could smell the faint scent of his shampoo from his shower after the beach.
“Are you drunk already?” you asked, trying to mask your breathlessness at his proximity with a few giggles. Baekhyun’s affinity for physical contact was the worst — or best, depending on how you looked at it — when he had alcohol in his system, and it didn’t take much to push him past the borders of sobriety. His ache for touch and affection was most often relieved on you, and you always obliged, gladly and readily letting him take whatever it was he wanted.
The tip of his nose brushed back and forth against your skin as he shook his head. “Just a little, tiny bit,” he said, voice muffled, and you felt the warmth of his breath through your t-shirt.
“Where’s the love for your best friend?” Chanyeol teased, the only one amused at the way Baekhyun had dived straight into your arms without even sparing him a glance.
The boy in your arms didn’t even falter, only snuggling further into you. “You know it’s because she’s my favourite,” he murmured, lips skimming your collarbone ever so softly as he spoke. The panic onset was instantaneous, and you prayed he was too drunk to pick up on the sudden rapid thundering of your heartbeat inside your chest. You tried to look at Chanyeol for help, but he was setting off across the patio, taking up Jongin on his invitation for a match with the promise that he would wipe the floor with the younger boy.
Baekhyun only hummed contentedly, oblivious to the havoc he was wreaking inside you, tightening his hold around you when you made a half-hearted attempt to wriggle out of his arms. His pink lips set into another rounded pout, brows slightly creased as he pulled back to look at you.
“You know you’re my favourite, right?” he asked, trying to be convincing despite the slight slur to his words. You could only nod, letting a small smile twist the corners of your mouth upwards. Whether he realised or meant what he was saying, you weren’t all that concerned, simply happy to bask in the warmth of his full attention knowing it was probably just nonsensical babble brought on by the drink in his belly. It was so much easier to be close to him when he was like this, hazier, and sure to forget most of what he had said the morning afterwards. It didn’t hurt that you were also starting to feel a little blurrier around the edges, the beer from earlier making its way through your system and leaving behind a pleasant fuzziness that made it all the more tempting to come clean about your feelings. But you weren’t quite there yet, and you had no plans to get to that point tonight.
Seemingly satisfied with your answer, he curled back up into you. With your hands around his back, you could feel the steady rhythm of his heart, the comfortingly even beat of it through his rib cage. It was so easy to imagine this was the way it had always been, and would always be, so easy to slip into the fairytale you often found yourself fabricating when your one-sided longing became too much to contain. It would be so nice if you could live in this moment forever, you thought. But was this small pocket of peace worth risking your entire friendship?
“I wish you’d stop running away from me,” he murmured, or at least that’s what you thought he said. It was a little difficult to concentrate when his lips were grazing your skin again, lightly feathering across your neck as the words shaped his mouth on their way out of it.
And then you felt it, the unmistakable and deliberate press of his lips against your collarbone, the gentle pressure and the slight moisture on your skin from it searing through you like a lit trail of gasoline. This time, he had to have heard the stilted gasp that escaped your mouth.
He lifted his head slowly to look at you again, searching your face with glassy eyes — for what, you weren’t quite sure. The only things you were sure of right now were the fiery burn in your cheeks, and the deafening pounding of your heart that echoed between your ears.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, though his expression was nowhere near as apologetic as his words would have you believe. If anything, his gaze on you was almost daring, waiting to see how you’d respond, if you’d shrink back into yourself like you always did when he got too close and crossed that invisible boundary you only danced around. If you’d run away from him the way he had just said he wished you wouldn’t. Or if you’d let him push you over too, just this once.
Seeing the hesitation in your face, he slowly extricated from you, retracting his limbs and warmth until they hung limply by his sides again. Scratched the back of his head. Let his eyes wander around the patio and settle on anything except for you.
“I’m going to see if Kyungsoo needs any help with cleaning up,” he said quietly, not waiting for your response as he headed back into the house. The drink had made his gait unsteady, and you felt him sway against the doorframe as he brushed past you. A chilling unease began to settle in the pit of your stomach as you watched him go, the shape of his back getting smaller and smaller as he was swallowed by the light of the living room.
Try as you might, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, and that there was a possibility it had not been in the direction you had hoped for.
Perhaps the second glass of wine had been a little overambitious, you realised, staring up at the ceiling of your shared bedroom. Kyungsoo had been so excited about the 2012 Shiraz he had brought from home, pouring you a full glass with an enthusiasm he didn’t often display. You couldn’t say no, and you didn’t protest when he refilled it a short while later. If he noticed the faster-than-usual speed with which you drained its contents, he did not show it. Whilst alcohol tended to put people to sleep, it had the opposite effect on you, dangling sleep in front of you like a carrot you could never get a hold of easily, or for long. That second glass of wine was the reason you were lying in bed, not soundly asleep like you wished, but keenly aware of every breath and every movement from the other occupant of the room, only an arm’s length away from you.
Baekhyun had spent most of the night with Chanyeol out on the patio, drinking and laughing under the generous light of the moon. Even if he wasn’t purposely avoiding you, you felt his absence from your side sorely. He didn’t say much during the wind down for bed either, only asking if you wanted the curtains fully shut, to which you gave an affirmative. Still, a sliver of moonlight speared through the gap between them, illuminating the room just enough that if you turned your head to the side, you could make out the outline of his body beneath the covers and acquaint yourself with the familiar curve of his nose.
It was only fair that the wine, having taken your sleep, offered something in return to mark an honourable trade. That something manifested itself in the restlessness of your mouth, which battled against the remaining rationality of your mind. Loose-lipped and anxious, you dug your nails into the palm of your hand, willing the war inside your head to approach a ceasefire. You did not want to make a fool of yourself in the intimacy of this small room.
However, your resolve could not last for long, corroded by the hours spent without his presence, without the familiar warmth of his touch, without his little comments meant only for you as he pointed out something silly or poked fun at Jongin’s whining. Barely above a whisper, you called out his name, letting your voice permeate the darkness. It was loud enough that he’d hear it above the silence, but soft enough that he could ignore it if he so wished, and you’d attribute his ignorance to the deepness of sleep.
There was a second of silence, which he followed with an answering hum and a shuffle of his legs on the mattress. He was awake, and he was waiting for you to speak.
“Are you mad at me?” you asked the ceiling.
“No, I’m not mad at you,” was his reply, accompanied by a quiet sigh. He was conversing with the ceiling too, just as reluctant to face you.
Your hands twisted the sheets in dissatisfaction. The even tone of his voice indicated truth, but his answer didn’t explain why he had spent the whole night outside without calling for you even once, when he usually couldn’t last half an hour without pressing into your side and tickling your shoulder to grab your attention.
“Then what?” you probed, cringing at the whiny edge to your voice.
He was quiet for a while, letting your words hang in the air, that for a moment you thought he wouldn’t speak, that your brief conversation had already come to an end, and you’d be left with unanswered questions as bedside companions for the night. There was another rustling from his side of the room as he settled himself under the covers.
“Sometimes, I think I want too much from you,” he finally said. He was quiet, but you heard every word with the clarity as if they had been projected through a stereo system. “And you can’t give me everything I want, but that’s not your fault. It’s an indication of my own greed and selfishness more than anything else.”
You kicked around at your sheets to signal your unrest at his words. “I don’t think you are greedy or selfish. At all. At least not with me.” If anything, you were the selfish one, wanting all his smiles and touches for yourself, wanting the entire spectrum of his existence to only ever be shown to you. Your generosity only ever came to light when it was in service of him, gladly letting him take your attention, your time, allocating space in your mind for him and him only.
Baekhyun only laughed a soft and short laugh at your reply, the sound so different from the usual one filled with boisterous joy that you had grown the most used to. You heard him turn over in his bed to face you. In the quiet darkness of the room, the focus of his gaze flooded over you, and the intensity of it was so blinding you didn’t dare to look away from the smoothness of the ceiling, fearing you’d smoulder into ash the moment you locked eyes with him.
“You know that you are a really important person to me. You know that, right?” he asked, eyes searing into you with the force of a thousand suns. “I mean, everyone else is also important because they’re my friends, but you’re different — you are a special person to me. I don’t see you the way I see Chanyeol, or Jongin, or anyone else.”
His words were still tinged with the slight slur of the beer from out on the patio, but you could feel the delicate care with which they were chosen and spoken. Something was different about tonight. You could taste it in the thick air between the two of you, feel it in the wire-taut tension stretching across the gap between your two twin beds. Your fingers dug into the comforter, willing the turbulence in your chest to subside.
He paused and took a deep breath, as if bracing himself against something devastating. “I don’t want the same things with them as I do with you.”
You held your breath until you felt the pain of deprivation in your chest.
“But I’ve made peace with the fact that what I want from you, and the way I feel about you, are things I’ll have to carry with me. They’re things I have to bear the weight of alone. I don’t — I would never want you to be uncomfortable, or see me differently.” There was a slight catch in his voice at the end.
You didn’t even know if your lungs were still working while you listened to him speak. There was a surrealness to the night, as if everything had been covered in a blanket of haze and everything that was transpiring was the product of a fever-induced dream, existing on an alternate timeline.
Baekhyun… it didn’t even feel right thinking it.
Baekhyun had feelings for you? And he had convinced himself it was one-sided?
“It’s pretty selfish, isn’t it? Asking you to act like things between us won’t change after everything I just said,” he laughed, but there was little humour in the sound. You finally turned your head to look at him, the wry curve of his mouth catching the moonlight as he gazed at you. He was smiling, the shape of it meant to comfort you, but he could not hide the sadness weaved into the downturn of his eyes. He had always been braver than you, perhaps not in the aspect of riding roller-coasters, but certainly in his ability to be honest and open about his emotions, regardless of whether they were good or bad.
It was your turn to be brave now, and shed your own fear to meet him where he stood.
“I’ve been seeing you differently for a while now,” you admitted, turning under the sheets to fully face him. You were grateful for the darkness, hoping that it would conceal the heat creeping up your neck and face, painting your cheeks with a hot blush that accompanied the start of your confession. His brows furrowed slightly as he tried to process your words, confusion settling in the crease between them. You held yourself back from reaching out to smooth them over.
“What do you mean?”
“What makes you think you’re the only one who feels this way?” you asked instead, leaving his question unanswered. There was a tremble in your voice as you spoke, and you were sure he heard it above the quiet of your bedroom. It was the closest you could get to telling him without actually telling him about the silent battle that had been raging in your head for the last few months.
This was it, you thought. He had to know now.
“Am I not?”
The weight of his stare pressed against you, drawing you to him with the tangible pull of gravity. The eyes that roamed your face had replaced their previous confusion with questioning, and a glimmer of something akin to hope. He had never looked more beautiful and devastating than he did right now. You felt the light of dawn breaking over your skin, a promise of something new and good sure to follow. Its warmth simmered within you, staving off the chill of the late summer night with a heat that had you pushing off your covers in a hurried frenzy and rising to sit on the edge of your bed, toes just grazing the floorboards beneath you. Would you still have had the same nerve to face him in the daylight, rough and exposed without the lulling comfort of darkness? Would he still look at you, unpolished and flawed in the clarity of the sun, the same way, with the reverence of man at the sight of an angel?
Baekhyun mirrored you and sat up on his own bed, slowly, as if not wanting to spook you, fearing you’d run off and retreat back into the confined familiarity of your own head. His knees knocked against yours in the small space between your two mattresses. You jolted at the feeling of his skin on yours, having gone without it for so long that the mere touch was like the first drop of water after emerging from the desert. He made to move away, trying to shuffle across the length of the bed, but stilled at the hand you placed just over his knee, willing him to stay put. Surely, he could feel the beat of your heart thrumming through your fingertips.
It was your turn to be brave now.
Fueled by the second glass of Shiraz and the muted encouragement of darkness, before you could second guess yourself and overthink every possible negative outcome of what you were about to do, you closed your eyes and leant towards him. Slowly, inch by inch, until your journey ended with the soft, tentative press of your lips against his. It was short and chaste, nothing more than a gentle pressure, and you pulled back when you felt his lips part in surprise.
“Does that answer your question?” you whispered, heart in your throat.
There it was. You had gone and done it.
His eyes were closed, and in the dim moonlight peeking through the curtain, you could almost make out each of his eyelashes, fluttering dark and soft against the smooth skin of his cheek. For a few seconds, the room was filled only with the sounds of your breathing as you waited for his reaction, for the consequences of your actions and what that meant for your friendship with him.
Then you heard it — his soft laugh, coloured with appreciative disbelief, and felt the air of it caress your face. The corners of his mouth curved upwards into a small, pleased smile. His eyes blinked open slowly, taking you in with a hunger that had desire curling in the pit of your stomach.
“You are just so…” he began, but you never found out just exactly what you were. He was already pulling you back into him, slotting his mouth against yours like they were always made to fit perfectly together. This time, the kiss was anything but chaste, the sheer force of it enough to scorch your insides down to your bones. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush towards him, and your knees parted around his thighs to adjust to the new position. Your own hands found purchase in the softness of the hair at the nape of his neck, desperate for something to anchor yourself to, in fear that the realisation of this moment would somehow make it slip away.
This was what it felt like to stand unafraid and bare in the light of unbridled wanting, to consume and be consumed by a ravenous appetite with no propensity for satiety. When his hands slipped past the hem of your sleep tank, fingertips grazing across the skin of your lower back, you were sure you could erupt into flames. He swallowed the breathy noise that escaped your lips, tongue brushing against yours as he claimed your mouth with his own.
This was what it felt like to hold the sun in the palm of your hand.
When you broke apart to catch your breaths, his eyes were bright, lips plump and swollen, chest heaving beneath your hands. Somehow, you had ended up back on his bed, his head against the pillows, hands under your shirt and keeping you close to him with an unforgiving hold. He was gazing up at you with a devotion that made your heart swell even more than it did pulling oxygen back into your lungs.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time,” he admitted, hiding his head into the crook of your shoulder. You felt his abashed smile against your skin and wondered how it could be possible that you had contained all of this, the longing, the yearning, inside you for so long.
“How long?” you asked, hearing the smile in your own voice.
“Since Chanyeol’s birthday, when you wore that brown sweater with the little bow on the back.”
Last year, Chanyeol had gotten everyone together at his place for a nice dinner and wine followed by a binge watch of all the Iron Man movies in one sitting. It was all going according to plan until a quarter of the way into the third one, when he began snoring at his own birthday gathering. The bowl of popcorn was sliding out of his hands and sure to make a buttery mess all over the rug, and that’s when the rest of you decided to turn the television off and call it a night. Sehun and Jongin tasked themselves with getting the birthday boy into bed, and likely collapsed onto it with him immediately after, while Baekhyun had offered you the couch, assuring you he’d be fine with the blankets on the floor. At the time, you hadn’t thought much of it. As chaotic as he could be, Baekhyun was nothing if not kind, and you had been grateful that his kindness had always extended to you over the three years you had known each other.
“But that was more than half a year ago. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
His fingers prodded into your sides, eliciting a few choked giggles from you. “I didn’t know how you’d react. You know you’re not the most expressive person on the planet,” he said dryly. “Or the most observant. I literally frenched your collarbone and you’re telling me you didn’t realise I liked you more than as a friend?”
“Okay, well when you put it like that,” you huffed, feeling the vibrations of his laugh through his chest. “But you really didn’t know I had feelings for you? Chanyeol never said anything?”
His movements stilled, leaning back into the pillows so he could lock eyes with you again. “You talk to Chanyeol about me?” he asked, to which you nodded sheepishly. “Since when?”
“Last month, Jongdae’s housewarming. He fished it out of me after dinner,” you sighed, picturing his smug grin under the lights of Jongdae’s fancy new kitchen when you realised that you had slipped up and let him in on your little secret.
“But I talk to him about you.”
You looked at each other for another beat, realisation breaking over the both of you, before dissolving into another fit of disbelieving giggles. Maybe Park Chanyeol did know how to keep his mouth shut after all.
“So he’s a terrible wingman, is what I’m getting out of this whole thing,” Baekhyun chuckled, rolling you over so you were now lying on your side, face to face with him. He planted a slow, sweet kiss on your lips, taking his time to acquaint himself with the shape and taste of your mouth, and you felt the contentment of his smile against you. “I can’t believe we could have gotten together a month ago. Some best friend he is.”
“Gotten together?” you echoed, one eyebrow raised in feigned dispute, delighting in the way his sweet mouth settled into the pout that you adored.
“You mean to tell me that you don’t want to be with me after your tongue was all up in my mouth?”
You pushed his face away, groaning, “Gross, don’t say it like that.” He, however, had different plans, hooking a calf behind your knees and tugging you back into him, before weaving the other leg in between your own.
“You know you like it,” he murmured into your neck, squeezing his arms around you just in case you’d disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. One hand traced absent-minded circles over the grooves of your spine as he breathed you in, warm and familiar against your chest.
Yes, you thought, you’d risk any and everything for this exact moment. It was worth all the doubt and heartache, all the time spent replaying those moments in your head, unsure of the meaning behind his actions. You could be sure of it now.
“I do,” you agreed, threading your fingers through the softness of his hair. “I probably more than like you,” you added, tilting his face upwards to steal another kiss, giddy and chest swelling with affection. Perhaps you weren’t quite yet ready for that other four letter word, but you had no doubt you would be one day, and soon. He was all too willing to comply, letting his mouth mould against yours with the poise and patience of a saint.
“I probably more than like you too,” he replied, punctuating his confession with one final kiss to the tip of your nose. It was enough for the serene smile on your face to persist, even past the arrival of sleep.
“I knew it.”
You cracked one eye open, trying to adjust to the light flooding in through the open door to your room. Chanyeol stood at the foot of your bed, grinning from ear to ear with what could only be described as a look of triumph as he took in the scene before him. The boy next to you stirred lightly, digging his face deeper into the pillow, reluctant to leave the realm of the sleeping. Chanyeol was not in the least sympathetic to his friend’s struggles, striding over to the window and pulling back the curtains with a clang. You winced as the full force of the morning sun barged in, and Baekhyun let out a soft noise of displeasure at the intrusion.
“I fucking knew it,” Chanyeol said again, quickly bringing you to your senses as you registered the weight of another body on top of your own. You made to remove yourself from him, fighting the flush creeping up your neck and face, but it was an effort which proved futile as he only tightened the arm around your waist, loath to let you go.
“Can you be quiet? You’re going to wake the whole house,” you hushed, finally succeeding in untangling your legs from Baekhyun’s, feeling the loss of his warmth immediately.
“They’re already up. I came to call you for breakfast,” Chanyeol replied, the grin seemingly stuck to his face. “Which actually reminds me,” he began, before sticking his head out of the doorway to holler, “You better pay up, Jongin. And you too, Kyungsoo!”
“You bet on us?” came the groggy voice from the pillows behind you.
“What the hell, Chanyeol? I thought you said you didn’t go around blabbing about his feelings!” you exclaimed, indignant.
“To you. I never said anything about telling anyone else,” was his reply, smug and victorious at having outsmarted you.
Kyungsoo appeared in the doorway, donning a flour-covered apron, as if to confirm for himself that he was in fact a debtor to the taller boy. “Even if he didn’t say anything, it wasn’t all that hard to figure out,” he said lightly, surveying the room with curiosity and paying no mind to the shock painted on your face. How had everybody known about your now not-so-secret crush on Baekhyun except for the man himself? “Anyways, I only said that it would be unlikely to happen over this weekend, not that it was impossible. So Jongin is the only loser. Now come for pancakes.” And with that, he headed back towards his bowl of batter on the kitchen counter, chuckling at the sound of Jongin’s complaints against fulfilling his end of the wager.
Baekhyun, having somewhat freed himself from the clutches of sleep, rose to a sitting position and shot a drowsy scowl at his friend. “You’re kind of an asshole, you know that right?”
But even the expletive could not put a damper on Chanyeol’s mood, his smile never slipping. “You two should honestly be thanking me,” he said, to which you also shot him a glare. “Also, I’m happy for you and everything, but can you please keep the PDA to a minimum in front of the rest of us? I will lock you out of the house if you don’t.”
Baekhyun turned to you, the creases of the frown on his face slowly but surely smoothing out as he took you in, cheeks puffy and hair a mess from having just woken up. He had seen you in worse states, and definitely in better states, but none of that seemed to matter as he regarded you with nothing but fondness in his eyes. You were sure that your expression mirrored his, affection spreading throughout your entire body, reaching even the tips of your fingers and toes, at the sight of his tousled bed head, the sleepy droop of his eyes, the sweet pinkness of his lips.
The sun was yours. There was no feasible way to stop the smile from blooming across your entire face.
“No promises.”
#baekhyun#exo baekhyun#byun baekhyun#baekhyun x reader#exo x reader#baekhyun fanfic#baekhyun fluff#baekhyun au#exo au#exo fluff#kaleidohscopic works baekhyun
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PLEASE talk more about DurgeWyll and Hozier, PLEASE... I am rotating the songs you posted and the vision is so good
thank you for asking me :) (the doors close sealing you in the crypt)
i joke. ok first of all i need to cite ten @bladesmitten as a resident durgewyll expert and direct you to his blog... she's written some incredible fic & analysis of the durgewyll romance and made a lot of gorgeous wyll edits and art in general, can't rec his blog enough.
i have sadly never played through the durgewyll romance & only watched it so there are undoubtedly story details i am unaware of. alas i have only played the tav version of his romance so far
some spoilers for durge beneath the cut. i tried to be vague but a warning there. also i didnt stick my oar into unreal unearth or any of the adjacent eps for that album .. sorry
all that being said here are my 2 cents
i think the main draw for picking hozier songs for durgewyll is that incredibly sexy dynamic they have of being each other's foil as well as each other's love interest. both wyll and durge are bound to an inescapable doom within the story: to pay with their body and soul for the fate of baldur's gate. durge must destroy it to please their father, wyll must save it. (wyll's saved it already, at the cost of his soul, and durge has to sacrifice their soul to destroy it as (redacted), but i wont go further on that tangent lol. its fascinating though.)
i think a core concept of wyll to focus on here as well is his faith. in his act 2 dance scene, in response to one of the dialogue options, wyll replies that he 'still keeps faith in the old tales of true love'- this is crucial. wyll is the man to whom the gods gave a cold shoulder. he has no love or faith for them. but he keeps faith in the old tales- he keeps faith, specifically, in durge.. 'his greatest adventure'.. and if durge chooses to resist their father's authority, they spurn a god for wyll's sake. there's an incredible amount of mutual devotion there.
there is also the monster hunter/monster dynamic. i haven't delved into it much here bc i am more interested in how eerily wyll and durge parallel each other as twin mirrors and exiles from the gate, the light and dark sides, sharing almost a common doom, trapped in the long shadows of their fathers.... man. but the monster dynamic should absolutely be examined and explored, it's fascinating. i think it's another compelling aspect of wyll's character. he's a man with a lot of resonant contradictions. a monster hunter who refuses to hunt the monster of baldur's gate and instead severs them from the one who made them .... a monster hunter who holds out his hand to the monster he is supposed to kill... wyll's love of the mysterious and strange and his kindness, i think, predispose him to see durge as an ally and a friend. not from naivete, but from an open heart
my hozier picks for durgewyll overall:
it will come back - i love the way the view shifts in this. one of my top durgewyll picks for the way it evokes a lot of the horror & tragedy that wyll looks into and doesnt flinch away from & the hunger durge has toward wyll extending his own lonely & friendly hand
shrike - i see this as primarily from durge's view. picked for the devotion & regret
NFWMB - applies beautifully to both of them. theeeee durgewyll song to me from andy's works... consider the lyrics from both person's perspective to feel the world open beneath your feet lol
as it was - ditto, i think it encompasses both perspectives. also one of my favorite songs he wrote so im biased lmao. i think this is another very resonant choice for the durgewyll dynamic
like real people do - feels an overly obvious pick but it could work especially well for a resist durge
no plan - could be an intriguing choice. i can't quite swing it but some of the lines in this for durgewyll... i like them...
you could definitely make a case for from eden for another from durge's view. gives me a feeling of a durge who's not resisting but idk
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may the fourth be with you, fellow travelers! this time last year i was still a few weeks off from properly getting back into Star Wars, so i’m thrilled i can properly celebrate with you this time! :3 this story is quite a bit different from the others i’ve written for this blog, but i hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless. no content warnings. check it out below the cut:
remembrance and reflection
Coruscant, 2000 ABY
For nearly a millennium, the trio of statues have overlooked this plaza. Most citizens hardly spare them a glance as they hurry by, their grandeur muted by time and distance. After all, the Galactic Empire and the Rebellion which had toppled it are ancient history, its players long dead and its monuments crumbling. The major anniversaries are mostly celebrated as welcome days free from work and school. Years of thrilling battles and legendary heroes have been reduced to dry, droning paragraphs in educational holos.
The civil war had permanently reshaped the galaxy, and the average citizen takes it for granted.
But there are those who remember.
A young child stands alone in front of the statues. Mother brought them here at their favorite time of day: the beginnings of sunset, when all is bathed in pale orange light and the crowds have thinned. She is sitting on a bench some feet away, the day’s shopping in bags at her feet. Oh, how the child had begged to come here instead of heading straight home! “Not today, darling, I’m tired,” Mother had objected…but one deployment of tooka eyes and sniffling later, she’d relented.
Every time the child sees these statues, they’re reminded of the story told over their cradle and at many a family gathering: that two thousand years ago, a distant ancestor had joined the Rebel Alliance. Their name won’t be found in any list of decorated war heroes. Depending on who was asked, they were a mechanic, or perhaps a communications officer—after so much time, details have muddled. But they were there regardless, witness to the struggle against the Empire’s might…
And maybe, just maybe, this ancestor encountered one of the rebellion’s legends.
It seems only proper to visit the princess first. When the child was very young, they sometimes bowed to her stone form, sensing the regality that had been present in the flesh. Her round face is kind, sincere, but the artist has realized a deeply contained fire too. She was a tiny woman, the Princess of Alderaan, though she had courage and intelligence enough for a dozen men. Captured by the Empire, forced to watch the destruction of her planet, she narrowly escaped death herself to lead the Rebellion…and later, the New Republic. The child would have liked to meet her very much. Her hands are sculpted outstretched in a gesture of peace; they are small and slender, but belie a certain strength too. She was a great chief councilor, the texts agree. And, the anecdotes proclaim, a great woman too.
By her side in stone, as he was for so long in life, stands her husband. The Corellian smuggler—the eventual general, if the child recalls their lessons correctly—rests a hand on his blaster, a subtle hint of what might happen should he be crossed. Yes, he was a quick shot and an elite pilot, with a brain for tactics and a knack for wriggling out of trouble. But if one studies that classically handsome face, they’ll detect the heart of gold under the cocky facade. for it was his sense of loyalty that brought him back to help win the Battle of Yavin, and his love for the princess that saved her from Hoth. Even a year spent in carbon freeze couldn’t vanquish his spirit! The child would have liked to meet him too.
And that leaves just one figure to contemplate—who might just be the most legendary of all. The child has never seen a Jedi in person…at least they don’t think they have. The old temple still stands deserted, a memorial to the tragedy of Order 66, and the reborn order has relocated somewhere far beyond Coruscant. But surely some of its number must walk the streets of the city-planet! They must simply be adept at concealing themselves, the child decides.
This man, though, the son of Skywalker…no disguise could hide his true identity, and not just because he so greatly resembles his father. Even in stone he exudes a power beyond most sentients’ understanding. The statue’s eyes are stern, but they are also gentle; he brandishes his ignited lightsaber, not to attack but to point the way forward. As prolific as the tapes of his combat prowess may be, just as numerous are the whispered stories of his kindness. A few of the child’s schoolmates claim their ancestors were given shelter at the temple on Ossus, or liberated from Imperial bondage by a bold young X-wing pilot and his squadron. That’s the version of him the child likes best—not the fearless warrior, but the compassionate embodiment of a Jedi Knight. The histories record that he was raised on a Tatooine moisture farm, plucked from obscurity to lead the Rebellion to victory. If that’s so, the child considers, perhaps they might one day achieve greatness too. Leave this galaxy a tiny bit better than it was.
They would have liked to meet him most of all.
“We can’t stay much longer, darling,” Mother’s voice suddenly reminds them; she and her shopping are standing just behind. “Auntie is coming for dinner and I’ve got to get home and start cooking.”
“All right, Mother,” the child murmurs, eyes trained on the statues. “…Mother?”
“Hm?”
“Do you think they were really as great as people say?”
She smiles and pats their shoulder. “I think that the galaxy would be very different if they weren’t.”
“Could I be a hero too someday?”
“Only the Force knows that, my love,” she replies. “Now come along.”
As Mother guides them out of the plaza, the child glances back once more at the three figures. Princess, general, Jedi, all gazing out on a small piece of the universe they helped defend. They almost seem to glow in the deepening sunset. Once they were like me, the child ponders. Now they are legends. Even if these sculptures someday topple and their names are never spoken again, their bravery echoes through the ages. Wherever beings of all species live in peace and prosperity, their actions bear fruit.
The dead rest, but their legacies remain.
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Life Is Short So Make It Sweet
Chapter 27: Creating New Habits
Summary- 5.5k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. Making the decision to step way out of another comfort zone is hard but taking that chance on yourself? Something you want to do. Curtis is thrilled to get to help you on this journey.
Warnings- Smut. This is an 18+ only blog. Reader dealing with self-doubt and harsh self-talk.
A/N- Thank you to everyone following Curtis and Honey's journey. It means so much to me as this series is such a personal comfort of mine. Special shout out to @what-is-your-plan-today and @mumbles411 for giving this a read over before posting. Dividers made by the talented @firefly-graphics. Likes are appreciated, but if you enjoyed this, please leave a comment and share, it really means so much to me. Thank you again!
Chapter Twenty-Six / Masterlist
What are you doing here Y/N? Your mind raced as you peered out your windshield at the old brick building with a sign that said Big Jon’s Boxing.
You should wait till Curtis can come with you.
You were petrified, the gym was so daunting, but you wanted to prove that you didn’t need Curtis to just come here.
Gyms were a nightmare for you, you had seen the videos people would post of bigger people working out. That was probably your biggest fear, a video of you plastered all over the internet while you struggled. You could hear Jake’s snickering laugh at your expense, the one he used whenever you embarrassed yourself in front of one of his friends.
“She can’t be brilliant all the time, can you Babe?”
“Whatever Jake, shut the hell up.” You whispered out loud to no one really, just an attempt to drive his voice out of your head.
You can do this, You want to do this.
You prepped talk yourself while pushing the door open and stepping into the parking lot.
After all, you are just checking it out today, nothing else.
You stepped into a well-lit area, wide open full of equipment and a few boxing rings scattered around. People milled around, minding their business and never glancing at where you awkwardly stood and looked around. Upbeat music played from various speakers scattered around and a few televisions were hanging above equipment with the screens fixed on different channels.
A nearby desk had a large older man sitting behind it, on his computer when he looked around it to where you were standing. “Hi, can I help you?”
You stepped towards the desk, giving a light shrug of your shoulder. “I’m just checking the place out. My boyfriend said this gym was the place to go to learn some self-defense moves.”
“We can certainly do that here, we offer some one-on-one courses or group sessions. Who is your boyfriend? He sounds like a regular here.”
“He was, his name is Curtis Everett.”
“Oh ho, Curtis! You tell him Big Jon has been wondering where the hell he has gone off to. Grey told me he met someone.” He grinned as he held out his hand towards yours to shake. Your hand felt swallowed in his as you returned the gesture. “How is he doing?”
“Oh, he is doing good, busy as always.” You said with a small smile. It was hard not to with this man’s energy. Big Jon certainly did remind you of Grey, his presence calming even though he was more vocal than your friend was. Warm eyes twinkled and the lines creased on his face as you two started talking more about Curtis.
“That sounds about right. I’ve never known him to sit around doing nothing. Always got something happening.”
“That certainly is Curtis.”
Big Jon hummed in agreement, his large arms folding over his chest and leaning back slightly against his desk. “So self-defense, smart of you to learn.” He reached behind him and grabbed a pamphlet. “Of course feel free to check out the facilities and take this with you, think over what best suits you.”
You took the pamphlet with a soft thank you. “I will be sure to.” Behind you more people came in, splitting off to talk to Big Jon. You took that moment to walk around, and get a feel for the atmosphere. Everyone was just stuck in their own headspace, mostly ignoring you or giving a brief glance as you passed by.
Maybe this isn’t so bad. You finally admitted to yourself after your tour, returning to the car and sliding in behind the wheel while your thoughts started to gain more confidence. Doesn’t even have to be a class, I can get Curtis to teach me after all. You glanced down at the gym membership card now in your hand. I did it.
This was a huge moment, you felt the exhilaration of facing this fear after a lifetime of being self-conscious about even stepping into a gym. The last time you had, Jake had made you feel so bad about trying that you had quit that very day. But not this time, this time you weren’t worried that Curtis would have some snide remark about you trying. If anything, he was going to be just as thrilled for you as you were.
Already feeling better about the whole idea of joining a gym, you started the car to head back to Curtis’s house for the night.
You were just coming down the stairs after a shower when you heard Curtis’s truck pull into the driveway. Within moments his heavy steel toe boots were thumping on the steps and the front door was opening to let him in. Your steps down went a little faster, causing him to glance up from where he was unlacing his boots to watch you come down the stairs.
Dark brows shot up with interest and his blue eyes seemed to drink you in as the sundress he had picked out for you swayed around your thighs.
The little tingle of pride in making him pause zipped up your spine and gave you a buzz. “Honey, you look…”
“Cute?” You asked with a teasing tone, pausing on the last step, giving you an advantage of being closer in height when Curtis straightened.
“Cute is used when you cocooned yourself in the blankets and I have to unravel you out while you’re protesting the entire time,” Curtis smirked as he finished getting his boots off and with silent stocking feet approached that bottom step. Letting his hands flow along the curves of your hips while he brought you close to the step edge, leaving almost no space between the two of you while your arms went over his shoulders and you fiddled with the chain at the back of his neck.
“Oh god, that is not cute.” Your nose wrinkled at the image, knowing fully how you just weren’t a morning person, no way you could be cute at that moment.
“I say it is. No, right now you are beautiful and sexy as hell wearing my dress that I picked out for you.” His hands wrapped suddenly around the back of your thighs, at some point he had been able to sneak them just under your dress and with a yelp of surprise from you, he wrapped them around his waist.
“Curtis James!” You clutched at him while he gave a huff of a laugh at your response but started kissing all the sensitive spots on your neck, starting right at your racing pulse and then down towards your shoulder. “One day you’re gonna-”
“If I hurt my back, then that is on me Honey.” He was quick to cut you off your protest, clearly enjoying having made you wrap around him even if you protested. “You do realize I will never get tired of doing this to you.”
You giggled, allowing your actual happiness to take over any of your worries as your hands loosened on his upper back and you let them slide up over his shoulders and along his neck to cup his bristled face. “Guess what I did today?” You pressed a kiss to his lips, teasing him with light nips that made him groan deeply while trying to keep you in contact. You managed to pull away again to see a flush start to rise on his neck and the tips of his ears redden.
“Mmhh, what did my Pretty Girl do?” Curtis rumbled out as his fingers flexed into a tighter hold on the back of your thighs.
“I went to check out that gym you suggested. Met Big Jon and got a membership.” Your grin spread as you said it, showing him just how happy you were about it.
Curtis gave a whoop and spun enough to make your dress flare out, your outburst of a laugh melding with his praise. “Honey, you’ve made my day.” There was no missing his kiss this time, making everything in you tingle, your fingers curling around his cheeks to hold on and keep up. Within seconds your toes touched the floor as he let you lower back to a stand. “Honestly Y/N, I am so fucking proud of you for this.”
You gave a shy little shrug, the praise making you feel good and it was still such a new feeling for you. “I figured it was time.”
“Hey…” His fingers brushed against your chin, tilting you up to meet his gaze. “If it’s what you want, then it’s time.” He said firmly and you nodded to confirm that this was what you wanted and nothing else.
“Cross my heart.” You made the motion across your chest, his eyes teasing as they dropped to watch the criss cross of fingers across your cleavage.
He rumbled a bit, his tone dropping in timbre. “Quit distracting me.” Curtis teased, letting his fingers trace over your collarbone and darting in to press his lips to yours once more.
You managed to mutter between his swift kisses. “One more thing, before we get too carried away.” Your hand pressed against his firm chest and he immediately paused with an arch of his brow to have you continue with your request.
“You’re right. I should go take a shower.” He suddenly muttered, looking down at himself covered in some grime and grease from his day at the trainyard. “Shit, I wasn’t thinking Honey.” He swiftly apologized but you fisted your hand in his shirt before he could pull away.
“You know I don’t give a shit about that. Can you take me down the cellar to see what you have down there for workout equipment?”
“Of course, Honey.” He grabbed his lunch bag and your hand to lead you into the kitchen, depositing his bag by the sink. “It's a bit of a clutterfuck down there though. Some of Gram and Gramp’s very dated furniture made its way down there and I just haven’t hauled it away yet.”
You rolled your eyes playfully at him, letting him lead you down the old wooden stairs while artificial overheads started to flicker on below you. “I’m not one to judge, my apartment is currently a disaster.”
Curtis gave a chuckle while he worked his way down, you following behind him carefully. You glanced around the space as this was your first time coming down and indeed was a bit of clutter, but you could see that he had one section cleaned out around the furnace and their was a small section of that squared off with a workout bench and a dusty punching bag. A frame of weights stood near the bench, neatly aligned weights by size. When you were able to glance at the amount of weights still attached to the bar, your eyes widened a bit, from a quick count of numbers, he was certainly lifting more than you weighed.
“Holy shit…” You muttered and Curtis glanced at you to see you adding on your fingers just to be sure. Again that red crept up his neck and his hand clasped at the back of his neck, rubbing at it.
It was rare to see Curtis get a bit bashful and it made you grin. “I mean, that was back last summer Honey, I don’t know about doing that much now.”
“It probably wouldn’t be safe to just jump back into it.” You agreed while he worked some of the weights off the bar, your head tilting to admire the way his back flexed under his shirt during the process, and gave a wistful sigh at the view.
Curtis gave you a knowing look as he wiped the dust off the bench and sat down while flexing his hands before laying back to inhale deeply. You did the math from the amount of weights left on the bar and your eyes widened a bit. “Curtis you sure about…”
“I’m fine Honey.” His hands fitted on the bar and moved to lift it off the frame. Your breath held with apprehension at first, he claimed he was fine, he certainly lifted you plenty of times even though you would protest, but you also knew that sometimes his back would spasm and you would hate for him to hurt himself.
Curtis didn’t seem to struggle though. Sure all the muscles in his shoulders and chest tightened with the effort. Your worry melded into arousal at the view while, at the same time you felt almost envious in the way he was able to so easily lift that weight in such a fluid motion, like it was an ease for him. All too soon he was putting the bar back and pushing back up to a sit.
His brow arched at you, his knowing smile flirting with his slightly pink-tinged face from his workout. “Com’ere Pretty Girl.” Patting his thigh with his palm. You took a breath and approached him, glancing at his thigh with trepidation before moving to straddle him while his hands slid around to rest on the fullness of your backside. “Tell me what you were just thinking about.”
Your arms slipped over his broad shoulders, your fingers brushing against the back of his neck to brush against the hairs there. Your gaze roamed his curious face, mapping out the slight arrangement of freckles darting across his nose to his dark lashes that were almost sinful to be on a man. Dropping to the soft pink of his lips among the darkness of his trimmed beard. “I was admiring how incredibly fine you are.”
Your head dipped to his, your nose trailing against his while breathing in deeply, his cologne heightened cause he was heated up a bit more. You whispered as you pressed your lips to his. “You also smell really good.”
Curtis shifted a bit, his hands finding a stronger hold on your ass while arching you closer into him. His cerulean blues darkened slightly, the air around the two of you charging with arousal. “I should have brought you down here sooner.” He grunted while your hands slid back over his shoulders and down his chest, your hand fisting in his tee to tug it over his head.
“Yes, you should because damn if that wasn’t a turn-on.” You said earnestly as your hand twisted in his chain and you arched in close, your mouth finding his and giving a searing kiss. He ground you into him again, this time a lot harder against you, his hips pushing up to meet you. You whimpered into his mouth, your pussy starting to throb and grow wet with need to have him. You could taste him, his smell permeated your senses and made your entire mind grow fuzzy with desire. As dirty as he was from his day at work, it was now driving you mindless. You tugged at his pants while a hand slapped at your ass, making you sting.
Your dress was tugged away, roughly while your nails streaked down to grab at his belt, working it open. “How much do you like these leggings Pretty Girl?” Curtis just about growled out as your bra got yanked down, his mouth finding its way between your cleavage, the graze of his beard rough against them, and you chased after that feeling.
“These leggings?” You said with a gasp, wriggling your hips in an urgency. “Burn them off if you gotta Curtis.”
His moan vibrated into your chest where his face was buried, kissing and worshipping your breasts while he had them exposed to his tongue and teeth. You got his pants yanked open enough to pull his cock out, stroking it with one hand while you moved the other to grab at the back of his head, keeping him pressed in against you.
Everywhere you felt him nip with sharp teeth his tongue soothed the sting away and left you wanting more. His cock throbbed in your hand as you moved it just how he liked it, the slight squeezes and speeding up to give him the friction, your thumb collecting the small beads of precum collecting to suck off the pad of your finger, humming with eagerness. Curtis pulled up, taking in how your lips parted to suck, his fingers digging into your leggings like they were now pissing him off.
“No one knows just how dirty you can be, do they?” His tone dropped, a whole hunger burning in his voice as you smirked at him, popping your thumb from your mouth, now cleaned of the pearly droplets. Your hips were yanked, the fabric giving away as easily as if he was opening a present.
“Only for you Curtis.” You teased, giving a slight cry as his fingers stroked along your soaked panties, your head falling back to be able to focus on how your body was weeping to be fucked, how his fingers were pushing between slick folds to tease you to something greater than the need you were in now. Curtis was pushing up into your hand, fucking him with your touch just as he was starting to with you, his fingers thick as they filled your needy, weeping hole.
“Hell yes only for me.” Possessively intimate in his touch, your pussy squelching as they squeezed his fingers stroking you, touching you in the way only he could, your hips started bouncing up and down on him, one hand still on his cock, jerking him off while the other braced against his shoulder, nails digging in to get the leverage needed to ride his fingers. “Your wet needy hole needed to be filled by me, Pretty Girl.” Your head nodded to confirm as your moans of his name got louder. “So fucking messy and perfect riding my fingers. But I want you coming all over my cock as I fill that greedy hole.”
“Curtis, please.” Now that he put that image in your head, you needed more than his fingers bringing you to the edge. Pulling up enough to slide his cock between your thighs, you waited long enough for him to move his hand and then started to sink down, stretching you open and making you gasp at the burn. He was always going to stretch you, and you welcomed that feeling of him seeming to sink into your wanting pussy for so long.
“Thatta girl, you can take me.” His messy hand grasped the roll on your hip, pulling you down onto him. “Always just swallow my cock, fuck.” He hissed as he pushed up, meeting you with a pounding thrust.
It was just what you needed, bouncing now to meet him Your hands grabbed at one another to hold on, his grunts of effort were matched with your panting moans. Your body went tacky with sweat as your movements became rushed. Your pussy wept around his pounding cock, sucking him in as he hit your sweet spot over and over.
His mouth found yours, swallowing your moans as his own while you started to break for him, crying with a sharp plea. Wave after wave of pleasure consumed you, making you lose your rhythm as you fell into his chest, clinging to him. His touch turned harder, moving your body to ease you through as you buried your face into his shoulder. “Got you, Honey.” His words slurred, his movements turning rushed and desperate.
Your head lifted, your lips brushing against his ear as your arms slipped around his neck to hold onto him. “I need you Curtis, fill me up and let me feel full of you.” Your voice was soft against him, gentle quiet pleads that were all for Curtis. “You are so good at making me satisfied.”
You teased his earlobe, nibbling and kissing along the shell, he wrapped you tighter to his hold while your legs trembled and you sank in against him letting him support you. He groaned loud, muttering a curse while warm sticky cum filled you, making you hum with satisfaction that not only did you come, but he did too.
Your touch on his skin was everywhere, stroking your fingers against tensed quivering muscles and letting him hide against you for support as you did him several times, murmuring how much you love him for making you feel so safe and satisfied with him.
“I love you so much, Curtis.” You pressed kisses against his shoulder, letting your head rest in the crook of his neck, soaking in the moment. It didn't matter where you two were, it could be in the lush bed of the hotel in Florida or his dusty cluttered basement, it always felt so good being this way with him, it always ended with you feeling worshipped and satisfied.
“You got this Y/N, you're not going for power right now but just hitting in the same spot.” Grey held up his padded hands in front of you as you focused on the center of his palm and lashed out. You felt weak in your movements though, unsure as you hit against his hands one after the other, alternating which arm was throwing the punch.
“I feel like I’m not gaining any progress.” You sighed with frustration, pulling back to run your hand against your forehead to wipe away the sweat and catch your breath. Grey loosened one of the gloves, pulling it off.
“More than you think, you're more consistently hitting and a lot harder too.” His palm flexed to get the sting out. “I know it seems to take forever to notice any change though.”
You tried to take Grey’s words to heart as you wandered to your water bottle to grab a drink, leaning against the ring ropes for a breather. Your gaze fell on Curtis not too far away, his stance wide-legged as he mimicked what you were just doing, only he was hitting a heavy bag, making it swing. You hadn’t even managed to get that thing to move with your punches.
The back of his shirt clung to his upper back, dark with sweat and you could see the flush of red on the back of his neck creeping up. It didn’t escape you that you were openly admiring the scene before you and tried to subdue it a bit. But it was hard not to, what could you say… Curtis was fucking hot when he was focusing on his workout.
You still had yet to see him in the ring boxing with another opponent, claiming he was too out of shape for anything like that for now.
“Hey Curtis…” Grey called out as he started working his way out of the ring. “I gotta go pick up Soph, you wanna come take over?”
You noticed the immediate change in Curtis, his stance relaxing, shaking out his arms, and all that coiled forced power fading from notice. “Yeah… Tell my niece I will see her this weekend.”
Grey grabbed his stuff, ready to head off to the locker room. “According to Ella, she hasn’t stopped talking about you guys taking her to that butterfly exhibit.” Grey waved a hand at you in goodbye, you mimicked the move back at him.
“We’re excited to take her.” You took another sip of water, feeling your breathing start to slow back to normal.
“Keep up the good work Y/N, remember every little bit is progress!” Grey shouted over his shoulder as he disappeared. Curtis pulled himself up, slipping onto the mat while fitting on gloves.
“He is right Honey. You are stronger already.” Curtis looked you up and down, just as obvious as when you checked him out. “Still need a breather?”
You glared at him as he gave a slight grin at your expression, You were dripping sweat, hair mattered and although he was red-faced and had beads dotting his hairline on his forehead, he looked still fresh. But your breathing had gone steadier and you didn’t feel that wobble in your arms as much.
“Put them up.”
Curtis hissed in approval, eyes flashing proudly as he lifted his mitted hands, ready to block you.
“That's my girl… Don’t hold back.” You went to hit, but at the last second, you veered off, unable to make contact. Your arm jerked away, not wanting to smack the gloves held up for you.
“Damn it.” You pulled back with hesitation and Curtis shrugged it off, thinking you simply just missed.
“It’s okay Honey.” He repositioned himself to prepare for you. “Try again.”
Your nose wrinkled a bit as you tried zeroing on his hands, ignoring that you were about to hit Curtis. But you couldn’t, it was still blaring in your head and when you threw your hands into the hit, they weakly plunked off of his hands. “Ugh!” you huffed frustrated as you turned away from Curtis, putting space between you.
His own hands dropped, concern marring his features. “What’s wrong? Are you tired cause we can call it a day.”
“No, I’m not tired.” You bounced around on the heels of your toes to try to shake the anxiety that was building in your chest. Your whispers muttering to yourself. “Just do it Y/N, stop being this way, stop being weak.”
Hearing you talk to yourself bothered Curtis, the way you were so harsh to yourself. You hadn’t done that in a long time and he wasn’t about to let you continue. “Hey Baby, Look at me.” His tone was a command more than a request, he gripped at the velcro tie on one hand with his teeth and ripped it open to shake his hand out. Within a step he was standing in front of you, his freed hand cupping your cheek enough to stop you. You averted your eyes for a moment, anger making them darker but finally they flitted up to him with regret. “Deep breath in, please.”
You almost defied him, but you softened and let the air fill your lungs and his deep timbre requested an out, your exhale giving a bit of relief to all the thoughts racing in your head. “Sorry… I-I” You fizzled out a bit. Your hands went to his other glove, working it open. “You should take this off.”
He pulled his hand away from your grasp enough so you couldn’t take it off. “Talk to me Honey, what just happened.” Curtis's head tilted closer, keeping the conversation between just the two of you. His fingers brushed against your cheek, pulling his thumb away enough to show the glisten of frustrated tears at the end. “I want to help you through this.”
You struggled a moment with it, finally admitting your downfall. “I can’t hit you Curtis. I just can’t, when I even think of hitting you it makes me feel sick.”
“You’re not hitting me though Honey, this is practice. You’re not going to hurt me.” He pointed out the obvious, an arm easing around you and you stepped in closer to let your face press against his damp chest and sigh against it while you felt supported.
“It feels like it though and I can’t bring myself to follow through with what Grey has been teaching me.”
A heavy hand rubbed at your back, now that it was out there, you couldn’t just take it back. You were sure Curtis found this just as ridiculous as you.
He is gonna think you are trying to get out of exercising. That you’re fat and unwilling to make the effort. Just listen to your breath when doing the minimum.
That nasty voice plagued you, sounding so much like Jake that you felt your shame flare up all over again.
But his hand never stopped and finally, he tipped you back up to look at him. “Okay, I get it. If you asked me to do that, I would stress about that too.”
“You don’t think I’m being stupid?” You sniffled a bit and he shook his head, now brushing your loosened hair back from your face.
“No, I don’t ever think that Honey. You wouldn’t be this upset if it didn’t matter. Let’s try something else- together.” Curtis added, sweeping down to grab at the glove he had discarded earlier and led you to the edge of the ring, helping ease you out. “There is plenty of equipment here, you can punch on all that instead.” He winked at you and already you could feel the knot in your chest start to loosen up.
Curtis ended up taking you across the gym to a punching dummy, masculine in its features.
You reached out to touch it, the material firm but had some give. “Yeah, I can hit on this.”
“Mmh, I thought so.” His arm was slung around your shoulder while you explored the dummy. You gave a bit of a punch to see how it felt, grinning when you felt it sway just a bit.
“Just imagine this is that prick from the bar or your ex.” He whispered against your ear before stepping back. This time when your arm swung back, the force you hit it made it sway back. “Like a champ Honey.”
His praise replaced that anxious feeling.
“Remember the hammer strike Y/N?” Grey asked from the side of the ring, Edgar standing before you while Curtis watched from the opposite side. You looked confident while Edgar jokingly teased.
“Be easy on me.”
Curtis grinned as you flashed a smirk, sensing the way your muscles were tightening as you prepared the move Grey was asking for.
“Scared Edgar?”
“Maybe a little!” He made like he was going to attack you, but you were quick on your feet, dancing back a step and striking out for his head. The helmet he was wearing blocked your attack, but you kept at it, making him back up till Grey clapped his hands together sharply to have you break apart from him.
It was a stroke of genius on Tanya’s part to suggest Edgar after Curtis was talking to Grey about how it went after he had left. He never went into details about what happened, but simply said that you had conflicting feelings about practicing the self-defense on him.
Tanya’s hint was not so subtle when she turned towards Edgar who was sneaking out a donut from the box on her desk meant for the break room. “Have Y/N practice on Edgar, you would do it, right?” She arched a brow at Edgar like she dared him to say no. “Do anything to help out, I just know you would Edgar.”
“Uh-” Edgar stuttered, being put right on the spot. “Sure, I mean of course I would. I haven’t been to Big Jon’s in ages anyway.” The donut getting crammed into his mouth quickly.
“Good man.” Tanya smirked, clapping a hand on his back.
At first, you had balked at the idea, not wanting to hit him either but Curtis was able to convince you. Last Halloween also might have been a lasting memory about why you wanted to rough Edgar up a bit. You finally relented, far more enthusiastic about training with Edgar’s assistance.
Now Curtis saw your confidence build as Grey moved you through the moves, eventually ending with you dragging Edgar down onto the mat after escaping from a bear hug, you were gasping for breath, sweat running down your face as you put your hands to your knees for a second to catch your breath, but you looked triumphant.
A big booming clap sounded right next to Curtis, making him glance over in surprise at Big Jon slamming his hands together. “Damn, that was a sight to see! Edgar getting whooped all over the ring. Good job Sweetheart.”
The grin on your face got wider as you wiped your arm across your forehead, a bit of bashfulness but happiness making you squeak out. “Thank you Jon.”
“She is doing incredible.” Jon said a lot gentler while you reached for Edgar’s hand, helping him back to a stand and retreating to grab some water.
Curtis hummed in agreement. “That’s because she is. She overcame a lot to come here for this. I’m so proud of my girl.” He pulled himself up into the ring, leaving behind Big Jon for the moment while stalking across the mat.
You were cleaning yourself up when you flung the towel around your neck, holding onto the ends as you gave him that questioning grin. “What did you think?” Your teeth snagged at your bottom lip, nervous about what he would say.
“Fucking badass is what I think Honey.” His voice was deeper than normal, his eyes darkening as his hands rested on your hips, dragging you in close. With a dip of his head towards your ear, his beard grazing along your cheek while whispering. “Driving me insane watching you, I’m not going to make it back home till I have to fuck you.”
Your eyes went wide and excitement fluttered through your chest to settle low, and then lower still while you subtly clenched your thighs together, your heart racing all over again for another reason. His mouth hotly pressed to yours, drawing out a surprised sultry moan as you got lost in the kiss, the whole gym fading away for those few seconds.
#life is short so make it sweet#curtis everett and you#curtis everett and reader#curtis everett and plus sized reader#curtis everett and honey#curtis and honey#curtis everett x Plus Sized reader#curtis everett x reader#curtis everett x you#curtis everett fanfiction#curtis everett#snowpiercer fanfiction#chris evans characters#amber writes#sweater writes#chris evans#snowpiercer#plus sized reader
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helloo :DD i am here to check up on you and not release depressing ideas this time (yet) i will be sharing a bunch of songs that remind me of "if the door wasn't shut" series <3 but anyway, how are you?? i hope you're doing well <33
it's literally almost 3 am and i'm doing my research paper right now that is due on monday 😔 other than that i also have other stuff to do that is on monday so that's that (´༎ຶ ༎ຶ)
don't forget to take care of yourself and get that daily intake of water 😌🤎
• leaves - ben&ben
• ride home - ben&ben
• end credits - eden, leah kelly
• just a man - jorge rivera-herrans, epic ensemble
• flicker - niall horan
• falling - harry styles
(this could pertain to the series itself or the "bonus" idea part, up to you to interpret it😉)
(feels like my signing has become suggesting songs and pedro pascal gifs 😭😭)
(din djarin this time because he's the loml <3)
HOWL!!! hello!!! apologies for the late response!! i have been cramming in my homework which is also due for monday 😭 what a pair we are. but i also had a nice day !!! went to the zoo which was fun !!! how are you doing??? how have the research paper / other upcoming things been going???? also what’s the research paper on :0 ???
also howl pls get some sleep omg
I LOVE YOUR SONG RECS SM!!! i hope you know i have a playlist exclusively for howl song recs :’) and your pedro gifts r so lovely HAHAH its become your signature thing on my blog i think LMFAOOO i love when other people give song recs and start by mentioning you i think it’s so cute
anyway tlou part 2 scenario mention below so just to be safe xoxo
leaves ??? THIS WAS A NEW ONE TO ME!!!! but “oh you never really love someone until you learn to forgive” HOWL THE ABSOLUTE CHEEK OF IT!!!! it will always astound me how you have so many songs that fit so well. THE GOOD RECS ARE NEVERENDING LIKE HOW????
anf ride home too??? “we just gotta let it go / so im coming home to you” HELLO???? i have no words for this i genuinely don’t understand HOW you do this every damn time
end credits ?? this is also a new one for me but im in LURV. i really like it. im gonna cry. and these songs rlly could relate to either that pt 2 scenario or the series itself like “but this is how it goes / the end credits, they roll” u can’t tell me that doesn’t immediately make u think of tje tlou 2 scenario. right. ??? im not losing it.BUT THEN YOUVE GOT “all i ever wanted was sunlight and honesty” and adn “cause all i need is time and now / and i could leave this past behind me” SCREAMINGGGGGGG. i also just really like this song in itself so thank u for these wonderful suggestions
just a man , initial thoughts r joel coded. im writing this as i listen so you’re getting my live reactions. it could also be like. tommy and maria coded but we know i lvoe joel. “will these actions haunt my days / every man i’ve slain? / is the price i pay endless pain?” HELLO. this is so tlou 2 scenario 4 joel idc. “WHEN DOES A MAN BECOME A MONSTERRRRR?” howl you knew what you were doing with this one. don’t think i don’t see you. HM and upon my second listen “close your eyes and spare yourself the view / how could i hurt you?” im basically quoting the whole song atp BUT IDC ITS TOO PERFECT.
i heart niall horan ok but i don’t listen to much of him (im sorry OK IM SORRY!!!) but i……… again live reactions. “still a flicker of hope that you first gave to me / that i wanna keep / please don’t leave / please don’t leave” I AM SEEING YOU HOWL I AM PERCEIVING YOU. this is again tlou 2 scenario coded AND IM SAD. Y ARE YOU MAIKING ME SAD!!!
falling .. this one i know. i too had a harry styles phase ok. (again sorry to niall horan). you didn t ask for this but be prepared for unnecessary relating it to parts of the series. “forget what i said / its not what i meant” joel when he said me and ellie not you. you see where im going ?!?! “what if im someone you wont talk about? / i’m falling again” joel when he knows how much he f ed up. r hates him. SHE HATES. “and the coffee’s out” joel when that bag of coffee beans runs out and he has none left. heheheh. “what am i now? / what if im someone i don’t want around?” joel. joel at all points ever. joel when he sees r again after the first part. joel when ellie finds out you know what. joel when he. “and i get the feeling that you’ll never need me again” lets not go into a deep dive about the character of joel and how he has ALWAYS had somebody relying on him, somebody needing him. but i would. i want to. i must calm.
again you didnt ask for this but i love song recs and going into way too much detail about how well they fit even when i am not asked to. alas.
HOWL I LOVE YOU I HOPE YOU’RE DOING WELL <333
#heartpascal says#howl <3#i truly do go into so much detail when i am#completely unprompted#i guess that is what you get#this blog should come with a warning for that i think#like: yes i will go into incredibly detail about asks you send. even when you don’t tell me to. i will analyse lyrics and relate them#to my fics#i am an over thinker at heart (friends can attest)#its why i like english#the subject#not the language#although.#anyway#YOU GET THE POINT#also not really spoilers but im gonna tag it simply because ive referenced the tlou 2 scenario#so#tlou part 2 spoilers#tlou part 2#tlou 2#tlou 2 spoilers#tlou part two#tlou part two spoilers#tlou two#tlou two spoilers#the last of us part 2#the last of us part 2 spoilers#the last of us part two#the last of us part two spoilers#the last of us 2
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thinking abt like. there's so much fiction out there that makes me feel bad! sometimes really deeply bad! and like, in many many cases i could present a whole argument abt how it makes me feel bad bc it's pressing on bruises inflicted by some systemic prejudice that has deeply wounded my psyche—and that argument would be true!—and still i don't want that fiction erased from existence, or modified to suit my taste, or anything else that enacts my will on it, rather than the artist's and the artist's alone; i don't even want the artist erasing it because my argument ultimately convinces them it's Bad! produce a revised edition of it, fine; stick an asterisk or other warning on it, fine; but i still want the original to be available somewhere, because i don't want to be responsible for blotting creation out of existence. even when it's a creation i hate, i don't think that should be my place (or indeed anyone's).
mind you, i absolutely do want to feel that i've got somewhere i can analyze/vent about fiction like that, and people who will take my analysis/venting both seriously and sympathetically;
and i want fiction to exist that doesn't make me feel bad;
and i definitely shouldn't have to put up with discussions around fiction in which fellow discussants further express a prejudice towards me, or justify it, or whatever;
but it just seems so obvious to me that a world where framing yr discomfort with a work of fiction in sufficiently sympathetic (victimized) terms leads to its deletion [not that i think this is what all leftists who complain abt offensive fiction are looking to have happen! but i do get the impression that at least some of them might be?] is a frightening world—
a world where, to choose a sufficiently sympathetic (victimized) example, authors who have themselves been harmed by prejudice become unable to explore the workings of that prejudice in their fiction, unless they're doing it in a way that's unambiguously, didactically condemnatory—isabel fall is the obvious example here, but i'm thinking also of all the women and transmasc authors who write fic that, quite frankly, eroticizes misogyny and abuse of power, and how sometimes i think stories like that are hot and sometimes i don't feel particularly strongly about them one way or the other and sometimes they leave me furious or fucked up or both! but like. even when i hate it, even when it offends me not as a matter of abstract principle or allyship but right in my own personal gut—i still do feel that people have to be allowed to write, and to publish, fiction that strikes me personally as being in bad taste!
because the minute you let anyone's taste dictate what's allowable to express, even if it's leftist taste, you're going down a bad road; it's like saying monarchy can be a good system as long as the monarch is a good person. no! because (a) no system that relies on good actors to be good is a good system; and also because (b) no one who's happy to have power over others is actually a good person! [that's an awfully strong statement and i'm open to the idea that it may have some asterisks, but like. as a general rule: cincinnatus or bust.]
and similarly i feel like. if you personally want not just to critique other people's fiction—valid and good and i do it all the time—but to crush it out of existence because it expresses an ideology you may not (i may not!) like? i don't trust you. i think you're trying to substitute pain for principles, and like. i have huge sympathy for pain! i live with a lot of my own! but pain doesn't actually, in itself, necessarily constitute good moral guidance—it can lead you towards valuable sensitivity that helps people we should care about, but it can also lead you towards impatient reactivity that harms people we should care about; and ultimately it's thinking abt our pain, imo, not the pain itself, that steers us towards the former outcome and away from the latter.
#this is SO fucking long and still not really a coherent position statement lmao#if only i'd written essays in the tumblr post editor‚ back when i had them to write#i never would've struggled to meet the required word count#but like. lotta issues tangled up here and i just think it's like. SO easy to be steered one way by yr gut on this stuff#and then think abt it for a bit and realize yr gut has left zero room for a lot of positionalities you actually find sympathetic#while providing potential fodder for stances you fucking hate#(like—frankly i'm astonished no fundie students have started arguing universities should provide content warnings for queer content)#(i obviously am not opposed to content warnings and use them on this blog all the time but. tools can be picked up by anyone)#and like. it's really easy‚ i think‚ to say that and have it come across as not caring abt other ppl's genuine pain#but like. i care a lot abt ppl's pain! i just think pain is not‚ in itself‚ necessarily a great basis for policy#anyway. Just Some Nightblogging; happy 2 entertain non-ad-hominem discussion but also this isn't‚ like‚ a polished position paper
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i love how we have to give out warnings for minor cannibalism in works that have cannibalism
#''there's cannibalism!! but only a bit i'm afraid''#also. this is about me and my friends and mutuals. who are in the cannibalism circles#just putting that out there so no one comes to me like ''uh actually you should warn people that there's any amount of cannibalism''#i don't think anyone would because. please take a look at my blog#but you know#persimmon's rambles
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hit with horrifying revelation that if I just stopped updating my askblogs entirely part of me would just not care
#DO NOT FEAR THIS DOES NOT MEAN I AM DROPPING THEM#this was just a sudden thought. and like I’m gonna think more on it before I decide to do anything.#just kinda. been thinking of other projects and things I want to do.#like just a bit less passion for them compared to other projects y’know#also I just kinda have been feeling like I’ve been falling out of the community. a big part of it is communication and interacting with#others but I just. have not been doing that?? like idk just anxiety#but yeah I will be thinking more on it. worse case scenario I do decide to put them on indefinite hiatus with a note that I may one day come#back to them but also make art and stuff of them on my art blog.#best case scenario I wake up tomorrow and go ‘what the hell was I thinking lol’ and start drawing an update#anyway yeah just. debated whether or not I should post this but 1) i like throwing my thoughts out there and 2) if I do end up putting them#on indefinite hiatus then there’s a bit more warning than me just deciding that out of nowhere lol#dramon thoughts
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@disclaymore I mean tbf you’re not wrong
in that case it’ll just be an excuse for me to talk about myself and also a warning that I’m good at mass-reblogging whatever i’m hyperfixated on and bad at tagging for spoilers for whatever i’m hyperfixated on
#ps thank you for implying that my blog has personality but it's definitely a personality that should come with a warning label i think#*dox babbles
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I have been on a Willy Wonkified journey today and I need y'all to come with me
It started so innocently. Scrolling Google News I come across this article on Ars Technica:
At first glance I thought what happened was parents saw AI-generated images of an event their kids were at and became concerned, then realized it was fake. The reality? Oh so much better.
On Saturday, event organizers shut down a Glasgow-based "Willy's Chocolate Experience" after customers complained that the unofficial Wonka-inspired event, which took place in a sparsely decorated venue, did not match the lush AI-generated images listed on its official website.... According to Sky News, police were called to the event, and "advice was given."
Thing is, the people who paid to go were obviously not expecting exactly this:
But I can see how they'd be a bit pissed upon arriving to this:
It gets worse.
"Tempest, how could it possibly--"
source of this video that also includes this charming description:
Made up a villain called The Unknown — 'an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls'
There is already a meme.
Oh yes, the Wish.com Oompa Loompa:
Who has already done an interview!
As bad (and hilarious) as this all is, I got curious about the company that put on this event. Did they somehow overreach? Did the actors they hired back out at the last minute? (Or after they saw the script...) Oddly enough, it doesn't seem so!
Given what I found when poking around I'm legit surprised there was an event at all. Cuz this outfit seems to be 100% a scam.
The website for this specific event is here and it has many AI generated images on it, as stated. I don't think anyone who bought tickets looked very closely at these images, otherwise they might have been concerned about how much Catgacating their children would be exposed to.
Yes, Catgacating. You know, CATgacating!
I personally don't think anyone should serve exarserdray flavored lollipops in public spaces given how many people are allergic to it. And the sweet teats might not have been age appropriate.
Though the Twilight Tunnel looks pretty cool:
I'm not sure that Dim Tight Twdrding is safe. I've also been warned that Vivue Sounds are in that weird frequency range that makes you poop your pants upon hearing them.
Yes, Virginia, these folks used an AI image generator for everything on the website and used Chat GPT for some of the text! From the FAQ:
Q: I cannot go on the available days. Will you have more dates in the future?
A: Should there be capacity when you arrive, then you will be able to enter without any problems. In the event that this is not the case, we may ask you to wait a bit.
Fear not, for this question is asked again a few lines down and the answer makes more sense.
Curious about the events company behind this disaster, I took myself over to the homepage of House of Illuminati and I was not disappointed.
I would 100% trust these people to plan my wedding.
This abomination of a website is a badly edited WordPress blog filled with AI art and just enough blog posts to make the casual viewer think that it's a legit business for about 0.0004 seconds.
Their attention to detail is stunning, from how they left up the default first post every WP blog gets to how they didn't bother changing the name on several images, thus revealing where they came from. Like this one:
With the lovely and compact filename "DALL·E-2024-01-30-09.50.54-Imagine-a-scene-where-fantasy-and-reality-merge-seamlessly.-In-the-foreground-a-grand-interactive-gala-is-taking-place-filled-with-elegant-guests-i.png"
"Concept.png" came from the same AI generator that gets text almost, but not quiiiiiite right:
There are a suspicious number of .webp images in the uploads, which makes me think they either stole them from other sites where AI "art" was uploaded or they didn't want to pay for the hi-res versions of some and just grabbed the preview image.
The real fun came when I noticed this filename: Before-and-After-Eventologists-Transformation-Edgbaston-Cricket-Ground-1024x1024-1.jpg and decided to do a Google image search. Friends, you will be shocked to hear that the image in question, found on this post touting how they can transform a boring warehouse into a fun event space, was stolen from this actual event planner.
Even better, this weirdly grainy image?
From a post that claims to be about the preparations for a "Willy Wonka" experience (we'll get to this in a minute), is not only NOT an actual image of anyone preparing anything for Illuminati's event, it is stolen from a YouTube thumbnail that's been chopped to remove the name of the company that actually made this. Here's the video.
If you actually read the blog posts they're all copypasta or some AI generated crap. To the point where this seems like not a real business at all. There's very specific business information at the bottom, but nothing else seems real.
As I said, I'm kinda surprised they put on an event at all. This has, "And then they ran off with all our money!" written all over it. I'm perplexed.
And also wondering when the copyright lawyers are gonna start calling, because...
This post explicitly says they're putting together a "Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory Experience" complete with golden tickets.
Somewhere along the line someone must have wised up, because the actual event was called "Willys Chocolate Experience" (note the lack of apostrophe) and the script they handed to the actors about 10 minutes before they were supposed to "perform" was about a "Willy McDuff" and his chocolate factory.
As I was going through this madness with friends in a chat, one pointed out that it took very little prompting to get the free Chat GPT to spit out an event description and such very similar to all this while avoiding copyrighted phrases. But he couldn't figure out where the McDuff came from since it wasn't the type of thing GPT would usually spit out...
Until he altered the prompt to include it would be happening in Glasgow, Scotland.
You cannot make this stuff up.
But truly, honestly, I do not even understand why they didn't take the money and run. Clearly this was all set up to be a scam. A lazy, AI generated scam.
Everything from the website to the event images to the copy to the "script" to the names of things was either stolen or AI generated (aka stolen). Hell, I'd be looking for some poor Japanese visitor wandering the streets of Glasgow, confused, after being jacked for his mascot costume.
HE LIVES IN THE WALLS, Y'ALL.
#long post#Willy Wonka#Wonka#Willy Wonka Experience#Willy Wonka Experience disaster#Willy's Chocolate Experience#Willys Chocolate Experience#THE UNKNOWN#Wish.com Oompa Loompa#House of Illuminati#AI#ai generated
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Yeehaw here’s a pinned post i’ve been meaning to make for literal months!
I’m Matt [gender under construction]
20, aroace, from England (soz <3)
I’m disabled and at uni atm so sometimes i take a bit to see stuff and reply, I’m not ignoring you! Update: my dad’s also got cancer so uh. that’ll do it for sure.
This is a sideblog - my main is over at @gayandvibin so that’s where replies and likes are coming from
Ao3 is h0pscotch (no posts yet, but by god am i working on it)
This blog is for the last dragon chronicles - a book series that ended over 10 years ago and i continue to be so normal about that i almost singlehandedly revived the tag in 2022. Sometimes i post wips or the odd uni piece, but it’s mostly me drawing and chatting about dragon books. I love side characters that barely get screen time and you do not remember or care about. That is a threat and a promise.
(Also I read the UK versions if that matters to literally anyone. I love to pretend that everyone is okay and also that i understood the plot)
Please feel free to send asks (anon is on), I am always down to ramble about these characters. I’m also pretty much always up for tldc drawing requests (and even if i’m busy, there’s no harm in asking - i’ll get to them at a later date).
Tags: I don’t really categorise my reblogs, but [character name] will take you to anything original i’ve ever posted about them, ragnar art is for everything i draw, and ragnar rambles is for all my text posts.
Triggers are tagged tw [trigger] or cw [trigger], and if you need anything tagged/think i’ve missed something please shoot me an ask or a dm!
I block blank blogs on sight, so do something to prove you’re a human if you want to keep seeing my silly dragon posts! And in general don’t be an asshat, racists die, transphobes kill yourselves, pedos get run over by a lorry etc.
#ragnar rambles#ragnar art#pinned post#this feels super long but tbh its a warning for whats to come#also i chat shit in the tags and should you ever want Every Single Thought matt has experienced while making a post they're down there#bonus content yknow#tw cancer mention#literally one line but always better safe than sorry#the brainworms are pervasive (i am autistic) so this blog would survive a nuclear apocalypse at this point#'you don't think you're going to get sick of this in a month?' it's been a year! there are several things wrong with me! hope this helps!#ill edit this whenever its relevant to ig#slay or whatever <3
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✩‧₊˚ I HOPE NOBODY CATCH US !! .
(but i kinda hope they catch us, anyway)
#pairing : lucifer, adam, alastor, vox x gn reader
#cw: suggestive content, +18 mdni, cuss words lmao, getting caught in suggestive situations ig?? tentacles on alastors part my bad, vox likes to get caught.
#notes: guys please feel free to ask requests, i’m getting out of ideas and i don't know what you all wanna read on my blog help.
PART ll
˖ ˚ ༘✶ LUCIFER .
you both were having a pretty steamy make-out session in your hotel room at the hazbin hotel, clearly not the best idea since everyone was still at the hotel, and HELL does lucifer gets loud.
"ah-, my love, " he whines loudly, pressing his forked tongue deep inside you. feeling him humping against your bedsheets as you wrap your legs around his neck, you knew he was close. "lucifer, you make me feel so gooood~" you moaned, grabbing his horns as you felt like your orgasm was soon to come.
well, nobody warned you how SENSITIVE this man was when someone touched his horns; his wings literally popped out in a second. "fuck, fuck, i’m so close (name); can i cum, honey ? please i-"
a door opened, making lucifer wrap his wings around you both. "(name), i heard some noises. is everything alri-" well, this was akward. "IMSOSORRYISHOULDHAVEKNOCKED" she said, embarrased, closing the door, leaving you and lucifer with a flushed red since you both literally got caught, by HIS daughter WHILE having an orgasm.
after that 'accident' charlie started knocking every time she entered your dorm, and apologised to you many times.
˖ ˚ ༘✶ ADAM .
adam can be very tiring sometimes when keeping his hands to himself, he would literally fuck you anywhere so everyone could see who makes you feel so fucking good if you would just let him, but of course you wouldn’t allow something like that.
except for today, you and adam had a meeting with the other angels so you wouldn’t have guessed that your husband had already been planning on how to convince you to do not-so-holy-things to skip the meeting.
until, you started noticing how touchy he was getting with you, at the beginning it was a playfully kiss on your neck then a slap in you ass and somehow you ended up giving him a blowjob.
"you’re so hot when you shut the fuck up" he said, smirking while gripping your hair tightly to make you go deeper. "fucking bitch, sucking it while having you on your knees, as you fucking should 'cause im the original dick, babe!" letting him talk to you like that reeallyy turned him on, just the thought of you being so obedient to him makes him want to cum.
"what the fuck" a voice made you both turn, noticing a lute with a very disgusted look in her face cursing at you both for being so reckless.
sadly this wasn’t the first time lute walked in on you both, so she just left LMAO.
˖ ˚ ༘✶ ALASTOR .
alastor tries to have the least amount of physical contact during such activities, so it wasn’t a rare occasion for you to finger yourself, while listening to his voice telling you what to do.
you didn’t really know if it was because you were bored, or you were just horny, but you had the urge to have some intimacy with alastor. he didn’t mind because it had been a long time since you both had some intimacy.
"you have been such a good partner, my dear” he praised, smirking widely like he always did. "I think it would only be fair if i give you something in return."
well, that was 15 minutes ago, and now here you were feeling his tentacles thrusting into you so roughly. alastor would only chuckle at your expressions while ocassionaly telling you to touch yourself as he wanted. seeing you trying to get some release made his bulge twitch inside his pants.
well, at least it made it twitch until someone interrupted you both, making your partner disappear the tentacles who were just inside you a few seconds ago.
angel dust was the one who accidentaly walked in on you both, and alastor told him if he ever talked or made jokes about what happened he would transmite his screams on his radio broadcoast. angel dust still teases you though.
˖ ˚ ༘✶ VOX .
vox actually wants you both to get caught, like he really has no shame at all. he loves fucking you if it means that you both might get caught in the act.
sadly, you can’t even recall how you ended up with him having you bend over his desk right before a meeting with the VEES.
surely, you both could have stopped if you wanted, but why would you even consider that when he’s literally vibrating just in the right spot, making you fuzzy from the overstimulation.
"fuck, yeah" your boyfriend's voice is shaky as he keeps thrusting in you, seeing how his cum rolls down your thighs, makes him increase his pace. "you really want us to get caught, don’t you, babe? squeezing me around as if i would even think about fucking pulling it out" he says chuckling with a slight glitch on his voice. "ah- vox, it’s too much i-" vox slapped your ass, making you yelp from pleasure as you were feeling so overwhelmed.
both of you being so close to your orgasm, didn’t noticed when velvette and valentino entered the room until velvette shouted at you both for fucking like animals, and not waiting until being in a more private place, alongside her was just a valentino smirking, while being dragged by velvette. valentino would have been glad to accept the offer if you would have invited him though.
#lucifer x reader#adam x reader#alastor x reader#vox x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#lucifer smut#adam smut#alastor smut#vox smut#hazbin hotel smut#getting caught#hazbin hotel fanfiction#lucifer morningstar#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin hotel adam
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Truth or Dare (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)
Summary: Married only a few months, you are very much one of the Bridgerton brood - something that often drives your poor husband mad, especially when you happen to be every bit as chaotic and unruly as his siblings... Also known as, you, Benedict and Eloise take a game of ‘truth or dare’ a bit too far.
A/N: What can I say? It’s well and truly fluff-tober over here on my blog 😅
Warnings: Alcohol, mild smut, swearing, Anthony losing his mind, typical Bridgerton sibling shenanigans
Masterlist
There weren’t many nights Anthony spent away from your side.
They were few and far between, but that didn’t lessen how irksome you found them when the odd occasion called for him to leave you over night. You didn’t know what it was exactly, but you never truly slept well without your husband there to hold you.
Of course, it had to be one of those nights that you truly found yourself in a spot of mischief. Though, in fairness, it had all started rather innocently.
Un-beknowst to you at the time, it was Benedict that had been first outside on the garden swing, sipping from a stolen bottle of whiskey he’d pilfered from the kitchens. He’d been sat there perhaps ten minutes by himself, staring at the stars and lamenting about some problem or other.
Then Eloise had come along.
As was her habit - you later discovered - she had been swift to follow her brother’s example, sneaking out of the house in her nightgown for a reprieve in the night air… and a cigarette or two. Apparently her second-eldest brother was something of a soft touch when it came to her, not that you could blame him for it. You doted on Eloise too.
Then, finally, completing the eclectic cast of characters, there had been you.
Now, in your defence, you hadn’t intended on going out into the garden that night, but had found no other alternative suitable given the blasted summer heat. It was worse tonight that it had been all week, and without Anthony in bed beside you, you saw little point in enduring with the effort of trying to get any rest.
So, you’d decided to make your way quietly through the house and sit outside a while, and pray for a breeze. You hadn’t, however, expected to find both Bridgerton siblings already sat there, having had a similar idea.
“My, what do we have here? Another night owl?”
It was Benedict who spoke first, smiling warmly at the sight of you appearing out of the darkness. He was quick to rise, offering you his swing as a perch to rest upon, beside Eloise.
You were about to protest that it wasn’t necessary and that you could find somewhere else to sit, but a warning glare from Eloise was enough to silence you.
She was all too eager to pat the seat next to her in invitation, looking remarkably pleased to have another addition to their little party.
“Come. Sit,” she ordered. “We were simply discussing how tedious Lady Tremaine’s luncheon will be tomorrow and how we could possibly avoid the whole thing. Now that you’re here, you can help us plot our escape. Benedict’s only suggestion thus far has been some kind of contagious summer cold.”
“I think I actually said that I would use such an excuse, sister,” Benedict corrected with a teasing grin. “Not that we would share it.”
“Traitor.”
“Hardly. It is every man - or woman - for themselves. Right, Y/N?”
“Alas, I think your mother would be rather suspicious at all three of us suddenly being absent,” you sighed by way of explanation as both their eyes turned to you. “Besides, I only came outside because of this heat, not to join some conspiracy.”
“Hardly,” Eloise chuckled. “We simply had the same idea, but I am rather glad you came to join us. Perhaps we should form some secret kind of club - Bridgertons against boredom?”
“And do what? Constantly find excuses not to attend social events we deem too tedious or odious to be dragged along to?”
“Sounds like a marvellous idea to me.”
“It would, sister dear,” Benedict teased. “You always have a talent for causing chaos and anarchy. You’d suit the cause perfectly, even if we both know our mother would never stand for it. She somehow sees through even our best efforts.”
“In which case, it’s time I take a leaf out of your book, Benedict. After all, you always say social events become far more bearable after a good drink or two,” Eloise smirked, gesturing towards the bottle of whiskey Benedict had been steadily nursing. “Perhaps I should follow my brothers example and learn to hold a drink, maybe then things will be more fun.”
“Oh no.” Benedict was quick to shut down that idea, holding the bottle possessively to his chest and shaking his head. “No. I am not allowing you to start drinking. Mother would have my head if she caught you, not to mention Anthony would have all ours heads on a platter in no time.”
The thought of it made you laugh. Your husband was hardly a tyrant, even if he’d been known to have a temper but he was easy enough to handle. A few soft words in his ear or a kiss on the cheek and he was putty in your hands, helplessly and completely in love with you. Just as you were in love with him.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of Anthony, Benedict?” you giggled, causing Eloise to join you. “I assure you, he’s more a kitten than a lion and he’d probably prefer you to allow Eloise to sample alcohol here, under your supervision, than when she inevitably decides to rebel and has her first drink later on, in the middle of some public ball…”
The warning was clear and you all knew very likely true. Still, Eloise was beaming in victory as Benedict cursed to himself, muttering about Bridgerton women and the likely death he’d receive should Anthony ever find out he had allowed Eloise to sample whiskey. “Just a few sips, El. I mean it.”
“Oh hush,” she snorted, taking the bottle before he could change his mind. She was quick to throw back her head and down a rather brave mouthful, causing you to laugh even harder as she scrunched her face up in disgust. “Oh! That is revolting.”
“I told you.”
“Now you, Y/N,” Eloise grinned, turning and offering the offending item towards you. “Go on. Join us trouble makers - I won’t say a word about it if you don’t.”
“Oh, for goodness sake… Give me that then,” you sighed, earning a cheer from them both, knowing it was better to simply surrender rather than try and fight their mischievous whims. It only increased as you took an ambitious swig from the bottle, wincing at the acrid burning sensation it left in your throat.
If only Anthony could have seen you. He’d have probably had some kind of seizure - especially as you took another quick swig before handing the bottle back.
“There. Your turn again, brother dearest.”
“My my. You really are quite surprising,” Benedict sniggered, before winking up at you in admiration. “Who knew it? You can hold your drink better than Colin. He seems cursed to choke any time he drinks anything stronger than a brandy.”
“Well, it is your sex that falsely deemed us the weaker,” Eloise quipped. “It’s not our fault you were ignorant.”
“I’d like to remind you I wasn’t part of that decision and you also looked ready to choke a moment ago, El.”
“Doesn’t matter, you’re still one of the enemy,” she giggled, earning another raucous laugh from you. Oh, you loved her. If you’d ever been so blessed to have had a sister, you hoped she’d have been just like her. “Now, it is your turn again, brother.”
“Oh … joy.”
“Else we shall have to have some kind of forfeit.”
“A forfeit?” you scoffed, finding the idea absurd. “Like what?”
“How about… truth or dare?”
Benedict froze. “Oh no. Not again. Pall Mall is one thing but we swore we would never play that game in this family again-“
“But Benedict-“
“What’s truth or dare?”
Your innocent question ceased their bickering instantly. Their eyes widened as they turned to you, a knowing and nervous look passing between them. Somehow, you knew this evening was about to get wildly out of hand.
Sometime later, you’d been fully apprised of the rules of ‘truth or dare’. In fact, you’d been something of a natural at it, even if you knew the copious amounts of whiskey you’d all consumed was more than likely the responsible culprit. Else, you’d probably have known better and snuck back off inside before you could make a fool of yourself.
By the end of the night, Benedict had climbed a tree, confessed to being oddly scared of spiders, and been forced to sing the national anthem in French.
Eloise had also made an admirable effort, despite her obviously lower tolerance for drink. She still permitted Benedict to try and arrange her hair, before daring to steal a sock from Colin’s room whilst he’d slept. Then she’d loosened a leg on a dining chair. (Alas, none of you could remember which one but that somehow made it even funnier - even if it would not be come morning when you were forced to sit at the table for breakfast in some kind of roulette.)
You could only pray you didn’t choose said seat.
You could also only pray neither of your conspirators shared your contributions with your husband. You weren’t exactly sure how Anthony would feel at the fact you gone for a midnight paddle in the pond, nor that you’d mixed up the papers on his desk, all before finishing the night with a final dare that involved stealing several cakes from the kitchens… you still swore Mrs Reynolds would notice, come morning, that there were no longer twelve perfect cakes.
That, and Benedict had somehow knocked flour all over the counter, causing you all to erupt in drunken laughter as you’d bolted back outside.
Needless to say, you all looked a sorry sight as you lay in the grass together, staring at the approaching dawn. Had you not been so tired, or drunk, you may have suggested retiring back to your rooms before the house awoke shortly.
“Now that… was fun.”
“Fun? That was more than fun. I haven’t laughed like that in ages.”
“Told you it was a good idea.”
You hummed in agreement with your sister in law.
“I can see why you all favoured this game so much,” you sniggered, winking at Eloise as she sat in the grass beside you. “I can also see why you all agreed to stop playing it… I don’t know what Anthony would say if he saw what we’d been up to.”
“Something sensible and disapproving most likely,” Benedict sniggered. “Our brother, and your husband, can be a right prig, no offence.”
“Oh hush. At least I didn’t let my sister dress me up in her petticoat when she was five.”
Benedict’s jaw dropped.
“Who told you about that?” he demanded indignantly.
“I have my sources.”
Benedict’s eyes narrowed as he turned his head to glare at his younger sister. “Well, you can tell your source that she’s going to have to find someone else to fetch her lemonade at the Cowper’s ball tomorrow night unless she apologises. You can also tell her that I’ll accept either a verbal or a written apology as long as it’s suitably abject. And that means very, very abject,” he added darkly.
“Tell me, Benedict, was it a lacy petticoat?”
With a wordless grunt of annoyance, Benedict groaned, but it was hard to hear over the laughter echoing from you and Eloise. You resembled more a pack of hyenas than two noble ladies - you probably looked just as feral after your night of mischief.
And of course, as was always your luck, that was exactly how your husband found you mere seconds later.
How Anthony had arrived without any of you hearing a carriage pulling up to the house at this time of the night - morning? You couldn’t be sure - was a mystery. Yet, there he was, hands on hips and looking thunderous as he stormed towards the three of you with all the fury of an exasperated headmaster.
“What in God’s name are you all playing at?”
You all froze.
It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over you as your eyes widened, and you all turned to stare sheepishly at him.
“Oh, darling. You’re home?”
“Don’t ‘oh darling’ me,” Anthony sighed, attempting to scold you but without much success. His attempt at seriousness was somewhat undermined by his brother’s heckling, singing ‘here comes mother’ and that ‘someone’s in trouble’. That, and with the way you were lying, he was upside down. “What are you doing up at this god forsaken hour? And why are you … is that flour? And why are you soaking wet?”
“I went for a swim.”
“A - you went for a -“
“And Benedict did my hair,” Eloise interjected suddenly, waving her arms about as she gestured to the tangle of hair upon her head. “Isn’t it marvellous?”
Anthony’s expression very much said that he did not think it was marvellous. Nor did he find any of this vaguely amusing.
In fact, by the way he took a long deep breath, you knew he was doing his best not to lose his temper and wake the entirety of the household. His brow always creased like that when he was faced with dealing with his family, but the expression only made him seem more adorable and handsome to you, rather than authoritative. However, you’d never told him so, knowing it would hardly be deemed a compliment in his eyes.
You also doubted he’d appreciate your usual response right now, which was normally to kiss said brow until it eased back into its relaxed form.
“We were just playing a game to escape the heat, darling,” you soothed. “We couldn’t sleep and all had the same idea to seek refuge outdoors… we simply got carried away passing the time.”
“What game?”
“Pardon?”
“I said, what was the game you were all playing?” Anthony suddenly quipped, the warning clear in his tone. That, and his eyes landed squarely on his two siblings, who at least had the decency to look sheepish… and afraid. “Because there is but one game I can think of that would result in a mess like this one, and I’m confused, because I know for a fact that we banned that game under this roof, and any other roof that houses the Bridgertons.”
No one moved.
No one even breathed.
It was as if you were all too scared to risk answering Anthony, even if the empty bottle of whiskey did most of the talking by itself.
“I don’t recall the name,” you blinked. “Right, Benedict?”
“Oh, uh… we… we were just- Eloise?”
Eloise froze, the guilt written all too clearly on her face for her to even try and salvage the situation - though that could also be down to the whisky she had consumed… it was honestly hard to be sure at this point.
“Well, dear brother,” she began, only to trail off as Anthony lifted his hand.
The silence was instantaneous.
No one dared to say another word, let alone move.
You’d never seen Eloise or Benedict so still in your entire life. Hell, you weren’t even sure they were breathing - probably out of fear Anthony would decide to inform their mother about their mischievous exploits.
If Anthony Bridgerton was scary when vexed, then Violet Bridgerton was a nightmare brought to life in human form. After all, as the matriarch of a family of eight children, she had learned a long time ago how to keep her unruly children in line - a harrowing experience you had only had occasion to witness once or twice since your marriage into the Bridgerton family. Once had been when Colin and Gregory had broken a priceless vase when racing around the house, despite being explicitly banned from doing so. The other had been when she had caught Eloise and Benedict smoking outside on the terrace one night.
It was easy to say where your husband had inherited it from.
“Not. Another. Word,” your husband growled, bending down and sweeping you up into his arms in a move that made you squeal in surprise. “Right now, I am taking my wife to bed and I suggest you two do the same - after you clean up your mess. I’ll deal with the lot of you in the morning.”
A laugh escaped you as you tried not to look like you were enjoying the sudden turn of events too much. After all, you doubted he’d be too happy once you were more sober and he discovered the true extent of your nightly activities.
It was why you were only too happy to let him put you to bed, grumbling all the while about letting his siblings run wild. He really was most handsome when he was flushed - a fact you were reminded of as he hastily changed for bed, flashing you a tempting glimpse of his bare torso in the process.
You could tell without asking he was tired from his journey home, as well as fighting the urge to rip his hair out over the chaos he had found upon his return.
Thankfully, his need to be in your arms outweighed the need to scold you over letting yourself be drawn into his siblings’ schemes. All it took was you pulling him down onto the mattress, and climbing into his lap to turn him into a needy, lovestruck puddle.
You’d equally missed having him in your arms, but you’d be lying if you said that your sudden forwardness wasn't also due to a mixture of the whiskey you’d drunk, and the residual giddiness from a night of mischief. A confidence radiated from you as you began to run your hands over his bare chest, taking care to graze the areas you knew made him groan.
“You’re lucky I love you so much,” he teased breathlessly, visibly unable to refuse your advances.
“Is that so?”
Anthony chuckled, nodding as he surged his lips towards yours. “Yes, so come here, my delinquent drunken wife, and let me kiss you before you and those doe-eyes of yours drive me insane. Now.”
Your laughter and surrender was immediate. “As you wish.”
Alas, for poor Anthony, that was not the end of the ordeal.
In fact, it was the next morning as you made your way into breakfast that you faced the final consequences of your delinquency.
Despite wishing to remain abed for the entire day, you’d been granted no such reprieve as your maid had entered your room at the usual appointed time and proceeded to open the curtains with no regard for the fact that you had slept a mere handful of hours. Whereas you would normally greet the day with a reluctant smile, you were in no state to manage much more than a groan as you were harshly ripped from your slumber.
If you had somehow not yet come to the conclusion that last night had been a bad idea, then the sudden flare of pain in your head at the bright intrusion was all the proof you needed. That, and the sudden churning in your stomach.
You would never let Benedict or Eloise coax you into drinking with them again.
You had not realised, despite how the idiom went, that what went up was sure to come down again - and you had come crashing down.
Hard.
“If you’re ready to dress, my lady, then breakfast will be served shortly,” your maid chirped, a dress already picked out for you to wear. She either couldn't detect your fragile state, or didn't seem to care as she continued speaking at a painfully loud volume. “My Lord sent me to wake you as he is finishing business in the study. He was up frightfully early, I could scarce believe it went the housemaids told me they’d already found him awake when they went to start the fires this morning. Gave young Samantha a right fright he did, scribbling away at his desk.”
“Oh?” you croaked.
You hadn’t even noticed the empty space in the bed bedside you until then.
Clearly Anthony had risen early, if he’d even gone to sleep at all. Why were you not surprised? Your husband was perpetually in motion, always claiming there was something or someone that needed his urgent attention as the head of the Bridgerton clan. It was just one of the things that made you love him so much.
“Is he still there?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” the young girl continued, breezing about your room. “And that’s not the only strange incident this morning. It will tickle you rotten when I tell you the latest drama, but you see, Mrs Reynolds was ranting and raving about how she swore she had made three trays of fruit tarts last night, yet this morning, there were only two. The youngest kitchen maid, Betsy, is convinced it must be a ghost but my money is on Carter - the groom’s boy - he’s always snooping about the kitchen...”
You winced. Ah. Maybe you hadn't been as stealthy last night as you’d hoped after all...
With as much enthusiasm as you could muster, you began to peel yourself from the mattress, trying to appear as if you were listening to your maid’s theories as she dressed you for the day. It then took all your resolve to make it downstairs and to the breakfast table without tripping over your own feet, or emptying the non-existent contents of your stomach.
To your relief, only Eloise and Benedict had so far taken a seat at the breakfast table - and both looked about as miserable as you felt.
“Good morning,” you mumbled, taking your usual chair next to the head of the table. You were quick to accept the steaming cup of coffee Benedict handed you, shooting him a thankful look. “Dare I ask how we feel?”
“I think better than you and my dear sister here,” Benedict chirped, gesturing at a miserable looking Eloise. She had her head in her hands and was desperately trying to look at the plate of food in front of her with something other than repulsion. “Then again, I must admit I am somewhat more experienced in the art of late-night mischief than you both. I also did not have to deal with my brother before going to bed - thank you, again, for that noble sacrifice.”
“Your welcome,” you chuckled, a faint heat rising in your cheeks as you remembered the exact events after you and Anthony had gone to bed. “I just feel bad that you both got left to clean up the mess.”
“Don’t be. I think we got it all.”
“You say that but I can’t remember anything after you started singing in French,” Eloise groaned, massaging her forehead once more. “I have the oddest feeling we may have forgotten something.”
You paused. You could only hope for your sake she was wrong.
However, you were saved from such discussion by the arrival of the rest of the Bridgerton bunch. All conversation about your night-time escapades were quickly forgotten as Colin, Hyacinth and Gregory entered the room, bickering about something you couldn’t quite make out. They were swiftly followed by Violet and Francesca, who both looked unfairly cheerful for so early in the morning.
You could only wish to look so fresh and composed before your first cup of whatever caffeinated beverage you could get your hands on.
Then, finally, came your husband. Entering the room last, he turned and shot you a warm smile. Clearly, your shenanigans had been forgotten - for now - replaced instead by the memory of your other activities, much to the relief of you and your co-conspirators.
In fact, you swore you saw Eloise exhale a breath of relief when Anthony didn't immediately launch into one of his lectures. Instead, he chose to join the rest of his family in helping himself to the awaiting breakfast spread, laid out on the sideboard for them, listening to some ongoing debate between his mother and youngest brother.
“-but you said we could visit the park this afternoon.”
“I know, sweetheart, but I have to take Francesca and Eloise for their final fittings at the modiste. We shouldn’t be too long, and we can go after? Unless, perhaps your brothers will take you. Colin? Benedict? Anthony?”
Benedict looked physically pained at the idea of an afternoon at the park, what with his current delicate constitution and all. You honestly couldn't blame him. “Well, I uh - have a drawing class, this afternoon. Very last minute. Sorry.”
“And I... um, have a meeting at the club?” Colin stammered hastily. “Anthony?”
“Please, Anthony?” Gregory begged, all but pouting at his older brother as the pair made their way to the table. “I promise I’ll do all my lessons this week without complaining if you say yes. I’ll even let you have my pudding tonight.”
“As you asked so nicely, brother, I don’t see how an hour or so at the park could do any harm -” Anthony began, pulling out the chair next to you and lowering himself onto the seat in a moment that felt like it lasted forever as a horrifying sensation swept over you.
You remembered what you’d forgotten.
The chair.
“Anthony, wait-!”
The sudden crash was startling, as was the sight of your husband being sent flying backwards as the chair collapsed beneath him.
No one moved.
No one said a word.
Benedict looked across at you and Eloise, the horror clear in his eyes as he choked the word you felt on the tip of your tongue: “Run!”
#Bridgerton#anthony bridgerton#anthony bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton x you#anthony bridgerton fluff#bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton#eloise bridgerton#ithebookhoarder#thesilentmage#masterlist#Violet Bridgerton#gregory bridgerton#hyacinth bridgerton#francesca bridgerton#bridgerton fluff#jonathan bailey#colin bridgerton
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Best I Ever Had
Jackson!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 2.3k
Summary: Someone tries to hit on you on your night out with Joel, insulting your man in the process, and oh you don't like that. You blow off some steam in more ways than one.
Content/Warnings: Reader is able-bodied, no physical descriptions. Feminine perception of reader and feminine pet names (Joel calls you mama and babygirl), but no pronouns used. Reader's a fucking badass and can hold their own fights (probably Joel's too, tbh). Slight description of reader getting physical/violent with another person (bby has some anger issues). Established relationship. Implied age gap (exact number unspecified). A bit of insecure Joel. 18+ MDNI! Dom!reader !! Sub!Joel !!!! P in V unprotected. Slight breeding kink (reader just likes being filled, no children talk). Joel has a fast refractory period (don't think too much on it, just enjoy). Definitely some overstimulation. Cockwarming. Riding..straddling.. Teasing. Begging. Edging. Sloppy making out. Multiple orgasms. Please let me know if there’s anything I missed that should be up here!
A/N: Some get post-nut clarity, but I get post-nut lust. This was the product of that. Hope you enjoy, my angels. Thank you @honeyedmiller for beta’ing 🩶 also I picture both game Joel or hbo Joel, so it’s entirely up to you what you wanna visualize ;)
masterlist | updates blog
It was a busy night at the Tipsy Bison. Everyone was out. Everyone was mingling, getting to know each other. As if it wasn’t a small town already, but hey, it wouldn’t hurt to make sure you really knew the people living in this little forever-town.
Except, Joel was not one to mingle—especially on nights like tonight. Tommy insisted that he come, it’ll be nice, he tried to reason.
He eventually agreed. Not because of Tommy, though, but because of you.
You knew Joel was a certified grump, through and through. And you love Joel, you really do. But the post-apocalyptic world caused you to react differently than your man. Yeah, you’ve become tougher, harder to break, harder to trust. However, you crave any sense of normalcy you can find. So on occasion, you like to go out and get to know the people of the town. You like human interaction.
And when they say opposites attract, the saying couldn’t have been more true. Joel was absolutely smitten the day he met you. It’s been a long time coming between you two—with his vulnerability, or lack thereof, and his initial unwillingness to accept that he can finally relax and unclench his jaw—but you’re together now, stronger than ever, and everything is worth it.
You are worth it.
Which is exactly why all you needed was to give one raise of your brow during his protesting before Joel promptly shuts his lips and takes a defeated breath, fixing his answer to Tommy. “Oh, hell. Alright, brother, we’ll be there.”
And to be quite honest, Joel would go as far to say that tonight’s little get together was actually decent for once. That is, until he sees you waiting on the bartender for his beer and your old-fashioned, and a man—a boy—approaches you.
“Hey,” you heard a voice beside you say. Not realizing it was meant for you, your attention stays on the bartender. Still, the voice persists. “I was thinking, uh-” you look at the guy then, eyes staring him down in a way he perceives as a challenge.
He clears his throat. “I was thinking I could buy you a drink?”
“No, I’m good,” you say shortly. The bartender comes up to you, pulling you away from the guy’s feeble attempt at flirting. You tell the bartender your order, and before you can take another moment to speak, the guy pipes up.
“Put it on my tab,” he smirks triumphantly, taking a closer step to you.
You pull yourself away on instinct— out of disgust, but your eyes stay trained on his gaze. You’re pissed, but this naïve little boy has no idea. Both of what you're capable of and what the older man, your older man, across the bar is capable of.
“Thanks,” you smile, “my boyfriend’s gonna appreciate the free drink,” you tell the guy, turning to Joel and giving him a sweet smile. You’ve been feeling his stare the second this waste of space walked up to you.
Joel would pounce if you told him to. He knows you can handle yourself, though, and you confirm it through that pretty smile you flash him. He can’t deny the way his cock twitches at the way this scene is unfolding. Part of him is begging for the guy to try something more, to test you—to unleash you.
The guy scoffs the second he sees Joel. “That old man is your boyfriend? Come on, baby,” his hand reaches for the crook of your elbow. “You can do so much better than that,” he taunts.
And that was the something more you needed. Immediately your hand takes hold of his wrist, twisting the man to face the bar in a rough fashion as you lean him over the bar counter, his arm twisted behind his back, shoulder ready to snap out of his socket with the tiniest of movements.
“Wanna say that again?” You seethe, knocking the breath from his lungs as you push him into the wooden counter.
“I said—”
He’s cut off by his own high-pitched scream. You push his arm higher, a sharp pain shooting through every nerve center in the guy’s arm.
“Sweetheart,” a southern twang says softly, but it’s not your man. Tommy. “I know he probably deserves it, darlin’, but it’s not worth it,” he says, not wanting to aggravate you more. Everyone knows not to test you.
Well, apparently not everyone.
You roll your eyes, knowing Tommy’s just trying to keep up the liveliness of tonight. “Fine,” you mutter. Leaning closer into the guy, you whisper into his ear. “Talk about my fuckin’ man like that again, and I’ll snap your shoulder so fuckin’ hard, Jackson’s doctors won’t even know what to do with ya. Ya hear me?” You’re not from the South, and before the outbreak, you’ve never even been. But get angry enough, and Joel’s twang possesses you.
You release the crying boy with a shove, and you back up, wanting to pull yourself away from the situation. Your back is met with something hard, and immediately you know who it is. You soften in his touch as his arms immediately wrap around your waist. “You alright, babygirl?” Joel rasps in your ear. You can feel his fucking hard-on pressed against your back.
The guy looks at you and Joel, chest still heaving as his face turns into disgust, a fuck you muttered under his breath, an aftertaste of jealousy on his lips.
Smiling wildly at the guy in front of you, you snake your hand up to wrap around Joel’s jaw before you turn your head back and tilt your head up, pulling Joel into an open-mouthed kiss, your tongue pushing into his mouth as he eagerly sucks it, lapping up your spit. He groans into you, his arms pulling you impossibly tighter into him.
You pull away with a harsh nip to his lip, feeding off the little whimper Joel lets out. “Baby,” he whines.
You look back to the guy, and the silent audience you’ve accumulated. “Come on, cowboy,” you breathe. “I’m not done with you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies happily, spinning you two around and walking out with you still pressed against him.
The bar stays quiet after a beat. Tommy’s hand slaps the bar counter before he speaks. “Well. Get the music back going unless y’all wanna hear ‘em goin’ at it all night!” The bar roars in laughter, the music coming back to life.
Before returning back to Maria, Tommy turns to the guy. “You. Out.”
He scrambles without looking back.
“Oh my God, baby.”
“Fuck— I- I can’t, baby, I can’t hold it much longer, baby, I need to come.”
“Just one more second, baby.”
“Mama, please,” he cries out, his head lolling from side to side on his sweat-soaked pillow as you grind your hips into his pelvis, lifting yourself on and off him every other moment. His hands hold onto your hips, not in a way to control your movement but to simply feel you.
“Oh, come on, be a good boy for me, baby,” you moan, your hand fixing itself onto his jaw to make him look at you. “Just wanna feel you twitch inside me a little bit more ‘fore you make a mess inside me, okay?”
“Oh, fuck— yes, yes, mama, yes, okay,” he rambles, trying his hardest to breathe through the pleasurable pain as you take and take and take.
A particular grind sends your back arching, his pubes soaked in your arousal nudging perfectly against your clit, sending an electric pulse up your spine. You cry out in ecstasy, your climax hitting you instantly. “Oh fuck, oh shit- fuckfuckfuck, baby, come with me— come inside me, baby, fucking fill me,” you nearly scream, hoping that boy can hear you now.
“Shit, baby, oh my God- fuck- I’m coming, mama, holy fuck- I-” he stutters, his thigh muscles shaking underneath you as you bounce on him through his climax, the mix of his spend with yours bouncing lewdly across the walls of your shared bedroom.
Your hips come to a slow but never stop, your chest heaving as you lean down to bring your lips to Joel. You let them ghost across his lips, but you don’t let them touch. He knows better not to chase it, not yet, anyway. He can still feel you fuming.
You can do so much better than that.
“Can you fucking believe him?” You whisper against his lips, barely audible yet fucking scary nonetheless.
Joel thinks that boy is right, deep down. Even though he’d never want you to leave him, and you’d never want him to leave you. Joel thinks that there’s a crumb of moral rightness in that statement. But he keeps that to himself.
Nevertheless, you know Joel like the back of your hand. He doesn’t need to utter a lick of anything to you. You already know what he’s thinking.
“Joel,” you say again. “I asked you a question.”
All questions must be answered.
Fuck.
“Y-yeah, baby,” he rumbles, too distracted by the comments from the bar, but mainly still caught up in the way his softening come-covered cock is still nestled inside of you.
You sit up now. A whine leaves his throat at the movement. “So you do believe him?”
Only then does he realize what he said. His eyes shoot up to yours. “W-wait, no, baby, ‘m sorry, no. No, I don’t believe him, baby,” he panics.
You quirk your eyebrow at him.
“The fuckin’ audacity on ‘em,” he adds for good measure.
You’re silent for a beat. Then—
“You’re lying.”
Joel’s heart starts to race. “No, baby. Please. Mama, I’m not lyin’,” he tries.
Still straddling his hips, you grab onto his bicep, pulling upward. He gets the hint and sits up. He’s still inside you, his cock slowly growing to full mast again the longer you sit here.
You’re face to face now. His arms are loosely wrapped around your waist, your arms tightly around his neck.
“Look me in my eye,” you whisper, “and tell me you’re the best I ever had.”
Joel audibly gulps.
Slow— so slow, your hips begin to move again. A breathy little moan escapes your mouth, and he lunges forward for you, his tongue dancing along the tip of yours, swallowing your breath. You allow it.
“Tell me,” you groan into his mouth, practically swallowing his tongue as you shallowly bounce yourself on him.
“Baby,” he whines, getting lost in this dance of heat and sweat he’s become utterly addicted to.
You break yourself away from his mouth, not allowing him the option to reach for you anymore. He pulls back, eyes wild and sad. His mouth turned down into a literal pout.
“My poor baby,” you mutter. “Tell me what I wanna hear,” you say again. “Or you’re not getting my lips nor are you coming for the rest of the night,” you tell him, switching back into your grinding motion to stimulate your sensitive bud, letting him feel the way your pussy flutters around him.
“Baby,” he begs again as you grind, your warmth forcing him to another climax. Please don’t make me say it, he’s trying to convince you.
Your fingers find their home at the base of his salt and pepper curls, tugging them in warning. “Tell. Me.”
You force his body down to lay flat on the bed again, towering over him, allowing your body the space to lift yourself off of him, only his tip inside of you. He takes a sharp breath in, knowing what’s coming.
You drop yourself down on him, fucking yourself on his cock at a bruising pace. You grab his hands and drag them up to your chest, wrapping his thick digits around you encouraging him to squeeze.
“Fuck- mama, I’m gonna—”
“No the fuck you’re not, baby,” you moan, lost in the pleasure but still rightfully in charge. “Swear to God, Joel, gonna leave you fucking swollen and pulsing for a fucking week— oh fuck,” you cut yourself off, a familiar sensation building at the base of your spine, sending you convulsing around his length yet again.
Joel’s eyes clamp shut, finally giving into your request so he can finally let go. “I— shit, I’m the—” a rugged moan forces itself out, “—the best you ever had, mama, please, the fuckin’ best, baby,” he cries out, his hips bucking up into you as he covers every inch of you with his spend.
“Shit,” you moan, his words affecting you a lot more than you anticipated, your hips doing overtime, unable to find it within you to stop even as he begins to soften. “Yes, fuck, that’s my boy, shit—” you breathe, “—the fucking best, always make me feel so fucking good, baby.”
His hands finally use their strength, trying his best to slow you with ease, his nerves reaching the point of painful overstimulation. “Alright, baby, alright,” he winces.
Recognizing his limits, you immediately begin to slow, lowering yourself onto his heaving chest. You let him slip out of you this time, giving him an actual break. “I’m sorry,” you whisper into his chest.
“For what, baby?” Joel responds with a kiss into your head.
“Did I go too far?”
He couldn’t help the belly laugh that shakes the both of you. You immediately sit back up, your hands on his chest to keep your limp body up. “What?” you glare at him.
“Too far? Which part, darlin’? Nearly breakin’ that guy’s shoulder or my dick?”
A belly laugh erupts out of you this time. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you respond. “...Both.”
“Mmm…” Joel puts on a fake thinking face. “Maybe to the former, but not at all to the latter,” he hums, his hands finding the back of your head to pull you in for a chaste kiss.
You hum into his lips, a smile stretching across your cheeks.
Resting your head on his chest, you let a few moments pass before you speak again. “Tommy’s not gonna invite us to another one of those, huh?”
“Probably not, mama,” he smiles. “Probably not.”
I’d love to hear what you think!! Any feedback or interactions with you all truly brightens my day. So so so much love for you all. Thank you for being here 🩶
I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.
graphics by @saradika-graphics (middle divider in fic by me)
#endless thoughts fics#pedro pascal#pedrohub#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut#smut#pedrostories#one shot#fic#smut fic#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel x reader#joel miller fluff#joel miller one shot#joel miller x female reader#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#tlou smut
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