#but I find it so amusing he gets such good lines in that season too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daemour · 15 days

Text

Pairing: roommate! San x f! yn

Word Count: 10,664

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, smut warnings under cut

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut, f2l au, college au, M for mature audiences

Summary: As the resident fuckboy San's best friend, you're legally obligated to be his hype man. It's only fitting as you're one of the few who can resist his boyish charms. But when he's set his sights on someone you cannot stand, perhaps you need to dig a bit deeper into your feelings after all.

Smut Warnings: masturbation (f), voyeurism, sexual fantasies, oral (f), missionary, protected sex, very slight breast play, overstimulation, cowgirl, some cumplay, dirty dirty talk, fingering, slight body worship ig?, praise, I literally have no idea I wrote it at a time when I should've been in bed so lmk if I missed anything

this is for the jackson wang party fic collab finished with @mingsolo (hella good) @flurrys-creativity (Pygalgia, Effervescent, and Abience) and @sanjoongie (trouble) <3 I still have one more to go but we'll ignore that LMAOOOOO I added too much plot :') flurry was a dear and helped me sort out my thoughts and I managed to write 8k of it in one day lol.

hope u all enjoy and sorry I'm a professional yapper there's no shutting me up

“Going out again?” you ask your best friend and flatmate, San, as he walks past where you’re seated at the kitchen counter, suffering through your essays.

“Yep,” San answers easily, popping the ‘p’ and leaning over to take a peek at your laptop screen. “You misspelt ‘dextrorotatory’, you wrote it as ‘dexrotatory’.”

As your eyes find the typo, you groan and plant your head on the table. “I give up,” you declare dramatically, “I’ll drop out and become a taxi driver.”

San laughs. “First of all, you can’t drive that well. Second of all, you’d make more money as a stripper.” He dodges your smack with ease. “Third, you’re smart and you’ll ace these like always. You’re just a little mentally constipated. Why don’t you join me tonight?”

You think about it for a minute. While you probably do need a break from staring at your laptop, you know how wild the parties San goes to can get from personal experience. And you don’t think it’s a good idea when it's the end of your semester and the final year of your master's program. You just can’t afford to do that. “I’ll pass this time,” you sigh. “Maybe after exam season.”

San hums. “All right. Make sure to take a break, though,” he reminds you, dropping a quick kiss on the top of your head. “See you later.”

He soon disappears out of the door and you turn your focus away from your best friend to your homework. You feel bad for whoever his new conquest will be at the party.

In your opinion, it’s best to keep San at arm’s length when it comes to a romantic relationship. Not that you like him, but you also don’t want to be another notch on his bedpost, and you most certainly do not want to ruin your eight-year-long friendship. It’s not hard to see that San isn’t interested in a long relationship, not right now at least.

You honestly find it amusing that so many girls and guys still throw themselves at him and then get upset when he doesn’t give them a second glance after the initial night. His reputation precedes him, especially in your small town, and yet there will always be a line out the door for him. You don’t even know how he knows so many people.

With a sigh, you clear out your thoughts and refocus on your organic chemistry work. You’re lucky your job offered to pay for your master's classes, but the workload is killing you inside. You’re incredibly happy you’re almost done, and with newfound motivation, you hunker down and start writing out your notes again.

It’s almost two in the morning when you finally yawn and start putting your books away, and it’s almost three when you hear the front door open and the sound of San stumbling into the shoe rack as he always does. “You’re home already, Sanah?”

“YN!” San stumbles his way into the bathroom where you’re combing your hair, wrapping his arms around you and tucking his flushed face into your neck. “You’re still up?”

You laugh, tapping him on the head with your brush. “Yes, but I’m about to go to bed. And you should too, you know.”

San groans, his hold on your waist tightening and his words slurring together. “I don’t wanna,” he whines, “the bed's too cold.”

You sigh fondly. This happens almost every time he drinks, and usually, that’s why he doesn’t drink too much when he’s by himself. He gets too cuddly with people and you’re usually the one to keep him from bedding everyone he sees. You suppose he somehow didn’t end up with anyone in bed and he’s disappointed now. “Do you think you’ll ever ask to sleep with me nicely, or will you just settle for wrestle-cuddling me into my own bed?” you ask, rolling your eyes as San does not answer, just pulling you towards your room. “There’s my answer.”

You’re too used to his drunk antics and just let him move you around. It’s comforting in a way, that he’s comfortable enough around you to do this with you, and it makes your heart warm whenever he throws his arm around you and presses his face in your neck.

You’d never admit it, but it’s nights like this when you sleep the best. With his warm breath tickling your neck, you let your body relax and your eyes flutter shut.

“God, I’ve got a raging headache,” San groans when he sees you enter the kitchen with a mess of bed hair. “I went so crazy with the soju last night, I think I’m going to die.”

You laugh, reaching for the pot to make some oatmeal for him. “Don’t be so dramatic. Why did you even drink so much anyway? No bitches?”

San snorts but immediately whines from the sharp pain that probably shot through his skull. “You’re so mean to me! No, I got no bitches, but that was from my own choice anyway. I don’t want to fuck around anymore.”

Both your eyebrows raise into your hairline. “No? What changed things, hm? Finally decided your one true love is Byeol?” As if on cue, your shared cat meows and curls around your ankles, and you bend down to scratch behind her ears.

“Never had to decide that, we all know she’s the real number one in my life. No, I think I’m interested in someone.” You stop your petting of Byeol, who meows in protest and runs off to pout somewhere. “Come on, don’t act like you just saw a ghost.”

“Who?” is the only question that comes out of your mouth. Of course, San has had a crush before, but he’s never stopped screwing around unless he was actively dating that person. He’s a fuckboy, but he’s not a piece of shit at least. This is new.

“Lee Yeseul. I met her yesterday at the party, and she’s so sweet. She was so out of place at the party, and not in a mean way. She just…has such an aura around her.” San’s voice is soft even just talking about her and you get the feeling he’s being serious. “We’re meeting up for coffee today.”

“That’s…amazing, Sanah. I really hope it goes well for you,” you smile at him, pushing a bowl of oatmeal over to him. “Don’t forget to let me make a speech at your wedding.”

San chuckles, rolling his eyes at your jokes. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t you have study group today? Go there and stop bothering me.”

You ruffle his messy hair before planting a kiss on it and pinching his cheek. He blindly reaches around to smack at you but you dodge him easily, laughing as you head out to grab your keys. “See you later, Sanah. Have a good da-ate.”

San grumbles at you but ultimately returns to his food. You think you can hear him muttering about you being a pain in the ass and you smile to yourself. You don’t have the heart to tell him you know Lee Yeseul…and she’s a major bitch. You sincerely hope she’s sweet to San at least—he deserves the best. But you find her absolutely draining, especially with how often she talks about herself and doesn’t pay attention to anyone else ever. If she cries in your class one more time you think you might smack her yourself.

You still remember the time you had gotten a call that your grandfather had died, and after overhearing your conversation, instead of comforting you, she started talking about how “so many of my family members died in the past ten years.” Sure, maybe she was trying, but you’ve known about her antics enough that it was clear she just wanted to make it about her.

But if San likes her, who are you to interfere? He has a pretty good eye for who has a good personality so maybe Yeseul has changed. You’re not one to stop him. Not that you ever could. When he first started going out to party, you would tag along to make sure he wouldn’t make any bad decisions, but your efforts seldom paid off. You’re pretty sure he must be blessed since he somehow hadn’t pissed off anyone majorly enough to have them call a hit on him.

Shaking your head, you rid yourself of these thoughts and go to the library. There’s no use dwelling on it, the more you think about it, the worse your feeling about his crush on Yeseul gets. He’s a grown man, he doesn’t need you to parent him.

“Woah, who pissed in your cereal?” You should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to hide your bad mood from your study buddy, Hongjoong. Although you only see him for studying, you’re confident enough to call him your closest friend other than San. “Are you okay?”

You sigh, dropping your books on the table. It earns you a harsh ‘shh’ from the librarian which you apologise half-heartedly for. “Do you remember Yeseul? Lee Yeseul?”

Hongjoong’s brows raise high into his hairline. “The professional bitcher? What did she do now?”

“San’s into her, and with her personality, she’s probably loving the attention from the professional heartbreaker.” You groan, glaring at the cover of your organic chemistry textbook. “It’s none of my business if he cares for her, but damn, I wish he could’ve picked anyone else.”

Hongjoong hums, leaning forward and poking at the top of your head. “Look, you’ve been his friend for years. I think you have a bit more of a reason to poke your nose into his business than most. Give it a few weeks, and if it truly bothers you, then you can bring it up to San.”

You sigh. “Maybe.” You say nothing else on the topic and Hongjoong knows not to broach it anymore. Sometimes you wish he wasn’t so smart.

“YN, I didn’t know you knew Yeseul!” is the first thing San says to you one week after he returns from one of his many dates with her. “When I mentioned you being my roommate she told me you were in the same class as her.”

You wince to yourself as you take a long swig of your coffee. “Mmh, I didn’t think it was that relevant,” you say. You can practically hear Hongjoong rolling his eyes at your excuse. You know you should tell him your qualms about Yeseul, especially since the gross feeling in your gut has only gotten stronger. But you’re not sure you want to tread those waters. San’s sweet, but he’s loyal to a fault and probably wouldn’t like you talking badly about Yeseul.

San narrows his eyes, clearly suspicious but not willing to pry. “Well, maybe if we ever find you a date, we can go on a double date.” He moves on pretty quickly, though, walking over to lean over your shoulder and look at your laptop. “Still going on that paper?”

You hum, cracking your knuckles. “Yeah, it’s due tomorrow so I need to pump it out today and then get Hongjoong to look it over.” You lean back, letting your head rest on San’s torso as you yawn. “I can’t wait for this to be over so that I can graduate already.”

San laughs, leaning down to rest his chin on your head. “You’re smart. You can do this. And when you’re done, I’ll take you to a party and we can celebrate.”

You groan, shifting forward and putting your hands back on the keyboard. “Well, in that case, I should get back to writing this.” As you start typing again, you hear the buzzer ring and the warmth of San’s body leaves you as he goes to check who it is.

“Oh, hey, Yeseul! Come on up!” Your eyebrows raise into your hairline and your head snaps up. Why would Yeseul go to all this trouble of coming here? Didn’t they just see each other?

You close your eyes and take a couple of deep breaths before facing the dragon herself. You can hear the tell-tale sound of her voice pitched up to sound more sweet, although it’s grown to be grating on your ears. “Hi, Sannie,” she purrs and you have to refrain from retching. “I was on my way home but I realised it went right by your apartment so I figured I could come say hi. It doesn’t look like you’re too busy, right?”

“No, not at all,” San replies, and you hate how sweetly he talks to her. “YN is in too, she’s writing her final paper. Wanna say hi? She could probably use the distraction.”

No, I don’t need the distraction, is what you want to scream out, but your mother did not raise you like that although you wish she did. Instead, you just smile politely at the girl entering your kitchen. “Hello, Yeseul. Good to see you again.”

“Hey, YNie!” Her cheery nickname for you has your eye twitching. “How’s the paper going? I finished mine a few weeks ago so I’m home free. Just need to submit it.”

“That’s great, Yeseul,” you say, tone slightly more monotonous than you wanted it to be and San shoots you a look. “Hopefully you get a good grade on it.”

“Hey, would you want to join us for dinner?” San cuts in and you can already feel a headache starting to pulse behind your eyes. “I was going to order pizza since it’s my turn today and I’m not nearly as good of a cook as YN.”

“Oh, that would be lovely! I don’t mind whatever toppings,” Yeseul claps happily. The urge to punch her in the face increases bit by bit for you. San nods happily, stepping out into the living room to place the call. After a moment, Yeseul turns to you with puppy eyes and you brace yourself for whatever she has up her sleeve. “Could I trouble you for a glass of water, YNie?”

You try your best to keep your composure as you get up to fetch her a glass of water. She takes it without even a thank you and you decide you’d much rather die than deal with her any longer so you close your laptop with a sigh. “I’m actually meeting with a friend for dinner, but you definitely should stay and have fun,” you say, smiling as plausibly as you can. You do not have dinner plans but you’re sure you can figure it out.

When you go into your room, you’re drawing blanks. You’re still going out, but you’ll probably just end up calling a friend to complain. As you leave the room and grab your keys, San meets eyes with you and frowns. “Where are you going?”

“Ah, I promised to have dinner with a friend so I’m heading out. Enjoy your time with Yeseul, though.”

The furrow between San’s brows deepens. “But I already ordered the pizza.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I can bring the leftovers tomorrow for lunch. Sorry, I just forgot to tell you, but I really have to go now. Bye!” Before he can say goodbye as well, you slip out the door. The suffocating feeling that is encompassing you lifts and you sigh in relief, but then you somehow feel worse at the idea of San and Yeseul having fun and giggling and cuddling.

You shake your head again, trying to clear your muddled thoughts before setting down to go find your dinner. Fast food was the easiest option, and you figured you could at least sit in your car and wallow in self-pity.

After you receive your order you park and pull out your phone, scrolling through your contacts. You don’t want to call your family because as much as you love them, they can be a bit over-protective and probably will offer to help you find a different apartment and that would be a bit dramatic. In the end, Hongjoong is probably the next best option.

He doesn't pick up immediately, and you’re just about to hang up when the phone crackles and Hongjoong’s voice comes through. “Why are you calling me?”

You can’t help but bark out a laugh at his disgruntled tone. “Hongjoong, it’s a perfectly reasonable hour to call, don’t blame me for your shit sleeping schedule. Are you actually free though?”

Hongjoong sighs and if you focus you can hear the sound of him rolling over in bed. “What’s up?”

“It’s about Yeseul again. She came around today, and it was just…so suffocating. Like, why did San have to pick her? There’s so many girls, and out of them all he picks her? The most bitchy one I know?”

Hongjoong hums. “Why does it annoy you so much?”

You groan, leaning your head back and taking a long sip of your drink. “She’s self-centred, bitchy, and she’s just so fake. I don’t think this relationship will end well, Joong. Clearly he’s just blinded and she’s so manipulative.”

“But why are you so bothered by this specifically? I mean, sure we’ve had bad interactions with Yeseul, but you’re pretty nonchalant about the shit San gets up to and you like to let him deal with the consequences himself.”

You frown glaring at the phone although you know he can’t see it and you pop a fry into your mouth. “I don’t know. It just feels different. I feel like I should interfere this time. I mean, he’s a lot more serious this go around.”

Hongjoong hums, rolling once again as he yawns. “YN, be totally honest with me. This is a shot in the dark, but I think this is pretty important.” You hold your breath in anticipation. “Do you like San?”

“Oh sure, he’s a good friend–”

“You and I both know that’s not what I meant.” You bite your lip, stiffening in your chair. “YN, you need to be honest with yourself. The way you talk about San, you interact with him, it’s not how just roommates, just friends interact. You kiss each other's heads, YN. And it can be platonic, but I’ve rarely seen San do that to his female friends, and I’ve never seen you do that, period. You don’t even kiss me.” His voice turns teasing on the last bit but you’re too shocked to register.

Do you like San? You love him like a friend, of course. But when you think about him being with anyone else, even if it wasn’t Yeseul, something in you aches. When you think about San’s smile being directed to anyone else, you can feel a burning in your gut. The answer is clear, whether you like it or not.

“I…yes. I do.” The confession comes out quietly. “But I don’t want to do anything about it. Like you said, it’s up to San whether he likes Yeseul enough. I can’t interfere.”

You can practically hear the look Hongjoong would be levelling at you. “Why not?”

You shrug. “When San likes someone, nothing can stop him from liking someone unless he wants to. I’ll just let it run its course and hopefully my own feelings will vanish in the process.”

“That doesn’t sound very healthy, YN.”

You let out a despondent laugh. “Sure, probably not. But who knows? Maybe I can find someone else in the process.” You let out a sigh before glancing at your now-cold sandwich. “I gotta head out, but thanks for talking, Joong. I’ll see you in class.”

Hongjoong can barely say goodbye before you hang up the phone and lean back. This is going to be difficult. The more you see Yeseul, the more you know you’ll accidentally slip up and something will tip her and San off. Your headache is pulsing behind your eyes and you take a small bite of your sandwich, your appetite diminishing. You miss being a child and your biggest worry is that San sneezed on your lollipop.

With another groan, you wrap up the sandwich and just go for a late-night drive instead to clear your head. It’s something that has never failed to calm you down and keep your mind level. San always berates you for driving alone at night, but you’d like to say you’re pretty safe. Plus, even he has agreed that it’s pretty calming when—you frown, forcing thoughts of San to leave your brain.

You don’t really know how long you’ve been out, but it’s surely long enough that Yeseul has left. As you carefully open the door, there’s a long silence, and you sigh, happy you made it home free. But as you’re about to call out for San, you hear a high-pitched moan come from his bedroom. And it certainly is not San.

You almost turn tail and head right back out of the apartment when you hear San’s reverberating moans fill the house. Against your better judgment, you take off your shoes and step closer towards his bedroom. His bedroom door is cracked open and curse him for putting his mirror right in view where you can see him leaning back on his bed, his lower half hidden off the edge of it and you can only see Yeseul’s knees.

And in your head, you know it’s wrong. But your heart is beating out of your chest and you can feel heat building in your core. And, well, you’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve. You keep yourself pressed against the wall, staring at the way the muscles in San’s neck strain and the way he moans with every snap of his hips. You’re sure your panties are soaked through by now, and your teeth sink into your lower lip to keep yourself quiet. The taste of copper enters your mouth but you couldn’t care less.

It’s only when San sits up, probably to fuck into Yeseul better and he disappears from the mirror that you rip yourself away and escape into your own room. Not another thought enters your brain as you strip your leggings and underwear off, flopping on your bed and closing your eyes as you let your hand trail down to press against your slick pussy. It doesn’t take long for you to sink your fingers into your sopping cunt, turning your head to bury your face into your pillow.

The guilt in the back of your mind is quickly sent away as you imagine San’s hands fucking you instead. He’s always had well-worn hands, and your brain fogs up as you imagine him leaning forward to mouth at your neck as he fucks you.

Your brain flips back and forth between the idea of him eating you out so well and fucking so many loads into you with his thick cock that your stomach swells and you whimper into your pillow as your core tightens and you come onto your fingers. You feel tears prick your eyes as you get up to wipe your hands of the cream coating your fingers and toss the tissue in the trash. You’re not sure how you’ll be able to face San or Yeseul again after that.

You can feel the shame burning inside of you and you close your eyes and cry yourself to sleep silently.

Waking up is disorienting, your eyes red-rimmed and your bottom lip raw and blood dried on it. You feel like death and you’re pretty sure you can’t attend class like this. You lean over and grab your phone, yawning as you send your professor a text with a weak excuse. You don’t really care how plausible it is, Professor Jeong usually is quite understanding so you don’t worry about that for too long. San had texted you an hour ago, asking if you had come home, and you choose not to answer it.

You can hear mumbling in the other room, probably Yeseul and San sharing goodbyes, when you hear the door shut behind her. Unlike you, she’s probably happy to go to class and tell all her friends about her night with the campus fuckboy.

It takes another thirty minutes for you to finally roll out of bed and put some lotion on your face, hoping for the traces of the questionable night you had to erase from your face. Once you’re satisfied with your appearance, you venture out into your living room where San is standing by the door. “When did you get back?” he asks without even turning around. “I texted you like, an hour ago.”

You shrug, avoiding his eyes as you move into the kitchen to find breakfast. “I only just woke up, San.”

Your roommate gives a short huff, following close behind you. “Don’t you have class? Yeseul just left so you could walk with her.”

You try not to roll your eyes at the idea of that. “I’m not feeling well so I don’t think I’ll go.” “You’re not feeling well?” San’s voice deepens in concern and as you grab a yoghurt, he places his hand atop your forehead. “You are feeling pretty warm.”

At his touch, too many memories of last night flood through your brain and you shake away his hand. “Yeah. I’ll just go lie down for a little. Have a good day.”

Before he can say anything else, or realise your suspicious behaviour, you dodge past him and head off back into your room to hide. “I left your pizza in the fridge,” he calls after you and you just grunt in thanks before barricading yourself in your room.

You lean against the door for a minute before you realise you didn’t even grab a spoon. Unwilling to go back out there, you’ve resigned yourself to licking it out of the container like a cat when you hear a gentle knock at the door.

“I got you a spoon,” San’s unsure voice filters through the wooden door, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Thanks, San,” you murmur, turning to open the door a crack and take the proffered utensil. “Sorry for being short with you.”

His lips quirk into a half-smile, a silent acceptance of your apology. “I get it. Just get some rest, YN.”

You close the door again, this time a warm heart in your chest mixing with the guilt you still feel in your gut. You’re not sure how on earth you’re going to get over your feelings for San.

Avoiding San goes well for the most part. You are in your finals week anyway, and you’re spending most of your time at the library or in class. Your college’s library stays open for 24 hours during the last week of school anyways so some nights you’ve just been staying there until morning. Hongjoong disapproves heavily but doesn’t say much about it and you appreciate his support either way.

Avoiding Yeseul proves much harder. She seems to always find her way to wherever you happen to be, interrupting you and Hongjoong’s study sessions with a perfect smile and narrowed eyes. You don’t know what she wants from you, and you aren’t pleased with her presence.

But one evening, you’re about to leave the library to have some dinner when she corners you. “YN, let’s talk,” she says in that sickeningly saccharine voice of hers, looping her arm into yours and pulling you down the street. “I have some things to ask you.”

Unwilling, you try to tug your arm out of her grasp, but the girl is stronger than you expected. She pulls you all the way to her dorm on campus, sitting you down on her leather couch. “What is your relationship with Choi San?”

Her question comes so suddenly you need a minute to register. To her credit, Yeseul waits patiently for you to gather your thoughts. “He’s my friend and roommate?” you say as truthfully as you can muster, although you know it’s an absolute lie, and judging from her expression, Yeseul doesn’t believe you either.

“Don’t take me as a fool, YN. The way he talks about you is undeniable.”

“That seems like something you should be talking to him about,” you say, attempting to get up from the couch but Yeseul just pushes you back down.

“I’ve tried. He just tells me there’s nothing to worry about and I don’t believe that,” Yeseul grits through her teeth.

And you have to give it to her. She did try to come to San about her worries. But the way she refuses to trust him grates on your nerves. He stopped his fuckboy activities to be with her, and yet she’s worried about you, one of the few girls who isn’t all over him at any moment. You arch a brow. “Do you not trust him?”

Yseul scoffs. “Of course not. He’s a fuckboy. But I like the status I get with him. I just don’t want to end up embarrassed.”

Well, that will be inevitable, you can’t help but think to yourself. No matter how much your relationship with San is strained, you’re not about to let Yeseul talk shit about him like he isn’t genuinely trying for her.

“That’s where you come into play,” Yeseul’s smirk turns sharp. “I’m going to call San. Ask him to choose between us. If he chooses you, then I want you to stay far, far away from him.”

You shrug. No matter the outcome, it’s not like you’re not already keeping your distance from San. In the end, you’ll just tell him to break up with her and let him deal with the chaos himself. “Go ahead,” bitch.

San picks up on the first ring. “Yeseul?” He’s cheery and your heart aches at the thought of Yeseul breaking his so easily. “What’s the occasion?”

“Hey, babe, I just have a quick question, and I need you to answer truthfully for me, okay?” At his pause, she takes that as a go-ahead. “Who would you pick? Me or YN.”

There’s a long silence on the phone. “Yeseul, we need to break up.”

Only one thing unites you and Yeseul in this moment, and it’s your shared confusion for San’s reaction. “What do you mean?” her voice turns panicked. “Isn’t that a little far?”

“You’ve been stuck on this, and I don’t know how much I have to reassure you, Yeseul. I haven’t even seen YN for the past two weeks. And she’s my closest friend. I’m not dropping her for a two-week relationship. I hope you have a good time, Yeseul.”

Before you can react at all, Yeseul screeches and points an accusing finger at you. “This is all your fault, YN!”

Your jaw drops at her absolute audacity. “My fault? What are you on? I was just trying to live peacefully when you dragged me into this plot ignoring my advice. I told you to talk to him, to just fucking trust him. God, you’re an idiot. And I’m going home.”

Without another word, you leave, still fuming over that interaction. Couldn’t she just have made the call without you? You’re happy you don’t have to do all the convincing for San to leave her, but that just complicates things for you. Would he really so easily drop Yeseul just for you? From what you’ve heard, he was practically head over heels for her.

With another sigh, you head back to the library. You need to finish that exam.

“Pens down, and turn in your exams,” you hear the professor call, and you don’t think you’ve ever gotten up so fast. You’re so, so fucking happy that you’ve finished your last year and now you’re free.

As soon as your professor accepts your paper you race out of the lecture hall, only stopped by the cafeteria when you hear someone call your name. Lee Juyeon, someone you’ve started growing closer to, waves you down. “Hey, YN, congrats on finishing!” he smiles at you and you can’t help but smile back, the giddiness contagious.

“Thanks! You too,” you say, pulling him into a hug. “It’s so nice to be done.” Practically nothing could dampen your mood, especially seeing Juyeon. He’s sweet, and you have an inkling he likes you. And you’re not opposed to it.

“It really is,” Juyeon agreed cheerfully. “Look, I have to go celebrate with my family, I just wanted to say hi. But hey…there’s this end of the year party on Saturday, and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

And your suspicions were right. You think about it for a moment. You’re not the biggest party person, anyone knows that, but Juyeon is sweet and just what you need, so you accept eagerly. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to exchange numbers and for him to promise to send you more details before he runs off. And through your excitement, you know you still have to go meet with San who’s probably waiting for you just outside. He wanted to see you as soon as you finish your exams, and you didn’t have the heart to decline.

“Congratulations on finishing your last exam, YN!” San cheers as soon as you exit the college building. “I’m so proud of you!”

You’re too tired to complain when San sweeps you up into a hug, just letting yourself relax in his firm arms. After all this work, you think you’ll let yourself indulge in his affection. “Thanks, Sanah. I appreciate it.” You let your chin rest on his broad shoulder, closing your eyes and letting the exhaustion take over you. “Can I go to bed now?”

You hear him chuckle, the vibrations from his chest comforting you. “Yeah, yeah. We can celebrate later. Come on.”

He tugs you all the way to your apartment, dropping you on the couch and quickly curling right up next to you. You can’t bring yourself to care. “I’m proud of you,” he repeats into your hair as he tucks your head into his neck. Your eyes flutter shut.

When you reopen them, it’s bordering on evening. San is no longer wrapped around you, and you can hear him moving about in the kitchen. “San,” you call out, voice raspy from having just woken up. “What are you doing?”

“Ah, I’m making dinner,” he responds, his voice too warm for your liking, your heart beating just a little faster. “Come and eat.”

With a bit of difficulty, you rise from the couch and move to the kitchen, taking a seat at the counter. “Japchae? When did you learn how to cook this?”

San chuckles. “Wooyoung taught me the other day because he was bored. I figured it’d be a nice surprise for you after all your hard work.”

Your lips twitch, unsure if you should smile or pout. “That’s sweet. Thank you again, San.”

As you start eating the noodles (there’s a little too much sesame but you don’t have the heart to tell San that), San clears his throat. “So…I promised to take you to a party.”

You vaguely remember this conversation. “Ah, yeah. What did you have in mind?”

“There’s this end of the year party, it’s supposed to be the biggest one, hosted by Jackson Wang.”

“Ah–” you shake your head, eyes apologetic. “I promised someone else I’d go with them. I didn’t know that was the party you wanted to take me to. Maybe we can do something else on a different day?”

San’s lips turn downward the slightest bit. “That’s okay. There are other parties. Who invited you, by the way?” His tone is casual, and yet you still feel like you’re walking into the lion’s den.

“Ah, Lee Juyeon from college. I think he’s in Hongjoong’s philosophy department, but he’s a year behind. He’s cute so I figured I’d give it a try.”

“It’s a date?” Your brows furrow at the heaviness in San’s voice but you pay it no mind and nod. “I see. Well, have fun.”

The rest of the dinner is filled with silence, San picking at his food and you in no mood to try and dissect his mood. He takes your empty bowl and starts doing the dishes, and you mumble out a thank you before running back to your room. He’s clearly not willing to talk more and it’s best to give him space.

As you lay in bed, you can’t help but worry about what is so grating on his mind after you mentioned your date. You can’t think of anything that would cause him to be angry—as far as you’re aware he has no grudges against Lee Juyeon, much less met him. Shaking your head, you try and fall asleep. It’s best not to dwell on it, you can just ask him tomorrow.

It’s Saturday, and you’re in a foul mood. San hasn’t spoken to you in the four days leading up to the party, avoiding you like there’s no tomorrow. The only saving grace comes in the form of Juyeon’s excited texts, telling you all about his outfit for the party, and you respond with matching enthusiasm. When you meet with Juyeon in front of the large house where the party is held, the thought of San isn’t even on your mind. Instead, you just take Juyeon’s offered hand and follow him into the party.

You weave through the bodies, reaching the counter where shots are being passed around. “Want vodka or tequila?” Juyeon asks, his voice pitching higher to be heard over the bass. Without answering him, you just reach for the bottle of tequila, pouring the two of you shots. “Good choice,” Juyeon laughs, throwing his head back as he downs the alcohol, you following suit shortly.

“You know, I never pegged you for a college party fan,” you lean in, laughing. “Maybe I should hang out with you more.”

Juyeon chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Maybe you should. I know great party-throwers. Although I’ve heard you’ve been to your fair share, what being San’s friend and all.”

You shake your head, a smile on your face. “Maybe at first, but you know, organic chemistry isn’t an easy major to balance with a party life.”

Juyeon laughs loudly, bumping you with his hip. “I understand the pain. Philosophy falls into that category of majors too. Another shot?”

You take the second shot happily, letting the alcohol burn through your veins as you stumble alongside Juyeon’s wandering through the crowd. Whatever you’re doing is a blur, all you can focus on is Juyeon’s smile and his warm hand holding yours.

It feels like barely a moment has passed when Juyeon pulls you into a nearly empty room of couches, only a few other couples lingering in the corners. “I hope you’ve been enjoying yourself,” Juyeon starts, his eyes sparkling as he takes in your appearance. “It’s been fun hanging out.”

“I did too,” you agree with a small smile, looking up at him through your lashes.

He leans in, and you lean in, and your lips brush. It’s a sweet kiss, one that you lean into as Juyeon wraps his arms around your waist. It’s warm and you smile into it. And then a familiar face pops into your head. You wonder to yourself how San would kiss you, if he would do it as sweetly as Juyeon or if he would devour your lips like it was his last meal.

When Juyeon pulls away for air, you feel guilt burning in your stomach again. Why would you think of other men when Juyeon’s right here in front of you? As Juyeon leans in to kiss you again, you almost move back before a hand grips your shoulder and pulls you into a broad chest.

“Hey, man, I’m going to have to talk to YN if you don’t mind.” You’d recognise your best friend’s voice anywhere, and it only serves to fill you with annoyance. Sure, you weren’t as into Juyeon’s kisses as you expected, but it doesn’t mean you’re thrilled to be interrupted by the man who’s been ignoring you.

Juyeon takes one look at San, and something changes in his eyes. A mix of reluctance and acceptance, and with a short nod and smile towards you, he slips away from you. You turn to San, frowning at the sharpness in his narrowed eyes, not one you’re used to seeing or enjoy seeing. “Why would you kiss him?” he spits, and your annoyance grows with confusion being added to the mix.

“What do you mean, ‘why kiss him’? I told you, San, I was on a date. Why the fuck did you interrupt us?”

“I like you.” Those three words would be a dream for you to hear from his mouth…if you weren’t so pissed.

“No, fuck that. I do not need to hear that from you right now. Not when I was enjoying my night with Juyeon. What was confessing supposed to do for you, San? It’s too late now. I wanted to enjoy this party, and now I have to go apologise to Juyeon for you.” San opens his mouth to speak, but you shake your head, pushing him away from you.

You leave San standing by himself as you search for Juyeon, your mood immediately souring. Why would he fucking do this to you? You can feel tears burning your eyelids and you abandon your search for Juyeon, searching instead for some liquor to take away your embarrassment.

As you pour yourself another shot of tequila, you notice a familiar face, Hongjoong talking to a girl you recognise as someone he hangs out with sometimes. They look like they’re getting it on and you feel a little bad, but you need his advice. “Hey, Kim Hongjoong!” you call out to him, waving him over. Hongjoong’s eyes brighten and he makes his way over, leaving the girl staring after him longingly, but her attention is soon taken away by two other guys. You recognise one of them from the cafeteria but you don’t remember his name.

“Hey, YN, what’s up? I didn’t expect to see you here, did San take you?” Your face falls and Hongjoong realises he stepped into dangerous territory. “Okay, what happened?”

“I can’t believe San is mad at me for kissing someone at the party,” you groan after explaining to Hongjoong the events leading up to now. “Sure, maybe it wasn’t the best move on my part but he’s had like, twenty million one-night stands, and yet I can’t kiss someone else? He hasn’t even talked to me after I mentioned going on a date. And yet he looked positively murderous after he saw me kissing that other guy.”

Hongjoong tilts his head, confused. “Isn’t that what you wanted, though? You like him.”

“I did! I do! But I’m so sick of waiting around for him, and I could’ve had a chance at liking someone else. He’s all over the place, and I don’t know if that’s what I want in a man.” You’re lying to both Hongjoong and yourself, and Hongjoong knows it, raising an eyebrow.

“Honestly, YN, it just sounds like you need to talk to him.” Hongjoong crosses his arms, tapping his foot and eager to back to the girl was with, but also not wanting to ditch you in your time of need. You feel a little bad for pulling him away, but your mind is swirling with so many thoughts, you don’t know if you can sort them out by yourself and drinking to erase those thoughts is not something you like to do. You’re not San.

And speak of the devil, you smell his familiar cologne before his hand lands on your shoulder and pulls you into his chest. You whirl around out of his grip and glare at him. “Get off me,” you snap. “I’m in the middle of a conversation right now, Choi San.”

With one glance at Hongjoong, he raises his hands and winks at you. “Have that talk, YN. It’ll do you more good than harm.”

Oh, you’re going to kill that traitor after the party. You turn your attention back to San, your mouth twisted into a frown. “You make this quick or else.”

San has the decency to look a little ashamed as his eyes shake. “Can we talk on the patio? It’s too loud in here.”

With a dramatic sigh, you grab his wrist and pull him through the crowd to the back door, practically slamming it behind you. You can see the eyes of people interested in the drama through the windows but you pay it no mind. “Speak. You get five minutes before I go back in and you don’t talk to me again for the rest of the night.”

San’s face falls and his lips pull into a pout. But no matter how subconsciously adorable he is, you refuse to fall for his charms this time. The heat of anger is still curling in your gut when you think about the argument from earlier. “YN, come on, I had a good reason.”

You shake your head, ignoring the strands of hair that fall into your eyes. “No, San. Confessing to me is not a good reason to fuck up my night. You didn’t even apologise. You’ve been ignoring me for days after I mentioned my date, and the moment I kiss Juyeon you get all angry and jealous? Be for real.” You pause for breath, glaring daggers into his eyes. “You are not owed my time, especially after that shit you pulled. Yeseul’s jealousy is why you broke up with her, so why are you like this to me?”

San’s gaze intensifies and you can see him actively trying to reign in his temper. Although he does his best to remain calm, if tempers are rising, he can be intense. “YN, what was I supposed to do? Watch you go out with him? Watch you slip from my fingers just like that?”

“Yes!” you all but scream at him. “If I could sit by and let Yeseul take each little bit of your heart, you could’ve done the same! I was going to be happy, San! I wouldn’t have to sit behind and watch you from the sidelines with my heart slowly cracking. But I don’t get that same courtesy.”

You step forward, poking his chest with a finger as you let loose your storm of thoughts. In your anger, you don’t even notice San’s arm moving until it wraps around your waist and pulls you into him. The action shocks you enough that you stop mid-sentence, your finger still pressing into San’s flesh. “You love me?” San leans in, his nose brushing against yours.

You can feel heat flare up in your face as you stare wide-eyed at him. It takes you a moment to register your compromising position and you stumble back, pushing at his chest. “Don’t do that,” you hiss, turning your eyes away. “I don’t like you, San. Not anymore.”

“You’re lying.” San’s voice is firm. “Look at me in the eyes and tell me you don’t like me anymore.”

You don’t know where you got it from. You’ve never been good at lying, not to San. Maybe it was the alcohol burning through your system, mixing with the shame and anger you feel. But this time, you stare him directly in the eye and say the four words that might’ve been the biggest lie in your life. “I don’t like you.” San’s brows furrow and he shakes his head.

“No–”

“Yes, San. You cannot just waltz around and expect me to keep the patience I had for you. I’m sick of being pulled around like a puppet. Maybe at first you didn’t know. But refusing to give me space when I asked for it?” You shake your head, glancing back at the party. “I’m going back in. We can talk about the apartment lease later.”

Without glancing back, you re-enter the house. And maybe it hurts a little that he doesn’t go after you, but at this point, you’re too numb and all you want to do is go home and cry. But home is not an option, not when it would probably be the first place he would look for you. Fighting back the tears threatening to fall from your eyes, you slide into your car, staring blankly at the wheel for a long moment until you feel composed and sober enough to drive.

And drive you certainly do. You’re not quite sure where you’re going, and you’re plenty aware that this is a bad idea, but you just let yourself go around and calm yourself down first. The crisp breeze paired with the warm spring air does wonders to clear your head and paired with the late times, there are not too many cars out. It’s peaceful.

You’re not too sure how long you were out, but it’s long enough for the blurry memory of the argument to clear and you groan, pulling over to park by the side of the road and let your head hit the steering wheel. You went too far. San had always been the more emotional of you two, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. He must’ve had a hard time with Yeseul, and although it doesn’t excuse him, you never gave him a chance to properly apologise.

With a sigh, you check your phone to see five missed calls and twenty texts from San asking where you are. He somehow even got your neighbours (a sweet couple in their twenties who babysit Byeol sometimes) to ask you if you’re okay. As your finger hovers over the call button, debating whether to call him back, bright headlights shine behind your car and you stiffen. Your hand hovers over the pepper spray you keep in the dash as you press the call button in a panic. No matter what the disagreement was about, you know San would still come to your aid if you needed it.

“YN, open the door. I’ve been worried sick!” San’s voice crackles through the receiver and you spin around in your seat, squinting at the figure standing behind your car and your shoulders sag in relief.

“God, San, you scared the shit out of me!” you scold, leaning over to unlock the passenger seat and push the door open while hanging up the call. “Get in here.”

A haggard-looking San slides in, his eyes red-rimmed and mouth pressed into a thin line. The car that drove him turns and you look back in confusion before San starts explaining. “I wanted to give you space so I stayed at the party,” he starts explaining after a moment. “But I got worried and went to the apartment to find you. But you weren’t there, and I asked all your friends. I’m lucky you left your location on, and my friend gave me a ride.”

You wince. You forgot about turning off your location, although you’re glad you didn’t as it would’ve been more dangerous otherwise. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, turning your eyes to look out the windshield. “I just needed to clear my head so I went for a drive.”

There’s a long period of suffocating silence between the two of you when San finally speaks, his voice quiet. “I’m sorry,” he starts and your head snaps towards him, eyes wide. Of all the things you expected to fall from his lips, an apology is not one of those things. Not tonight, at least. “I was too pushy. I shouldn’t have ignored you, or interrupted your time with Juyeon. I should’ve talked to you like an adult.”

You laugh, resting your head on the steering wheel. “What an astute observation, San. However did you come to that conclusion?” Your exasperation is evident in your tone and San sucks in a breath at how done you seem. “Look, San. I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be that bad. But I’m just…tired. I’m tired of always wondering what is running through your mind, where I am in your list of importance. You date Yeseul, but break up with her over me. You give me the cold shoulder when I go on a date, but suddenly me being on a date is unacceptable. I just don’t know how to take anything.”

Against your will, tears start to drop onto your thighs, streaking down the skin and you sniff. “Shit,” San panics beside you. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He hands you a tissue and you take it with shaking hands, pressing your face into it as San tugs you closer, guiding you to lean against him.

He repeats soft little ‘sorry’s and leans his head atop yours, his tears falling onto your hair. The two of you stay in this position for a long while, no words are needed to understand the emotional moment.

“Let’s go home, YN,” San mumbles, his voice vibrating deep in your heart. “Let’s go home and we can talk tomorrow.”

You sniff again, tears run dry as you sit up and wipe your eyes. “Okay,” you whisper out. “Let’s go home.”

San stays attached to you throughout the drive home, his hand gripping onto your own hand whenever he can, and quickly wrapping you into a back hug as you walk up to the apartment. “I…cuddle with me tonight?” you ask, eyes flitting away from his face, missing the brilliant smile that spreads across it.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he hums, walking with you to his room, and he lets you slide in first, the smell of his detergent filling your mind and your eyelids flutter shut already. San crawls in next to you, pulling you close.

“Good night, YN,” San mumbles as your breathing evens out. As you drift off into sleep, you swear you feel his soft lips on your forehead but you dismiss it as wishful thinking.

When you reawaken, San’s still curled up, your body covered by his, his breathing slow and gentle. You can’t help but blink a couple of times to make sure it isn’t a dream when his arms tighten around your waist and he shifts. “YN?” His morning voice is as rough as always, rumbling low in his chest.

“Hey, Sanah,” you greet him quietly, leaning up to meet his eyes blinking slowly at you like a cat’s. “Good morning.”

“Hi.” He dips his head to nuzzle into your neck, breathing in your scent. “I should probably explain myself.” His voice vibrates against your neck and you giggle softly at the ticklish feeling.

“That would be nice.”

San huffs, but he can’t complain about your snark. “I like you, YN. I don’t know when I started to, and I definitely didn’t realise I did until I started dating Yeseul. I did like her, but not as deeply as I thought I did. It was so easy to break up with her as soon as she made me pick between you and her. The answer came to me without a doubt in my mind as soon as the question left her lips, and yet I still didn’t realise my true feelings.” He laughs self-deprecatingly, and you stroke his hair comfortingly. “I didn’t realise why I was so pissed about you going out with Juyeon, and that’s why I was avoiding you. It’s a stupid reason, I know. But I just didn’t know why, not until I saw you at the party kissing him. I just wanted to be there instead of you. And I’m sorry, and I understand if you don’t like me anymore, but–”

“I love you.”

His head snaps up to stare at you after your sudden declaration, and after he registers your words a smile spreads across his face. He puffs out a breathy chuckle and you know his answer before he even says it. “I love you too.”

His eyes shine like you’ve hung the stars in the skies, and when they flit down to your lips, you know an unspoken question when you see it. You lean forward slowly, letting your eyes close once more when your lips meet his.

And damn, you were right about how San kisses. In a second, he deepens the kiss, bringing his hands up to cup your face while his tongue swipes at your lips. Shyly, you part your lips and he dives right in, licking into your mouth and biting at your lips.

“Sanah,” you gasp into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his plush lips. “Sanah–”

You repeat his name like a prayer as his lips travel down to your neck, littering wet kisses and bite marks all over your sensitive skin. “Fuck, baby, you’re so sweet to me,” San moans against your body. “Please, please, let me treat you right, make it up to you. Let me worship you.”

You whine as he laves his tongue over your breasts spilling out of the crop top you had worn last night. Any other time you would’ve stressed at how gross the clothes were but right now you could hardly even think about it. “Fuck, yes, please,” you beg when San nips at your cleavage, leaving a mark.

“Ah, already begging for me,” San groans, his hips pressing into your legs. “You’re so perfect.” His voice grows whiney as his sucks on your nipples, making your back arch.

His kisses move down your body until his breath is ghosting over your stomach and his hands are pawing at your pants, shoving them down as quickly as he can. He doesn’t have the same amount of minimal patience for your panties, and before you can react, he’s ripped them off your legs. “Choi San!” you scold, shifting to try and sit up but his grip on your hips stops you from moving too far.

“I’ll buy you a new pair,” San promises before diving right in and sucking at your clit without another moment’s hesitation. Your hips jerk and your core tightens at the sudden feeling as you throw your head back and moan so loudly it’s bordering on a scream

His ministrations on your dripping cunt have you wordless. His fingers are pressing into your hip bones, the sensation making you squirm. As soon as his tongue breaches your clenching hole your hands fly down to grasp at his hair. “Fuck–” you squeal, your legs attempting to close but San just pushes them apart again, busying himself in your folds.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” San groans, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine as he lets his teeth scrape against your clit. You can hardly focus on anything at the barrage of sensations filling you up, San fucking his tongue into you so well. Your thighs are shaking as you can feel yourself grow wetter and wetter against his face.

When you tilt your head down, he meets your eyes as he moves one of his hands to push a finger into your hole. “Shit–” your grip on his hair tightens impossibly. “Sanah–”

“Come for me, love,” San groans, and you let the dam break, screaming out his name until your voice is hoarse, and San licks up your release through it all.

When he finally pulls away from your twitching and sensitive core, his lips are covered in your glistening slick, thick globs of it sitting pretty on his chin. Without thinking, you pull him down and crash your lips against his, tasting yourself on his tongue. San groans as you lick his face clean, shoving your tongue deep into his mouth.

“Fuck, I need to fuck you right now or else I think I might go insane,” San growls, blindly fumbling in his nightstand to pull out a condom as he shoves down his sweats to reveal his hard, red cock. Without another thought, he opens the pack with his teeth, rolling the latex down his length with ease thanks to the precum dribbling down it.

He lines up, the tip of it kissing your hole, when you groan. You’re much too impatient for this, reaching down and holding him steady as you shift your body to sink onto his thick cock. “Shit, YN,” San grits out as you take him deeper and deeper until your cunt kisses his crotch. “You’re too much.”

You pant, shifting on his cock as you try to get used to the stretch. He’s not the longest you’ve had, but he’s thick and the stretch is almost too much. “You’re fucking talking, you fill me up so fucking well, Sanah.” You hiss as you throw your head back, the stinging melting into pleasure. “Fuck me already, San. Or should I go and find Juyeon to–”

You’re cut off by San thrusting into you so violently that you swear the bed shakes. “I don’t want to hear that fucking name out of your mouth anymore,” San commands, leaning forward until his body weight pins you down and your eyes roll back as he starts fucking into you with short, quick thrusts.

With every movement, you feel like you may break apart. You can hear every slick sound, the sound of it obscene, and yet all you want is more. Your previous release coats his cock so well, thick strings of it attaching to his hips.

His arms wrap around your waist, and before you can protest or do anything, he hoists you up until you’re sitting in his lap. You swear this angle makes him impale you even deeper, his cockhead kissing the perfect spot deep inside you. Your head drops to San’s shoulder, moaning against the fabric of his shirt. “Fuck, San, you’re so deep,” you moan high-pitched. “You’re so fucking good for me.”

San growls, pressing a kiss behind your ear. “You’re so tight for me, so much better than Yeseul. I saw you in the mirror, you know,” he whispers conspiratorially and you gasp and clench, snapping your head to look at him. “You’re not as sneaky as you thought, love. Did you touch yourself to the thought of me fucking you so well?”

You whine, words failing you, and San’s hips slow to a stop. You try your best to grind against him but his hands grip your waist, keeping you still. “Please–” you try to beg but San chuckles and nips at your earlobe.

“Answer me, YN.”

“Fuck– Yes!” you cry out, so eager for him to start moving again. “Wanted you to fill me with your cum so well until it was spilling out of me. Please, please, please, fuck me.”

“Hm.” And without any warning, San jerks his hips up into you, biting into your neck like a fucking vampire and you scream, hips stuttering as you come on his cock. You don’t think you’re making any coherent noises, just babbling into his neck as your bones become jelly from the overstimulation.

If you thought the sounds were obscene before, you swear they’ve become ten times worse as you lay limp against San’s body. He’s moving you up and down his cock like a doll and you pant, squeezing your eyes shut as you still feel aftershocks from your orgasm.

“Shit, you’re so warm around me, I’m gonna come,” San moans in your ear, his rhythm breaking as he drops your weight on his cock. You can feel him twitching inside you as his teeth sink into your neck once more. “God, I want to fill you up so badly, but that’s just going to have to wait, my love.”

After a long moment, he pulls out, groaning at your come coating the condom and his thighs. Without thinking, he dips his fingers in the mess and brings it to his mouth, licking it off like it’s the most delicious thing in the world to him. “Come here, baby,” he says in that beautifully raspy voice, and you lean forward, meeting his lips in another kiss.

This kiss is sweet and soft, but the lingering taste of your shared releases still permeates your taste buds. You sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder as he lays against the wall with you in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises again, pressing another kiss to the top of your head and it’s almost like he hadn’t fucked you like it was your last day on earth. “I won’t ever leave you again.”

You hum, turning your head to pepper kisses over his neck freckles. “I should be the one saying that. I love you, San. And I’ll always run to you with no hesitation.”

652 notes · View notes

sankttealeaf · 7 months

Note

First of all happy birthday!!!!

Second of all omg I love your writing, and the prompts you just shared.?? Could I request gn Tav and Astarion for the:

⋆ "i'd still know you." Bonus points if it is not ascended Astarion saying this to Tav 👀

Thank you in advance if you choose to write this and have a great birthday!! ❤️

thank you!!! ended up thinking too much about astarion "ah yes i will manipulate tav into doing what i want - oh no i think am in love" baldur'sgate3 too much while writing this. i hope you enjoy it!!<3

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"i'd still know you" [prompt list <- send me another!] [ao3]

pairing ; astarion x gender neutral!reader

summary ; Astarion's plan is fool-proof until you come along and start to break it down brick by brick.

other info ; may have gone a little wild with this. a deeper look into astarion and tav's relationship throughout the game and how easily astarion's walls were broken down by them. mainly astarion pov but kind of jumps between tav + astarion thoughts

warnings ; manipulation, astarion backstory, implied sexual content but nothing explicitly mentioned, things get resolved in the end

word count ; 3.2k

“I don't need to know where we begin and end, I'd still know you”

De Selby (Part 2) - Hozier

When he first meets you, Astarion thinks you are a fool.

He despises the way you offer to help anyone in need, no questions asked. It’s even worse when you deny any form of payment for it. He cannot help but allow the frustration to take over each time you get side-tracked. Why now must he meet someone with so much goodness in their heart after he spent centuries suffering? Why must you be so kind?

Your kindness consumes him as he spends his days trying to figure out ways to use it against you. He’ll need help with his own personal goals and it would be oh so easy to exploit how eager you were to help others. He buries you with pretty words and sultry looks and can feel you falling for his trap, hook, line, and sinker.

You begin to seek him out each morning and night, asking for his opinions on things and listening to everything he has to say. He finds it amusing each time you walk up to him with a list of things to talk about. You even start to offer your own blood to him after the rather unfortunate incident of catching him trying to feed on you. Really, this was too easy.

Laying with you after the party with the tieflings is only to cement the snare he places around you. It was hunting season and you were the poor deer that fell into his trap. A shame, but it mattered not to him. He gets what he wants and you get to feel useful helping someone. It doesn’t matter what emotions he has to exploit along the way. Each time he feels himself grow distant during the entanglement you brought him back, fingers tracing his skin and pulling him closer. When you feel the harsh lines of his scar and a frown appears on your face, he distracts you with a kiss, any questions melting away in your mind instantly.

A fool-proof plan, and Astarion is executing it perfectly so far.

As time passes on he starts to find himself waiting for you to approach him in the evenings. He pretends to not care but every time he hears you approach he feels anxiety gnawing in his stomach and if his heart could beat he was certain it would be pounding. He’s managed to memorise the sound of your footfalls whenever you get near his tent, a small thing he assumes is just another step in his plan. That’s what everything was, another box to tick, another thing to cross off. He was remembering things about you to use against you - no other reason.

Recently you have been giving him books you pick up along your travels, claiming you had heard him talking about the lack of “good reading material” to Gale one morning. He stacks each one neatly in his tent, keeping them to himself and refusing to share. You got them for him, after all. He searches his brain for days on ways to repay you for the ever-growing library in his tent and has to stop himself because that is not part of his plan. He isn’t supposed to want to thank you. It’s like you entered his well-defended home and started to disarm all the traps aimed at you. You broke down the walls with such care, placing the bricks to the side to rebuild into something else. He can’t stop you from doing so, no matter how hard he tries.

With each kind gesture he notices more about you. The way you laugh loudly at camp with the others or how you make each person you speak to feel like they are the most important person in the world. He yearns to speak to you, to get his share of loot or hear a funny story from your day. He wants you around him and it confuses him. Your kindness is infectious and Astarion begins to feel like a fever is brewing inside him. He needs to sweat it out yet the only thing he finds craving for is you. Always you.

Why must it be you?

He hears you approach before he looks up from his book, already throwing a suggestive comment your way to see your cheeks flush and your eyes dart around nervously. You ask if he’s doing alright and Astarion decides that this is the perfect time to be vulnerable with you. He wants to know if his plan was working, if you truly would do anything for him. You listen carefully with bated breath as he lays out his backstory to you, how he wants revenge on his master for all the years of torture and torment he was put through. Even though he had been hoping for it, he’s still shocked when you tell him you will help him get his vengeance in any way possible.

Of course you would help him. He has been betting on your kindness all this time, it’s why he chose you to begin with. Yet as you walk away he cannot help but feel seen for the first time in years. You want to help him. You are willing to put your life on the line to help him. He swallows down a bubble of guilt and ignores how sick he is feeling. Any more of this and he was certain he would perish.

For the next few days you talk to him first. Every morning and every evening you would check in and at first he waits for you to take back your offer to kill Cazador with him, but you never do. The only time he spots that you have doubts is when he mentions how he should be the one to ascend, not his master. He should have the power, right? It’s only fair after all. When you tell him that you didn't think that was a good idea, he’s caught off guard. Power is what he always wanted and you are refusing to help him? The conversation ends with a bitter taste in his mouth and you walking away from him. He wants to reach out for you but he can’t.

It’s fine, he tells himself. With enough convincing, you will support his need for ascension. You had to. He wants you by his side, after all.

There’s a lack of conversations with you going forward from that point, the whole talk of becoming a powerful vampire lord being something you weren’t entirely wanting to help Astarion go through with. You mention how he’s just continuing the cycle of abuse, that he’ll be as trapped as Cazador is, but you aren’t sure if Astarion is even listening to you. So, you decided it was best to give him space and let him come to that conclusion by himself. And if he doesn’t? Well, you suppose there will be two vampires you’ll have to kill in the future.

Even if you aren’t talking, you still look out for him when you find yourself in combat. A gentle touch of his arm as you move around him to flank an enemy, throwing your last potion of healing his way, finding high ground for him to run to for a better advantage. You seek him out at the end of the fight to check he wasn’t too badly injured and he notices you only give cursory glances at the others. When you’re happy he isn’t too hurt, you give a gentle squeeze of his arm before going to rummage through the dead bodies for loot. The warmth from your hand lingers on his arm long after you are gone and he finds himself holding the area, watching as you call over Lae’zel to show her some new weapons that could be of use. Still, after killing enemies, you treat everyone with kindness.

The walls around him are fully gone now and he can’t help but wait for you to come back to him again. Perhaps the traps in his metaphorical house aren’t there to keep anyone out, but to keep him in.

You begin to talk to him again, dancing around the topic of Cazador and his plans for taking his master’s place like a deadly waltz. The closer you get to Baldur’s Gate the more Astarion’s plans weigh heavily in the air. Your uncertainty that it is the best option begins to rub off on him and one night he finds himself doubting that this is really what he wants. Of course it was, he wants the power and the control. But that meant losing you - you made your stance clear one day as you travelled, catching him in conversation to tell him you would not be by his side if he chose to complete the ritual himself. You walked away before he could question you further.

Your opinion is ruining him. It’s wrecking everything in his mind and leaving him stranded on an island he isn’t sure he wants to be on anymore. His plan made sense when he could picture you by his side, probably not as an equal - he didn't want to worry about another vampire fighting for his rule over the city, after all, but maybe as a loyal spawn. You are already so loyal to everyone, it would be like nothing changed! But everything will change. You are in his head. He wishes he had never picked you to be the target of this plan. How could he be so foolish? Of course your kindness wouldn't allow him to grow in power. You are too, too kind.

Astarion thinks himself a fool.

Defeating Cazador is a brutal task that he has only ever dreamed of seeing to completion. He stands at a crossroads now, knowing he could easily complete the ritual for himself and ascend to the god-like power that Cazador wanted. It would be so easy to do so, yet he looks back at where you stand with the others and something in him breaks. Something in him snaps and it feels like all those traps he set up around him suddenly went off with him in the middle of it. It’s cathartic, with each plunge of the dagger into his master’s chest Astarion feels like this is what he deserves. Over and over again he settles into this weird mixture of grief and anger and allows himself to have his moment of complete power over Cazador. It’s not the ascension he wants, but the one he deserves.

You watch from the sidelines as he allows his anger to consume him, Cazador lying limp in front of him as he repeats the motion of getting his vengeance. You turn your head away to let him have this moment to himself.

He’s distant that night. His plans are complete and there’s nothing left for him to worry about except removing the parasite. He’ll return to the life of shadows and can only hope you would still want to be around him when all is said and done. No matter how badly the outcome of this drags him down he still can’t bring himself to be angry at you for causing him to doubt it. Frustrated or annoyed, maybe, but never angry.

So when he can’t find you at camp, he starts to worry.

Gale calls for everyone to grab some food and Astarion does not see you approach the fire. He does not see you sitting with anyone else, nor does he see you giving affection to the various animals you refused to leave behind. There’s no sound of your laughter or gentle touch from behind as you walk by him, no hint of you anywhere. It’s not hard to slip away from the group as he begins to do a loop around the outskirts of camp to try and find where you are. Concern rattles his bones as he wonders if something happened, if he would stumble across your dead body or worse - you decided to leave.

His anxieties are eased when he finds you sitting a few minutes away from camp on a fallen tree, your back to him. There’s no need to spook you so he purposefully steps on an old branch, breaking it to gain your attention. You turn quickly, hand coming up to ready yourself if there was a fight. With a sigh, you relax once you see him approach.

“Hello,” you say quietly, shuffling over to give Astarion room to sit beside you, if he wants.

“You’re not at camp?” It’s a stupid question but it’s the only thing he could think to say. There is so much he wants to tell you but finding the right words is proving difficult.

You laugh, and Gods he has missed hearing it. It’s such a simple sound but he is certain it was better than any healing from a bottle or Shadowheart. If he could make you laugh forever he would do so, if you only gave him the chance to. He takes a seat next to you, the cool evening air whipping around you both. Astarion sees you frown as you look down at your feet, hands fidgeting nervously. Despite himself, he reaches out to hold them still.

Looking up at him, you take a deep breath as you prepare for what you want to ask him. “You didn't go through with the ritual?” you ask, even though you were there to witness it. You saw him kill Cazador and give up the power with each stab he carved into the vampire lord and had no idea what made him have a change of heart at the last minute.

Astarion shrugs, wanting to blow it off like it didn't bother him at all, but it did. It really did.

“It was you.” The words sound threatening as he speaks and he winces as your eyes grow wide, worry spreading across your face that he was here to get revenge on you interfering.

“Astarion, I’m sorry, I didn't mean to ruin it,” you say quickly, moving your hands away from him and slinking back to put some distance between you both.

The way you move away from him in fear hurts him as he retreats back in on himself. Maybe he should have taken the power, that way you would have something to fear about him-- No. No. He refuses to think like that. Not at you. Never at you.

“What I meant is that you were the one to put the doubts into my head about the ritual,” he corrects himself and you are confused. Still, he continues. “You kept saying things that weren’t aligning with my plan and I thought-”

You interrupt him. “Plan?”

Maybe it is time to come clean. “I had a plan. Manipulate you, say and do whatever you wanted me to so that you would help me with Cazador. You’re so kind and compassionate I knew it wouldn't take me long to get you hooked on me.” He can’t stand to see the look on your face as he explains himself. “And yet I found myself wanting you more than I planned for…”

His words fade out as you begin to realise how foolish you had been to believe anything he told you was truthful. He’s pacing in front of you now, explaining how this all fell apart because of you and it feels as if he should be blaming you, but he never does. You wait for the accusatory points and looks that never come.

“So you used me?” you ask once he stops speaking, out of breath from how quickly he threw that at you and looking at you in a way you can only describe as sad.

He runs his hands through his hair in defeat, shoulders slumping and hands falling to his side. “Yes. At the start I used you. But things changed! You changed! You changed me!” He’s certain he’s not making any sense but carries on regardless. The floodgates of whatever feelings he’s been repressing have opened and he was going to drown in them if you didn't give him a hand to pull him out. “It’s you! It’s always been you. Even if I ascended it would still be you I searched for. You have ruined me, and yet I can’t help but want you to see me, to look at me, to simply exist in the space around me!”

“That’s what the Gods made me for, right? To ruin you?” You look at him with a smile as he stops in his ranting.

He’s confused, giving you a frown as the words hit him like a spray of water in the face. “Are you quoting me?”

You shrug. “It’s a good line. Even if you didn't mean it.” Your voice has a hint of sadness to it and Astarion knows if he throws any other sweet line at you you wouldn't believe him. He says your name softly like it’s the first time he’s ever said it and you look at him, conflicted at how you should feel right now.

“I mean it now. My plan was perfect until you started showing me actual kindness…” He sits back down, hands in his head. “How was I supposed to revel in power if you aren’t by my side? How was I supposed to live knowing you hated me?”

“I don’t think I could ever fully hate you,” you admit, giving his shoulder a small nudge. “Though I was fully prepared to kill you if you got too power hungry.”

“It would be an honour to be killed by you,” he replies, hand brushing against yours. He wants to hold you close, promise you that everything he says from now on was the truth but he wasn’t sure you would believe it. “I do regret what I did, you know. At first I didn't care what happened but then…”

“Then you started to care.”

It’s the truth yet Astarion feels so exposed when you say it. He cannot place when he started to care about you beyond his plan but he knows that he does. And he accepts it, here and now. He accepts that this is the ending fate has given him and wishes for you to hold his hand as you progress into the next chapter of life.

“You made me feel happy. You have no idea how long it has been since I was truly happy.” It’s like a weight is lifted from his shoulders as he reveals this to you. All those long days of mentally keeping himself in check and in line with what he was planning and now it is crumbling away. “I will gladly take the rest of my life in the shadows if it means I get to hold you in the morning. No matter what happens next, I’d still know you. And that’s all I care about right now.”

You pull him into a hug, arms tightly wrapped around him and keeping him close. He melts into your touch and is relieved that you haven’t pushed him away. Because after all this, he still knows you, and you are so very kind towards him. Even when he feels as if he doesn’t deserve it.

Astarion is foolish for believing your kindness wouldn't be his downfall. He’s a fool for you.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion x gender neutral reader #; tealeaf's writing

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leclsrc · 1 year

Note

congrats on 2k!! so happy to see such a talented writer get the recognition they deserve🤍🤍

can i request 5 gifts w/ charles?? ty and congrats again!

presents – cl16

genre: flufff, bit of angst, 2k celebration

Thank God for expensive cars—they barely make noise when they pull into the driveway of the house.

On nights where the bed’s emptiness is just a bit too painful to bear, your ears grow attuned to the silence so they can hear the car better. Because from then you can judge the rest of Charles’ synchronized routine—his shit parking, turning the key into the lock, heavy footsteps through the foyer and up the stairs, deliberate turning of the doorknob so he doesn’t wake you.

But he never does, because you’re never asleep. “Did I wake you?”

“Mmm, no,” you assure him, sitting up a little. He sports evidence of training, a bruise on his arm, extra stubble, a tighter fitting tee. He climbs into bed beside you holding a tiny box, rattles it so you can hear the chain shake inside.

“Good. I have a gift for you.”

“Can it wait?” You ask throatily. “I miss you.”

He looks perfect like this, you think, pretty and handsome and tired and yours. He is rarely yours in these triple headers, season peaks where neither of your schedules give. So you envelop him into a hug, the box is laid on the bedside table, and they’re both gone by the time you wake up to the sun.

—

You were never one to accept presents, especially if they looked like they cost a month’s rent. Charles had given you a bracelet to commemorate your first year together, one that matched his.

“We agreed small gifts,” you’d said, jaw to the floor at the shiny object.

“It is… small.” He responded dumbly.

“Small, like…” you pull out your paper maché cat, which you painted to look like a Sauber driver. “Like this.”

So he’d kept the bracelet because you insisted, with all the love in the world, that you simply could not bear to wear it. Then he posted six pictures of your gift, claiming it was the best he’d ever gotten, pressing kisses all over your face.

—

“Would you like a message on the card, Sir?”

“Oui, oui. Can you write, uh…”

Charles rifles through his journal, onto which he’s written every detail of his life. There are race stats, strategy comparisons, crude venn diagrams of plans, tic-tac-toe games on slow meetings with Carlos, long-winded spiels on life that evolve from French to Italian to English, dinner date reminders, interview scripts.

But none of those is what he’s looking for. He seeks something else, a line he’d written on the day you fell asleep hugging him, comforted by his arrival. He had to leave early that day, so he enjoyed your presence and spent time writing.

He spends a minute too long searching for it, but finds it eventually, sandwiched in between a doodle of Fred and Antonio. For all his trying, however, he later learns he miscalculated your checkout time, and the flowers never arrived on time for you to see them. He pictures the lilies, wilting alone, pictures the card you never got to unfold and read.

Thinking of you. I fall in love with you every time you walk into a room. Charles

—

You meet his eyes across the table, and narrow yours in silent challenge.

“Woah!” He laughs, amused, pointing an accusatory finger in your direction. “What was that—” He mimics your challenging expression, eyes briefly flitting down to where he holds his Uno cards. The rest of the room watch idly as the game comes to an intense close.

“It was me telling you I have great cards,” you proclaim with a giggle. “Aaaand uno.”

The intense close is won by you, much to your opponent’s chagrin. It was an easy win, you state, I had a plus four and he handed it right to me. He finds you by the kitchen of the mansion chewing on a potato chip and extends a bottle of beer toward you, in a truce of sorts.

“Winners deserve a drink, no?” He grins, his eyes crinkling. “Consider it a gift. From me.”

“No, thanks. You already gifted me a win.”

“I just let you win,” he teases. “It was easy.”

“Was it?” You raise an eyebrow, and you both laugh. “All this talk, and I don’t even know my nemesis’ name.”

“Right, how rude,” he tsks, shaking your hand. It stays a bit too long, steals your words. “It’s Charles.”

—

In the end, your relationship befell the same fate as the collection of gifts he’d never been able to get you to receive: it just didn’t work out.

But sometimes Charles revisits his piles of storage, picks out the florist’s business card or the winning Uno number he’d folded up and kept. He checks and rechecks boxes, wrappers, of gifts ungiven. And he goes to his trophy shelf, full of shiny metal and hard edges, and sees there, in front of them all, the Sauber driver paper maché cat.

And you sometimes go through pictures of the both of you, stare at your empty wrist and wonder what it would look like with a bracelet looped around it. You think of waiting, of the empty bed that’s now become the norm, the phone call from your hotel receptionist who asked if you wanted to return for the flowers that were sent late.

Both of you remember. Both of you look for the other.

But perhaps most of all, both of you hope there’s a life where gifts were received and love worked. Charles passes the freeway exit that leads to your house and wonders, for a second, if he should turn into it. You lay in bed, ears attuned, wondering if you’ll hear the sound of his car.

#f1 #charles leclerc #leclsrc2000 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

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cicimunson · 2 years

Text

How Steve Got His Groove Back

Summary: Season 3 Steve has lost his mojo, but with a little help from you, he might get it back.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Plus Size Female Reader

Other Characters: Robin Buckley, random girls at the mall

Warnings: Reader is insecure, Steve is insecure, a whole lotta dirty smut in this one, reader is kinda bullied.

Word Count: 3k+

Part 2

“Ahoy ladies, didn’t see you there!”

You almost jump back, startled by the loud voice of the man behind the counter.

The girls in front of you exchange amused glances.

He continues. “Would you guys like to set sail on this ocean of my flavor with me? I’ll be your captain, I’m Steve Harrington.”

You feel second-hand embarrassment for the guy. Sure, he’s cute, but cute doesn’t make up for that ridiculous outfit he’s wearing or how awkward he is.

The girls walk away laughing and you step up to the counter. “Is Robin here?”

He nods and jerks his thumb to the back.

You can’t help but notice that he doesn’t try any of his cheesy lines on you.

Probably not his type, those girls were thin and gorgeous.

You duck into the backroom.

“Robin, who’s the hot dingus working up front?”

She snorts. “Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High.”

“Wow, how the mighty have fallen.”

The windows to the front pop open and Steve sticks his head in.

“I can hear you, you know.”

You and Robin laugh. “Oh, we know.”

“Thanks for calling me hot, by the way.” He offers you his hand.

“Hey, I just call it like I see it. If you look past the sailor suit and the general awkwardness surrounding you, you’re pretty good-looking.” You shake his hand. “Y/N.”

“Steve.”

“So I’ve heard.” You turn back to Robin. “We still hanging out after your shift?”

She nods. “Definitely. I need pizza and horror movies, stat.”

You glance over at Steve. “You can come too, dreamboat, if you don’t have a hot date or anything.”

Robin snorts.

Steve tries to look casual and fails miserably, propping on his elbow and almost hitting his head on the counter when it slips.

“Um, yeah, sure, I can move around my plans.”

“Don’t do us any favors.” Robin mumbles under her breath.

You wait until Steve is out of earshot to give her a scolding look. “Robin, be nice. I feel bad for him. He’s obviously lost his mojo.”

You gesture to her erase board. “That him striking out?”

She nods and giggles. “He’s flopped every time.”

You turn and watch him trying to flirt with yet another customer, dropping her change and almost spilling her sundae.

“What’s wrong with him?” You ask under your breath.

“His girlfriend dumped him and he’s having a breakdown.” Robin replies.

“That explains it.”

“I’ll meet you out front in a bit, okay?”

You nod and gesture toward Steve. “Don’t forget to bring dingus.”

__________

A few hours later you’re all sprawled in your living room, the Exorcist playing while you eat junk food and gossip. Robin is piled up on blankets and pillows on the floor, you’re laying on the couch, and Steve is sitting by your feet.

Robin starts to nod off halfway through the movie.

You take the opportunity to talk to Steve a little more.

You find out that you have similar taste in music and movies. To your surprise, the two of you talk for almost three hours straight, never running out of things to say.

“So, today was interesting, watching you crash and burn repeatedly. Like a train wreck, you just can’t look away.” You tease.

He scowls. “I’m a little off my game lately is all. I’ll make a comeback.”

“Not in that sailor outfit you won’t.” You giggle.

“It’s definitely not doing me any favors. Neither is the fact that I stink of loser.”

“Hmm?”

He sighs. “I didn’t get into college. My dad forced me to take this job. On top of that my girlfriend broke up with me for this dude I thought was a loser but turns out he’s actually okay, which makes me the jackass, I guess.”

“Sounds like it might.” You admit.

“Yeah, well, it’s been a tough year.” He rubs his face with both hands.

“You know what your problem is?” You ask.

“My life is a disaster?”

“Well yeah, but besides that. Your problem is that you actually believe what you’re saying. And you’re projecting it.”

He cocks his head to the side, looking confused. “Speak English.”

“You think you’re a loser, so you’re acting like a loser, and that’s all people can see.”

“Well how am I supposed to fix that?”

“Long-term? Therapy. Talk to you dad. Improve your thinking process.”

He grimaces. “Short-term?”

“Get laid. It’ll boost your confidence and you’ll feel better. People can tell when you haven’t had sex in awhile. It’s like a pheromone or something.”

He seems to be mulling over what you said.

You turn your attention back to the TV.

After a minute or so, you feel his hand on your leg.

You glance over at him.

“Do you wanna fuck me maybe?” He asks so casually, like he’s asking to borrow a pen.

“Oh, you’re funny. That sense of humor could work in your favor.”

“I’m being serious.”

You sit up to stare at him.

He shrugs. “I’m just saying. We could fuck.”

“I’m not really your type, Steve. Not sure how I would help your confidence. And I barely know you.”

He looks confused. “Not my type? Hot is my type. And who says we have to know each other to have sex?”

“My point still stands.”

“You don’t think you’re hot?”

“Not particularly.”

“Why not?”

You gesture to your body. “Not exactly the type of the girl you were flirting with at the mall.”

“I don’t have a specific type. I think lots of girls are hot.”

“Could have fooled me.”

He takes your hand and tugs you close, placing your fingers over his crotch.

“I’m hard as a rock just thinking about fucking you. You say I need to be more confident, right? Sounds like you need to take your own advice.”

You bite your lip and glance over at Robin, who’s snoring peacefully.

Am I really thinking about fucking him?

Steve squeezes your hand, making you grip his length. He moans slightly and flexes his hips. It’s so fucking sexy your breath catches.

Yeah, I’m gonna fuck him.

“Upstairs.” You take his hand and lead him to your room.

Steve wastes no time getting naked, clearly confident about his body. His lips crash into yours and he unbuttons your shirt, pushing it off your shoulders.

You both maneuver toward the bed and he reaches behind you, unhooking your bra with one hand effortlessly.

“Fuck, your tits look incredible.” He latches on to your nipple greedily.

You moan softly and tangle a hand in his hair.

He unbutton your pants and shoves them down, wasting no time sliding a hand into your panties and easing a finger inside you.

“You on birth control?”

“Mhm, pill.”

His lips fasten on the side of your neck. “Can I mark you?”

“Robin will see in the morning.”

“You embarrassed for people to know about this?”

“I just mean she might get upset that we snuck off to have sex.”

“Guess that’s a good point.” He looks disappointed.

Ugh, tugging on my damn heartstrings with that pouty face.

“Fuck it, mark me up.”

He grins happily and you giggle.

Your giggle turns into a low moan as he nips your skin and then starts sucking a red splotch.

“Mmm, feels good.”

He starts pumping his finger inside you. He twists his wrist slightly and uses his thumb to press on your clit.

“Ohhh, fuck.” You whimper.

“Wanna taste you.”

He starts kissing down your chest.

You pull his head back up. “No, it’s cool.”

“I want to.”

“Let me taste you instead.” You offer

You roll him on his back before he can protest. You don’t know how to explain that you don’t want him kissing down your belly because it’s not flat and has stretch marks. You don’t know how to say that you worry because you’re a bigger girl, you sweat down there more than other girls and he won’t like the way you taste.

He fists your hair as you take him into your mouth. “Fuck, Y/N, you look gorgeous with your lips around my cock.”

You lick up and down his shaft. Steve pushes your head down a little further.

“Suck on my balls, please.” His voice is almost a whimper.

You take one in your mouth and suck. His fingers tighten in your hair, pulling almost to the point of pain. You raise your head and take him back in your mouth.

Steve has to fight the urge not to hold you still and fuck your face. He’s never been so horny in his life. Your fucking curves, your thick thighs, how soft and pliant you are, it’s driving him fucking wild.

He pulls you off his dick and up the bed to give you a sloppy kiss, squeezing your thighs. “Wanna ride me?”

“Um, I don’t think so.”

He cock his head to the side and studies your face. “Do you want to stop?”

“No, I’m good to keep going. Did you want to stop?”

“Hell no. I’m about to bust.” He admits. He tugs your panties off and pulls you so that you’re straddling him.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” You murmur, a weak protest as you feel his cock rub against your pussy lips.

“Oh, you wanna be rough?”

This dingus.

“I mean, it’s not my usual style, but if you want to like spank me or something-”

“Jesus, Steve, I meant that I don’t want to crush you!” You squeak, blushing.

“Oh, my bad. I thought you were like, into something kinky. Wait, crush me?”

He grabs your waist and rolls his hips into you. “I can handle anything you wanna throw at me, babygirl.”

“I just meant-”

He rolls you on to your back.

“Enough. Let me tell you what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna eat your pussy like it’s my last meal on earth. And when I’m satisfied with my meal, you’re gonna ride my dick like a good girl.”

You feel yourself getting wetter from his words.

“Enough putting yourself down. When I offered to fuck you, I knew exactly what I was getting into. I want you, got it?”

You nod.

“Say yes if you want this.”

“Yes, yes, I want this.”

“Now, wrap those thighs around my head and let me eat.”

He dives between your legs and starts lapping at your cunt greedily. You gasp.

His hands slide under your legs, urging them over his shoulders.

“Fuck, baby, so wet. All this, for me?”

He mumbles between your thighs, his tongue flicking over your clit. He sucks it hard, making you buck your hips and groan. His mouth moves further down, and he shoves his tongue into your pussy, fucking your hole.

“Oh God, Steve, that’s so good. Fuck, so good!”

He rubs your clit with his fingers, his tongue swirling inside you.

Oh Jesus this man is a sex wizard. Those girls don’t know what they’re missing.

He takes his other hand and presses down on your lower belly. A jolt flashes through your body and you arch your back off the bed, fisting the sheets beneath you as you fight the urge to scream out in pleasure.

He uses the hand on your stomach to hold you still as you become a writhing panting mess beneath his skilled mouth.

You blink away tears as the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had racks your body, leaving you breathless and whimpering.

Steve is falling apart between your legs. Your little moans, the way you taste, how responsive you are, it’s enough to make him insane. He’s whimpering himself, and rubbing his cock against your mattress, desperate for any friction as his precum leaks out on your sheets.

He wants you to cum again. He wants to taste you a little longer. His face being buried in your cunt is his favorite place in the world now, he decides, and he wants to make the most of it while he’s here.

He sucks your clit again, sliding two fingers inside you easily.

You gasp and roll your hips. “Steve, oh fuck, you’re still going?”

He mumbles against your clit and it sends pleasure shooting through you. His fingers pump inside you expertly, knowing exactly how to bend and where to press to send you flying over the edge again. It’s more intense this time, and you have to clap your hand over your mouth to keep from yelling as you cum for the second time. It feels like an out-of-body experience.

You start to come down from you high and realize that Steve is still eating your pussy. You whimper from how sensitive your clit is and gently push his head away.

He looks up at you with lust-blown pupils, his lips and chin wet. He looks fucking feral.

There he is. He’s got it now.

He grabs your waist and flips you on top of him effortlessly, slapping your ass.

You barely have time to get your balance before he’s pushing himself inside you. You slap your hands on his chest and groan as he wastes no time bottoming out in you.

“Fucking ride me, baby. Ride my cock.” He hisses through clenched teeth. “Let me see those tits bounce.”

You start at a slow pace but Steve isn’t having it. He sits up slightly, locks an arm around you, and drives his hips up into you.

“Harder.” He grunts in your ear. “Make it hurt a little.”

You rake your nails down his back and clench your pussy muscles around him.

He sinks his teeth into your tit, groaning your name against your skin.

“Fuck, Steve, don’t stop.”

He looks up at you, pouty pink lips begging to be kissed. You press your lips to his, locking into a heated kiss that leaves you breathless.

“Need this.” He mumbles against your mouth. “Need you.”

You moan. Something shifts between you. You aren’t sure when or how it happens, but you’re suddenly kissing him softly, his thrusts slowing down, becoming lazy and gentle.

His lips mold against yours. “Mmm, baby, just like that. Riding me like such a good girl.”

“Such a good girl for you.” You whimper.

“Come on baby, cum for me.” He pleads. “Wanna see you fall apart for me.”

His hand slips between the two of you and he rubs your clit.

You feel your body start to tighten again. You clench around him, burying your face in his shoulder. He grasps your chin and pulls your face up.

“No, baby. Wanna see it. Wanna watch you cum.”

“Please….Steve…so close.” Your thighs burn from riding him. You wanna stop but you speed up instead, chasing that third orgasm. Steve speeds up too, falling back into the bed and digging his heels into the mattress to push deeper into you.

You can’t help it. You cry out loudly, almost screaming his name as you cum again. He pulls you down for a kiss to quieten you, capturing your cries with his mouth.

His hips stutter, and he slams into you once more with a hoarse cry of his own, shooting his load deep inside you.

He rolls and tucks you into his side, kissing you once more.

“I may never let you out of this bed.” He murmurs into your hair.

You giggle. “As much fun as that sounds, I think Robin would have an aneurysm if she woke up and found us like this.”

“Yeah, I guess I should probably go. Just tell her I left after the movie.”

You feel a twinge of disappointment but ignore it as you both get dressed and you walk him out.

This was just to help him get his mojo back. It was a one time thing. Don’t read into it, don’t dwell on it.

He kisses your cheek. “I’ll see you.”

“See ya.” You echo. He’s out the door. You curl up on the couch and fall asleep almost instantly.

__________

You’re back at the mall a few days later, feeling nervous as you head into Scoops. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Steve. You were a little worried about seeing him today.

He’s standing by the counter, talking to some gorgeous blonde girl who looks like she’s never eaten ice cream a day in her life. You glance around for Robin. Assuming she’s in the back, you duck behind the counter.

Steve notices you out of the corner of his eye and stops mid-sentence.

“Y/N, hey!” He calls out, waving to you.

You wave back, plastering a friendly smile on your face.

He pats the blonde on the shoulder and hurries over to you.

“Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“Mhm.”

“It is weird if I say I missed you?” He blushes.

You ignore his question and gesture to the girl. “Looks like you got your mojo back.”

“Yeah, all thanks to you. You’re the best.” He kisses your cheek.

No, I’m a fucking idiot.

Robin sticks her head out the window to the back. She takes one glance at your expression and instantly knows what’s going on. You hadn’t said anything, but she’d seen the hickeys on your neck and the stains on your sheets and instantly put two-and-two together.

“Well I won’t keep you from your blonde friend, will you let Robin know I’m waiting outside?”

He nods. “Do you want some ice cream before you go?”

You start to shake your head.

“Of course she does.” The blonde mutters.

Oh, what a bitch.

To your surprise, Steve levels a stare at her and cocks an eyebrow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She looks flustered. “I mean, who doesn’t want ice cream? It’s so good.”

You cross your arms and glare at her. “I’m sure that’s what you meant.”

She rolls her eyes and turns back to Steve, smiling coyly. “So did you want my number?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

Her mouth drops open. “Really?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, really.”

She stalks off.

Steve turns back to you. “So, movie night tonight?”

“You didn’t have to do that, Steve. I wouldn’t have cared if you got her number.”

“Rude isn’t my type.”

“I’m rude.”

“I made an exception for you.” He winks.

You can’t help but giggle.

“So, tonight?” He asks hopefully.

“Movie night sounds great, actually. Robin, you in?”

She shakes her head. “No thanks, I have plans. But you two have fun.”

Steve turns out of Robin’s line of sight and wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Oh, we will.”

#steve harrington fic #steve harrington ff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington reader insert #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x y/n #plus size reader #steve harrington x plus size reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut

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bagopucks · 1 year

Text

N. Hischier - Soulmates ‘N All That

✄————————————

Nico Hischier x Fem!reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warning(s): None? The word ‘sex’ once?

—————————————

I thought you into my life, woah

Look at my mind, yeah

My feet are aching. I’ve been pacing the floor in my one room apartment for too long. I made this job happen. Photography. For a hockey team. What if I wasn’t any good? What if they decided I was horrible?

They looked at my portfolio, but those were mostly still shots. I had to take moving pictures of these players. I could do it. I had a million pictures of moving objects, but what if I just- what if my skill flew right out the window when it came time to work?

No better place or a time

Look how they align

The team was wonderful from day one. I grew close with Dougie Hamilton fairly quickly. I preferred to call him Dougie Ham. Or DH. He was often around to play jokes on me or ask questions about my camera. He helped the guys warm up to my constant presence.

My career so far has been nothing but amazing. I realized after a few months, that I may have worried myself too much and put too much pressure on myself. Getting photos was incredibly easy. Choosing the best ones was the hard part. And making sure I had equal content of the team. The Captain was alway slipping out of my shots and escaping rooms when I entered. I just assumed he was camera shy.

Universe must have my back

Practices were my favorites. The guys would occasionally stop for photos when I asked, and when they had water breaks. After most, when they were dismissed, I would step onto the ice and snatch a few for some closeup action shots. Still never Nico. It frustrated me.

I did manage a good picture of him once.. the photo that started it all.

Fell from the sky into my lap

I sat patiently on the bench while coaches shouted and instructed the guys around the ice. They were trying new drills, and new line combinations. Everything was going swimmingly, until I heard one of the coaches pipe up.

“Jesper! Get Hischier off the ice.” There was amusement in his tone, and I turned my camera down to the opposite end of the ice to see Lindy holding a skate blade while Jesper helped get Nico over to the bench. I giggled and took a few photos.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find Nico attractive, but I never got close enough to his face to know if he was as pretty as the internet said.

“Good job, bud.” Jesper taunted, reaching over the bench door to unlock and open it. He let Nico off the ice first, and the captain gently pushed him for the teasing.

Jesper stumbled on the ice as his skates slipped out from beneath him. I laughed softly and took a few photos as he grabbed the bench wall to steady himself.

“Damnit, Nico.” He snapped, though it was heartfelt frustration. Jesper stepped up onto the bench and gave his captain a bit harsher of a shove. Usually nothing to bat an eye at, but Nico didn’t have a skate blade on one foot, and I was directly behind him.

He tried to catch his weight on his messed up skate, and before I knew it, I was pulling my camera off my neck and raising my arms to keep it out of his collision course. Instead he landed on my thighs.

“Oh shit- oh dude.” Jesper was scrambling for an apology as mine and Nico’s faces went red. I had no words.. but everything was awkward now. Fix it.

I slowly lowered my camera, my heart fluttering as Nico let out an anxious giggle and forced a thick accented, ‘sorry’ from his lips. I shrugged, pointed the camera at his face, and snapped a few photos.

“If you’d stop running from me, people wouldn’t have to shove you in my direction.” I hinted passively. His cheeks turned as red as his jersey.

“Get up, you’re crushing me.”

And I know you know that you're my soulmate and all that

Nico and I began going on dates after that. By the third week we called it official. During the off season he took me to Switzerland to meet his family. During the holidays we celebrated, sometimes together, sometimes with his team. I was there for any award ceremony or charity event. Even the ones I didn’t have to attend.

We got an apartment together after the first year. The second year we started considering what a future might look like.

“Nico, it’s just a storm. The balcony won’t blow off.” I tried to pry my lover from the window of our apartment, my arms wrapped around his back while he stood there with his hands on his hips. He wasn’t afraid of storms, it was the aftermath that made him nervous. His hometown always experienced floods and landslides after heavy rainfalls like the one New Jersey was experiencing now. He must have never grown out of that fear that something may happen.

“Just a little while longer.. just let me look a little longer,” Nico whispered as I shook my head from behind him. He’d torture his mind all night by that window if I kept giving in to him saying his version of ‘five more minutes.’

“Come have a snack with me.” I pressed a kiss to Nico’s back. “My mom left fudge in the fridge before she left.” I pulled away, my hands sliding from his stomach to his hips before I turned to walk away.

I just entered the threshold of the kitchen when I heard Nico’s heavy steps following behind me. “Fudge?”

I giggled, shaking my head. I opened the fridge and pulled the small Tupperware container out, kicking the door shut before I hopped up onto the counter. I watched Nico approach with curious eyes, brow raised as he reached out to pull the lid off the container. Always in a rush to get to the sweets.

I smacked his hand away, holding the container out of reach. “You can have some, but you have to promise me no more looking out the window.” Nico’s lips pursed as his head tilted to the side, silently and sarcastically asking me if I was serious.

“You haven’t relaxed all night, baby. It’s a storm. Not a hurricane.”

“Fine. I’ll shut the blinds before we go to bed.”

“Absolutely not. You’ll go to bed, and I’ll shut the blinds.” I held my free hand out to him. “Shake on it.” I insisted. Nico’s eyes flickered between my own and my hand before he let out a dramatic sigh, smiling and shaking my hand.

“verlass mich nie,” he whispered as he leaned his side against the counter, his smile widening when I handed him a piece of fudge. Never leave me.

“I don’t know what you said,” I whispered, matching his dreamy tone with a sarcastic one in my own voice.

My whole life got me ready for you, ooh

Nico proposed to me a month later, and we prepped for our wedding for a year. We were coming up on five months from the set date. I showed my ring off to everybody. He showed the video off to his team.

“Do you have a house yet?” My mother asked me as we sifted through dresses at a bridal shop.

“No. Nico and I plan to spend one more year in our apartment after we’re married.” My mother looked perplexed, and I could understand why. We’d have all of this new stuff from gifts people gave us, and no place to put it all.

“Why?”

“Because the team is really good this year. Nico doesn’t want me moving into some new house all alone if he’s in the playoffs.” I completely agreed with Nico. When we got a house, I wanted to move in with him. We hadn’t necessarily agreed to a year, but that was the longest we were willing to wait before buying a home, so it’s what we told everybody.

“What about this one?” My mom pulled a dress out. My heart was set on it the second I tried it on.

Got me happy, happy

I'ma be happy, happy, yeah

“Nico.. I love you. I have every second of every day, since the day you fell into me,” I whispered my vows over and over under my breath as I looked in the mirror. The wedding didn’t have to be perfect. Everything could be on fire and complete chaos around me. As long as my vows were spotless, I would be content.

The week before the wedding, Nico had kicked me out of our apartment for a few hours, telling me to go shopping or ask one of the wags out for dinner. He wouldn’t tell me why at first, but after much questioning, he informed me that he had to record his vows. Not everybody in his family spoke English, so he told me he had to record it in the language they would understand. I reasoned that I wouldn’t know a word he spoke anyway, but he insisted that if I still heard his vows, it wouldn’t feel right when he spoke them again at the altar.

This was the same guy who always tried to sneak a peek at my notebook full of ideas for my own vows. I had to make him promise not to look at the notebook two days into his mischief.

“I hope he’s going to be happy with them.” I picked up the skirt of my dress to walk across the room I got ready in, staring myself down in the full length mirror.

“Sweetie..” my best friend smiled. “He’s never disliked a single thing you’ve ever done.”

Won't get no crying from me, yeah

Gonna be happy, happy

I walked down the isle, my hands shaking and my eyes already tearing up at the sight of my fiancé. I had no regrets. I will never have regrets when it comes to Nico. This was the man I wanted to spend my life with.

“…And I understand, you’ve prepared your own vows?” The priest questioned, looking between us. I nodded, my eyes searching Nico’s face as a silent question. Who was going first.

“You.. you go.” I could tell he was nervous as he spoke, but I’d argue I was more worried than he was. He encouraged me with a smile.

“Okay..” I breathed out a sigh. I loved him. Every word would roll off my tongue the way it was supposed to whether it happened like I rehearsed or not.

“Nico… I love you. I have every second of every day, since the day you fell into me. In the next few minutes, a new commitment is going to be made. I’ve made many in my life, and you’ve made your own. I’ve been known to abandon my commitments. There are some things I simply can’t stick with. But every commitment I’ve ever made with you, I have seen through. You have stood by me through my hardest days and my coldest nights. Fights I’ve instigated, and tears I’ve cried. We have shared our everything. Clothes, songs, foods and movies. A home. Now we share our lives. Our entire beings, with one another. You are the foundation I stand on, and the anchor that holds me to the ground when I fear I might fly away. I hope I have been the same for you. And I hope I can keep being the same.. for the rest of eternity.” Tears stung my eyes. I could see Nico fighting to keep his own from going glassy. “Ich liebe dich.”

Surprise flashed in Nico’s eyes. I hadn’t told him I was practicing any German for this. And despite it being a short sentence, it was one I knew he wished I would reply to in his first language at least once.

“Sir?” The priest interrupted our silence. Nico nodded, pulling his hands away from my own to grab a few notecards from his back pocket.

“I hope you don’t mind I wrote them down? I was.. I was afraid I might forget a word.” Nico searched for a sign of disapproval in my features. His nervousness only made me giggle and shake my head.

“You’re fine.. I’ll still love you.. notecards or not.” It was his turn to chuckle, stepping a bit closer to me as I reached out to rest my hands on his forearms. Nico drew in a shaky breath, tears already forming in his eyes again. “Take your time, baby.” I whispered, my heart swelling. Nico was only an emotional man in front of certain people. But even on his wedding day, he couldn’t hold his usual facade.

“I used to avoid you.. when you came to work for the Devils. When I first saw you I thought you were.. just the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. You made me nervous.. your camera made me nervous.” Nico smiled, glancing up at me. “I used to think that if you took too many pictures you might see too many imperfections. Instead I stand here now, knowing that you’ve seen me at my worst and my best. When my hair has been too long,” this earns a few giggled laughs from our guests. “And when it’s been too short.” This time it’s Jack who laughs. The exact person who is to blame for Nico’s hair being ‘too short’ at one point. “You have always opened every door to me in a time of need. Especially the bathroom door when you’re doing your skincare stuff.” I laughed softly.

Taking my makeup off at the end of the day took enough time in and of itself, but then my skincare routine added to that amount. I usually left the door closed for a bit of privacy and space, but there was the occasional times when Nico would start knocking on the door begging to be let in because he had to go to the bathroom.

“But the doors I am most grateful for being opened, have been the ones in your mind, and your heart. You allowed me to love you.. and you trusted me with every piece of yourself. You’ve given me a chance to prove my worth, and to love something more than anything else I have. I would build castles for you, and tear down any wall in your way just to see you smile. We may grow old together, but we will never grow apart. I will love you until my heart no longer beats, and my body is six feet under. And after that, whatever may be in that distant afterlife, I will love you again, and again, and again.” Nico sniffled, by now I had tears running down my cheeks.

“du bist mein Seelenverwandter,” Nico finished with words I did not recognize, but he translated for me, without putting up his usual cheeky fight. “You are my soulmate.”

After the ‘I do’s’ were exchanged, and rings were put on fingers, Nico and I shared our first kiss as a married couple. Neither of us could rightfully express the feelings in our hearts, but we knew we’d simply squeeze the life out of one another if we hugged. It was that ‘it’s so fluffy I’m gonna die’ kind of feeling. A soulful, vast, and intense kind of love.

Imma be happy, happy

“Lord, Nic.” I giggled as we sat at a table near the front of the reception hall. We were the center of attention, but it didn’t feel like it. My bridal party and his groomsmen were off doing their own thing, and the rest of our friends and families were all conversing over food. Which was what Nico and I had been doing, until he got up to grab a plate full of my mother’s fudge.

“If you get sick tonight, we can’t have sex.” I informed him, reaching out to gently squeeze his leg. “Slow down.” Nico gave me a cautious look before resting his hand atop my own. His fingers found my engagement ring and my wedding band.

“When you said, ‘I love you’ today…” Nico’s brow furrowed in thought.

“I learned it for you. I wanted to do more, but my schedule was too busy for classes.” I smiled at him, his eyes finding my own.

“I’m content if ‘I love you’ is all you ever know.” Nico flashed me a bright smile. “Now please eat this fudge with me.. I did get too much, and I really don’t want it to go to waste.”

I laughed and shook my head at him. “Nic, I’m in a white dress. Go give it to Jack and the kids.” I nodded toward the middle Hughes brother, seated at a table full of kids and entertaining them with paper footballs.

“I won’t be gone long,” Nico promised, quickly standing up and grabbing the small dish. He pressed a kiss to my head before going to sugar up the children.

Imma be happy, happy

I leaned back in my seat, smiling as I observed the jovial atmosphere around myself. I looked back down at my ring, shaking my head in disbelief. Committing to Nico was single-handedly the best decision I’ve ever made. I will never make a better one.

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagines #nico hischier imagine #new jersey devils

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wintaerbaer · 6 months

Text

things we don't say: part 5 TEASER (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 721 (for the teaser; full chapter is expected to be 8-10k)

chapter warnings: weddings!, feelings, seventeen is here now because i fell into a rabbit hole and needed fill-ins, jimin kinda ruins everything, jk is relatively well-behaved, kissing?!

a/n: given that it's been the craziest time of year for work (and i may be focused on a jk oneshot rn), i figured i'd throw out a teaser since it's taking me longer to write! i'm heading into my job's off-season soon though, so i'll have more time to write and will aim to have this next part out by end-of-year :)

PART 4 // SERIES MASTERLIST

You look up to find Taehyung's eyes gazing steadily down at you, a small but confident smile playing on his lips.

"Dance with me?"

And in spite of the unease that had plagued you only moments ago, you don't hesitate to let him wrap up your small hand in his large one and lead you to the dance floor. His palm settles on your lower back to pull you in close, and maybe it’s the proximity or the intoxicating smell of his cologne that weakens your resolve, but you find the words spilling out.

"Did you get her number?"

Taehyung looks at you quizzically, brow furrowing in confusion. "Whose?"

"The woman at the bar."

His face relaxes as he realizes. "Oh, yeah. I did."

"Good." You manage a smile. Why does it feel so hard? "It really is…good you're getting back out there. Are you going to ask her on a date?"

He laughs, mischief in his eyes. "I don't think her fiancé would like that." And now it's your turn to look confused.

"Her fiancé?"

"I met the two of them through Hoseok a couple times so we've chatted. Nice people." He nods his head, and you look over to see the woman now dancing with a man not too far from you. "They just got engaged, and she knows I'm a photographer so she asked if I'd be interested in doing the wedding. I said I'd call her this week to talk about it."

"Oh." You can feel your face flush, but there's no doubting the relief that floods through you. And Taehyung surely notices, grinning down at you in amusement.

"Were you jealous?"

"No!" you say, but perhaps a little too quickly because Taehyung laughs, his fingers applying a gentle pressure to your back to pull you closer.

"I'm here with you," he murmurs matter-of-factly.

You shake your head at him. "It's fine, Tae. If someone catches your eye…like I said, it could be good—"

"I'm here with you," he repeats, more firmly this time. He releases your hand for a moment to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, and you have to look away. You spot Hoseok and Sunny swaying together in the middle of the dance floor, pressed closely together and smiling at each other like they're the only two people in the world. What it must be like to have someone look at you like that, you think, to hold you like you're something precious to be cherished. You had thought Jace made you feel that way, but now, watching your friends gaze at each other so delicately, so in love, you're no longer sure he even came close.

"What are you looking at?" Taehyung's voice rouses you out of your thoughts, and you suddenly notice his hand has drifted a little higher to where the back of your dress dips down low, exposing your bare skin.

Trying to pass off the shiver that involuntarily runs through you as a nod, you gesture at the newly married couple. "They're so good together."

Taehyung follows your line of sight, watching Hoseok lean down to murmur something in Sunny's ear that makes her giggle and press her face into his chest. "They are."

"Can you imagine loving someone like that?" Your voice is a bare whisper as if the words slipped out of their own accord, like a wish you didn't even realize you were making.

Taehyung's fingers splay at your spine, gently tugging you in until your hips are bumping his. Startled, your eyes snap back to him, breath catching in your chest. He's gazing at you intently, but as opposed to the intense fire that you've seen from him at times, there's only a deep warmth to his brown irises that you're not sure you've ever seen before. He looks at you with softness, with both a sense of familiarity and wonder that can only be attributed to your many years of companionship, and you see it all swimming behind his eyes—every day spent together seeking refuge from your families, every stupid childhood fight, every time you comforted each other through the bad days. And before you can deflect, can explain away the question as a rhetorical slip of the tongue, you hear his answer come out on a breath.

"Yes."

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung #bts fic #bts fanfic

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so-long-soldier-writes · 2 months

Text

drabble #10 - aphrodisiac

kai parker x reader

summary: you can only listen to damon ramble on for so long before you lose focus. unfortunately, this time, your zoning out manages to cause maximum embarrassment when the rest of the group follows your line of sight.

tags: pomegranates, references to greek mythology, teasing, flirting, embarrassment

word count: 936

a/n: i wrote this a little bit ago, and even though pomegranate season is over now (😭), i'm gonna post it bc i've been lagging recently!

“Elena, you’ll be here, with me, on the lookout in case he comes this way. Bonnie, you’ll be here, with Matt. Caroline, with Stefan. Kai, I only trust you with Y/N, and certainly not by yourself, and you two will be here.” With each delegation, Damon looks to the person for a nod of confirmation. Everyone’s given him one so far… except you. “Y/N? Are you listening?”

Caroline lets out a giggle, knowing exactly where your attention has landed, and it’s definitely not on Damon’s plan.

Damon looks over to the blonde, then to Elena, who also lets out a chuckle. “Y/N?” Stefan stifles a laugh. “Y/N…” He rolls his eyes. “Kai, can you stop plucking that pomegranate for one moment?!”

“How am I bothering you? You said I could eat it-”

“Just stop for a second!”

Startled, the boy puts down his fruit. He holds his hands above the napkin, not letting any juice drip onto the Salvatore’s thousand dollar rug. “Happy?”

“Shh! Y/N!”

You’re in a daze. Entranced. You can hear Damon talking, but none of his words register. Something much more interesting’s caught your eye: Kai. Specifically, Kai and his pomegranate that he’s been working on for the last five minutes.

The juice looks like blood on his hands, dripping down his delicate fingers, staining his skin. He plucks out each seed individually, gently and skillfully, as he loosens them from the pith. He takes his earnings between his pink lips; you can see his jaw working against the crunch hidden inside.

You understand, now, why pomegranates are considered aphrodisiacs; how Hades captured his lover, luring her towards him by way of the fruit.

You’re not sure when watching becomes staring, but at some point, it does. You’re not sure how long you’re staring before you attract quite the audience.

Kai, of course, is too focused on his fruit to realize. That is, until Damon asks him to stop so that he can get your attention. Kai looks around the room, wondering why all eyes are on him, but then he notices they're all actually gazing on you. They’re watching you watch him. He’s confused, at first, then a little self-conscious, but then finds himself enthralled at the idea that you, of all people, are so focused on him.

“Y/N!” Damon shouts and claps at the same time.

You startle, jumping out of your trance and looking down at the carpet. You’re not sure when Kai stopped eating, but you quickly realize he had caught you staring at some point, and now you’re overwhelmed with embarrassment. “Sorry,” you say to no one in particular. Kai, mostly, maybe.

Sorry, I was completely daydreaming. Sorry, I was captivated by your fingers. Sorry, I was wondering what they’d feel like on my skin. On my…

“Y/N! Focus!”

“Shit! I’m sorry!”

“Damn, girl, you doing okay?” Caroline asks, amused.

“Yeah… didn’t sleep a lot last night.”

“Oh that’s too bad.” She totally didn’t fall for that lie. You curse yourself in your head. “Did you hear Damon’s plan?”

“No.”

Kai’s gone back to his pomegranate. You force yourself to look away from him.

“Y/N, you’ll be stationed with Kai,” he then mutters, “your little pomegranate buddy,” then, louder again, “because you’re the only one I trust with him, and I don’t trust him to be alone.”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

You stare at the floor for the rest of his speech, trying desperately to not look back up at Kai’s pretty pink lips.

~~~

By the end of the “meeting”, everyone’s places are announced and Damon’s satisfied with his decision making. You’ll all go after Lily tomorrow, and hopefully, if all goes well, she’ll be in the dungeons by the following morning.

Sometime after he’s dismissed you, you search for Kai, feeling an intense need to apologize. Luckily, he’s over by the sink. When you reach him, he’s rubbing his hands and arms clean. The juice turns the soap, then the water pink, and his skin goes back to its usual shade.

“Hey,” you approach, somewhat out of the blue.

He smiles at the sound of your voice. “Hi.”

“Sooo… we’re partners for Damon’s little plan.”

“Yep. If you ask me, it’s totally not gonna work.”

“His plans tend to be a hit or a miss.”

“Mhm? And which will this one be?” He jokes lightly.

You tap a finger to your chin. “Definitely a miss.” He chuckles, then nods at you for a paper towel, which you provide. “Hey, Kai? I’m, uh, I’m sorry for staring at you earlier. I was completely lost in another world.”

“No biggie. You don’t need to apologize.”

“Okay. But I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything…”

“You? Make me uncomfortable? Not possible. It’s not everyday you manage to get a pretty girl’s attention. Especially not when you’re eating the messiest thing in the world.”

The compliment - flirt? - speeds your heart up fast. It makes you admit the stupidest thing possible in the next couple of words. “Ah, well messy or not, you made it look hot.” Your eyes widen immediately. “I mean, like, you were- the fruit- I- um- shit.”

He chuckles. “Don’t sweat it, I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

“Okay,” you reply, voice small.

Kai stares at you for a moment, expression unreadable. Then, “well… see you tomorrow, Y/N. I gotta go find Damon and thank him for something.”

“Damon?” You ask, surprised.

“Yeah… thank him for pairing me with the cutest girl in the gang.” He winks as he passes, and you just about die on the spot.

#kai parker x reader #malachai parker x reader #tvd fanfiction #kai parker drabble

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elisela · 1 year

Text

you’re my only hope sterek, 1k, thanksgiving fluff

“Turkey hotline, this is Derek.”

“Derek!” Stiles says, looking frantically around the kitchen, phone shoved between his ear and shoulder. “I know that usually you’re supposed to thaw the turkey for days but last night I was nominated as the place to go for everyone who didn’t have a place to go and all the store had was a fifteen pound frozen solid turkey and I’ve left it out since I bought it but the damn thing is still frozen solid and I’m supposed to serve it in four hours. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

The wooden spoon he’d been looking for is balanced on the open refrigerator door. He snatches it up and spins to stir the gravy, the only thing he could think to make ahead of time that Lydia won’t kill him for nuking in the microwave right before dinner.

“You can cook it from frozen. It’ll take longer, about five hours, but serve some drinks and your friends will be fine waiting.”

Stiles looks at the compound butter he’d gotten—he can read recipes, thank you, he’s just in a panic—and frowns. “What am I supposed to do about, you know, seasoning?”

“Pull it after two hours and season it then. You’ll have to baste it, but you’ll be okay.”

“Great,” Stiles says, then curses when he realizes he’d laid his dish towel too close to the burner and it’s smoking. “Thanks!”

-----

“Turkey hotline, this is Derek.”

“This isn’t a turkey question, is that okay?”

The voice that comes through the line sounds almost amused. “We’re here to answer all of your Thanksgiving dinner related questions.”

Stiles taps the pie pan on the counter. He’s unsure if it’s necessary, but he’s seen people do it to regular cakes on YouTube, so why not? “Dangerous,” he says, “because I have a lot of questions. Like—why? How is this the thing you want to spend your time doing on your holiday? What are your qualifications, anyway? Because for all I know you could be making shit up, but I have to admit the turkey is no longer frozen solid under your possibly-sound advice. Which leads me to: can I bake a cheesecake at the same time as a turkey? The oven’s at 375 if that makes a difference.”

“If that—you shouldn’t be cooking your turkey at 375!”

Derek sounds affronted, and Stiles would find that cute—at least he finds his semi-outraged voice cute because for God’s sake, it’s a turkey—but he doesn’t have the time. “The cheesecake, Derek. Can I do the cheesecake at the same time?”

“Not unless you’re good with soggy turkey skin. The steam from the water bath will affect it too much.”

Stiles frowns. “Yeah, the … water bath,” he says, and hopes it doesn’t sound like he has no idea what he’s doing. “What if I don’t mind soggy turkey skin?”

“You mind soggy turkey skin,” Derek says firmly, and Stiles laughs.

----

“Turkey hotline, this is Derek.”

“Seriously, you’ve been at this for three hours,” Stiles says, because he had fully expected to get someone else on the line. Unless Derek is the sole employee—volunteer? He has no clue—he should have gotten someone else by now.

“Try eight,” Derek says. “Please tell me you turned the turkey down.”

“I’d feel bad lying to you,” Stiles says, grinning. “So it turns out I forgot the rolls, and I have a box of pancake mix but it says I need eggs, which I don’t have because I used them all in the cheesecake. Help me, Obi Wan, you’re my only hope.”

There’s a pause, and Stiles has a moment to hope he hasn’t broken Derek’s brain before he finally replied. “Oh, you’re thinking about making biscuits.”

“That’s what I said,” Stiles says, poking at the cheese sauce for his hopefully tolerable mac and cheese.

“You did not, but you don’t need eggs. Or pancake mix. Google a recipe for drop biscuits and so help me do not bake them at the same time as the turkey.”

“Aww, you know me so well, boo,” Stiles coos, and flips off the burner. “Why do you do this, anyway?”

“So people like you don’t give your friends and family food poisoning,” Derek says. “You’re safe, by the way, if you keep roasting the turkey at 375. It’ll be charred.”

“Drama queen,” Stiles mutters, and then puts his foot in his mouth by asking, “you’re not too busy cooking your own dinner?”

“My family’s across the country,” Derek says after just a moment. “My sister usually made dinner for us and her friends, but she just got married so she’s with his family.”

“Sucks, dude,” Stiles says, cursing when the doorbell rings. “Gotta go. Hopefully Scotty brought the alcohol or I’m gonna have a riot when they learn the food’s not ready. Thanks again.”

He hangs up, pauses, and calls right back.

“Turkey hotline, this is Derek.”

“Derek,” Stiles says, “you should come over here. We’ve got plenty of food. Some of it even edible, thanks to you.” He gives him his address before he loses his nerve, adds in a few key landmarks he’s near just in case, and hangs up before Derek can respond.

---

Lydia looks at him suspiciously when the bell rings, glancing around the room like she’s mentally counting the people in it and wondering who the hell else Stiles knows that’s not currently in the room, which, rude, but he’ll deal with that later.

Or not. He probably won’t bring it up at all, because she would have been right if he hadn’t been calling the turkey helpline all day, and he doesn’t want to get into it.

For now he sidesteps Scott, who had been helpfully on his way to the door, straightens his shirt, and flings it open.

Holy good Jesus.

He probably gapes—not his most attractive look, but he can’t be blamed when the man standing on his front porch is the literal definition of perfection. “Hi,” he manages to say, “Derek?”

It’s probably not Derek. It’s probably Jackson’s new boyfriend checking up on him, or a neighbor ready to yell at him for taking up so many parking spaces with his guest’s cars, or—

“I never caught your name,” the man says, and it’s Derek’s voice, it’s Derek, and Stiles is still standing like an idiot half-hanging out the door.

“Stiles,” he says, and waves a hand automatically to brush off the inevitable question. “I’m glad you came. Come in, come in.”

Derek’s shrugging out of his leather jacket, and if Stiles wasn’t already formulating ideas to make Derek fall in love with him, he certainly is the moment it comes off and reveals a soft looking maroon sweater underneath it. “Well, you said I was your only hope. Come on, Skywalker, show me your kitchen.”

#sterek #sterek fic #thanksgiving #fluff #eli writes #stiles stilinski #derek hale

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akunoniwa · 5 months

Text

Prying

AN: i feel kinda evil bc the ending is sorta abrupt but this shit was getting too long babes... unless?

Synopsis: In which you and Dottore discuss pet names in conversation at first, putting them to good use not too long after...

Pairing: Il Dottore x fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, Dottore finds your humiliation to be v irresistible..., use of 'master', 'daddy' (once! hear me out lmao), etc., mirror sex

WC: ~5.2k (she's long-winded, sorry, i think...)

You don’t understand the appeal.

As soon as you mentioned off-hand to Dottore that you didn’t understand why some thought it was hot to refer to their partners as ‘daddy’, he wouldn’t let you live it down. Not only did he find this addictingly humorous, but he also found himself curious… Perhaps you just never put it to proper use. Before you mentioned it, he didn’t have any opinions on the matter, let alone knowing it was a matter to begin with. But the fact that you were basically telling him that you would feel so degraded, so violated if you were to actually call someone this… He wanted to know, he wanted to weaponize this somehow, jokingly of course… He thinks.

“It’s just… Like, that’s how you address your father as a young child… Ya know?” You turned your head in the crux of your pillow towards him. You both lay in a leisurely type of bare, simply winding down from the day. Dottore had long set his book down, charmed by this topic.

“Well, wouldn’t it just… I’m not sure, darling… Some people are just so desperate to feel small, but I couldn’t tell you why or when it began. Sounds morbidly incestuous, to a degree.” You scanned his defined profile as he looked at the ceiling in thought, more committed to this investigation than you expected.

“Right? Like, why not ‘master’ or even… I dunno, someone not related to you?” You were waiting for this very reaction from him, a smirk pushing his fine smile lines to be visible.

“You never seem to call me any of those things…” Somehow the smirk dressed itself as a pout before your eyes.

“I– You never asked…? I don’t want to just randomly address you as something that might make you feel… Uncomfortable.” You must’ve forgotten who you were speaking to, a man who never seems to falter, a seasoned masochist. Even still, you stood your ground… In truth, the prospect of calling him anything other than his name simply embarrassed you, but you tried to keep that close to your chest in secret.

“I suppose you’re right.” He chose to respect your reasoning, “What if I asked?”

“Then I guess… If that’s what you like, I would do it.” You spoke matter-of-factly. In addition to the inherent embarrassment, you honestly found it hard to want to call anyone, any of those names, as you don’t usually give in that easily. This was something that only added fuel to his enduring fire, your playful resistance, the process of melting away your pride and dignity… All for him.

“You don’t even use my official title anymore. It’s almost funny, you’re the only one I like hearing my given name from, though usually, it’s only in here that I hear it.”

“Because you asked, you buffoon. You asked me to call you that because you told me you liked it.” You couldn’t keep a hold of your laughter any longer.

“Did I?” He remembers the day he did so, but found too much enjoyment in teasing you as he stroked his chin in faux thought.

“Maybe you should call me ‘master’.” Your giggles were running circles around the room.

“Would you like that?” He turned his head to you, his eye contact haunting you briefly, “Unlike a certain darling, I wouldn’t feel embarrassed to honor your filthy little wishes.”

“I said I would!”

It was his turn to chuckle, his deep voice resounding gently above you like its own duvet, “But you’d be reluctant, as you just informed me. Unfortunately, I find it amusing when you’re out of your comfort zone because I can tell when you’re just being your shy, bratty, self. You’d tell me otherwise.”

“Then we can both be masters.” Your laughter caved like a burst dam, dying at the thought of how ridiculous that’d be.

His face was hysterical, lips pressed so hard they’d lost their color as he tried not to let his laughter free, “I don’t know how that’d work… I don’t think we’d get anything done. Would we both be on our knees or just in a stalemate of power stances?”

“Stop– Stop talking.” The laughter was making your stomach tickle, unable to stop as he continued the hypothetical.

He rolled on his side to face you completely, “If we’re both standing in the power stance, how would one bend the other over their knee? It’s a logistical failure, darling.” His hand snuck over to gather a tear from your reddened face as your giggles died down. Perhaps being a buffoon wasn’t so bad if he got to hear your true laughter emanate from your infectious smile.

“I’d say we fight for the title, but… You’ve told me in various ways how you prefer to be the loser in that situation.”

“Try it,” you suggested, “Just try calling me master once, I wanna know how it feels.” A delicate, mischievous smile still lounged on your face.

An opening unlike any other, he’d overpower you with what you thought would be your pedestal. The sounds of blankets shifting flooded your ears as he moved to straddle over you, his powder blue hair hanging in ornate waves around his face.

“Is this not cheating?” You placed your hands on his blazing chest above you, your eyes lingering on how his arms flexed to hold himself over you.

“Only if you tell me it is… Master.” He didn’t hesitate, his eyes a deep, sappy scarlet, “You make the rules.” He referred to you like this so languidly, so heavily as he awaited what you might do next.

“I suppose I’ll allow it… I don’t feel very masterly when you’ve got me caged like this.” You took a liberty only the one ‘in command’ would, experimentally pinching his raised nipples for a reaction.

His long lashes fluttered as if a moth were shaking off dew. God, he wished you’d never stop, but he didn’t want to say that just yet, “Wouldn’t a master simply… Take control?”

He bent his arms to allow for his upper body to lean into you, his lips, taut once more in his trademark smirk, nearing your left ear, “Or… are you already stepping down?”

He felt your right hand slide down his front, anticipating your touch to collide with his exposed length, unfortunately the only thing he couldn’t conceal. He was easily aroused by you, though he was discovering… Toying with you like this, almost a perfect balance of submission was making his body rage for you. His willingness to even think someone had the higher ground was only because of you, finding that… Maybe he didn’t mind being controlled by you. But what really riled him was the thought of that pretty word leaving your mouth, so exasperated, barely able to think about anything beyond him.

Your hand sunk slowly against his searing, rigid body, not surprised to find he was already hard, his cock pronounced as it hung over you. You’d debated on touching him or not, but something about taking him into your hand was addicting… Just stroking his length, pulling on him deliberately from shaft to tip, as if you had him caught on a leash of your touch.

His voice, no matter the words or sounds that he used it for, was the key to your demise, deep with an alluring timbre. Quickly your mind was reminded, that he is the Second Harbinger… People find this man to be deplorable and menacing, his voice is only heard making barbaric commands or bickering with other deplorable, menacing Harbingers. All for good, supported, reason. But here, on top of his usual stony tone, grew flowers through the cracks of his demeanor, pollinated as you stroked him. His lips were so close… His shameless, sodden groans fall right into your ear. He was effortlessly always in control, knowing how susceptible you are to him.

“Don’t you want to tell me what to do, Master?” You wanted to punch him as he whined this into you, though not without defiance, his tongue shocking the helix of your ear, a trail of ice left behind. He wouldn’t dare allow himself to miss how your breath lurched in your throat.

You responded with a harsh enough pull on his cock to only remove your hand altogether, “You’re too good at this…” Not that you could mind too much. You pushed his chest in a way to urge him off of you, to which he easily obliged as you both switched places. His length pressed against his lower stomach as you sat over him to grind your pooled wetness along the underside.

“How long do you want to play pretend, darling?” You felt his hips gyrate up into you ever so slightly, “You clearly cannot get out of your mind, too busy wishing I was taking over it.”

You thought for a moment, wondering how you could catch him off guard… How you could make him lose himself, even for just a second. Your uncertainty was making it difficult, “How about…” You hesitantly removed yourself from him to retrieve a toy from your bedside drawer, laughing inwardly, almost nervously at his impending reaction.

He wouldn’t mind what you brought, his intrigue piqued as you revealed your futile efforts to best him in his own game. Your choosing a dildo could mean a few things in this situation… Did you want to fuck him? Was he to watch as you fucked yourself? He waited with bated breath, already missing your heat against him.

You returned to your position, a buzz of pleasure shooting through both of you at the continued contact. He’d do anything at this point, just wanting to see how far you’d go so he could obliterate you equally and more afterward.

After briefly taking it into your mouth, you dragged the wet tip along the center of his front, all the way up to his chin, “Would you suck cock for your master?”

A foreign feeling, not unlike pleasure, barrelled through him as he saw the look he was waiting for in your eyes, “You’re asking me?” Chills trickled through his body, all the way up through his nose as a pleased sigh.

“Be good for me… All you have to do is open your mouth…” You strung him along, though he was too turned on to care, parting his lips to allow you to slowly push into his mouth. He could feel your legs tensing on either side of him, your clit throbbing against his cock as he did so… This was so good.

“I wanna see your eyes.” You weren’t so much dominating him but rather he willingly entertained you by playing along, this is what he told himself anyway. Looking into your soul as his lips clung to the rubber so sweetly, his dextrous tongue working with more enthusiasm than you expected… You didn’t think he’d look so pretty doing this.

Once his spit generously coated the dildo, you dragged it from his mouth, depriving his twitching length of your sopping pussy as you sat between his opened legs. Opening your own, wide enough that he could see the lustrous stage you’d set. You easily slid the dildo, gleaming with his saliva, into your beckoning cunt as he was made to watch.

Well played, he thought… You looked so beautiful as your cunt clung to the dildo that was just in his mouth, your contorted face making it evident that you simply wanted to be filled… Your pace was slow with purpose as you imagined him fucking you like this… He wanted so badly to be inside you, to hear your abashed, small, voice call him dirty things. You swore you saw his cock jolt with impatience.

His right hand lunged unhurriedly towards his sex, but you swatted it away, “You’re only allowed to watch.”

His lovely voice shaped as a threatening laugh met your ears. Threatening as in he’d let your antics wrack up to be used against you at the right time. His eyes were forced to shade themselves as he looked down over his toned torso, watching you intently. The only way you would be able to dominate him would be by his own hand… or cock. You had so many opportunities to learn from his example, though your mind was probably checked out at that point.

His movements to resist your words ceased, watching as you increased the pace of your self-assault, glorious sounds of your wetness snapping into his ears. His lower lip tucked between his teeth, your left hand playing mindlessly at the soft skin of his upper thigh… He couldn’t help but feel the fault lines of his heart threaten to burst at the lovely sight before him. It felt like his gaze alone was propelling your hand, the tension was caustic and heavy.

You brought yourself to the edge of your release, movements shaky as you caged over him like he’d done to you before. You only had to bring the toy to his lips for him to gladly collect your sweet, his moans, deeper than the Chasm, almost infusing with it as he did. He loved how your eyes branded him as you watched… Maybe you were learning something after all… How to adeptly destroy him, one glance at a time.

Setting the dildo aside, at this point, you just wanted to kiss him. His lips were glossed with a brew of spit and cum, but that only made it more enticing. Like leaves brushing against each other in a gentle breeze, your lips found his. His whole body felt particularly sensitive, your nips at his lips almost a tickle as you teased him. That is, until he captured your face between his hands, lifting his head to press up into you. It felt like the kiss had been placed into a kiln, searing and intense as he was exposing how much he just needed to have you. His heart attached to yours like jumper cables, reinventing what yearning felt like as his tongue swam against yours, disregarding aesthetics and grace.

You both were only left more of a mess than before. As you parted, briefly a salty thread of combined spit, like a spider web, hung between your lips before snapping silently.

His hands pressed down along your curves as if shaping clay, pausing at your waist. Your arms were growing tired, and you couldn’t keep your mind off the gravitational pull of your throbbing cunt, knowing how his cock merely sat in wait. You wanted to lay on his chest… For some reason, his grin only grew.

“Was it worth it? Do you feel transformed, master?” He batted at you with his words like a cat playing with its prey, knowing it was his turn, whether you decided that or not.

“You did well, darling.” You commented in a voice that mocked his own, causing you both to laugh in unison for the second time. Your head dropped in a forfeit as he squeezed your sides.

“Making fun of me, now… I see.” He clicked his tongue, returning to the program that he would see through to the end, “Go stand by the stool in front of the mirror.” He ordered as his hands dropped in time with a sensation of excitement in your stomach, starting with his interpretation of this act.

You obeyed, the kinetic flow of wanting to please leading you to where he directed. You were made to observe your naked body, though distracted when he approached from behind and sat beside you on the stool, “I want you to lay over me, your pretty ass perked for me.”

He could see a familiar gleam in your eyes that sent him universal, knowing you were following his every word like footsteps in snow. Bridged over his legs, his right hand found your plump ass as if it were a magnet, caressing your supple skin. You knew what his intentions were, though, bracing for how and when he’d deliver his first blow.

“Do you truly think, darling… That you’d be able to overpower me without me letting you?”

Whatever your answer was, he wanted to feel the recoil regardless, “You’d just tell me your submission was ‘playing along’ even if I did.”

His hand lifted but a few inches to collide with your ass cheek, gathering your flesh in his hand like a duvet, “It’s against your nature...”

You reeled in how he assumed his harsh demeanor so effortlessly, “Do you think the other Harbingers know you’d clearly bow to my will under your guise of controlling the uncontrollable?”

This clap to your ass felt more personal, making you wince as a squeak snuck out of your throat, “I don’t give a single fuck about those insolent boors. I’d not admit your curiosity in them, though you know I’ll just hit you harder.” Your eyes locked on his own in the mirror as he had well already caught onto your antics.

“So it goes… Perhaps I do wonder about them.” You pushed the topic over the cliff, the punishment he’d give could only really be a reward.

He tried to not allow his heart to be swayed by your taunts, “You think they aren’t familiar with your pathetic moans coming from my office?”

“If they’re anything like you, that’d only intrigue them further, I would think…”

Smack.

This time you gave him a moan of rejoice, growing addicted to the sting, his hand falling over the crest of your ass to explore your cunt. Your wetness overflowed to coat your clit as it threatened to drip, loving his aggression.

“Hmm… I’ve barely grazed your desperate cunt until now, and it seems you’re trying to insinuate something foolish. Then tell me, my sweet, insatiable, darling, what or who is it that you want?” His middle and ring fingers pressed into your soaked, petal-like lips, coaxing you to answer.

You were debating… Should you weaponize another man’s name to provoke him… It feels like foul play, as you really had eyes for no other madman but himself, he knows this well. But what if…

“You’re always hanging around that opulent-looking one with glasses… Pantalone, was it?” You chose to improvise listlessly with war anyway.

He gritted his teeth, eyes diverting away from you for the first time. He knew you were just trying to play the cards you had, God, he knew. But something inside could not prevent the inherent, possessive tendencies from making some kind of appearance. Of all the Harbingers, of course you’d choose Pantalone as your mode of combat. He’s such a duplicitous excuse of a man.

His two fingers plunged into your hole, he watched as the muscles in your back tensed, feeling your front wriggle over his legs, “I see how he looks at you, darling. He is so acquainted with wealth, he’s used to having everything available to him… He sees you with me and knows his ability to be conscious of his own existence will be compromised if he even thinks about touching you.”

His hand retracted to instead give your weeping clit a generous slap, the wetness enhancing the sound, then sinking back into you. His lithe fingers felt so dizzying as they paced against your spongy walls, how could you think of anything but that?

“Really, I brought it up because the thought of them seeing you like this turned me on, not because I want to fuck them.”

“Invariably, if they somehow saw me like this, you’d be the only logical cause… Look in the mirror, look at yourself.” His free hand slid under your face to push your cheek in the mirror’s direction, “Who are you bent over so pitifully for right now? It almost sounds as if you’d like an audience…” He noted where your eyes were as you followed his roaming hand at your backside, “Tell me.” He demanded, swatting your ass once more. He couldn’t chain back the grin on his face, waiting to see which title you’d attempt to christen him with.

You weren’t about to give in to what he wanted most, your pure humiliation…, so you opted to at least repay him equally, “You, Zandik… Master.”

“Really…” His fingers returned to your sopping cunt, more so as a reminder rather than a means of pleasure, “I think you know what I want to hear… I’ll give you another chance.”

Your face cringed slightly, though that wasn’t enough to disguise the way your hole clenched around his stilled fingers at the thought, “Fuck…”

He hunched down to ensure his words were clear, “You brought this up… It was eating away at your mind so badly that you thought it was safe to bring it up to me? It’s at the tip of your little tongue, darling… Your face is such a tender shade of red…” His hand pumped slowly into you, as if to lure it out of you with his feigned compassion, “Tell me, pretty baby, whose fingers are inside you right now.”

Your eyes looked to the supposed heavens for a moment, “I hate you.”

He scoffed sharply, “That sounds more in character… You’d be such a contemptuous little brat for me…” He gathered your hair haphazardly, pulling your head upwards, somehow amplifying his ministrations, “Go on, who’s got you bent at his will.” His tone was low though infected with his shit-eating grin.

“Fine– You… Daddy.” Your voice had almost entirely checked out. You knew he wouldn’t let you leave this position until you did so.

He laughed a riot right into your ear, though hissed like the snake he is afterward at the sheer pleasure of winning, maintaining his pace, “You look as if you could hurl, darling, but I don’t think I’ve felt your cute cunt clench around me quite so hard… You’re dripping down my fingers, I ought to make you clean this mess up.”

You whined as he increased his pace, egging you on, “That’s right… So fucking tight…”

In actuality, he didn’t care much for the pet name but rather just your adorable embarrassment, so he decided he wasn’t convinced, “Why not embrace it a little more…” Getting you close to the edge, retreating his hand only to prod at your lips, “Why not taste your humiliation, since you hate calling me ‘daddy’ so much? Hmm?”

You were shivering as the denied orgasm left you high, though not so much dry, taking his slender fingers into your mouth. Your tongue weaved between them so as to clean them completely, his eyes sharp, jabbing into your face as he watched. That feeling again, as if an hourglass had been flipped, all the blood rushed to his core as he fucked your mouth with his hand. When he was satisfied with your work, he slowly dragged his soaked fingers along your back to trace back down. You shook at the chilling trail it left.

“Hmm,” There was an arrogant triumph to his voiced sigh, “So sensitive, too… It drives me crazy, darling.” He moved to grip your waist, urging you off of him, “I wonder… Would you suck cock for your master?” His words wagged their fingers in your ears as he adjusted you to sit on your heels before him.

“And you say I talk shit?” You ran your hands flush up his parted thighs, observing how cute his folded tummy looked as he sat, watching you. His faint happy trail, the glazed plains of his pale chest in contrast to his florid, angular face. For a moment, he said not a word, realizing how desperately he required your touch, in any capacity. His cock leaned heavily to the side, as if in its last attempt of an exhausted taunt for your lips. Your hands closed in on him, his eyes fluttering as they gently pulled at his flushed length.

“I love it when you moan for me…” You mentioned as an aside before taking his swollen tip between your velveteen lips. His head fell back, and a groan, like a smoke ring, hovered to the ceiling.

His fingertips pushed their way through your hair, though with no other intent but seemingly to distract himself from losing himself too soon. He played with your hair almost domestically, petting you along as you took as much of his throbbing cock as you could. You could tell he so badly wanted to buck into your mouth, your hands gripping him at the pivot of his thighs and hips as he writhed… You wished he’d let you in on this kind of raw desperation more often, as this version of him played in your mind so sweetly.

“Such a good girl for me, fuck.” He’d never called you that before, but the sensation it conveyed in your brain felt as if your soul had fallen out of the window of your body. He had you where you couldn’t refute it, making you swallow that, too, without resistance, “I knew you’d like that…” He laughed wickedly despite his exasperated state, and it felt so good, “My good girl…” He almost sang it down to you the second time, making your chest waver, coasting your hands upwards against his tense torso. He untangled his hands from your hair, easily blanketing yours against his waist, effectively lulled by the lush of your touch.

His fingertips dragged down the stretch of your arms, over the horizon of your shoulders to round back to your face, causing you to pause in wait. Your eyes lazily gravitated up to his own, his face was tipped as he peered over his nose in his lecherous way, “Come here, darling, where you belong…”

Upon your standing, he twisted you around between his hands to face away from him, then pulled down at your hips to finally lower your pliant, sobbing cunt onto him. The friction of his firm chest against your back alone was tantalizing enough, his hot breath steaming your skin from behind making your body slack in his grasp. A hand left your side, gripping his length to align himself. The initial pleasure of his tip making contact with the magma that was your arousal against him was suffocating, your eyes heavy with refined lust, though you couldn’t tear them away. He lowered you onto his cock at a meticulous speed, so dreadfully slow, you swear you could feel his pulse. His groan of contagious desire shot through your spine as you watched him disappear inside you as he left you to sit completely full of him for his own amusement.

“Look at you, pretty darling, how you like to watch yourself take my cock so beautifully.” His wet lips played on your shoulder blade to leaf between his words, “How I wish this very image were branded into my mind…” Moving towards the crook of your neck, your head inadvertently swayed to the side to allow access, his hands forcing your hips to grind in his lap. His teeth brushed over the sensitive base of your neck, your shoulders raising as he teased your skin. You felt as if you were losing your grip on a certain aspect of consciousness, the way his thick length stirred inside you, brushing and shocking every nerve.

“Keep moving just like that…” He instructed in a whisper as his hands left to tend to your breasts, adding yet another layer of dizziness as he pinched and kneaded. He loved the way the soft skin of your ass brushed against his inner thighs, your cunt tied and bowed around his shaft so perfectly. He’d pause at your neck here and there to peek at your face, a delirious focus on maintaining your movements… Your precious sounds that now flowed shamelessly from your lips, he truly could never get enough of you.

You tried to lift yourself, needing to be properly rearranged from the inside out, but he halted your attempt, unraveling a whine, “I know, I know… My good girl has been working so hard…” His eyes fixated on how your slick literally overflowed, trickling down to his balls in a lewd stream. How you squeezed around him upon that name… It was too much for him to bear, “You really do like that, huh darling?”

“Mmhm…,” is all you could manage, your thighs twitching impatiently, an indescribable feeling winding up your body, “God, please just let me move.”

“I didn’t even have to ask you to beg, you sorry little thing.” He guided you to lift, your vision flickering at the sheer strength of the awaited friction, “Tell me more… How much do you want me to fucking destroy you?”

You gave in to his game, unable to resist, “So badly, Zandik, please.”

Finally, your hole just barely reached the precipice of his raging cock, holding you there, “I could make you cum just like this, giving you only what you barely need as you wished I’d fuck you right– Please what?”

“Fuck… Please, please fuck me, I need your cock… Please.” You squirmed as your voice was hoarse and almost unfamiliar to even yourself as you pleaded.

He slammed you down onto him easily, given how soaked you were, hardly able to wait himself, “When you’re this wet, I would think my cock is the only thing you need.” He talked both you and himself into oblivion, sticky slick between both his and your thighs accentuating the frantic collision of your bodies. His fingers were soldered to your waist, gripping you as he moved your body at his pace, watching as your breasts flailed rhythmically in his thrusts’ wake. He wished there was a way to consume the buttery noises you were making on top of him as his own bled into them.

You adored how his lips hung open, how his brows tensed upward as he exhibited both complete focus and abandonment, his mind devoted only to the way he fucked you in this moment. You found him infuriatingly handsome as it is, but to see him so breathless, his vast vocabulary reduced to exclusively vile taunts, he was utterly ethereal like this.

His lips curled up as you eyed him so intensely, forcing you off of him, the sudden vacancy in your cunt making you want to scream. He stood behind you, feeling up your front as he did so, “I can’t describe the feeling I get when you look at me like that, darling…” He turned you to face him, hastily stealing your lips for a kiss that dug into your chest like his nails did your back as he searched your skin hungrily.

Upon stopping, he moved to hold your chin in place, your face displayed in his hand like a gemstone gleaming in the prongs of a ring. His swollen lips were still close, his crimson eyes had a glow to them, almost, cascading a dense shadow of need over your features, “However I may call you, you will most importantly, always, be mine. …And I hope… I will always be yours, darling.”

#il dottore x fem!reader #il dottore x reader #il dottore smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #作文

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