#sort of. I mean not actually the focus of the fic but. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

notquitecanon · 5 months

Text

Insufferably Admirable // Astarion x Reader

Summary: After a restful day turns into a bloody night, your unspoken yet painfully obvious dedication to Astarion has put you in what should be a harder choice. Once Astarion realizes just how far you'd go for him, he has to begin to confront the feelings and realizations he's been ignoring for a while. OR that time You figured out the most effective way to heal a vampire and Astarion got emotional about it

Set at the end of Act 1, but not quite act two. Pre-confession but it's obvious they have some sort of feelings for each other

TW: canon typical violence, blood & blood drinking(obvi this is an Astarion fic), no use of Tav or (Y/N), one use of technical self harm (c*tting) but not in a self mutilation way??, mentions of manipulation obvi, reader might be a little too willing to help (totally not be projecting what???)

this is my first time writing anything for Astarion after hyper fixating on him for a month so please be gentle. I know it's a bit all over the place. (yes I could have completely left out the first half, but there isn't much actual dialogue in the second half and I like to put this guy in situations)

"Remind me again why you insisted on coming with me? I figured you’d be ripe for a day to lay around camp and let us do all the heavy lifting." You grumbled, scanning the crowded streets for a merchant. The goal was simple: get to the nearest village, sell off the extra weight, use the gold to stock the necessary supplies, and whatever the gold couldn’t buy… well, acquire it by any means necessary. No matter your path, through the shadows or the Underdark, you'd need to be prepared.

Gale had gone to pilfer for useful scrolls and maybe an enchanted item to snack on. Lae’zel and Shadowheart to a blacksmith for specialty arrows, useful armor, and any other weapons that caught their eyes. Karlach had carried the two trunks and barrel of items you had collected from your adventure thus far, finding you a wheelbarrow before heading back to camp to help Wyll with his preparations. Halsin… had taken his wild form and disappeared into the forest. Originally, you had intended to do your tasks alone, until-

"My dear, I’m always ripe for a lay." Astarion twisted your words with a smirk, easily dodging the hand that reached to swat his chest. With a short laugh, he answered your question, his theatrics only increasing to more you argued, "To begin with, Someone- my fabulous self- had to make sure you didn’t get the whole group wrapped up in another laundry list of side quests- who knows what trouble you could have found if you were left all by your lonesome? A gnoll den? A kraken in the pond? an old woman’s wagon with a broken wheel? a kitten up a tree? An orphanage with a leaky roof? Another cult for us to dismantle? Another temple to drop on me? Where would it end? You’re incapable of turning people away, it’s one of your insufferably admirable qualities."

"It’s called being kind, you dramatic elf." You grumbled, not prepared for the in depth analysis of your character. Trying not to focus so much on the fact he’d called something about you admirable.

"Second, knowing you, you’d sell all this off and still manage to come back to camp with them full. Honestly, pet, how have you managed to collect this much junk? You don’t even have a bag of holding." Astarion scoffed, using a single pale finger to peek under the lid of the barrel. It was just barely containing the countless daggers, goblin bows, pairs of leather armors, and dusty sandals. Your cheeks burned hot- maybe you had a habit of being overzealous in how eagerly you pilfered through all the crates you came across, checking bodies for anything valuable, and demanding the vampire to pick every locked chest the party uncovered. Hells only knew the thrill you got when you would find a buried chest.

"You never know when you might need something!" You reasoned, but swatted him away to hastily shut the barrel before the contents could spill out. It had taken you the better part of the night to pack it full of all the things your companions had convinced you to get rid of. The pale elf rolled his eyes, brushing past you so gracefully you didn’t feel his fingers in your pocket.

"Really, my sweet? When, pray tell, might we need the collection of rusty necklaces you’ve amassed." Astarion held the bronze and silver necklaces up to the light, the red and blue stones sparkling despite the rust. His voice always like velvet, ruby eyes alight with teasing, "Far be it from me to criminalize accessorizing, but that darling neck of yours is tempting enough already."

"Astarion!" You cringed, hearing your voice almost whine. Damn him for having that effect, so you cleared your throat as you snatched the jewelry back, "They are useful when we can sell them for gold."

Astarion, having gotten the reaction he wanted, let you shove the necklaces back in a pocket before glaring at him, though it didn’t hold much actual malice, "Well, come on then, let’s sell the sandals for all the riches the village has to offer us."

—

An afternoon later, you were smiling smugly as you watched Astarion grumble. Between all the goods and six different merchants, you were leaving with an additional 9,000 in gold, not to mention the additional 3,000 Astarion had managed to pickpocket while you bartered, and the items the two of you had managed to swipe. You felt particularly vindicated as he complained about the weight of the coins in his pack.

"I’ll buy you something pretty in Baldur’s Gate." You cooed teasingly, to ‘appease’ him. Astarion spared you a deadpan glance before standing to leave, only making you giggle all the more, "Let’s get back to camp."

Astarion caught your eyes once more, scowl softening out at the sight of your bright smile. He was just about to say something sickeningly sweet and perhaps more than a touch vulgar when his eyes flitted up to something, pointed ears twitching at something you couldn’t quite hear. Until you could.

The door of the jeweler you had swindled burst open, a strangled voice shrieking, "THIEVES! SOMEONE CATCH THEM!"

Astarion must have been rubbing off on you, because for a moment you tried to feign confusion, looking around for the ‘culprits’ as if the dwarf wasn’t pointing directly at you. Not that it did much good as several passerbys began to circle around the two of you.

"Everyone’s so touchy about their personal belongings these days." The rogue scoffed. Astarion grabbed your wrist and tugged you to him, so that your back was pressed to his and no one could sneak up on you. In his other hand, a dagger had already appeared.

You sighed in defeat, taking your bow off your back, "No killing."

"No promises."

Compared to the goblin camp or fighting through the githyanki creche, disarming and incapacitating untrained townspeople and barely trained guards was barely a warm up. Still, Astarion never left your side, an increasingly common occurrence when you found yourself in tight situations. Together, it didn’t take long to put distance between yourselves and your attackers, managing to get far enough to escape to the fight. Deflecting one last blow as the two of you passed by an open tavern, you incapacitated a rather pitiful guard with a blunt thunk from the pommel of your dagger. Taking one relieved breath, you tried not to focus too much of the trail of bleeding, unconscious bodies you and the rogue had left behind in your escape attempt.

"Best we stick to the shadows before we attract more attention." Astarion mused with a cruel smirk, grabbing your sleeve and using it to wipe the blood off the corner of his mouth, his fangs glinting in the afternoon sun. The rogue only chuckled at your curses, giving some inane quip about the crime of dirtying his ensemble and how blood someone always looked better on you, "Now, believe what I said about you finding trouble? Back to camp before you find more."

Before you could wrench your arm back or remind him that he was the only who got caught stealing, he pulled you off the main road into the alley adjacent- unaware of the attention that had already been attracted from inside the tavern.

____

Ambushed in the night.

A whole hunting party of Gur hunters. Willing to purge your party as they slept.

And they were calling Astarion the monster. Fortunately, Scratch was an excellent guard dog. Waking the entire camp when the hunters tried to creep where you slept. Just as fortunately, there wasn’t a soul in camp that didn’t sleep without at least a dagger under their pillow.

Your camp had become a bloodbath in the dim glow of the campfire. You had used the book you had fallen asleep reading as an improvised weapon, throwing it so hard it broke the first hunter’s nose. Lae’zel was single handedly mowing through three hunter with her long sword. Spells and incantations sent flashes of light from Gale and Shadowheart’s part of camp, and fire and brimstone lit up Karlach’s. There was yelling and cursing echoing in the cool night air, orders to take the vampire spawn alive and to kill the rest.

And Astarion? Their target?

He was where he always was during a fight these days. Right beside you, like a pale, snarky shadow. He had been the one to press your sword into your hand so you’d have more than just your dagger. With him, you slashed and sliced anything that came near. Until the bastard appeared out of no where, squeezing in between you and the rogue. You would have applauded (more likely cursed) the near perfect use of an invisibility charm- had it not been for the poison-dipped stake raised against Astarion.

This hunter was different, you could see it in his eyes. They were somehow devoid of life and yet also simmering with rage as they trained on your snow haired companion. This hunter didn’t plan to take Astarion back to Baldur’s Gate, not alive at least. He didn’t care about whatever orders they had, or what consequences would come for disobeying them. He only cared about driving the stake into Astarion’s heart.

Astarion’s eyes went wide as well at the sight of the stake, realizing as you did that this was no longer just a kidnapping, it would be an assassination. Your thundering heart stuttered, blood going supernova in your veins before freezing to ice as your mind whirled through a hundred different possibilities and also went blank. Your own opponent, along with years of learned strategy, were instantly forgotten as blind instinct took over. Every ounce of strength and speed you had was directed into a desperate lunge. In your desperation, you really weren’t sure if your goal was to tackle the hunter, grab his arm, tackle Astarion, or maybe even take the stake to your chest instead- you decided to choose along the way, as long as it ended with Astarion alive(ish) and well.

You managed to close the distance, one hand planted firmly to Astarion’s chest shoving him further and the other clamping onto the leather of the hunter’s gauntlet, the same arm poising the stake. With a feral sounding shriek, you pushed his arm so his aim was off. At the same time, your original opponent, frustrated at being forgotten, cast a wave of thunder that sent all three of you flying.

Astarion, the Gur, and you flew backwards a good fifteen feet, the thunder shaking you to your very bones and splitting your ears. The breath was knocked out of you so hard you thought your poor lungs might collapse and you weren’t able to tell if it was the spell or the impact that did it. You didn’t have time to contemplate, the moment you were able, you scrambled onto your knees. With the same feral tenacity from earlier, you grabbed the hunter by the front of his leather armor, nails leaving scarily deep tracks as you hauled him off your vampiric companion. With your new opponent, you rolled both your bodies until you were on top of him, knee to his chest. Seeing the look in your eyes, the rage left his own, pure survival instinct taking over. You didn’t even feel the sting of the slicing blow across your shoulder, too consumed with a singular mission. It was Astarion’s dagger you had snatched from the ground on the way that delivered the quick death blow. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You expected to hear something from Astarion- a snarky comment about your lack of technique, a snide remark about his assailant, or even just a stream of petty curses- but he was silent. You turned back to him, only to have dread flood every cell in your body.

Nothing else mattered anymore, not the fight, not your injuries, and especially not your forgotten original hunter. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You barely noticed.

The moment you’d disposed of Astarion’s assailant, you were scrambling back towards the rogue, who was laying all too still. At first, you hesitated to even touch him as if that might make it worse. You called his name once, and then again when you were able to gingerly lay hands on him- one hand to his chest and the other pushing some curls out of his eyes. The stake, what should have been an almost useless weapon against anyone else, was still buried in his chest, piercing his favorite frilled collar shirt.

"No… Astarion-" Your voice was breaking, thick and raw. Your eyes couldn’t rip away from the stake, protruding from his chest, the poison staining the white linen of his shirt a sickly green. The hand on his chest balled into a fist, bunching the unsoiled fabric in your grip, but something caught your attention. The tiniest candle light of hope in the rapidly encroaching darkness of grief.

Your hand was directly over his undead heart. Anytime you touched him, your hand always fell directly over his heart. When you teasingly swatted at his chest, when you needed to steady yourself against him, when you needed to catch you balance… you always sought out his heart- subconsciously, instinctually, always his heart. Your hand was over his heart, and that gods-damned stake was four inches to the right. A tiny light, but a light none the less. It was then you realized you were calling the wrong name.

"SHADOWHEART!"

None of your companions had ever heard your voice that desperate, that scared. All their heads snapped to where they had last seen you, finding Astarion pulled to your chest as you wrenched the stake out of the spawn. Astarion stirred only long enough the let our a gurgling shout that fizzled into a groan at the pain, and you could only hope he heard your soft apologies before you started barraging the vampire with healing cantrips. You didn’t stop until the words held no more magic, your supply of magic tapped for the night.

The night air had changed, no longer fueled by adrenaline and challenge, now it was thick with urgency and fear. Each of your companions starting fighting towards the two of you, and when you locked watery eyes with Shadowheart you found her clearing her path with her spear. She had stopped using magic to fight, saving it all for Astarion.

"I’m coming! Hold on!" She promised as Karlach fell in beside her, battle axe taking over and sending two hunters to the grave together. Scratch and the owlbear cub had taking a lesson from Halsin and formed up beside you, growling into the night with hackles raised and feathers ruffled.

"Just hold on, Astarion." You relayed to the vampire, who was completely limp against you his back to your chest, head tilted back against your shoulder which bared his neck to you, showing the fang marks on his pale skin. If you were capable of humor, you would have laughed about the reversal of roles, it was usually you baring your veins to him. But at the moment, his lack of movement wasn’t particularly amusing, so instead you laced his fingers through yours, hoping the warmth would bring him some comfort. You pressed your cheek against his white curls, using your other hand to brandish his dagger just incase anyone got too close, and whispered all the reasons he was going to be okay. And that’s how you stayed until camp quietened and Shadowheart slid to a stop in front of you.

___

Hours later, Shadowheart had used every healing and restoration spell she knew, not stopping even when she began to sway and sweat. Halsin had offered his magic and healing herbs, Karlach made sure there was always a bucket of hot water and a stack of clean rags available, and you hadn’t missed Gale trying to hide the scroll of reviving from you as he slipped it to Shadowheart. Everyone in camp had been quick to gather all the healing potions, depositing them at the entrance of Astarion’s tent. Wyll and Lae’zell had slipped into the tree line to make sure the ambush was well and truly taken care of.

And you? Their appointed ‘fearless’ leader? You had gone uncharacteristically silent. Your heart hadn’t left your throat, clenching painfully every time they jostled the rogue. Your hands were shaking too much, both from fear and white hot rage, to really help the two more experienced healers of the group. And the thought of being too far from Astarion made your stomach turn, so you kept rooted like a tree. But, you were grateful, truly, for all of them. Even if in the moment, all you could do was sit beside Astarion and pray to any God or Devil that would listen. You felt like a wild animal in a cage and a helpless child at the same time, your insides very well might vibrate out of the body if you didn’t melt into the soil first.

The vampire needed all the help he could get. Aside from the occasional heartbreaking groan of pain or agony driven writhing, Astarion was eerily still. Barely breathing, less so than usual. His already pale, chilled skin had taken on a stony complexion, almost gray. And despite the inability to run a fever, there was a sheen of sweat over his face, clammy and uncomfortable. You hadn’t allowed them to undress him all the way, but part his shirt had been cut away to reveal the stab wound. It was deep, weeping Astarion’s already dark blood, and stretching out from the injury were black, twisting varicose veins that afforded you the cruel visual of the poison spreading. You wanted to take Gale’s revival scroll, use it on the hunter, and revoke the kindness of your mercifully quick death.

"It’s like the effect of our magic is being dampened." Shadowheart huffed, hands glowing as she cast another restoration spell. The sweat on Astarion’s brow subsided briefly before returning. Halsin nodded beside her, taking a deep sniff of the stake.

"His lack of blood isn’t moving the potions or antidote through his body fast enough, and this poison isn’t doing any favors." The druid thought aloud, taking some of his herbs to make a paste, "It doesn’t matter how many we pour down his throat if his body can’t absorb them."

Shadowheart’s worried gaze flickered to you for a moment, before settling back on Halsin, "We’ll figure something out."

You knew she was saying that more for your benefit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the pity. Instead, your grip tightened on Astarion’s hand as you swiped a clean rag to dab at his face. There was one more round of healing incantations and one more bottle of healing potion nursed into Astarion’s mouth. Your jaw twitched, watching most of it fall from the corner of his mouth. The same trail your own blood usually made after he fed.

"I’m tapped." Shadowheart sighed almost ruefully, the glow around her flickering and then fading, falling back on her heels. Halsin stood, stooped slightly in the low ceiling of the tent, turning to you.

"We’ve done everything we can do. We’ll try again with fresh minds in the morning. For now the best he, and we, can do is rest." His voice was calming, as if he thought you might start screaming again, but you just nodded, muttering something along the lines of thanks for trying, and not meeting either of their eyes as they ducked out of the tent.

Since you had belligerently refused any of their magical attempts to heal your shoulder, Gale had done a rather pitiful job of wrapping it, taking some pointers from Karlach along the way. The wizard offered you a tight smile and a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder before pressing a bottle of healing potion into your hand, "This one is for you. You’re no good to him if you bleed out all over the floor of his tent. We all know how Astarion feels about waste."

"Yeah- fancy boy will be starving when he wakes up." Karlach’s chipper voice was still laced with a sting of concern. The tiefling didn’t touch you for fear of burning you, but did leave you with some roasted meat and a carafe of water from earlier in the night, "And it wouldn’t hurt for you to eat something either, soldier."

Then you were left alone with your thoughts, hunched next to Astarion’s side, tired eyes examining the bottle after confirming the rise and fall of his chest. In your hand, the potion glowed slightly with the subtlest warmth, the scarlet liquid seeming to have a mind of its own as it swirled in glittering patterns behind the glass. Your injuries were meager, this little bottle of healing would have you as good as new. Bitterly, you flicked your eyes to the numerous empty potion bottles in the corner that had barely slowed Astarion’s bleeding. Your hand closed around it as you cast another look to the Vampire spawn beside you. His breaths were shaky and shallow even after Shadowheart and Halsin had exhausted every last bit of magic they'd had. Now in the quietest parts of the night, or maybe the darkest hours of the morning, your thoughts swirled, desperate for any sort of plan to latch onto. You had to do something.

For you, Gale had said, No good to him if you bled out… He’d be starving, Karlach had been joking, His lack of blood wasn’t moving the potions enough to be effective, that had been Halsin’s hypothesis.

Blood. He needed blood.

The revelation was like being dropped into a freezing lake, determination razing the fearful lethargy out of your soul. With your teeth, you pried the cork out and downed the first circular bottle, the overly sweet taste a stark contrast to the somber mood of the night. For good measure, you did the same with a potion of superior healing and two bottles of general poison antidote, slamming them down so fast you had to ignore the churning in your stomach. You’d loot twenty more goblin caves to make up for the dent in supplies if you had to, in that moment you just didn’t care. You waited a moment, begging the powers that be for your ragtag plan to work, not so patiently watching the bruises on your wrist until they started to fade.

You felt it, the moment that you had been completely healed and there was no where else for that magic to go. And then, you wrapped your arms under Astarion’s, heaving him against your chest. You bared your neck, letting gravity gently swing Astarion's nose to meet your pulse point, his silvery lashes tickling your jaw. He stirred slightly, groaning at the movement, pressing himself into your warmth before stilling again. Was he too far gone to realize what was being offered?

Realizing you’d need to play into his vampiric insticts, you huffed, shattering one of the empty vials against a stone, struggling to do so and keep his deadweight in place. Taking a shard, it wasn’t hesitation but a moment of stilling your shaking hand before you pressed a shallow cut to your neck, right above where his lips rested.

You hissed at the haphazard sting, not as gentle as the pinprick of his fangs were in the night, feeling the blood instantly pool at the seam, a single red ribbon dripping before the potion healed the scratch, "C’mon, Astarion-"

The moment his name left your lips, or maybe it was the moment a drop of your blood hit his, regardless you could feel his instinct, that sanguine hunger, take over. The soft lips at your neck were replaced with dagger sharp fangs digging into where the small cut had been. The sound you let out was somewhere between a gasp of pain and sob of relief as you barred him against yourself, fists clutching into the back of his shirt like it would keep both of you rooted to each other. Somewhere, in the back on your mind, you thought about the irony of the position, being so afraid to let him slip away, like a rabbit latching onto a snake for fear of the serpent starving. Even if it meant being consumed.

In that moment, you were so relieved he’d started feeding that you didn’t care that his fangs dug in deeper than they ever had before, much more animalistic than his usual polite nibble. You didn’t dare flinch or wince, in case that might break the spell. Instead, you focussed keeping the both of you upright, one of your arms wrapped under his own, your fingers splayed across his ribs, and your other hand cupping the nape of his neck. The angle had his silvery curls dusting your fingertips and your thumb caressing the sharpest part of his jaw. Never had you been so happy to feel that throbbing numbness in your neck. Astarion’s chin prodded further into your neck, deepening the hold he had, and with his own shaky breath, he swallowed the first mouthful of your blood.

The hand at his ribs clenched, pulling him impossibly closer and twisting his shirt into your grip again as your pulse began to speed up. The increase of your heart rate only seemed to encourage the vampire, teeth sinking ever deeper to draw more blood flow. Clenching your jaw, you forced your muscles not to tense, it would only make it hurt more. This mouthful was quicker, Astarion seemed to be actively drawing it out of you instead of just waiting for it. He swallowed again, gaining the strength to snake his arms around you. It wasn’t a strong hold at first, but one arm snaked around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head, those long fingers finding their usual place in the locks of your hair. You couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped, relishing the cool touch. Your voice stoked another fire in him, provoking another instinct, your blood provided the strength for his grip to harden, becoming more cage like. As if he needed to worry about you trying to escape.

He swallowed again, and the numbness spread, not just in your neck but into your cheeks and across your chest. Blood was racing, coursing through you and into him, and with it all the magic of the healing potions. You could feel him getting his legs underneath him, untangling himself from you. At the same time, it was getting harder to hold your arm up, the numbness had reached your fingertips leaving them fumbling at his curls before falling to his shoulder. Another long drink and you found your eyes starting to flutter, everything was starting to feel cold as a shiver shook your body. Astarion, against two centuries of vampiric instinct, started to pull back, and you didn’t stop him, but didn’t let him go far either. He was mostly supporting himself now, which was a relief because a fair bit of focus was freshly delegated to preventing yourself from swaying.

"Take all you need, ’Stari-" You meant for your voice to be assuring and strong, but it came out breathy and slightly slurred. Astarion pulled away, the movement bringing you mostly out of your stupor. His ruby eyes were as sharp as ever once again, even if the shadows under his eyes were still too dark for your liking, and they stared into your own half lidded eyes. Other than the deep purple shadows, the ashen complex had started to even out, the sweat on his brow had faded away, and when you dropped your gaze, you noticed the twisting black veins were starting to recede and fade. Hells, you could get up and dance (very briefly before you passed out).

Even, with a foot in the grave, more dead than usual, and covered in both of your bloods he was unfairly beautiful. His eyes narrowed on your dopey smile, as if he your relief was a symptom of too much blood loss. If that was the effect of four swallows, just a little more would flush out the poison completely, "I can take it, love, just please let me help you."

Astarion never considered himself to be someone that had to be coaxed into receiving a gift, and you were offering him one so sweetly, practically begging him. After 200 years of rats and spiders, you had put literal magic in your veins for him. Magic that was bringing him back from death to his usual state of undead. He could feel it bringing his strength back, allowing all the magic the cleric and druid had poured into him to finally take some affect. Your blood, his first thinking blood, was always delicious- sweet and metallic, a delicate blend of all the good tastes, something so intrinsically you. With the potions infused, though, if Astarion was to hazard guess what sunlight tasted like- this would be it. How could he refuse?

Before he went back in, he placed a reverent kiss to the marks he had left in your neck, gingerly lapping at the wounds before sinking his fangs back into your tender flesh. This time, it wasn’t a gasp or sob, but a mewl, your frigid fingers once again digging into the flounced collar his shirt. If you both lived until morning, you were sure he’d gripe for hours about all the wrinkles you’d put in his favorite (only) shirt. Probably throw a proper fit about the stake hole.

Now, as the potions effects dwindled in your own body, you could properly feel the drain. The coldness crept up from your extremities but didn’t counteract the burn in your muscles, making it harder and harder to suppress the shivers. Your breathing was quick almost a pant, but you still felt like you weren't getting any oxygen. If you were thinking rationally, if you hadn’t gone through the brief grief of thinking you’d lost him, you would have realized you need to push him away, that you were approaching your limit. But you weren’t thinking rationally, no. You still were too busy grinning- as your hand had fallen from his collar, it grazed across the wound, now fully closed. Just a little more, you promised yourself. You felt him swallow more, he held himself up completely on his own allowing you to lean into him.

Astarion was okay, more than just on the mend, he was alive and strong, the potions and magic were working, were the thoughts that were reverberating through your head as things started to feel farther away. Your desperation had melted away, leaving a grateful smile in its wake. It wasn’t completely on purpose, but you let Astarion take on more and more of your weight, barely aware of his fangs in your neck anymore, not quite hearing Scratch and the cub whining outside, the shivering even began to subside as it seemed to take too much energy.

Earlier, you had drug him to you and held him against your chest almost crying. But, as more of your blood flowed through him, it had become juxtaposed. Astarion held you in place, leaning over you for the best angle at your neck. It was his arms that kept you from falling over, his firm hand that kept your head from lolling too far back. His bite became less fervent, his grip less cage like and more affectionate. His survival instincts started to give way to civility and charm. You barely noticed as he twisted himself so he could slowly, gently lay you down onto the bedroll that had moments ago been his sickbed. He laid you on your back, onto the generous stack of pillows he kept in his tent. He tangled his fingers into yours, just as you had done for him, his knees holding him in a predatory crawl over you, all without breaking from your neck.

Barely registering the softness, it was the thud of your other hand against the floor that roused you, just a bit. It was also what drew Astarion’s attention, it took everything in him to withdraw his fangs. He gave each puncture would a diligent cleaning with his tongue before pulling away completely, lest he lose control and dive right back in. (Really, how could one person be that tempting?)

But, you had arguably saved his life, it’d be terribly impolite of him to kill you. When Astarion’s eyes met yours, your gaze was more than half lidded as you watched him- what little of your eyes he could see were glossy and fighting to stay focused, he could hear your heartbeat markedly fainter than he was comfortable with.

You were watching him as intently as you could. In the dim lantern light of his tent, surrounded by potion bottles and bloody rags, Astarion was up and moving and breathing again. Revived and strong, his eyes practically glowing scarlet, and, if you really focussed, you could make out the tips of his ears becoming pink. Something that only happened when he was freshly well fed, nothing was left of his stab wound but the hole in his shirt, the frayed edges dyed from the poison and his blood. He could have looked like a angel, complete with the fire’s reflection creating a halo effect on his snowy curls, had it not been for the sheen of sticky blood drenching his chin and neck. Your blood- the blood that gave him enough strength to heal. How could you not smile?

Astarion tried to come up with a snarky comment, but for once, nothing came to mind. Instead, he kept glancing between your intertwined fingers, glassy eyes, and that idiotic little smile. Your giddiness was beginning to unnerve him, had you been charmed or perhaps taken a hit to the head? With the parasite, he reached out briefly into your mind. His brow twitched when he was only met with waves of relief and gratitude, you were too tired for structured thought, but too relieved to give into the exhaustion. How could someone on the verge on exsanguination look so happy? And why in the nine hells did it seem to be directed towards his well being?

The vampire was stricken, taking count of everything you’d truly done that night alone: fought beside him, tried to take the death blow in his place, comforted him, held his hand, cleaned him up, hadn’t let the others undress him anymore than necessary, stayed with him, circumvented his vampirism to find a way to heal him, and had genuinely tried to bleed yourself dry for him. Hell, you’d cut your own neck for him- not even metaphorically, but literally cut your throat for him. He could feel your warmth, your kindness and everything good about you settling into his very marrow. Something uncomfortably… gooey… stirred in his chest, something more and more worrying common as of late, when it came to you. Had his manipulation really worked so well? A feeling too close to sharp guilt gnawed at that warm gooey feeling. Was it really manipulation anymore? Gods, your morality was infecting him.

“This is that Insufferabe admirability I was talking about ." He muttered into the tent, shaking his head as he watched your chest rise and fall, using his free hand tame some of the hair at your crown. It was then Astarion realized your eyes had slipped shut, your fingers, now just as cold as his, going limp against his. Weeks ago, he would have polished off the last of your blood and left you behind. But at present, he felt the sickening need to return even half the care you’d shown him. He’d have to dissect his emotions later. The rogue was glad the other companions had left supplies within arms reach, as it meant he could gather them without dropping your hand.

"Ah, ah, ah," He called quietly, gently pulling you back to the real world, pleased to watch your scrunch your nose in the exertion of waking back up. Finally, that contented little smile on your face slipped into a frown, a protest against his interruption of your sleep. Astarion’s smile was almost apologetic as he helped you into a slightly more upright position, "Not quite yet, little love. It’s your turn. No sharing this time."

Another healing potion was pressed into your hand and opened for you, and you allowed Astarion to guide it to your lips, his pale hand guiding your own. This time, the warmth of the elixir was welcome, a comfort instead of a taunt, assurance instead of a plea. Astarion carefully watched you as you swallowed the potion down, noting how you shivered less and a bit of color returned to your face. When the potion bottle was empty, he traded it for a small cup of water, keeping a guiding hand on the silver chalice he’d nicked from a tradesmen weeks ago until you had enough strength to hold it.

Though still exhausted and dizzy, you had the energy to throw him an obstinate look. Astarion feigned a dramatic sigh but kept a firm enough grip on you that you couldn’t lay back down, "All this for me, yet you won’t even let me give you water?"

Ignoring how it made the dizziness worse, you rolled your eyes, taking a few sips of the water at a time even if it was mostly just so he’d let you lay back down. Astarion was in one piece and you were exhausted, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about anything else. But, Astarion seemed very pleased with himself, squeezing your hand once again, "Good girl."

If you weren’t on the verge of blood loss, you could have choked on the water. Still, there was a part of you that whispered in relief he must be better if he’s back to teasing you. Astarion watched you take a few more sips before you sagged back against the pillows. Your eyes closed again, but your breathing was deeper now and the hand he held didn’t feel as cold. Outside, Scratch and the cub seemed appeased at your improvement as they stopped their pacing and whining to settle at the tent flap.

This time, he didn’t pull you back up, instead muttering to himself as he gently tilted your head to the side, exposing his bite marks. No wonder you seemed so tired, they were much messier than usual. Vicious, was the better word. Not only had his two fangs pierced your delicate skin, but his bottom canine teeth had punctured through as well, and he could see the outline of his other teeth in the deep bruising grooves they had left behind. In unfortunate addition, it seemed in the height of his blood lust he’d made more than one bite, leaving your neck littered in marks. Astarion grimaced, it really was more of a mauling, “Apologies, darling, I’m not typically so brutish. Forgive me?"

Astarion pointedly ignored how his heart lifted at the slightest nod you gave him, instead focussing on cleaning you up as gently as possible. The potion had stopped the bleeding, and he watched as the wounds themselves were slowly closing. Each swipe of the rag was feather light, almost not even there. The elf noticed you give back into sleep, this time not bothering to wake you again. Instead he kept working and fussing until the only sign of his feeding was the stained neckline of your shirt. Then, he gently ran a clean, wet rag over your face and hands, taking away the evidence of your tears and worry. Finally, he threw a cloak over you like a blanket, to hopefully ward off the last of the shivers from the warmth he’d stolen from you.

Not stolen, he reminded himself, though the truth somehow felt more dangerous, it was freely given to him. The vampire settled in, laying across from you, the only part of you he could touch was the hand still holding his. Though, already in your sleep you had shifted towards him. Astarion frowned, eyebrows furrowed, the more he came to know you, the more he knew that you would give and give and give. Truly, he knew that he didn’t need to manipulate you anymore, maybe he never needed to, and for the first time in centuries, he didn’t want to just keep taking. He didn’t want to bleed you dry and loot you for all you were worth. Astarion was surprised to find he wanted give something back to you. He just needed to figure out what.

The nights events caught up to him once again as his eyes closed, listening to the evermore familiar sound of your heartbeat as it became steadier and the even sounds of your breathing as you slept, letting it guide him towards meditation.

Gods damn you and your insufferable admirability.

___

Part Two Here!

Again this was my first time writing for Astarion. I also tried to balance things into being equal parts in each persons perspective. I just love when two lovestruck idiots have to confront their own feelings about being in love.

#me when I can use both literal and metaphorical vampirism as an allegory of being consumed by love.#astarion x reader #astarion x you #Astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion fanfic #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 fanfic #Astarion self insert

719 notes · View notes

13uswntimagines · 4 months

Text

I'll Take Care of You (Alessia Russo x MMA!fighter R)

Request: Could we maybe see some slightly more stern dom alessia dealing with r (doesn’t have to be smut) in front of the team because reader starts acting bratty with them?

Part of the same universe as the come down.

Warning: Slight touching but not actual smut. Also D/S fic

Author's note: Hey Y'all, i really hope you enjoy this. I want to point out that D/S dynamics are based on trust and communication, so that's what I chose to focus on. Alessia is a soft dom, and chooses a punishment that she knows will be effective. If you want to chat or have any ideas or comments, feel free to hit me up.

Gearing up for a fight was the equivalent of stretching out a rubber band to its limit. It was 8 weeks of nonstop training, 4 weeks of conditioning your body to shed water so you could make weight, 2 weeks of cameras following you around for UFC embedded, and 1 week of media bombardment where you had to listen to grown men act like 5-year-olds talking about who was going to beat who.

It was utterly exhausting.

The only upside was that at the end of it, you got to step into the octagon and do what you did best.

You got to put the plan your coaches drilled over and over into your brain into place. You got to release all of the built-up anxiety and frustration from camp.

You got to fight.

It was like coming up for oxygen after being trapped underwater. Sometimes the cage felt like the only place you could really breathe on your own.

It had been your safe haven for almost as long as you could remember, which was kinda strange considering your health was put at immediate risk every time you stepped inside. It had been your escape from your family, and your only coping mechanism for as long as you could remember.

To go through training camp, and fight week and the weight cut, only to have your fight pulled at the last minute was fucking devastating.

It was like when Alessia brought you all the way to the precipice of an orgasm and then pulled away just before you could tumble over it, except far far far worse.

It made your blood boil. It made the monster in your chest roar that your opponent couldn’t do his end of the job to make the fight go on after all of the shit he was talking. And there was nothing anyone could say or do to make it better.

Dana promised that the fight would be rescheduled. He even threw in that if you won, you would be next in line for a title shot.

But it didn’t help.

The fight was set to be at the O2 arena, meaning your girlfriend and all of her teammates had been set to see you, and now they couldn’t. You couldn’t get your 10 training weeks back and you would have to do the weight cut all over again.

It was a shit sandwich, and it made you feel completely out of control. It made you crave for someone else to put you right again. For Alessia to remind you that she had control always.

Maybe that’s why you chose your satin button-down shirt to go to dinner with your girlfriend and her teammates and paired it with tight black skinny jeans.

It wasn’t often that you liked to push Alessia’s control. That you toed the boundaries that she set, but tonight it felt like the prize comparable to stepping into the cage.

With the little black dress she had worn, you really couldn’t blame yourself either. You could never resist when she showed off her legs. You were obsessed and she knew it. It was probably why she had chosen the outfit, to begin with.

It was probably designed as a reward of sorts for after your fight, except you weren’t having a fight. So you supposed it was kind of like a consolation prize.

Except you felt wound too tightly to really enjoy it.

“So that’s it, they just call the whole thing off?” Ella asked leaning forward to rest her chin in her hand.

“Yep,” You popped the p, your finger running a gentle circle on Alessia’s exposed knee. “I can’t even sign a paper that says I’m fine fighting him despite the failed drug test, and it’s too late to find a replacement even if we allow a catchweight,”

She let the movement continue, the hand wrapped around your shoulder gently squeezing the arm furthest away from her.

While she was relieved that the rules prevented you from fighting a man on steroids, she knew how gutted you were about the cancellation.

“Probably for the best mate,” Leah said, sipping her wine.

You shrugged, letting your finger trail a little higher on Alessia’s leg.

It was slightly too… forward for the steakhouse her teammates had chosen, but with the dimmed lights you figured no one could see your hand under the white tablecloth anyway. Not with how close you were sitting to your girlfriend.

“I already made weight, so it’s kind of a waste,” You muttered, dragging your nails up the inside of her thigh to just below the hem of her dress. “I’ll have to start camp all over again unless I take something short notice,”

“Can you do that?” Mary asked, from your other side.

You shrugged again. “I told Dana I was game if he needed someone to fill in, so we’ll have to see,”

Alessia’s eyebrows pulled tighter together “You didn’t tell me that, love,”

“Didn’t I?” You asked, feigning dumb, as your fingers finally made it past the hem of her dress. “Must have forgotten. I’m excited to see you all play on Tuesday though,”

You ran your nail across the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh, dangerously close to her center. But before you could make it any further, her free hand caught your wrist, and repositioned you so your hand was resting very innocently near her knee again.

“Ireland is always fun to face,” Ella smiled at you. “Should be a bit chippy,”

“I’ll definitely be rocking my MacCabe jersey,” You matched her expression, your thumb again beginning to rub circles into Alessia’s skin.

Leah frowned, dropping her menu. “You will?”

“Absolutely,” You smirked, wiggling your eyebrows and slyly trailing your thumb back up Alessia’s thigh. “Gotta support my favorite foul-mouthed Gooner,”

Leah’s eyes went wide, and Alessia squeezed your shoulder.

“And what about me?” Your girlfriend asked, a pout pulling at her lips.

You wiggled your eyebrows, a witty remark at the tip of your tongue, knowing it would piss her off, but the tension in your chest made you unable to stop yourself.

You wanted to push her. To force a reaction, even when you knew all you had to do was ask for what you wanted.

“Are you ladies ready to order?” A waiter asked, appearing behind Leah before you could let it fly.

You let your smirk widen, closing your menu with a thud and making eye contact with the waiter.

“Since she’s not on the menu,” You started, leaning closer to your girlfriend for just a second, edging your hand even further up her thigh until it was again past the hem of her dress. “I think I’ll have the tomahawk, medium rare with a Yorkie and the roasted carrots please,”

You winked at the waiter for good measure as the table giggled and Alessia’s cheeks turned bright red.

The waiter cleared his throat, turning his attention to your girlfriend. “And for you ma’am?”

Alessia opened her mouth, probably to order, but you cut her off instead.

“She’ll take the sirloin, medium with the Orzo and kale salad,” You said, reciting her normal order with perfect precision. “And she’ll be having me for dessert later,”

More giggles erupted from your friends, and you dragged your hand impossibly higher, extending your pinky so it brushed against her underwear.

She inhaled sharply next to you, sending you a warning side eye as the rest of the table continued to order, but she didn’t immediately remove your hand.

You ignored her warning, letting your pinky slide over the satiny fabric of her underwear.

It wasn’t what she normally wore, and you couldn’t help the wolfish grin that took over your features.

She had worn lingerie for you.

Maybe that should have stopped you. Made you consider that you wouldn’t get anything if you kept pushing, but again you couldn’t seem to help yourself.

“Will you be in the Ireland friends and family section then?” Leah asked, wiggling her eyebrows at your girlfriend. “Cause I don’t think my family or Less’ will enjoy you wearing the opposing team’s jersey,”

You made a noise like you were considering it as you finally slid your hand up and cupped your girlfriend’s heat. “I don’t think I’d feel at home though. Surely your family can deal with it right Less?”

Alessia nodded once, very stiffly. “My family loves you no matter what you’re wearing,”

You smiled impishly at her, adding just a little more pressure to her core.

She shifted in her seat, leaning very close to your ear, as Ella started talking about some movie she and Joe had watched, taking the attention of the rest of Alessia’s teammates.

“They’d even love you if you had to wear your collar at the game,” She chuckled darkly in your ear, her voice soft enough to get lost in the noise of the restaurant as her free hand yet again caught your wrist and pulled your hand back to a much more innocent position. “Now behave, or I promise you’ll regret it,”

You pulled away, your devilish smirk only getting broader. “No,”

Her eyebrows furrowed her expression something between anger and concern and warning, like she was trying to figure out why you were pushing the boundaries when you never did before.

You wiggled yours in return, offering her nothing else before joining the conversation of her teammates.

You weren’t ready to talk yet.

You were too content digging yourself deeper and deeper.

*****

You continue to push Alessia all throughout dinner, taking every opportunity to make her blush or to creep your hand further up her thigh. At one point you had even wiggled a finger beneath her underwear before she could stop you.

And your behavior hadn’t stopped once you left the restaurant.

You definitely placed your hand far too low on her waist as you and your friends walked back to the hotel the UFC had rented for you, and winked cheekily at the fans as you entered the building, spending far too long signing things and flirting just to annoy your girlfriend.

You knew from the “come on darling,” and the way she wrapped her arm around you, her fingers closing gently around the back of your neck that you were in serious trouble as she led you into the hotel and to the elevator.

“Good luck mate,” Leah nodded towards you as she stepped into her hotel room after Mary and Ella. “Think you’re gonna need it after that show,”

She tilted her head toward your girlfriend glaring a hole in Leah’s doorframe.

“Good night Leah,” Your girlfriend bit out, pressing her thumb into the space at the very center of the back of your neck.

Leah rolled her eyes at the movement, well aware of the dynamic between you and your girlfriend. More aware than most of her teammates for both club and country because of how long you had known her. “Right you two, do have too much fun,”

You stared at the door for a long moment after it closed, the tension in your chest bleeding down to your stomach.

You knew your time was up. That you would have to pay the piper so to speak, and it had guilt swirling along with the unpleasantness.

You knew that all you had to do was utter a word and it would all be over.

You knew that Alessia would stick to your limits, no matter how hard you pushed her, but you couldn’t help the… lingering anxiety that came from your past relationships.

The ones that took advantage of your submissiveness, and the unhealthy way you had always chosen to deal with stress. The ones that ignored your pain for their own pleasure.

“Come on then,” Alessia said, very gently running the nail of her thumb down the length of the back of your neck, and squeezing your shoulder.

You hummed, allowing her to lead you down the hallway to your own hotel room door, but she paused before she opened it. You looked up at her, realizing suddenly that you were trapped between her and the door.

She stepped closer so your noses were nearly touching. She dragged her hand from your neck to your chin, using her thumb to tilt your head to where she wanted it.

“I love you,” She said, her voice soft and sincere. “No matter what,”

She leaned in the last centimeter separating you, connecting your lips in a very sweet kiss.

You leaned into it, opening your mouth when her tongue poked out, welcoming it and meeting it with your own so they spun in a slow dance.

It was the reminder that you desperately needed.

The promise that she would take care of you, even when you acted like a brat.

She pulled away just enough to disconnect your lips, and your mouths separated with a low pop.

“Remind me of your colors,” Alessia said, her thumb running across your cheek.

“Green for good, yellow for slow down, and red for stop,” You recited, your voice breathless.

“Good girl,” She hummed. “Open the door, and take off your shirt and pants once we get inside,”

You swallowed hard at the change of tone.

“Yes Miss,” You said, already pulling the key card from the back pocket of your jeans. You didn’t look away from her as you fumbled until you heard the lock on the door beep, and clumsily pushed it open.

You stumbled backward, unwilling to break eye contact with your girlfriend because you knew you would probably get very little of it tonight.

She turned away from you as soon as the door slammed shut, busying herself with something you didn’t know.

“I believe I told you to do something,” She said, not even sparing a look over her shoulder at you, and you realized you had been staring for too long.

You cleared your throat, your fingers trembling as they unbuttoned your straining shirt.

You carefully pulled the satin materials from your shoulders, folding it neatly and laying it on the bed before you started on your pants.

It took you three tries to undo the button, the zipper getting caught in the stretchy material of your boxers. You peeled your tight jeans down your legs, folding them and placing them next to your shirt.

You felt Alessia’s presence behind you as you pulled off your shoes and socks.

As soon as they had been placed in their rightful place, her hand found its way to your bare back.

The touch was soothing and grounding and exactly what you needed to combat the slightly floaty feeling in your brain.

The hand slid up your back, all the way to your neck.

“Kneel,”

The soft squeeze on the back of your neck was like magic, as was the soft, but stern order.

You sank to your knees without question, your butt resting on your heels, your hands facing palm up on your thighs, your back straight and your head bowed, as the tension in your chest slowly ebbed away.

“I think we need to have a chat,” She continued, the hand on your neck sliding up to run through the hair at the base of your skull. Her nails scratched soothingly at your scalp. “Because your behavior in the restaurant is not the behavior of the good girl I trained,”

You grunted, glaring at a spot in the carpet.

You didn’t want to talk.

You already had to talk to Dana, to your coaches, and to the media. You had nothing left to say.

“Do you want to tell me what that was about at dinner?” She asked you, the fingers on your scalp wrapping through your curls. She gave it a sharp tug, forcing you to look up at her. “Because I’d really like to know what the fuck you were playing at,”

Her blue eyes burned into you, concerned and… something else lingering below the surface.

“I wasn’t playing at anything,” You grit out.

She raised a perfect eyebrow at you, as she searched your face.

“Is this because your fight was canceled?”

You didn’t answer her, unwilling to admit how… off balanced it made you feel.

But that was enough of an answer for her.

Her eyes softened minutely. “Baby,”

You shook your head.

You didn’t want her sympathy or her pity.

You wanted her to crush you.

“Alright,” She signed, tilting your head back so far it was painful. “I’m going to give you 2 options. We can call Clarke and Lexa and they can run you through a workout,”

You shivered at the mention of your respective striking and jujitsu coaches, knowing already that whatever the alternative was, you would be choosing it.

“Or you can take a punishment of my choosing,” She finished. “It won’t be an easy one,”

“I’ll take a punishment,” You muttered after a beat.

You didn't need easy right now.

She hummed, holding you close for a long second, and you relished in the attention.

That had been why you acted out at all anyway.

She dropped her hold on your hair suddenly, and you crashed back on your knees.

“On the wall,” She said, completely cutting contact with you, and walking towards the little kitchen area of the suite.

You let out a shaky breath, pushing yourself to your feet, and shuffled over to the wall next to the television across from the couch.

You turned to face the couch, wincing when Alessia pulled a wine glass out of the cabinet and a jug of water from the counter and returned to you.

She carefully filled the glass to the halfway mark, before her attention turned to you.

You knew immediately what punishment she had chosen.

The rules were simple, you would balance the glass in one of the designated calisthenic positions. If the water spilled, or the glass fell then you would move to the next position. The punishment would be over when you made it through all 15 positions to Alessia’s satisfaction, or if you safeworded.

It sounded easy, or like it wouldn’t be effective, but that was entirely wrong. It was the punishment that you hated the most.

Your stomach never failed to drop when Alessia approached you with the wine glass and water. Just the sight of her with it was enough to have your muscles quivering at the impending fatigue.

“Ready darling?”

You made a low sound, leaning back against the wall, bending your knees, and getting into the first position.

A wall sits with your knees pressed together to focus the pressure on your quads.

She used a hand on your shoulder to push you further down the wall until your thighs sat parallel to the floor, and then very carefully balanced the stem of the wine glass between your knees so the base just barely brushed your hamstring.

You frowned. She usually balanced it on top of your legs further up your thighs so all you had to do was stay level. But where it was now meant that you would have to stay level and squeeze with your adductors so it didn’t slip and spill the water.

“Tell me your color,” She said, her thumb sweeping under your chin, drawing your eyes away from the glass to meet her blue.

“Green,” you murmured, leaning into the gentle touch.

“Good,” She hummed, cupping your cheek for another long second before she pulled away. “I’ll be right there, reading my book,”

Your gaze trailed after her as she settled herself on the couch directly across from you, picking up the 7 Husbands of Evelyn Hugo. She easily found her page and began to read.

You glanced back to the balancing glass between your knees. It was already shaking slightly, the liquid vibrating around the bowl of the glass with the effort of your muscles to keep it in place.

It irritated you that you could already feel your quads and adductors quivering. It was pathetic that they were already fatigued after only 30 seconds.

You grit your teeth, letting your hips slip down further so you could squeeze with your glutes to take a little bit of the pressure off of your adductors. The glass shifted minutely, and the water inside sloshed dangerously before it settled.

Your eyes flickered back up to Alessia, wondering if she saw it too, but her eyes stayed planted in her book.

That irritated you too.

The only upside to your fight being canceled was that you got to spend more time with her. You wouldn’t have to split your attention between her and not getting your face caved in.

Now you didn’t even have that.

You thought of safewording and forcing an early end to your punishment. It would be a violation of the rules though.

But when she found out that you broke her trust (the most severe infraction you could ever commit) she might choose a more… harsh punishment. One of the ones that was listed in the soft limits the two of you had agreed upon. One that would separate you from reality, and leave you feeling floaty and thoroughly controlled. Thoroughly owned.

A part of you wanted her to forcibly put you in your place. To disregard how bad it would feel tomorrow and the bad memories it would bring up for you, and just demolish you. To crush your will and grind you into dust. To beat you into oblivion.

It was what your opponent would have done anyway.

You knew Alessia would never agree to it while you were this upset. She didn’t like to give in to your self-destructive tendencies.

The glass between your knees shook again, drawing your attention back to the warm fire setting deeply into your quads. They would ache tomorrow you were sure, but then again wasn’t that part of the point?

It would be a reminder that even when she wasn’t with you, you belonged to Alessia. It was an invisible mark that claimed you. That reminded you she would always take control when you felt dangerously unstable.

And then it clicked.

This punishment was Alessia’s favorite because it was based on your choice to obey her. Your choice to push your body to its limits to please her. Your choice to give her control over you.

She didn’t need to use a belt or a paddle to bend you to her will.

She just had to ask.

You just had to relax and trust that she would take care of you.

You let out a long breath, counting down from 3 in your head. You let it fall back into the wall with a low thump and your shoulders sagged, as the remaining tension in your chest drained out of you.

“Good girl,” Alessia said softly, and the page of her book turned. Your eyes darted back to her, hoping that they would be on you, but they weren’t.

She looked so composed, both legs tucked under her, reading her book. It was diametrically opposed to how you felt, completely out of control. A quivering mess fighting to stay in a simple wall sit.

It further reminded you of your place, and the weight of it was enough to have your eyes sliding closed.

You focused on your breathing, 3 seconds and 3 seconds out. Deep and slow.

You lasted for more breaths before the glass slid from between your legs, landing on the carpeted floor with a light thud.

Your eyes snapped open, and again you expected to meet Alessia’s eyes, but they remained trained on her book.

“Next please,” She said softly, flipping another page in her book.

You slid down the wall to the floor, sucking in another long breath as you nodded, wishing that she would just look at you, but you knew that was part of the punishment too.

You took another breath as you rolled over to your stomach and sat yourself up on your elbows, squeezing your core. It was a slightly modified plank designed to show off the muscles in your back and arms for the benefit of your girlfriend and to give your legs a break for a bit.

She waited until you were in a position to stand, slowly padding over to you and grabbing the wine glass off of the floor.

She paused next to you, and you felt the way her eyes dragged across the muscles on your back.

“Always so pretty for me,” She hummed and you heard the water as she refilled the glass. “Too bad you can’t have the reward I had planned,”

Her touch lingered as she carefully balanced it between your shoulder blades, and stepped away.

“Let’s see if you can beat your best time on this one,” She said, talking more at you than to you. “Your record is 22 minutes, which isn’t quite championship timing. I think you need to make it at least 25,”

You groaned.

Her competitive streak was legendary and often a part of your punishment when you had been particularly ornery. You switched positions at her pleasure, so you knew you would be planking all night if you couldn’t break 25 minutes.

It was like when she decided you needed to break your edging record.

There would be no mercy unless you safeworded.

You focused on your breathing as she sauntered back to the couch, fighting to keep your core and back muscles locked to prevent the glass from tipping.

Your abs clenched, and you so badly wanted to roll your shoulders to relieve the tension building in the space between them. The space holding the glass.

You focused on the sound of Alessia’s breathing. Each rhythmic inhale and exhale like the clicking of a metronome, broken only by the occasional fluttering of a page.

You wished she had put the timer in front of you so you could see how long you had left.

But then again that would probably be worse.

You always found it harder to go the distance in a fight when you could see the clock ticking down. It always made you feel more exhausted at the end of the round, and made standing up off of your stool at the start of the next round that much harder.

You sucked in another breath, refocusing on the sounds of Alessia’s inhales and exhales. You counted each one, letting them wash over you and lul the fog slowly seeping through the crevices in your brain.

It let you forget the trembling in your core muscles and the sting between your shoulders. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was each of Alessia’s breaths, and your ability to please her.

To be honest, you forgot about the water balancing on your back.

You shifted, lifting your head so you could watch Alessia, and that sent the glass tumbling to the floor with a low thud.

She looked up at the noise, pushing herself to her feet and grabbing the glass.

“Good job darling. You made time.” She rewarded you by meeting her eyes for a long second and flashing you a winning smile. “Position 3,”

You took another deep breath as she filled the glass.

You pushed yourself up into a pushup position, slowly lifting your right arm and left leg so they extended.

Your arms shook immediately, and it was then that you recognized just how exhausted you were already. Your core ached in a way that was edging on unpleasant, and your back felt like you had run 5 rounds with your jujitsu coach.

It was strange that you felt so drained and you had only made it through 2 positions.

Alessia waited until you were stable before she balanced the glass in the very same area between your shoulder blades.

The spot that felt so tight.

You knew you weren’t going to last long before she even stepped away. But you tried to breathe through it. You tried to ignore the little beads of sweat collecting at the small of your back, and the cramp setting in just below the glass, radiating up to your neck.

You deserved the pain. You had done your damndest to make sure Alessia gave it to you.

“Tell me your color,” Alessia said, her voice dripping dominance, sending a shiver down your spine and causing the glass to tumble off your back.

You collapsed to the floor.

You hadn’t even made it a minute.

“‘M ok,” You murmured into the carpet, each breath rattling as it left your lips.

You hadn’t even lasted long enough for Alessia to make it back to her seat.

It was pathetic.

“That’s not what I asked you,” She said, crouching next to you, her hand resting on the throbbing space between your shoulders. “Tell me what your color is,”

Your brain ran into overdrive, taking stock of the burn in your thighs, and the way the muscles in your back were locked up tight, and before you could even think through all the reasons why you shouldn’t safe word, “red,” was falling from your lips.

You had been red before you even started position 3, you realized.

“Good girl,” She said, settling fully down beside you, her hand running soothingly up and down your sweat-soaked back. “You did so well for me, and I’m so proud of you for knowing your limits,”

You groaned into the carpet as warmth spread through your chest, chasing away the last of the tightness that had been there since Dana caught you after the weigh-ins.

“‘M sorry for pushing you,” You mumbled, your words nearly getting lost in the floor. “Didn’t know how to…”

You trailed off, losing your train of thought. You weren’t even sure what you didn’t know how to do, only that antagonizing your girlfriend. Your miss. Had been the only way that seemed to make sense to achieve it.

“I know darling,” She hummed, gripping under your arms and shifting so your head was resting in her lap and your upper body was between her legs. “Take some deep breaths for me, and then we’ll get you cleaned up and we can cuddle,”

You made a low sound of agreement. You felt content with her completely around you, her scent enveloping you, and her hands running gently through your tangled hair.

She was the stability to your rocky seas, and you trusted that she would take care of you, just like she had already tonight.

A cuddle sounded perfect because it was perfect.

It was everything you needed. She was everything you needed.

#woso x reader #woso imagines #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #the come down universe

549 notes · View notes

heliads · 1 year

Note

Hello <3 I was wondering if maybe you could write a charles leclerc fic?? Reader could be in charge of social media and fans start to realise that charles flirts with whoever is behind the camera? Sorry if its too vague, but I love your writing and had to send something in

i cheered audibly when i saw this, please let me write more f1 fics

masterlist

When you were just getting started with your career, someone once asked you if you’d ever consider running a social media campaign for something cute, like a zoo or rescue company. You answered them with a firm no; everyone knows animals never work on camera the way you want them to, and you didn’t want that sort of stress in your life.

You think the universe must be laughing at you, because funnily enough, what you’re doing right now is exactly like herding cats, but you don’t even get adorable animals for your troubles. No, the Formula One media circus is a nightmare, but it’s a well televised nightmare, and that means your job as head of social media for the Scuderia Ferrari F1 team entails a great deal more metaphorical manhandling of the drivers than you’d ever envisioned.

It’s not even metaphorical all the time, the manhandling. Sometimes it’s just you sending out a great deal of mass emails when someone says something they probably shouldn’t or the Ferrari TikTok page is going through a content drought, but sometimes it’s more. Sometimes it’s like today, when you’re forcing the two drivers to go through yet another competition so the YouTube channel can get another push of subscribers.

You’ve done a lot of careful research over the months that you’ve been here, all dedicated to finding out just what sells the best, so to speak. As of late, you’ve learned that the viewers at home really like competitions and challenge videos. Apparently seeing two men who are obviously great friends go head to head over something as pointless as music trivia or Ping Pong is the pinnacle of motorsport content.

It’s not like you’re complaining. More views means a better paycheck for you at the end of the year. The fans like what you’re producing, and Ferrari likes the fans. It all works out in the end, and who are you to deny the Tifosi their favorite entertainment?

Of course, if you were to actually tell the two red-suited drivers that you refer to them as content and entertainment in the private recesses of your own mind, they probably wouldn’t be too happy. That’s why you keep that to yourself. Besides, they’re your friends. Charles and Carlos may make a lot of problems in your life, but who doesn’t? You’re not exactly perfect either.

You don’t have to be perfect, though, you just have to come up with good ideas and let the boys be funny on their own. Charles said he liked that best about you, actually, that you let them do their own thing most of the time. The previous social media managers had tried to get them to fit this specific picture of what a Ferrari driver should be, but you never did that. You just wanted them to be them.

You’re perfectly willing to brush that off as a compliment to a coworker, though. In truth, you’re working constantly to paint these two in the best possible light. It gets stressful sometimes, constantly wracking your brain to make each video work, each post take off. You are affecting how millions of people see Charles and Carlos. Hell, you’re practically filtering their legacy all by yourself.

It’s not a task you take lightly, to say the least. Maybe that’s why Ferrari is content to keep you around. This is a job that you’d like to extend as long as you can. Just like Charles has worked with overly pushy social media handlers, you’ve worked with total diva clients. Neither of the Ferrari drivers are like that in the slightest, which you appreciate more than anything.

That isn’t to say that they only ever make your life easy. Right now, for instance, you’ve been begging them to focus for the better part of ten minutes. It’s like working with elementary schoolers. You put anything in front of them and they’re totally distracted before you’ve so much as told them what they’re supposed to be doing.

Today’s video of choice is a long-anticipated cooking video. Charles versus Carlos, the drivers have been given a mystery basket of ingredients à la Chopped. They’ll have half an hour to come up with a dish of choice, and if the time crunch weren’t enough to stress them out, you’ll be judging their culinary creations when time is called. It’s the perfect setup for a hit video, so if all goes well, you’ll see this on the trending page soon enough.

That is, if you manage to survive this encounter long enough to post the results. By the time you manage to wrangle the drivers’ attention back to you, Charles has attempted to learn the contents of the bag through interpretive dance and hand gestures with the cameramen and Carlos has accidentally turned his stove on thrice. The third time the fires clicked on, he almost set a napkin ablaze. Both drivers are red faced from trying not to break into mad laughter again.

You clap your hands once. “Alright, are we finally ready to get started?”

Carlos nudges Charles in the side. “Look, she’s disappointed in you already and she hasn’t even tasted your cooking. This means I am going to win by a lot.”

Charles scoffs, but you swear his barely suppressed smile drops in a second when Carlos mentions your disappointment. “Y/N would never be disappointed in me,” he protests, “I am her favorite, obviously.”

He turns to you, raising his hands in your direction as if asking you to prove his point. You shake your head. “I don’t have favorites, Charles. That would not promote a fun workplace environment.”

“Of course,” Charles nods sagely. “If you had a favorite, though, it would be me.”

Carlos snickers, and in an effort to keep their focus with you before you lose them again, you clear your throat and read out the rules of the cooking contest. The drivers say their dutiful bits about how they’re each going to win this by a landslide, and then time begins and they’re off to the culinary races.

The covers on the baskets go flying. Charles holds up each object in turn, announcing them in tones of increasing panic. “Butter. Flour. Eggs. Green olives? Three strawberries? A box of spaghetti? Pepperoni?”

“You forgot the chocolate and red onion,” Carlos points out helpfully.

Charles tosses his teammate a withering glare, then turns the full force of his vexation back to you. “Y/N, you are trying to kill me.”

“Charles,” you say, “we talked about that.”

Charles’ brow furrows as he tries to remember what you mean. It hits him as last and he groans, slapping a hand to his forehead in mock desolation. You’ve noticed that Charles has been mentioning you by name a lot in videos, leading to general confusion among fans. As you’ve reminded him many times before, you’re not supposed to be the focus, he is, so he needs to stop bringing you up all the time. Viewers don’t care about who’s filming the content, after all, just who’s in front of the camera. It’s a tip handed down directly from your boss to you.

Charles still grins at you even as he continues unpacking his ingredients. “I can’t help it, you know that. You’re too good, I want to mention you all the time.”

You scoff. “Good at what? Keeping you in line?”

“Everything,” he says, and raises his eyebrows suggestively.

You roll your eyes and tell him to focus, but even this instruction doesn’t last long. Barely five minutes later, Charles is bringing up the fact that he’s going to totally win this thing because cooking is, like, a love language, right? And he’s the best at love, he declares, winking conspicuously in your direction. Carlos launches an oven mitt at his head and mutters something that the microphones don’t pick up, something that conveniently has the same number of syllables as stop flirting.

Charles is steadily making jokes the entire duration of the video, actually, and usually you wouldn’t mind this but they’re all spoken with the intention of getting you to laugh. Not the camera, as he’s been told to do before. You.

You do your best to keep it off your mind. Both drivers have gotten better about opening up on camera since they started, and this is probably just Charles trying something new in an effort to improve his on-screen personality. After all, it can be hard to direct all your charisma towards a camera, why not aim all your smiles at the person filming instead?

The contest ends soon enough. You end up awarding Charles with the win, mainly due to the fact that Carlos’ hand accidentally slipped as he was attempting to strain his pasta and he ended up losing all of his spaghetti down the sink. His plate consisted of sauce and decorative strawberry slices, which, although tasty, did not contain several key ingredients and resulted in an automatic disqualification.

Despite the rather shaky grounds on which his cooking victory stands, from the way Charles is acting, you’d think he’d won the WDC. He’s beaming at you, talking about how he’d called this from the very start and was proud that you liked his stuff the best. He even offers to wash the dishes, which is very un-driverlike.

The video ends up a success by all accounts. Even days later, it’s still trending in Tifosi circles, and the view counts are way higher than expected. Curious as to why, you decide to do the unthinkable and check the comments section of the cooking video.

What you find is– unexpected, to say the least. Usually, comments on any post, whether it be Instagram, TikTok, or YouTube, will range from fans lamenting race outcomes to people mentioning their favorite driver to random spam accounts offering thousands of dollars to the lucky person to message them first.

On this video, though? Most all of the comments are about you. This makes no sense, because not only were you on camera for about one minute, you didn’t do anything other than give instructions and judge food. Antonio Giovinazzi did the same job on a video last year, and no one cared at all. Antonio’s actually well-known in the world of motorsports, so why is it that you, someone who largely operates behind the scenes, would be the cause of so much fuss?

Curious, you start scrolling in depth, but find yourself more confused with every reply you see.

He’s totally flirting with her, right?

Is anyone else seeing the fact that Charles is freaking out over trying to impress this girl?

His face when she declared him the winner… I can’t even with him!!

Charles trying to protect Y/N by refusing to let Carlos salvage his sink pasta– they’re dating, right???

You find yourself laughing over it. This can’t be real. Surely nobody in the world actually thinks that Charles Leclerc– F1 driver, Ferrari superhero, Il Predestinato and supporter of all Tifosi hopes and dreams, multi-millionaire– would ever have a crush on you. It’s absurd. It’s so absurd that you find yourself racing to the office of another one of your friends in social media to get her opinion on it.

Your friend looks up at you, startled, when you burst into her office. “Has someone died?”

“No,” you gasp out, “worse.”

Her eyebrows raise. “One of the drivers had a scandal? We can fix this. Get me B-roll of them volunteering or something. We can turn this around in no time.”

“No,” you say weakly, “the Internet thinks I’m dating Charles Leclerc.”

Your friend freezes in her seat, finger still hovering over the call icon on Fred Vasseur’s contact in her phone, then slowly sinks back again. “Well, yeah, I can see why.”

You gape at her. “What?”

Your friend spreads her hands. “He follows you around everywhere you go. He’s always asking about you, you know. I kind of thought you two had a thing as well, it’s not just the Tifosi.”

You break out into somewhat crazed laughter. “Charles? You think Charles likes me? No, that’s ridiculous.”

Your friend, however, looks less skeptical of this news. “Is it really? I mean, he spent the entirety of shooting just cracking stupid jokes so he could make you laugh. You should have seen the way he stared at you whenever you so much as smiled. Man was transfixed.”

You shoot her a disbelieving look. “No– transfixed? Are you kidding? He wasn’t transfixed. He wanted to win a contest because he’s a racing driver and they like to be the best at everything. I’ll tell you what it was, he was trying to win me over so I’d decide the competition in favor of his cooking.”

Your friend chuckles. “You really are oblivious, aren’t you?”

You take a careful seat opposite her desk. “You’d better explain to me what you mean by that right now, or I swear, I’ll make you brainstorm TikTok ideas for the next month.”

Your friend shudders. “Anything but that, please. Those trends are so bad. Anyway, look, Charles has been obsessed with you since, like, the day you joined. I remember introducing you that day, actually, he was practically stammering over his words. Imagine that, someone who’s always so controlled with what he says whenever he talks to the press, and he can’t even say his name properly because a pretty girl is smiling at him.”

This whole situation feels insane. “Maybe you’re remembering it wrong or something. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t like me like that.”

“Wouldn’t he?” Your friend asks slowly, and, well, it makes you think.

It makes you think about all of the videos you’ve shot with him, every discussion after a press conference. How taking candids for the Instagram of Charles always takes ten times longer than it should because he never looks at the camera, only at you. How you greeted him earlier this year at the first race of the season and he said what he missed most of all over winter break was you. How he wasn’t even kidding when he said it, just smiling, smiling like he’d never meant something more in his life.

“Oh my God,” you breathe, “Charles likes me.”

Your friend slaps her hand on the desk, startling you. “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about.”

“What do I do, then?” You ask.

Your friend looks like she’s about to scream. “You tell him how you feel, obviously!”

“I do?” You repeat haltingly.

“You do,” she says, “And he’s right across the hall now. Go talk.”

She all but pushes you out of her office, and then you’re alone in the corridor with Charles, who has just spotted you and is heading your way with the brightest grin you’ve ever seen.

“Y/N!” He says, clearly pleased, “It’s so good to see you. I didn’t think our paths would cross until the next race.”

“Yeah?” You eke out, “Me neither, actually. Strange how things happen like that.”

Strange like friends with overly aggressive relationship advice. You’re certain that if you turned around now, you’d see her peering through the window in her door like some kind of stalker.

Charles nods. “I’m glad to see you, though. Did you notice that the last video did really well? I think that means you have to come around more often. You know, it’s what the fans want.”

“Speaking of the fans,” you say, “I happened to read through the comments and a lot of them seemed to think that you were flirting with me.”

You swear you can see Charles’ confidence fall in a flash. “What?” He protests a little too quickly, “that’s crazy. That’s, uh, really crazy.”

You nod. “That’s what I thought, but, on the off chance that you were flirting, I wouldn’t mind it.”

A small spark of hope forms in his eyes. “You wouldn’t?”

“I wouldn’t,” you decide at last, “because I like you too. If you like me, that is, and it wasn’t too crazy of me to say that.”

He’s laughing now, and you– well, you really do like him, you do, and something about seeing the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkle up when he smiles makes you think at last about how long you have liked him, all the ways you realized you loved him but never admitted it to yourself.

“Alright,” he says, “Maybe it wasn’t too crazy after all.”

A pause, then: “This does mean that you’ll be coming around more often, right?”

You smile. “Yes, Charles, I think it does.”

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc oneshot #f1 #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 oneshot #formula one #formula one imagines #formula one x reader #formula one oneshot #f1 charles #f1 charles imagines #f1 charles x reader #f1 charles oneshot

2K notes · View notes

mecachrome · 1 month

Text

landoscar ao3 stats — 2023 overview

notes

retrieved ~sometime in march 2024

methodology: scraped metadata for every fic in the landoscar tag and...... that's it. however one important constraint is that all temporal data is date updated (not posted), so the above timeline isn't exactly a true representation of fic growth but rather how many fics were last-updated at that time. of course this is still its own reflection of fandom health in a way since dead fandoms don't update old fic but well... it's just not quite the same!

this is just info about general trends, fic content, tags etc... so nothing about kudos/comments or any authors specifically

i decided to focus solely on fics last-updated in 2023 (unless otherwise mentioned) because i wanted a tidy set that i can maybe compare & contrast in a year's time, because i expect a lot of details to look different then (tho as stated above this set isn't exactly static... 🤷‍♀️)

ngl i had to re-scrape a bunch of times because i forgot about it for like 3 weeks and then there were 100 new fics 😭 so if there are some minor discrepancies across the post it's because of that halfskh.

also i wanted to include more global comparisons (aka how 814 stack up against the f1 rpf tag in general), but this is also considerably difficult in some contexts since i can't exactly scrape 31,000+ fics can i... or i didn't even want to entertain the thought of trying to do so!!!

why did i do this? who knows.

anyway here's some viz T__T

ship growth

as evidenced in the opening graph, landoscar have been a very fast-growing ship over the past year — although interestingly enough they didn't really start growing substantially until july / the ~better half~ of the 2023 season. here are two views showing their "growth" (by date updated) alongside two other ships on the fringes of the f1 rpf top 10 (sebchal & galex):

landoscar are very much on-track to surpass them and officially enter the top 10 soon, likely before mid-april ❗️ :o

ship characteristics

onto the ship content — another thing i was mildly curious about was how landoscar differs in certain areas from other f1 ships, or the f1 rpf "global" average you could say. for example, here's a breakdown of rating popularity in their ao3 tag:

seeing as explicit is their most common rating, and that i don't necessarily expect this to be true for all ships/fandoms, i compared these percentages with the general f1 rpf tag to see whether some ratings are more commonly represented in 814 fic than average, which produced interesting results:

do lando ships simply skew more HornyTM in general? is it oscar? a secret third thing??? who knows... actually i think it would be fun to do more analysis in this direction but that can wait for another time!!!

similarly i also wanted to see which ships are the most "public" on ao3, as in have the highest share of fic that isn't user-locked... i will refrain from peppering in my feelings about the 4th wall too heavy-handedly but i was curious to see whether some sort of perhaps... er, generational gap (?) of sorts between ships that are more public vs. not could be identified. however i don't pretend to have any takeaways from this LOL i conclude absolutely nothing. (for ref landoscar is currently 72% public, vs. a global avg of 63%)

note that this graph is current stats, not filtered for 2023

looking at relationship tags, i also wanted to know whether landoscar suffer noticeably from Second-Ship Syndrome, so i tallied the first-tagged ship of every fic to find out. i know this doesn't necessarily mean that it's always the "main" ship but it's a good enough approximation. the results were quite positive!

filtered to top ships with count of >1 only

i then also calculated the number of ships tagged for each fic to discern the profile of multi-shipping in 814 ficdom; i did have to do a little bit of string standardization (all instances of implied / background / hinted collapsed to hinted for simplicity's sake + removal of other redundancies), but otherwise i left everything mostly untouched.

as you can see, landoscar also have a fairly promising amount of OTP: TRUE fic:

by the time you get to the fics with 10+ ships tagged, landoscar are less likely to be the primary ship, which makes sense just on a basic statistical level... this is also a very small sample size though

i also lazily tallied the 10 most common ships that weren't NOR/PIA or NOR & PIA to diff their shares of the 814 tag vs. of the general f1 rpf tag, to see which other pairings are more represented in the 814 tag than on average (because lestappen are the most popular by pure count but this is also true of fandom in general, so it would be a misrepresentation to say that their popularity is out of the ordinary):

maxiel's gap isn't really that surprising since i think that, generationally, in terms of when both pairings were teammates there is quite a gap; with carlando—actually let me tally this again but including all instances of "implied" and "past" as being part of the same ship, since that's how ao3 tag-wrangles as well:

Aha ! obviously as a direct ship there is competition between 814 and other lando or oscar ships, but this difference is somewhat less pronounced once we include all formats. tbh none of this really means anything but i thought i'd add it anyway... (it's also very possible that there are several errors in this, in which case my b 😔)

before we move on to additional tags, there are a few more basic characteristics of 814 fic we can calculate. i realize i never offered an overview of Super Basic Stats, so here are a few:

plus, looking at word counts, here is a distribution of those in 2023-updated fic, which shows that a majority of 814 fics were under the 5k mark:

85% of landoscar fics were under 10k & nearly 97% under 25k

i don't really have any reason to believe that landoscar's wc stats differ significantly from average ? so this is kind of just Data To Have Data, and it most likely reflects normal ao3 trends in general... but i thought i'd include it anyway because i already made it lol. similarly, here are word count distributions but stratified by rating:

& same info but heat map view:

i feel like this is also probably something you'd find across fandom in general — that gen fic is likely to have a higher share of under 1k works, since Building Up to sexual content often takes... Literal & Metaphorical Foreplay ! and the longer a fic is the more opportunities an author has to include a sex scene or other explicit content (ofc, not necessarily just porn but also graphic violence & so on). but i thought this was fun to visualize haha

additional tags & aus?

back in my old f1 rpf stats post, i made a table comparing fluff/angst "ratios" (not exactly a direct ratio because of how tag wrangling works, but an approximation) of the most popular f1 ships, and now that landoscar are somewhat popular i thought i'd first do an update:

also current data, not 2023 to make things easier

just like before, simi are one of the most fluffy ships and brocedes are by far the most angsty, but it's interesting to see 814 also extremely high up on the charts, with far and away the lowest % of angst. will be exciting 2 see how that holds or changes as the seasons progress !

finally, i also wanted to do a bit of au/additional tag analysis because you can kind of see this when you use additional filters on ao3 but the previews are limited and get bogged down by the prevalence of *checks notes* Fluff, Angst, PWP, Anal Sex and what have you. which are nice stats to have and all but what of the rest !

disclaimer that the set for these tables is a biiiit outdated because by the time i'd wrangled everything i was like I Am Not Changing It Again. unfortunately i clean my data with shoddy queries and regex functions in googsheetz...

there were 48 tags with at least 10 instances from 2023 fics, shown below, with ones that are (some ~vaguely) nsfw in red just to kind of get a rough sense of which tags get commonly used in M/E fic:

getting a bit too much into small sample size / specific fic territory so if you're an author i sincerely apologize for that... do not mean 2 put u on blast... TT__TT but i also tried to tally the most popular aus people write for 814, which is a bit dubious because people tag in really different ways and i had to accommodate for a lot of string formats but ... it's close enough ! (?)

i feel like this is very little interesting info but idk what else to add so i will stop here for now... well!!! if you made it to the end i hope u learned something or even vaguely enjoyed reading T__T and most of all thank you :')

#*m #landoscar #in a sense 😔#tfw don't have a tableau license so i live life on the edge across multiple unsaved desktop public files......#if ur interested in anything specific pls lmk before my computer inevitably Dies and deletes everything...!#this is so useless nsdflshdfh. Anyway

224 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

Text

WYD 1

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Summary: A fan makes an offer your can't refuse.

(based on suggestion he's been overworking himself for weeks if not months. He knows he needs a break but his work is too important. Maybe what he needs is someone to take care of him so he can focus more on work. from @thezombieprostitute)

Characters: Bucky Barnes

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You can’t help but grin as you scroll through the comments. There aren’t many but those that are there give you that rush of adrenaline. More so, the interaction is great for your wallet.

As a faceless creator, your interaction is limited. You prefer the smaller community. Your might not be the most lucrative account on OnlyFans but it pays your rent, just about.

It’s the only secret you’ve ever had in your life and it’s a big one. You don’t think anyone would believe it. Not you. Not the librarian’s assistant on part-time salary in her corduroys and stuffy oversized cardigans.

It wasn't exactly an opportunity you were fond of, more of a last resort. You don’t fantasize about the men on the other side of the screen, as flattering as they can be. They have a similar sort of desperation, but the crux of it is somewhat more pitiful.

It’s the private message waiting for you that surprises you. That alone is behind a paywall, a feature many users forego when they’re only there for the quick wank. You shudder at the thought, often avoiding that reality of your side hustle.

You’re nervous to check but alone in the stacks, with not much else to do, your curiosity gets the best of you. You tap the icon and bring up the chat from BB. No profile pic, no info, just a message.

‘Are you interested in a private arrangement? 5k/week guaranteed.’

Great, a scam. You roll your eyes and close the app. Stupid. But why would someone pay for content just to try to con you. It’s a pretty big gamble.

You tuck away your phone and sigh, pacing up and down the aisle. The soft flutter of pages and stagnant silence. It’s so dull, you’d rather deal with anything else for the minimum wage and uncertain hours. Still, the freedom lets you tend to your other business.

A few minutes later, out of habit, you bring out your phone again. You linger in the blindspot of the cameras and unlock it. The app pops up as you left it. Another message.

‘Don’t leave me on read.’

The demand startles you. You should just block but you know that it’s money in your pocket. You’re not gullible, more greedy.

‘5k? Okay, sure.’

You press send and hide your phone behind your back and wander on. Your insides squirm. You’re not stupid enough to believe it. You look again at the end of the next shelf.

‘If you want more, we can negotiate. We’d have to meet to do that.’

You scoff aloud and quickly look around. There’s no one there to be disturbed. You evasively sit at one of the desk and hide behind the wooden cubicle that encloses it.

‘I’m not stupid’, you reply.

‘No, but you’re gorgeous. Pick the place. Let’s talk.’

‘Good luck finding whatever you’re looking for but it’s not with me,’ you type, skin razed and speckly.

‘I mean it.’

‘You’re not real. Your 5k is less real. Save your money and stop messaging.’

You wait, watching the screen. Your ears prick as you listen to the lull of the forgotten library. You can hear a cart rolling a few aisles back. You can’t get caught on your phone again.

A new notification blips up in the app before you can black the screen. ‘BB sent a tip’. You click it without thinking and bring up the tip; $1,000. A thousand? A message pops down and you quickly flick the chat back over the screen.

‘Believe me now?’ He challenges.

You take a breath and lock your phone, tucking it up your sleeve as you stand and turn down an aisle, passing the approaching cart as you refuse to look at the employee behind it. You go to the catalogue computer and pretend to tidy the little paper slips and pencils. You wait until the wheels squeak onward.

You slide your phone out and press your fingertip against the censor. The screen opens and the next message taunts you.

‘Give me a place and time’.

You hesitate and peek around, paranoid that others could read your mind just by looking at you.

‘Send a pic. Then I’ll meet,’ you counter.

‘You first, doll. Face for a face.’

You don’t like this and yet, you’re messaging.

‘After you,’ you insist.

No answer. You shake your head and put your phone back under your cuff. You carry on and head up the stairs to the next level. When you look at your phone again, there’s a response waiting for you.

A man with bright blue eyes and a sculpted jawline. Handsome, almost breathtakingly so. Your surprise is undergirded by your insecurity. Well, might as well send your own and let him change his mind. You scroll through your miniscule collection of selfies that don’t make you cringe and send one off.

You can’t look away as you wait. You know what’s coming. Rejection. Finally…

‘Place, time. Make sure to buy yourself something nice.”

You stare at his answer, dumbfounded. Are you really going to do this?

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #of!reader #WYD #marvel #mcu #drabble #series #au #winter soldier #captain america

453 notes · View notes

bonny-kookoo · 8 months

Text

Jungkook x Reader/ Yoongi x Jimin

𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓣𝓸𝓸𝓽𝓱 [Cream] 1/2

Jimin and Yoongi share one major problem when it comes to you and Jungkook- they're not hybrids, which means there's things in life they can never fully understand. But that's what you've got each other now for. And he can't wait to get a taste.

Tags/Warnings: Human!Yoongi, Human!Jimin, Rottweiler hybrid!Jungkook, Cat hybrid!Reader, Enemies to friends to lovers, mentions of past trauma, some Yoonmin here and there oops, Main story focus are MC and Kook though, just hybrid things (scenting, grooming, biting, licking, scruffing, and more), hurt & comfort, heat, manhandling, smut, Dom!brat tamer!Kook, sub!brat!reader, Fluff, SFW in this but smut in the next, some Angst, hints at (sexual) abuse, MCs past somewhat revealed, lots of comfort though

Length: ~4.3k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook has to laugh a little as he watches you emerge from your room to presumably check out the smell of the soup, all bundled up in a giant burrito of blankets, tail barely poking out from the bottom between your legs.

The dog hybrid had managed to give you some fever medication, a soft laugh having escaped him as he realized that almost all the medication for you is more so branded towards kittens than actual adult feline hybrids- something Jimin explained was the only way you'd take any of it.

You're so terribly spoiled- but Jungkook can't blame him for doing so.

"M'sorry.." You slur, simply leaning your body against his, face buried in his chest as you rub your forehead against his clothes. "you were probably really.. excited.." You mumble, and he chuckles, a hand on your back- or more so all the blankets wrapped around you.

"Don't apologize." he reassures you, stirring the pot with soup on the stove before he turns off the heat. "I'm more worried about you than anything else. And I told you we wouldn't have to do anything anyways, so no issues there at all." He jokes, though you just stay in your position stubbornly.

Jungkook can really just assume what's happening to you- his internet research and general knowledge from his job offering him a few pieces to the puzzle here and there. It's clear that it's some sort of trauma response- but Jimin had told him that there's nothing documented that would explain why you sometimes fall into such a state during your heat, while other times, you'd be fine. Something Jungkook had found could be that your mind simply 'locked' any memory of something happening- making your body remember, but not your mind. It happens in some hybrids who'd suffered traumatic events in their pasts- and from the looks of it all, that might just be what's going on with you.

All Jungkook really wants however, is to make sure you're alright. He doesn't need to know your past- only your future matters, and he wants to paint it in colors nowhere near as sad as you sometimes look.

"Jungkook.?" You ask suddenly, voice muffled into the fabric of his sweater, and he hums, moving his hands to hold your face in his palms so you can look at him- which you don't do, averting your eyes from him. "Will you.. stay with me?" You ask, and before he can answer, you add on; "..even though I'm me?"

For a moment, he can only hear the clock in the kitchen ticking, his entire body frozen in place as he realizes what you're really asking him.

So he was right all along.

You're scared of being left alone, and he knew this already-

but he might've just figured out what happened to you in the past to cause your body to shut down every time you hit your heat.

Abandonment. Someone had just left you during you most vulnerable time.

"I'll stay with you forever if you want me to." He says, teasingly squishing your cheeks a little, making you pout at him with a playful glare. "No matter if you're sick, or if you're annoying, or if you're angry, or sad-" He rants, tail wagging when you start to smile. "-so stop worrying, and let me be your guard dog." He jokes, making you laugh, before you cough a little.

"You're an idiot!" You laugh, before he lifts you up, blankets and all, to sit you down on one of the kitchen chairs-

boldly pecking your cheek.

"Well, I'm your idiot now."

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

"I'm going over-" Jimin suddenly says, Yoongi however reaching out to grab his wrist and hold him back.

"Park Jimin, my hybrid is currently busy spoon-feeding soup to your blanket burrito over there, she's fine." He sighs, before nodding over to the window, where Jimin can actually in fact see your legs happily kicking around on the chair, while Jungkook feeds you, most likely because you refuse to untangle yourself from the blanket. "Jimin, I have been wondering something. And I want you to be honest." He says, as the younger human sits back down. "Do you love her? Romantically?" He asks, and it's quiet for a moment, before Jimin shakes his head.

"When I brought her home, she refused to do anything for days." Jimin explains. "No eating, no drinking, no talking- she was like a wild animal rather than a mostly human being." he remembers, looking at the tabletop. "No one knows what actually went down in that home, since she doesn't remember, and the other two hybrids she was living with had been completely shut down last time I saw them." He recalls, and Yoongi listens intently. "As far as I know, she's the only one who ever recovered to a point where she's considered independent again."

"And now you keep seeing her back in that state, and it scares you so much you rather avoid any negative situation so she doesn't fall back." Yoongi finishes.

"At first, I was walking on eggshells around her." Jimin runs a hand over his face. "One step forward, two steps back. It was a constant push and pull." He explains. "One day she'd make amazing progress, and then the next she'd be back at square one just because I accidentally did something that would set her off. It was.. frustrating, as bad as it sounds."

"It's not a bad thing to admit that it was tough." Yoongi reassures. "It doesn't mean you demean her just by saying that she was a challenge. I can't imagine how hard it must've been to work through all of it on your own."

"I knew that at some point, she was using things to her advantage. She was using me-" He sighs, "-and I let her. Because I knew that she didn't do it because she was a bad person."

"She was just in survival mode." The older human agrees, and Jimin nods with glossy eyes, feeling relieved that his partner seems to understand.

"And at some point, it just became.. okay. I felt content being her punching bag if it meant she was getting better. So I let her bite, and scratch, and yell. It was fine." He nods to himself. "And then.. she changed. Became so soft." the younger human almost whispers. "I don't- you might not really believe it, but she can be so sweet. Once you push past all her nasty walls and all that acting tough, she's an angel. She really is."

"I mean, I've seen glimpses of it, here and there. So I believe you." Yoongi chuckles. "And I think I understand your feelings towards her too. You're.. similar to me and Jungkook, I guess." He shrugs. "It's more of a.. caretaker situation. I feel responsible, in a way, since I practically raised him through his teenage years. Every flaw he now has somewhat falls back onto me." He laughs to himself. "I love him. Not intimately, or romantically- just.."

"Just love." Jimin says, nodding. "Nothing else. Just pure affection."

"Exactly." Yoongi nods.

And for a moment, both of them just look at each other-

enjoying the feeling of knowing that finally, someone else seems to understand.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Due to his job, Jungkook has become pretty good at recognizing behaviors and adjusting his own accordingly. And he realizes quickly that your body and your mind are terribly disconnected in one way or another- making it a bit tough to figure out how to place his steps to make you feel comfortable.

Your mind is clearly content, happy and relaxed around him. You're purring against his chest right now, belly filled with warm soup and fever slowly coming down little by little, giving you finally a chance at proper rest. Your body, however, is still on high alert- ears constantly moving, tail never staying still, muscles tense in case you need to escape from whatever might happen.

He's basically forced to work with two sides of you at the same time- and upsetting one, could send the other into a panic at any time, due to your heat.

But he's got an ace up his sleeve- he's just as much of a hybrid as you are. And he noticed some things that work very well on you already.

You've currently started to roll around next to him on the bed- uncaring if your blankets or pillows fall down. It's clear that you're starting to become comfortable again, to the point of your heat actually making you interested again. And it also brings out your personality once more- as you playfully bite after him whenever he tries to touch you. You clearly initiate every contact first- from bumping your head into his body, to actually laying over him and holding onto his arms. But the moment he moves towards you, you bite, kick, or push at him again- and he knows that it's your instincts kicking in.

Jungkook has had sex before. He's not innocent in the slightest, and yet, he's sure that once you're ready for that with him, you'll be able to give him something he's been missing in every experience he's had before;

something wild, and untamed.

"Stop biting me you gremlin." Jungkook laughs while he watches you dig your teeth into the skin of his forearm that you hold onto- though you're not breaking skin whatsoever. It's just a play-bite, and neither is he mad about it. "You wanna get up and eat something?" He asks, and you finally let go, roll onto your back, and huff.

"No." You whine. "But I'm hungry." You complain further, and he chuckles.

"So what is it then?" He wonders, and your tail smacks loudly onto the bed.

"I wanna eat!" You complain, arms crossed. "But here!" You say, and he shakes his head.

"You're not eating in bed." He denies. "Once your heat breaks through you'll spend enough time here." He tells you, and at that, you begin to squirm a bit uncomfortably. He's noticed it some time ago already, can only really assume the contents of your most recent dream you had while sleeping next to him-

he somehow hopes he was a part of it. Maybe even the main part of it.

He can sense that you're slowly breaking out of your fever, but you're not yet there- there's still a certain sense of distrust you seem to have, and he fully understands and respects that. After all, considering this will be your first heat and first sexual experience, there has to be some sort of anxiety within you. He can only imagine how intimidating everything must be to you.

"How do you feel?" He asks, carefully reaching out to run a hand over your naked shoulder- an action you now let happen, no longer in a playful mood than before. "Hm?" He asks when you just cringe and whine, slowly sitting up.

"Dunno.." You mumble. "Don't wanna.. do stuff yet though. Sorry." You say, when he moves around on the bed, now sitting on his heels in front of you, hands on your cheeks.

"I'm not here just to take advantage of you, or have my fun with your body." He explains to you in a serious manner. "I'm not here just to have sex with you and satisfy myself." He says. "I'm here because I want to take care of you, and because I want to help you."

"Yeah and like, help is gonna-" You start, but he shakes his head.

"Help is gonna be what it's gonna be. Even if you don't want any help in that department at all, I'll still stay if you want me to." He shrugs.

"I want that." You say, grabbing and holding onto his sweater, pulling it towards you. "You gotta stay. Or I'll get sad." You tell him, flopping down into your side on the bed, and he grins, leaning down towards you.

"And we don't want you being sad, right?" He hums lowly, making you nod softly, almost shy.

"If I get sad I won't let you see me naked." You boldly tell him, and he laughs, resting his face in the crook of your neck.

"Oh no, I better keep you happy then!" He dramatically exclaims, laying down next to you. "What does a poor dog gotta do to make the princess smile?" He wonders dramatically, and you grin playfully, rolling onto your back.

"He'd carry her to the kitchen and feed her." You sing, tail curling impishly around. "And then he'd probably have to cuddle her, and make sure she's never lonely." You explain.

He nods. "I think I can do that." He suddenly says, before he gets up to throw you over his shoulder.

"Hey!" You complain, and he laughs, testing the waters by playfully hitting your butt once as he walks out the door towards the kitchen.

"You wanted to be carried." He shrugs, laughing when he notices you suddenly becoming shy. "You never said how."

♥━━━━━━��━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

"I lied." You suddenly say as Jungkook is back in bed with you, having you laid over his lap while he pets your ears. "I had sex before. Well-... kinda." You mumble, and his touch never stops.

"You wanna talk about it?" He asks casually, careful not to make you nervous. "It's fine if you don't want to."

"No, It's just-" you huff, visibly riled up by the topic. "I don't remember it well. Like, it's like a dream that you know you had but you forgot most of the details. I know I was bad, and I know it wasn't good. I remember that I was alone after, and that I was in the bathroom- I know that I slept in the bathtub, back at my old home, but I don't remember why. I just.. woke up there." You shrug, and Jungkook nods.

So it really is how he thought. Your mind has locked certain memories away to protect you- however, the trauma responses are still there, instincts unable to forget that easily.

"I guess that's why my heat is sometimes like that. I don't know.." you mumble. "..I don't know how to deal with this stuff. I'm not sure what you do and what you don't do during your heat.." you look someplace distant. "I'm broken. And I don't know how to fix me." You sigh.

"You're not broken at all." Jungkook shakes his head. "You're you. And I like you."

"You say that to get into my pants." You roll your eyes, and he laughs.

"I'm saying that because it's true. I don't want anything from you that you're not willing to give me." He shrugs.

"Then what if I don't want to have sex with you?" You ask, rolling onto your back to look at him. "What if I don't want you to touch me? Or if I'm mean? Or-"

"That won't change the fact that I like you." He says, shutting you up. You're so used to people only doing things so they can get something out of it for themselves, that Jungkook's words have become alien to you. He's just like Jimin, back then.

Intimidating, because his friendliness is just way too suspicious. But for now, you just go to sleep- taking a nap close to him, to maybe relax and sort out yourself and your situation for once.

Maybe.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You're suddenly huffy yet again, hiding away from Jungkook underneath the blankets, and no amount of treats or praise seems to be able able to get you out from underneath them. He tries it all for a good while- offering your favorite foods, promising cuddles, even getting Jimin for you- but you refuse to come out and face him any longer.

He's not sure what happened after your little talk, but he's determined to find out.

"You can leave now!" You hiss underneath the heavy blanket, and he sighs, sitting cross-legged on the bed instead, not moving an inch. You're stubborn- but he's got the better patience of you both, so he decides to just wait it out for now, instead of getting you out underneath. He'd risk setting you off again- and he's not sure if he could handle the guilt of being the one to cause you distress. "Go away!" You yell again, but to no avail. He's not moving.

"Not until you tell me why." He responds to you calmly, and suddenly, your face pokes out the blanket, eyes red from crying, face clearly angry.

"I'm not in heat anymore, you can go now..!" You huff, and he tilts his head a bit confused, unsure what you're talking about.

"What do you mean?" He asks, and you just hide underneath the blanket again.

"I don't know, I'm just not anymore, so you can fuck off!" You growl, pulling the edges of the blanket close.

Jungkook thinks for a good moment. Maybe you're confused? You clearly still smell like you're in heat- more than ever, in fact, but your mind is pretty obviously not anymore, which doesn't make sense. And even if you weren't anymore, why do you suddenly seem to hate his presence?

"Do you think I only wanted you.. because you're in heat?" Jungkook wonders, tests the waters, and your silence tells him everything. He sighs loudly, and pulls on the blanket, easily overpowering you and taking away your hiding spot. And just as you try and get away, he pins you down instead by your wrists, leaning over you to look at you closely. "I want you when you're not in heat too. I want you whenever you want me." He tells you, and you look at him with wide open eyes.

"Why?" You ask.

"I don't think any explanation would really convince you." Jungkook says, looking at you. "Because you don't seem to understand that.. love and affection, that doesn't need anything else. Actual love isn't a giving and taking. It's not a transaction. You don't decide to love someone." He shrugs, before his hold on your hands loosens, arms rather wrapping around you to pick you up and hold your body against his, hugging you with his face in your shoulder. "Let me love you." He hums against your skin, and you don't know what to do for a good while.

He's right.

Love always comes with some responsibility for you- or at least it did, in the past. If someone loves you, you're obligated to return it in some way- you have to pay it back, somehow, no matter if it's not what you want, or if you don't love that person at all. Love always has some sort of hidden meaning. There's always a compensation wanted.

But Jungkook is like Jimin. He doesn't want anything from you- so what are you supposed to give?

Because compared to everyone who 'loved' you in the past, you actually want to pay him back. You want to return it. You want to be loved. But he doesn't want anything from you in return. What do you do now?

"What do you want from me?" You almost whisper, unsure. "I want to.. I don't know what to give you." You whimper, body shaking a little.

"I don't need anything from you." He chuckles, holding you a bit closer.

"You have to want something!" You call out in frustration. "I don't know what to give you in return- I wanna-.. I need to give you something, anything.." You stutter, and he realizes what you need.

"How about your love then?" He wonders, leaning back a little to look at you. "Please love me." He asks, a smile on his lips and tail happily wagging.

And for once in your life, never has a request been so easy to fulfill.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

'I'm not in heat anymore', is what you've said. In reality, you very much still are- and Jungkook realizes as you lift your behind up next to him with red cheeks, face hidden in the pillows in embarrassment, that you finally broke through. So if anything, you've never been so deeply in heat than right now.

You trust him enough to let yourself go, and leave your body in his care- instincts taking over as you whine in complaint next to him on the bed.

Before you went to sleep a few hours prior, he'd had a very in-depth talk about what's allowed to happen in this situation. How far he's allowed to go, what you think you'll enjoy and what you absolutely do not want, no matter how much your fogged up brain will ask for it. So he's empowered by a certain sense of confidence in his actions- and he's also more than excited to help you.

After all, you're his partner from now on. You're his princess- and he can't wait to mark you up as such, too.

He turns onto his side to watch you, as you slowly move around to roll on the bed and get your scent everywhere- dark spot on your underwear giving him an idea of the predicament you're in, inside of your legs already glistening with your slick, probably having started during your nap earlier. He can also see the underside of the base of your tail wet from having been pulled between your thighs in a pitiful attempt to somehow provide any sort of relief- which didn't work. And even your hand, which travels shamelessly underneath the fabric of your underwear, doesn't seem to help you at all.

The moment your eyes lock, he waits. He knows what you want, but he refuses to act on anything that's not your clear words. You're in heat, after all- not mute.

"Jungkook..!" You whine, rolling around once more before you kick after his legs- though he catches your ankle, holds it with a stern but playful look. You whine again, no words coming from you, as you try and pull your leg away.

"Words." He simply states, letting go of you before he moves one arm to rest behind his head, lazily watching you. "I can't read your mind." He shrugs.

"You can!" You hiss, sitting up. "You know!" You argue, and he's got the audacity to laugh at you. "Do something!"

"How about you beg a little and I think about it?" He teases, and he can see in seconds how your cheeks turn red.

"You're evil!" You hiss.

"And you're being a brat right now." He shrugs, looking at you, now sat up to glare at him. "Just a pretty little 'please' and I'll do whatever you'd like me to." He almost sings, very much aware that he's riling you up right now. He's studied you enough to know how far he can go. He'd never intentionally make you feel bad- especially not in a situation like this. But he also wants to have a little fun with you- you're just too easy to tease.

And so fun, too.

"Please~ do something then!" You huff, flopping onto your back, making him laugh- before he moves his arms, opening them, inviting you silently. He's not even gonna move for you- you have to come to him instead.

And so you do just that-

Giving yourself to him in a final display of trust.

And he's gonna make sure you'll know it's not being misplaced with him.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #jeon jungkook imagine #yoongi imagine #jimin imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic

994 notes · View notes

bitchimasnake-sss · 2 months

Note

what do you think about a little bit of angst with op boys traveling in the time to the past (bcs a enemy fruit power or something) and they interactions with their s/o that is dead in the future? hehe just wondering

omg i love this so much. i suck at writing angst but ill try!! a/n: ill be posting three different fics for all three! (i'll add link at the end once the other two are up too!); not proofread! zoro's part sani's part

nine years ft. monkey d luffy!

luffy outstretched his arms, stifling a yawn. peering through blurry gaze, he tried to sit up. his head felt like it was going to split apart. the headache ravaged the back of his head and he tried to focus his gaze on the people in front of him.

"oi?" a young, sorta squeaky voice called out to him, "who are you?"

"who are you? and why do you look familiar?" another voice asked.

"let him atleast come to his senses." a young woman yelled at the two boys and luffy blinked twice as to take in the scene in front of him. her red hair shone under the sun, catching sunlight that reflected her fiery temperament.

"nami? is that you?" the older man's voice was gruff. he sat up and looked around as if observing the deck of the sunny for the first time.

the red-head was alarmed. with eyes widening, she asked, "is it actually you? luffy?"

"that's not me!!" the younger version quipped up, pouting when he stared at the older version, "i don't look like that."

"what do you mean? i think he's good-looking" another voice kissed the old captain's ears.

"yn?" the older version looked over to your voice.

"yn?" his eyes were frantic, as if taking all of as soon as he could. he sat up so fast, he almost could feel metal on his tongue, he could almost faint again.

but none of that mattered.

his fingers outstretched as if to feel your skin against his palm, as if to reassure himself that you were there.

"hey?" you seemed to chuckle awkwardly, backing off slightly at his sudden intrusion, "do i know you?"

there you were. there was his girl.

alive.

this wasn't one of those dreams that felt realer than life. you were there. so close, he could almost touch you and hold you and sob into you.

except you were nineteen again.

"hey, old man" zoro piped up, threatening the older man with a glare, "do we know you?"

"it's me" his throat was parched and it hurt to speak, "it's luffy."

"no, im luffy, you old man!!" the younger version piped up again, pouting even more now.

that interaction was three days ago and in the meantime, the crew and older version of their captain had both come to accept the strangeness of the situation. it was surreal, seeing his crew-mates young. to see them so full of dreams, their bodies barely beaten and bruised. it was surreal to see them so tiny, so inexperienced to what was about to come.

it was surreal to see you again.

you were nineteen. it would take two years before you and his younger version would get together. it would take seven more years till he asked you to marry him. it would take nine more years till he lost you.

but right now you were nineteen and when you smiled, the sun caught onto your skin, painting you in a golden shade. right now, you still snickered when you found something funny, the laugh sort of airy and hearty. right now, you still offered him a portion of your food as if you didn't want it. right now, the younger version of him didn't even know he loved you.

a part of him wanted to go yell at his younger version. hold him by the collar and threaten him to keep you safe. but all of that would be of no use.

the fates were cruel.

the deck was slightly chilly in the night air and you sat next to him. the aged captain didn't ignore the way you restlessly moved your legs. and he held back from putting his hand on your knee to calm you down.

"so..." you started and he knew that tone too well. you were gonna ask him something meekly, as in unsure if you wanna know the answer. you faced him, "what is future like? do you become the future king of pirates? is the crew together?"

"ah" luffy laughed, hiding this sting you sweet voice inflicted on him, "yes, the crew is still together. we even had some new members."

"really?" you beamed, "and me and you? are we still friends?"

"i-" he snuck in a breath and laughed again, hoping it would ease the pain in his voice, "ofcourse we are. we are the closest of friends. we will always be, till the end of time."

"no way! we're closer than you're with zoro?" your expression turned smug, "ha! i knew it. i am way way funnier than zoro."

luffy just nodded, finding an invisible rope round his throat as he looked at you. he was afraid as if one wrong word and he'd jinx everything, he'd be back in his solemn reality.

you spoke again, "i must say, did growing up make you less energetic? you're so quite luffy." then you corrected yourself, "ah, i mean like ofcourse growing up must make you less energet-"

"yn," luffy cut you off, "i love you"

your eyes widened comically, air stuck in your throat, "huh??"

"as a friend." he smiled at your confused figure, "i thought i should let you know while i was here."

"oh" a blush crept up your face, spreading till your ears, "i mean- i love you too- as a friend ofcourse!"

"i'm glad." luffy gave you a soft smile. his heart ached when you return back the smile with no hesitancy, "i'm glad i got to know you."

then you looked away from the older man and luffy knew it meant you were blushing even more furiously. then through a meek whisper you said, "you're being so sappy. stop it-"

"DINNER'S READY!" the young chef's voice boomed, snapping you two out of the conversation. the aged captain involuntarily jumped up at the name of dinner.

"glad to see you are the same about food still." he looked down at you, laughing. and he laughed with you.

he laughed because he knew in every timeline, he still had those nine years with you.

and he'd love you through them over and over again.

#one piece #opla #op #monkey d luffy #luffy x reader #one piece luffy #one piece imagines #one piece angst #luffy fanfic #luffy imagines #luffy angst

353 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 5 months

Note

Hi my love. Can you do a quick little blurby with whoever you think will fit this. The request is the reader was literally forgotten by her coworkers. They were all going to go out after work but they forgot her and went out without her. Just a comfort fic because this literally happened to me and I want to curl up and cry

Hi my love, I'm so sorry that this happened to you but I really hope things have been sorted out and/or you're feeling better now. Thank you for requesting sweetheart <3

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 957 words

Steve wonders if maybe he’s holding you too tight. He’s got one arm around your ribcage and the other curled over your shoulders so he can hold the nape of your neck, but he keeps having to squash bouts of his own indignant fury to focus on comforting you.

Unfortunately, this is not something he can handle with a bat.

“I’m sure they didn’t mean to,” he mumbles next to your head. Your cheek is pressed close to his, your arms hung loosely around his shoulders. You’d come home to find him on the couch and simply draped yourself over him, desperate for affection he was all too happy to give you, even if it’s a bit less fun and games when you’re upset. You’re not even really crying, just clinging to him as a slow, relentless stream of tears flows out of you.

“I know.” You sound so dejected Steve feels like someone’s taken the bat to him, your voice croaky and tired. “I don’t think they were trying to be mean, they just…didn’t remember me.”

“Being inconsiderate still makes them a bunch of douchebags,” he says, thumb stroking the baby hairs on your neck.

Steve likes to think he was never that much of a douchebag, but witnesses would probably testify otherwise. Robin would gleefully skip to the front of the line. She’d actually referred to his past self as a douche-canoe once. Steve isn’t sure what exactly that means, but he’s guessing it didn’t make him a whole lot better than these guys.

“You should come work with me and Robs,” he offers, only half joking. You normally love your job, but he hates seeing you like this enough to think that maybe that doesn’t matter so much. “The pay’s worse, but we’re way more fun to be around.”

You sniffle, tightening your grip around his shoulders affectionately. “Thanks, Stevie. But it’s not that I don’t like them. They’re cool, usually.” Steve makes a reluctant grunting sound, though he knows this to be true. Prior to today’s incident, he’d actually been looking forward to meeting some of them. “I just wish I weren’t so forgettable.”

It takes Steve a second to actually process what you’ve said, and then his heart sputters in his chest. “Hey, what?” He pulls away from you, curling his hands around your upper arms. “Babe, this hasn’t got anything to do with you.”

The look in your eyes is less despair than resignation. You seem almost sorry to contradict him. “It’s not like they didn’t invite me. They were trying to be nice, they just didn’t notice that I wasn’t there when they left. What else do you call that?”

“Not your fault,” he insists, nose scrunching bewilderedly as he shakes his head at you. “That’s what I call it. Listen, I” —he sighs— “I don’t want to sound like I’m advocating for these assholes, but you know how things can get when you’re in a group like that. Everybody’s all excited about whatever you’re all going to do, and if somebody says they’re ready to go, you go. They were probably each thinking you were with someone else. Actually, I can almost guarantee they weren’t thinking at all.”

Your mouth pulls to one side, dissatisfied but considering. You give a little shrug. “I guess.” But you’re just appeasing him, Steve can tell.

Fuck, he hates talking about this. The things he does for you, he swears.

“Look, I was an asshole kid once too,” he says, and he’s aiming for lightness but he can tell by the way your eyes lock on his that you know the significance of him bringing this up. It’s not a legacy he’s proud of. “I could…okay, I’m not happy about it, but I could kind of see myself doing something like that a few years ago. I was an idiot, right? We agree?”

Almost despite yourself, you give a little smile. Steve goes on, encouraged.

“So I can say, practically from experience, that I wouldn’t have been thinking about who was there and who wasn’t. I would’ve been too caught up in the idea of what we were doing to pay attention. But that just makes me a dick, it doesn’t mean anything about you.”

You tilt your head, giving him one of those thoughtful, open looks he loves so much. He likes it when you let him see all of you on your face. Makes his boyfriend duties a lot easier. “You’re not a dick,” you say softly.

“I was,” he says, and it’s not hard to admit when you’re here in front of him, living proof that he’s got to be doing something right these days. He rubs your upper arms roughly. “But you’re not forgettable.”

You sniff again. Steve is pleased to note that your tear ducts seem to have emptied their reserves enough for the time being. He’s not sure whether that’s because you believe him or because you’re just choosing to let his affection outweigh your coworkers’ callousness for the evening, but either is alright with him. He can love you enough to make up for all of those fuckers.

“Can I hug you again?” you ask, and he’s quick to oblige you, slotting you back between his arms where you belong.

“When you go back to work, I bet they’re all going to feel really bad,” Steve grumbles, letting his grip tighten slightly around your ribcage. “But if you want to just avoid all that, the option to come work at Family Video is still open. I know a guy.”

Your laugh is croaky but real, and the sound of it makes Steve want to squeeze the life out of you for happiness. “I’ll think about it.”

337 notes · View notes

sunderlust · 2 years

Text

won't you keep lettin' me love you for a long time (rooster)

masterlist

pairing: rooster x f!reader

synopsis: you drive rooster home after one too many margaritas

warnings: fluff, smidge of angst (mentions of grief, death, bradley losing his parents)

wc: ~2k

note: a wise person - aka may - once told me to never scrap your writing, even if you’ll never use it again. I was gonna backspace the first draft of this - actually wrote it for another angsty Jake what’s new - but then rooster inspiration struck (roospiration, if you will) (actually don’t that just looks like perspiration) (I mean I’d love to have rooster’s sweat- nvm)

sorry long ramble aside here’s something short and sweet after my last angsty fic 💕

“You’re way too good of a friend to me,” Rooster grins sloppily as he slumps over the bartop in front of you. Honestly, he’s pretty lucky they had just wiped down the counter. At any other moment, it’d be sticky with beer and sweet and sour and he’d run the risk of getting a pistachio shell stuck to his mustache.

“Yeah, perhaps I am,” you half-seriously agree with a smile and slide a full glass of ice water towards him, then lean back in your own chair to observe a drunk Rooster trying to manage a few gulps while smiling like a goober at the colorful liquor bottles lined up on the shelf.

The bar’s been long empty, most aviators having taken their leave thirty minutes after the last call. Bradley usually heads out earlier than this - doesn’t like staying out late and messing up his perfectly curated bedtime routine. But tonight was a reunion of sorts with his old classmates, and they went through quite a few margaritas.

You joined about an hour ago, and Bradley immediately elected to sit with you and engage in wonderfully mindless chit-chat. You’re not complaining at all - every moment you can spend with the gorgeous aviator is a moment to cherish. Plus, it doesn’t hurt to get all the gossip on his current students at TOPGUN - like the three that are involved in a devastating love triangle that’s most definitely exacerbated by Bradley always grouping them - a move he most certainly took out of Pete Mitchell’s book (“They need to focus on the job, not distract themselves with high school theatrics,” he ranted to you earlier).

“Hold on, wait,” Bradley suddenly says, then springs himself upright and focuses hard on you. “If I squint just right...” he screws up his face, almost going cross-eyed. “I can see two of you!” Bradley’s mustache quirks with his smile, and his entire face lights up like the sun. “Goddamn. What a sight.”

“You’re hammered,” you scoff in an attempt to conceal how much the term of endearment affects you, how it makes your entire body feel warm and tingly because you secretly love it when he’s this open and brazen with you, tossing out flirtatious remarks with no hidden agenda besides trying to put a smile on your face.

“I’m not hammered - they call me Rooster,” he replies breezily and you swat at his shoulder, turning away to hide your smile and raising your other hand to flag someone down to close out Bradley’s tab.

After handing over your card (despite Bradley’s drunken attempts to sway the bartender against letting you pay) - you finally stand up. “Need a lift back home?” you ask him with a teasing lilt to your voice. It’s a rhetorical question - he’s got no other way home besides an overpriced Uber - but he still hums thoughtfully. Slowly, he lifts his head and surveys you while drumming his fingers on the wood.

“I.... think that would be best,” he declares, determinedly slapping the counter and attempting to slide off the barstool in a suave manner - it looks more like Bambi on ice, but you can’t deny that it’s still incredibly endearing. He looks up to flash a brilliant, a bit lopsided smile at you. “I’ll see if ‘Nix can pick me up early to grab my car in the morning.”

You laugh, slide your purse off from the back of the chair, and think to yourself about how he’ll have to find out for himself tomorrow that he didn’t even drive here.

Your car rolls to a stop right outside a quaint, one-story bungalow, and you shift into park before unlocking the door and sitting patiently. Bradley’s quiet - as he’d been the entire ride home - and you chance a brief look at him. He’s sitting up, now looking straight back at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Evidently, there are one too many thoughts running around in his tequila-addled brain.

“You okay?” you ask him, eyes seeking out his in the darkness of one AM.

A few seconds of silence roll by, each ticking louder with your beating heart. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “Think I may have had a bit too much.”

“I’ll say,” you snort. “You didn’t even say anything when someone queued up Foghat earlier.”

“Fuck Foghat,” Bradley groans out and leans back against the headrest. “And fuck Jake for ruining a perfectly decent song.”

You hum reassuringly and eye his dark figure carefully, watch the shadow of his chest rise and fall steadily, and find yourself matching his breathing. “You sure you’re alright?”

His head lolls to the side as he appraises you. Finally, he lets out a long sigh. “Yeah, I just...” he trails off, fingers tapping mindlessly on the console. “You’re my best friend,” he says at last. “And you’re so... good”

Bradley shifts into the tiniest sliver of light, eyes glinting with the reflection of the street lamp glowing outside. You hold your breath, not sure if he can even see you or what he means by it, or what will come out of his mouth. “You’re so kind and good to everyone. Even me. And I don’t deserve it. Don’t deserve you,” he says with so much sincerity your heart breaks at him thinking that he’s not deserving of benevolence, friendship, or even love.

You open your mouth to object, to reassure him that it’s very much the opposite, but he beats you to it with words that make your heart bounce around wildly in your chest, yearning to jump right out and press up against his. “I wish my mom and dad got to meet you.”

It punches all the air out of you, and you just sit and look at him solemnly, somehow at a loss for words.

Bradley has carried grief with him since he was four years old. One day, he’s learning about all the different species of dinosaurs from a book his uncle had gifted him, and the next day, he finds out that his dad won’t be coming home, and he’s discovered something new - a little thing called loss. And years later, loss greets him once again with a bittersweet kiss on both cheeks as it tears away his loving mother and his traitorous Uncle Pete. And for some time, it’s just Bradley and his grief, the dynamic duo, a force to be reckoned with as he swears to uphold his father’s legacy, to make Carole and Goose proud (even Maverick, on a subatomic level).

You know some time back, he figured out why Mav pulled his papers - to appease Carole, sweet Carole, who didn’t want her son to see the same fate as Goose. You know Bradley wonders if his parents would be disappointed in him for still following his dreams. The worst part about losing his parents is that he’ll never know how they’d feel about the man he’s become. It’s especially easy for him to believe he hasn’t done enough.

“Bradley,“ you start, throat closing up as your mind races, as you search for the right sequence of reassuring words. “I think you deserve the world.”

You think back to the early days of getting to know him - shortly after you’d moved to San Diego and found him in some dive bar near the ocean. You remember coming back to the bar with your coworkers on Thursday nights, wistfully sending glances his way across the room and trying to muster up the courage to talk to him, ask him to hang back for a drink, ask him if he likes pancakes or waffles in the mornings because you want to know what to make for him after rocking his world (that last sentiment may have been heavily gin-fueled). It was a simple crush at first.

You recall the day he slid up next to you, bought your next drink, and asked you to join him for a round of darts (which you failed miserably at - somehow it’s much harder in real life than GamePigeon). You remember the laughter, the neverending conversation, the comforting feeling of having a new friend. A great friend - one who always lends a listening ear, makes you laugh until your stomach hurts, who brought you his mom’s famous tomato soup when you got the flu.

Phoenix says he’s usually stuck in his head and thinks too much - but in the time you’ve known him, he’s never spared a second thought when it comes to you.

In a rush, you return to the present, where he’s sitting in front of you with glistening eyes and a drunk mouth speaking words you know cross his sober mind every day. His face is crumbling with emotions that he usually keeps under lock and key because he can’t let it get in the way of his job, can’t let it mess him up when he’s flying or teaching. For whatever reason, this is the side of him that he only feels comfortable enough to show you.

Slowly, you reach over the console to interlace your fingers together and pull his hand up to your mouth to press a sweet kiss to the back of it. He squeezes once. “You know that they’re always here,” you tell him. “Every part of them that they’ve given up has made you the wonderful man you are now. In that way, you always have them with you. And they’d be so damn proud of you. I wish I had the chance to meet them, but I know they’d agree.”

He’s nodding his head with your words as if he’s shaking them around his mind in an attempt to instill their meaning. “And...” You press another kiss to the back of his hand. “I’d say you’re my best friend, too,” you say, whispering mock-conspiratorially.

The grin that slides over his face makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, flying around wildly, completely shredding your intestines but that’s a problem for later because right now Bradley, who has to be the love of your life, is smiling like he just won the lottery, like he’s the luckiest man in the world. Suddenly he’s leaning in, reaching a hand out to brush a piece of loose hair behind your ear and then cup your cheek lovingly, and he’s kissing you like you’re the air he breathes.

You return with fervor; his mustache scrapes roughly against your nose and you can still taste the cheap sour marg mix on his tongue and you can definitely sense how drunk he is by the lack of coordination he exhibits every time your teeth clash together. But it’s real and raw and beautiful all at once, and he’s kissing you like he did the first time all those years ago, as he did on the beach when you said yes to forever, as he did months ago after you exchanged I do’s in a small but beautiful ceremony.

You’ll always prefer messy kisses over anything else, and you’ll always love Bradley with his grief wholly and unconditionally.

Bradley, now seeming to be the slightest bit soberer, breathes in deeply, pulls back slightly, slowly grazes your cheekbone with his thumb as he tries to look at you in the darkness of what must be one-fifteen now. “Thanks,” he says genuinely. Doubt is still festering its prickly self inside him, but he’s grounded now and is comfortably tethered to you.

“Always,” you promise to your best friend, to your partner, to your husband, then surge forward to press another kiss to his lips before moving to unbuckle his seatbelt. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he replies ardently and pulls you in to kiss your forehead, then turns to fumble for the car handle. He pauses and lowers his head to look out the window where his Bronco is parked right next to yours. “Hold up - I didn’t drive tonight?”

You stifle a laugh and grab your bag from the back seat. “Think your age is showing, honey.”

Bradley squawks out in indignation and stutters through a couple of rebuttals before sighing and burying his face in his hands. “I hate this. Why did you let me drink this much?”

“I showed up later, babe,” you tell him. “Think you can blame Jake for the margs.”

Another groan sounds out from him. “Of fucking course it’s Jake’s fault.”

With a little bit of coordinated effort, the two of you manage to walk (stumble, in Bradley’s case) up the stone pathway leading to the front porch, unlock the door, and step into your shared home together. And later that night, you lay down next to a softly snoring Bradley, think about all the moments that brought you to him, and drift away on the feeling of utter devotion.

#rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster one shot #rooster imagine #tgm fic #sol writes

2K notes · View notes

bro-atz · 7 months

Note

Helloooooooo!!! I LOVEDD your principa piece with Yunho! I was wondering if you would maybe be able to do a fic with San or Yunho where the mc is plus-sized? Thank youuu❤️❤️🥵

let's get physical, physical

in which: all you wanted to do was focus on strength training, but two of the gym regulars decided to add some cardio into your life

pair: san/chubby!afab!reader, yunho/chubby!afab!reader

word count: 7k

content: gym sex (oh my), flirting, san as a pervert, bedroom sex, (potential) sauna sex, completely consensual!

author's note: omg i'm glad you loved principia hehe tysm! on a very different note, how DARE YOU MAKE ME CHOOSE BETWEEN THE TWO! IT'S NOT FAIR!!! you left me no choice but to write for both of them, so you better like this or else (ง'̀-'́)ง jk but seriously i do hope you like this

tag list: @k-hotchoisan apply for the permanent taglist here!

You joined a gym— GYMZ (the name was so peculiar that you wanted to check it out). You joined the gym not because someone told you to but because you just wanted to see how much you could lift. All over your social media, you constantly get videos of women lifting and training, and you joined the gym because you wanted to know how much you could lift.

It turns out that you could lift a lot. On bench press, it was 160. Dumbbells: 70. Squat and deadlift were both 270, and shoulder press was 110. You amazed so many people at the gym, which was funny to you because all of those weights didn’t seem so bad.

And so, you committed to GYMZ. The people at the front desk were always really pleasant and nice— usually, it was either Jongho or Yeosang at the front— and there were so many amenities. So many. They had a swimming pool, tennis court, fitness classes, a spa and sauna, and many more. GYMZ was a bit pricey, but it was worth it.

So, you continued going to the gym. You wanted to be able to lift more and more just for the fun of it. Little did you know that you had attracted the attention of a couple regulars at the gym.

choi san

You didn’t know this when you first joined GYMZ, but one of the regulars— Choi San— was a bit of a pervert. He was notorious for hitting on every single person that grabbed his attention at the gym.

You grabbed his attention when you were just there for a tour of the facilities. Yeosang was showing you around the weights room. San had just finished his reps on the bench press and sat up for a minute to rest before doing another several reps when he saw you. Well, he saw you from behind at first, and he was mainly looking at your ass. He was practically frothing at the mouth as he watched you walk around, your ass jiggling (you found a pair of those leggings that went viral on social media that hugged your curves just right and you wore them for the first time that day). As you and Yeosang walked around, San followed you from a distance where he could see you, but you couldn’t see him spying on you.

When you turned around, San actually drooled. Those leggings were doing you justice, as was the sports bra you found to keep the ladies from flying everywhere— you know, one of your main concerns while doing any sort of work. It took everything in San to not pounce on you that very first day.

“Psst, Yeo.” Right after Yeosang showed you out and went back to his chair behind the front desk, San slinked over and tried to get the man’s attention. “Hey. Hey, Yeo.”

“What, San?” Yeosang, who couldn’t ignore the irritating boy anymore, glared at San.

“What’s her name?”

“Who?”

“You know, the sexy thing that you just showed around,” San said to Yeosang while licking his lower lip.

“Put your tongue back where it came from you perverted monkey,” Yeosang warned. “Why do you need to know her name, anyway?”

“Just tell me!”

“Y/N, her name is Y/N.”

“Y/N… Yeo, dude, you gotta get her to sign up.”

“I mean, that’s the goal because we want more members… But if you want her to join to fulfill your perverted fantasies, then you can get the fuck out.”

San kept his mouth shut for half a second before whispering, “Okay, but, like, can you imagine how nice it would be to just stick your face in between her breasts—”

“Choi San, get the fuck away from me you fucking pervert!” Yeosang screeched and nearly flung a stapler at San.

After that day, San forgot about your existence— well, he remembered you and your ass for sure, but he didn’t think he would ever get to see you at the gym again. So, when he saw you at the gym a couple days later, he was overjoyed. He wanted to immediately waltz up to you and ask you if you wanted someone to spot you while you bench pressed, but Yeosang got there before he could, and he glared at the man to drive him away.

You, meanwhile, were confused as to why Yeosang suddenly got distracted while explaining how to safely lift. “What’s going on?” you asked him.

“Oh, nothing. Just shooing away a monkey.”

“A monkey…?”

“Yes, a monkey.”

“…Okay then.”

San desperately tried to talk to you that day, but you were completely out of reach since Yeosang was guarding you like a goddamn Doberman. He did manage, however, to get you to notice him while he was doing chin ups— and that was the first time you saw San.

Despite how unbelievably perverted and horny the guy was, he was still a sight for sore eyes. The way his muscles would flex as he moved up and down, and the intense focused look on his face was enough to make anyone swoon. Then, when he got down and wiped the sparking sweat off his forehead with a towel, your entire body tingled. That man was fine.

“Hey, uh,” Yeosang snapped you out of your trance. “I wouldn’t go for him if I were you…”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“You’re staring at San, right?”

“Who?”

“That guy,” Yeosang pointed to the man you were staring at. “His name is San.”

“I mean, I wasn’t really staring…” you mumbled. “I just happened to watch him do chin ups.”

“Well, regardless. Don’t go for him even if he comes onto you. He’s a full-blown pervert.”

That warning was enough for you to keep away from him.

A couple weeks later, you had adjusted your schedule so that you were going to the gym every other day. San kept track of your schedule, and he noted when you would come into GYMZ and when you would leave and what you would do while you were there. He observed everything you did so that he could use it to his advantage.

San decided to make his move around your 1-month anniversary at GYMZ, and he made his move right when you were going to do squats. Usually, Yeosang was your spotter, but that was the one day he was sick, and Jongho was busy talking to one of the instructors at the gym— Yunho, was it?— so it was the perfect opportunity for San to interact with you.

“Hey,” San waved and approached you.

“Oh, hi,” your heart fluttered upon seeing the beautiful man.

“Do you need someone to spot you?”

“No, it’s okay,” you declined, suddenly remembering Yeosang’s warning.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to get hurt,” San said, his voice lowering, his body nearing yours as he stood right next to you.

Next thing you knew, San was behind you. He tried his best to keep a respectful distance from you while spotting you, but your ass was so thick that it was impossible for him to do so. When Yeosang spotted you, he always faced you and spotted you, so having San stand behind you was definitely something else. At least he kept his attention on making sure you wouldn’t collapse under the weights.

After your reps, San asked you, “Do you want to add another ten and do another set?”

“Sure!”

During that second set, you looked across in the mirror and saw that San was focused on spotting you, and the look on his face almost made your arms turn to jelly. He was so fucking hot when he was focused, and you desperately wanted to see that face right in front of you and you desperately wanted to kiss that face all over.

You couldn’t focus after that. The only thoughts revolving in your brain were all about San and how San would be with you in different intimate situations. Maybe San’s pervertedness was contagious…

“I think I’m done for the day! Bye!” you told him after setting the weights back.

Before he could respond, you scurried off to the locker room and did your best to calm yourself down; and you did a good job in doing that (okay, you pleasured yourself in the bathroom, but whatever works, right?), only for all of that effort to have been in vain when you walked out of the locker room and saw San walking out of the men’s locker room.

“Oh, wow, you left so fast I thought you were gone already,” he chuckled.

“Ah, um, I…” you had no idea how to respond.

“The name’s San, by the way.”

San held out his hand for you to shake.

“Y/N.”

You shook his hand, and you were immediately surprised. For someone who did a lot of weights and exercised frequently, he had soft hands. You did, too, but you didn’t think someone like San would pay attention to the health of his skin. Not only were his hands soft, but his face was incredibly smooth and clear, which kind of made you jealous.

“Soft…” you whispered without realizing you said that out loud.

“Thanks,” San said with a smile.

Your face got hot— you could not believe you said that out loud, and you could not believe that he heard you. You took your hand back and cleared your throat before saying, “It was nice to meet you. I’ll see you around!”

San, however, did not want the interaction to stop there. For weeks, he had been so pent up just staring at you and wanting to do unspeakable things to you that he could no longer wait. He grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him.

“Let’s get to know each other!” he said cheerily.

He dragged you to his car and drove the two of you to a nearby coffee shop. You were so dazed until he set a cup of coffee in front of you. He sat across from you and smiled, his eyes turning into crescents.

“How are you liking GYMZ so far?” he asked you.

“It’s nice… Fun…”

“Have you tried any of the classes yet?”

“No, I’m only really interested in weight training.”

“Ah, no wonder I see you in the weights room all the time.”

You felt your face flush. San, still noting every single one of your actions and reactions, pushed further.

“You’re crazy strong, you know that? I mean, squatting 300—”

“Wait, I thought it was only 280,” you interrupted.

“No, I added 30 more pounds. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

Your jaw dropped. “I— How did— Woah…”

“You’re so impressive, Y/N. Your strength, body, looks,” San, resting his elbows on the table, laced his fingers together and leaned towards you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re so fucking sexy, Y/N.”

Your entire body got hotter and you were rendered mute. How could he just look you in the eye like that and say something so intense?

“You know what I really want?” San asked.

“What is that…?”

“I want to see exactly how sexy you are underneath those workout clothes. Won’t you show me, please?”

With that silver tongue of his, San brought you back to his place. When you got into his car after leaving the coffee shop, he kissed you so intensely that you felt like you were going to pass out, and on the drive to his place, his hand firmly cupped the inside of your thigh and kept rubbing his hand up and down, turning you on to the max with his caress. Then, on your way inside his place, he was kissing you intensely once again, and you had to clutch his shoulders to keep yourself from melting in his embrace.

Upon entering his room, he took your sports bra and leggings off with such ease— normally, you struggled to get the ladies out of your bra, so it slightly annoyed you how easily this man was able to do it— before pinning you down on his bed. In between his tongue filled kisses, he managed to take his own clothes off. When he breathlessly ended the kiss, he hovered above you, giving you the most glorious view of his chiseled body and thick penis. Meanwhile, you were already completely disheveled under him, which just made him all the more horny.

“Oh, shit, Y/N… I don’t think I can wait,” San said before quickly slipping your panties off.

San rolled a condom on his cock quickly— when did he have the time to grab a condom?— and thrust harshly into your sopping wet cunt. You let out a faint cry when you felt his waist slam into you, and San groaned loudly when he felt the tip of his penis hit your cervix.

“Fuck…” San hissed as he slowly withdrew his dick. “I knew you were going to be tight but I didn’t think it would feel this good… I nearly came.”

You thought San just rushing into you was going to be painful, but waiting for him to move faster was so much worse. You wanted him to just fuck you senseless, but he was taking his sweet fucking time. You grabbed at his wrists and whined, “I need you to fuck me faster.”

“You gotta wait, babygirl,” San moved his hand so that he was caressing your waist, his fingers pressing into your love handles. “It’s not fair to you if I cum so fast.”

San calling you babygirl sent your mind spiraling. Still holding onto your waist, San hovered above you and kissed your neck, leaving light marks along your neck and chest. He left you with a new kiss with every thrust, and the stimulation was driving you crazy. You completely lost it when he began to knead and massage your breast, and then the cherry on top was when he twisted your nipple, which he did while his lips were still connected to yours.

You couldn’t even warn him. You moaned in his mouth as you felt your cunt tremble and convulse. Leaning back, San smiled and said, “See, now can I can fuck you senseless.”

Hands pressed on the either side of you on the mattress, San’s hips bucked sharply, his hips slamming hard into yours. You were still recovering from the high of your orgasm, so you felt the pleasure just shoot through the roof as the sound of the wet squelches of his cock moving in and out of you quickly and of his waist slapping against yours filled the room.

Your arms wrapped around his (surprisingly tiny) waist, and your nails dug into you skin as you suppressed your urge to cum so quickly. Blinking several times to refocus your blurry eyes, you looked up to see the same look of concentration San wore on his face when he was spotting you. Seeing his jaw tense, eyes sharp, and with the new addition of him biting his lower lip— he didn’t do that when he was spotting you earlier— you clenched.

“Oh fuck!” San groaned aloud, his dick trembling.

San’s thrusts slowed down as his cum filled the condom, and it was only after he had finished cumming did he pull out. You, meanwhile, had another orgasm the second your pussy tightened up. You laid on his bed, exhausted, as San removed the condom and threw it away. You thought was going to give you a break, but he seemed like he wanted you to go for one more set. From the corner of your eye, you watched as he rolled a fresh condom onto his still erect, large, throbbing penis, his fingers holding the base.

“Y/N, don’t forget to stretch out after you exercise,” San said with a smirk. “Let’s stretch out your hips, shall we?”

Effortlessly, San spun you around so that you were on your hands and knees the second he knelt on the bed. He let out a low whistle as he ran his hand from your calf to your thigh to your ass. You turned your head back to catch a glimpse of the hungry glint in San’s eye, only to immediately look forward again the second you felt his fingertips press hard into your ass cheek.

“Mmm, yes. This is what I wanted to see,” San hummed as he held onto both of your ass cheeks. “Fuck, your pussy is dripping, babygirl… Let me clean you up.”

Spreading your ass cheeks wide, San brought his lips to your cunt, but rather than eat you out, he blew cold air into you, making your ass and thighs tremble.

“Oh my God, San!” you cried as he continued to tease you, his fingers tracing along your folds.

You heard him let out a low chuckle as he sensed your frustration grow. San, finally allowing himself to begin pleasuring you, began by licking your pussy from your clit to the end of your cunt. You felt his nose press lightly into you while his tongue flicked and played around with your clit, your entire lower body trembling at the sensation. You felt an orgasm starting to near when he pulled away. Before you could complain, he licked his fingers and rubbed your pussy up and down before shoving two of his fingers into you.

His fingers, moving in and out of you, grazed your G-spot several times, your orgasm overtaking you and making you squirt all over him (and you really couldn’t believe the technique of the man for him to be able to do that to you so easily when you yourself struggled with it).

“Fuck! Oh, oh wow,” you cried out as your ecstasy faded into reality. “Oh my… Fuck.”

“We still have more stretching to do, Y/N,” San, who had sat up, leaned over you and brought his lips to your ear. “You don’t want to be sore, do you?”

“I have a feeling I’m going to be more sore after this stretch of yours,” you responded airily.

“You might be right…” San acknowledged as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your folds. “Oh well.”

With that, San’s penis shot straight through you, and you went from your hands to your elbows in no time. You cried out moans and profanities as San ruthlessly hit it from behind. For him, the sight of seeing your ass jiggle every time his pelvis slammed into you was everything. But, he couldn’t keep up that intensity for so long if he wanted to last; so, he’s thrusts lightened up a bit, but when he smacked your ass and moved you towards him instead of him to you, your entire body tingled with excitement. Your cries were pretty much only moans at that point, and you had to bite your lower lip to keep from yelping whenever he slapped your ass.

As San continued to fuck you in doggy position, he placed his hand on your lower back to guide you while his other hand clutched your ass (of course). When his fingers grazed upwards along your spine, you arched your back, earning a hiss of delight from the man. He held onto your hips as he began to speed up. His fingers squeezed your waist and hips the closer he got to cumming as if he was holding on to you to keep his sanity.

And with a loud groan, San came harder than he did the first time. Fucking you from behind did a number on him, honestly. San pulled out and got up to throw up the second filled condom. Panting hard, the two of you collapsed on his bed. San’s arm immediately wrapped around you, his hand resting on— you guessed it— your ass. He kissed you lightly and smiled softly, which was nice, but it made you wonder about the duality of this man.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to fuck you,” he said quietly.

“Oh, I know. I was warned about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was told not to interact with you because you’re perverted.”

San’s eyes flew wide open as he asked with shock, “Wha— Who told you that?!”

“Yeosang.”

“Goddammit Yeosang…” San cursed the man under his breath.

You had to bite back a laugh as you told him, “But, to be honest, you’re not as perverted as I thought.”

“What did you think?”

“That you would peep into the locker rooms to look at someone’s naked body or steal their clothes and get off on them.”

“Okay, see!” San cheered up. “I’m not a pervert—”

“But you do stare at me a lot. You know, you’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

“Fine, I’m a little bit of a pervert, then. But, how can I not stare when the view is so sexy?”

With a laugh, you pushed him away lightly and said, “Shut the fuck up, pervert.”

“Make me.”

Challenge accepted. You cupped his face and kissed him with such vigor that San moaned into your mouth that time. His tongue toyed around with yours as it dove into your mouth, and after seconds of waltzing around, you leaned away from each other with a light pant and sigh. San had no words. You successfully shut him up… For about five seconds.

“Can I…” he started.

“Can you what?”

“…Can I stick my face in your breasts? Please?”

“You’re really not helping defunct the pervert rumors with that request,” you pointed out to him.

“I don’t care. I’ll be a pervert because your breasts are worth it.”

Without waiting for a response, San really did shove his face in between your breasts, his exhale tickling your bare skin. He hummed lightly and happily before he brought the hand that was on your ass to your breast. He at first caressed it gently, then he began to knead it with his strong grip. The lightest moan slipped out of your mouth the more he massaged, and your hips started shifting slightly— you were getting turned on all over again.

Then, when he began to suck on your nipple, you lost all self control. You whimpered as your hips began to rub against his slowly stiffening penis.

“San,” you said with a sultry whisper. “I want you in me. Right now.”

“Are you sure? Do you really want this pervert’s cock inside you?” San asked cheekily.

“Yes, San. I do. Just fuck me with that fat cock of yours before I lose my mind.”

San held the back of your head and brought you in for another hungry kiss, his pelvis rubbing up against you.

“Alright, anything for you, babygirl.”

jeong yunho

Yunho had seen you around. You came into the gym at the same time every other day, and when his class was done, he would see you walk right past and head towards the sauna with determined resolve. He would always watch you walk briskly with a light smile on his face, and he would always wonder when you were going to take his class so he could see that smile closer to him.

You never had a reason to interact with Yunho because he was one of the sculpt class teachers, and you only ever spent time in two places: the weights room, and the sauna. And, no matter how hard Yeosang and Jongho tried to convince you to take one of the sculpt classes, you could not be bothered. You were only at GYMZ for the weights.

One day, however, Yunho stopped you. It seemed like he was trying to recruit you for the sculpt classes. He was, but it wasn’t because Jongho or Yeosang put him up to it, but because he wanted some excuse to see you as often as he possibly could— well, you and your mouthwatering curves in those TikTok leggings of yours.

“Hey, you’re Y/N, right?” he asked you as he held his hand out to get you to stop walking.

“Uh… Yeah?”

He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest, accentuating his chest muscles. He tilted his head to the side as he asked with a laugh, “What, are you unsure of your own name?”

“I mean, that is my name, but I meant more like what do you want?”

“Well, I noticed that you haven’t signed up for any classes, so I wanted to know if you—”

“Pass,” you immediately interrupted. “I’m only really interested in lifting, and sculpt is definitely not lifting. Thank you, but no thank you.”

You left Yunho with that and made a beeline for the sauna. Yunho watched you disappear with an amused smile on his face, his heart beating the tiniest bit faster. Fuck, he wanted you more now.

And so, Yunho put in more of an effort to see you. If you weren’t going to come to him, then he could go to you, after all. He found himself in the weights room more frequently at that point, but he would never be able to get the timing right because you would always finish your workout when his class ended. One day, though, you came to GYMZ later than you usually did.

Yunho was busy talking to Jongho about the different class packages and whatever else Yunho could think about to bother Jongho about without the man completely tearing him to shreds for wasting his time. Yet, when he saw you enter the gym, he got distracted, so Jongho lectured him anyway.

“Dude, don’t bother me if you’re just going to space out mid-conversation. I have a lot of work to finish,” Jongho said with a huff as he sat at the desk.

“Sorry! Sorry, I just got distracted. Anyway, all of the classes are full? There’s seriously not enough space for one more person?”

“What can I say, Yunho? You’re a popular one.”

Yunho carried on the conversation with Jongho, who was so busy typing at his desk that he didn’t realize Yunho was staring at you. You were doing a couple reps at the leg press. Yunho could see your body from the side, and he watched as your thighs got thicker and your ass got rounder as you brought your knees to your chest. Every rep you did, Yunho just got more and more turned on. He loved the way your belly and ass would become all round and smooth whenever you brought your knees to your chest. It was only when you finished your sets and stretch out your legs and back did Yunho finally look away from you.

“Hey, Jongho?”

“What is it, now?” Jongho replied to the taller man with an exasperating groan.

“I’m not feeling too good,” Yunho lied. “Can you cancel my classes for the rest of the day?”

“You look fine to me,” Jongho eyed the man as he looked him up and down.

Yunho let out the weakest fake cough. Jongho rolled his eyes as he said, “Fine. Knowing you, you’ll be annoying until I say yes. Go home.”

“Okay, bye!”

Yunho quickly shuffled away from an even more agitated Jongho and towards you. You just finished stretching and were about to head out of the weights room and to the sauna when he approached you.

“Hi again,” he greeted with a smile.

“Hello…”

“You heading towards the sauna?”

You eyed him suspiciously. How did he know that you were going there?

“Whenever you leave the weights room, you walk by my room and towards the sauna,” Yunho read your thoughts and answered. “It looked like you were done with the weights for the day, so that’s why I asked.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at the man— he looked almost like a puppy, standing before you and waiting, an imaginary tail wagging frantically behind him.

“Yeah, I’m done for the day… Heading towards the sauna now…”

“Cool! Can I walk with you?”

Yunho was not going to take no for an answer. You reluctantly nodded and started your trek towards the sauna. As the two of you walked side by side, you kept glancing at him. At first it was because you were worried he was going to try and make you join his sculpt class (and if it was, then you were going to shove him and run away), but then it was to look at him. Yunho was a fine man– tall, muscular, and attractive as fuck. You actually debated joining his sculpt class just so you could gaze as his beauty, but no. You weren’t going to join a sculpt class for that reason.

“Why do you always go to the sauna after you lift?”

“To relax my muscles. Heat is good for alleviating muscle strain.”

“I know that, but why do you always go? You never skip it anytime you’re here.”

“How do you know that?”

“I told you before, you walk past the room on your way to the sauna. I notice things, Y/N.”

The thought of Yunho watching you and noticing the little things made you body flush with heat, a light blush raising to your cheeks as you walked alongside him, embarrassed.

When the two of you arrived at the sauna, you turned to leave, only for Yunho to grab your arm.

“I wanna join you, if you don’t mind,” he stated.

“Uh… Sure?”

You disappeared into the women’s locker room and changed into a towel. The sauna at GYMZ was gender neutral, and in order to use it, you had to be wearing a towel. You had never actually sat in the sauna with anyone before— because of the time of day you chose, you didn’t have to worry about sharing it.

You entered the sauna first and sat down on the bench in the spot that you usually sat. Moments later, Yunho entered the sauna with a white towel wrapped around his waist. You couldn’t tell if it was because of Yunho’s build or what, but the towel seemed really small on him. Luckily, it was able to cover his waist and a good section of his thighs, you noticed as he sat down.

After a moment or two of sitting in silence, Yunho leaned into you, his knee pressing against yours. His voice was sensually low as he said, “I want you to join my class just so that I have a reason to see you more often.”

His knee rubbed against yours slightly more, and you looked at his thigh to see that there was something throbbing beneath the towel. Your voice was barely above a whisper as you brought your eyes up to his, “You want to see me more often, you say?”

“That’s right.”

“We can still make that happen without me joining the class.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Well, we can meet in the sauna like this…”

“Uh huh.”

Yunho got closer to you, his shoulder pressing against yours.

“Or after the gym closes for the day…”

“Yeah?” He reached for your chin and brought his lips dangerously close to yours while continuing, “Where would we meet if the gym is closed?”

“My place… Or yours…”

“And what would we do there?”

You kept glancing at Yunho’s pink lips, your breathing hitching as you controlled your urge to just pounce on him. “Something…” you breathed out. “Physical.”

His lips pressed against yours softly— it was more like a peck than anything.

“Like that?”

“Yes, but more…”

He kissed you twice, his lips getting more intimate with yours.

“That?”

“More.”

He finally delivered. His kisses got way more passionate, his tongue immediately searching for yours. You gripped the bench the second you felt his hand gripping your breast over the towel. He continued to massage your breast and kiss you, both actions becoming more intense by the second.

You were extremely light-headed when Yunho released your lips, the two of you breathing deeply. You licked your lower lip and bit it after whispering, “Wow…”

The look on your face made it impossible for Yunho to suppress his now extremely hard cock. He stood up and held your hand.

“Come with me. I think we can get a little more physical than that, don’t you agree?”

Yunho, being one of the trainers at GYMZ, took you to the trainers’ private locker room. He locked the door behind him, sat you down on the bench in the room, and disappeared, only to emerge seconds later with a water bottle in his hands. He opened it and handed it to you. The water really saved you because making out in the sauna was honestly a horrible idea. You let out a little exhale after drinking a good amount of water, and before you could take another sip, Yunho took the bottle from you. You watched as he sipped but didn’t swallow. Instead, he grabbed your face with his free hand and kissed you.

The water from his mouth went into yours, the sensation of the cool water and his hot tongue sending shivers down your spine. You swallowed the water and continued to desperately kiss Yunho as if he was made of water.

Your hand tugged at his towel, freeing his very large and erect cock. You continued to make out with him as your hand gently began to stroke from the bottom up. Yunho shivered when you ran your nails lightly around the tip of his penis, prompting him to lean away.

“Wait, let me go grab some condoms.

Some? Some? Yunho stood up and helped you to your feet before running off somewhere. When he came back, he pinned you against the lockers, his arm resting above your head. He opened one of the small lockers at the top and threw in a couple condoms, one remaining in his hands.

“Doll, why are you still wearing the towel? We need to get you out of that immediately.”

You had tucked one end of the towel into your cleavage. Yunho’s finger slipped into your cleavage and tugged the towel ever so slightly so, the tucked corner no longer tucked. Your towel fell to the ground. Yunho’s finger continued going down your cleavage, down your stomach until your belly button before his fingers tiptoed around your waist. He ran his fingers along your love handle, past the small of your back, and to the other side of your body. His hand held onto your waist and tugged at you lightly, willing you to turn around for him.

“Mmm, I love the way your back arches,” Yunho whispered as he tore open the condom packet, his other hand gliding down your back.

His hand resting on your back, Yunho rolled the condom onto his cock and began to rub it along your ass crack. You lowered your body and pressed further into the lockers.

“Yes, doll, just like that,” you heard him mumble. “You’re so wet already… Should I hurry, then?”

You nodded eagerly. His held his dick and pushed it into your pussy. Despite how wet you were, Yunho still had to move slowly because you seriously were not ready for his size. You cried out in painful pleasure as you felt his girth stretch you out. You were already panting by the time Yunho’s cock was fully inside you.

“You took me so well, Y/N,” Yunho whispered as he left several kisses on the back of your neck. “Your tight cunt is squeezing my cock just right…”

His waist, already pressed against yours, pushed further, pressing you further against the lockers. You felt your nipples rub along the louvers of the locker, making you tremble all over, and the feeling only intensified as Yunho began actually moving.

At first, Yunho intended to take his time and move slowly, but seeing the way your ass and thighs jiggle when his hips made contact, he couldn’t take it anymore. He moved quickly, and the tip of his dick hit your cervix with every thrust.

“F-fuck! I’m cumming!” you cried.

Yunho pressed his waist into yours completely, his dick filling you up. He didn’t want you to squirt just yet. Your thighs shook as your vaginal fluid built up within you, and it was only when Yunho pulled out entirely did you squirt. You let out a loud, pleasureful moan as your ass and thighs trembled, your arms barely keeping you in place against the lockers.

“Oh my fucking God, that was so fucking hot,” Yunho said as he sharply inhaled.

You were still recovering from the euphoria of your orgasm as Yunho turned you around, pressing your back against the locker once again. He lifted your leg up and had a firm grasp under your thigh before shoving himself back into you. The locker doors rattled as Yunho fucked you hard and fast, grunts leaving his mouth with every thrust.

“Yunho! It feels so good!” you cried, your head tilting upwards to look at his face.

Yunho’s face flinched as he gazed at your face— your tongue was sticking out of your mouth slightly as you panted, your eyes were half-lidded and a little blurry, and there was a light blush running across your cheeks and nose. That face of yours was enough to make him cum. Yunho bent his head down and kissed— more like ravaged— you, his waist slamming into yours one final time as he came hard. You felt his cock tremble and sperm pool up into the condom. His lips only released yours after he pulled out completely.

“That face of yours, doll… Damn, if looks could kill,” Yunho said with a light chuckle.

As he walked away, you did your best to gain strength in your limbs. You picked up the water bottle from earlier and drank some water while walking around the locker room and towards the dressing room. There were mirrors all around and space on the countertops for duffel bags and what not. You stood before one of the mirrors and observed your face and neck, your fingers brushing along the long gone hickeys San left on your neck the week prior.

“What, are you upset that I didn’t leave any marks?”

You watched Yunho through the mirror as he approached you. He trapped you by holding onto the vanity table. He nuzzled his nose against your shoulder before trailing his tongue from your shoulder up your neck.

“I can leave marks if you would like me to,” he whispered into your ear.

Yunho nibbled lightly on your neck, making you moan softly. His hands traced your curves and rested on your hips as his bites turned into hickeys.

“I want you to fuck me again, Yunho,” you whined softly.

“Your wish is my command, doll.”

Yunho was already prepared— he had a fresh condom on. He bent you over on the wood of the table and wasted no time shoving his cock into you. You let out a loud moan when you felt him hit your cervix again.

“Don’t cum yet, Y/N. Wait for me,” Yunho said with a grunt.

“I— I can’t! Feels too fucking good!”

Yunho let out a light laugh with your response. Despite you saying that, you still did your best to hold your orgasm. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long— Yunho held your hair and pulled your head back slightly so that you could get a clear view of him fucking you from behind (and so that he could also see your face), and seeing the tears well up in your eyes as you struggled to contain your orgasm did it for him. He bit his lower lip and groaned loudly as he came inside, your orgasm following shortly thereafter.

You remained standing there with your upper body resting on the countertop as Yunho pulled out and walked to the other side of the dressing room to clean himself up.

“Don’t you dare join my class, Y/N,” he said.

“You’re changing your mind all of a sudden? Why?” You asked with a laugh— you were glad he wasn’t going to push his propaganda on you anymore.

Yunho turned around and looked you dead in the eye as he said seriously, “I won’t be able to hold myself back if you were in my class.”

Your face got hot immediately. You looked away abruptly to avoid eye contact, so you didn’t see that Yunho had walked back over to you. He hugged you from behind, his arms wrapping around your waist and chest.

“Okay, so the next time…” Yunho drawled out. “Your place or mine?”

“So you’re seriously only going to stick to weights?” Yeosang asked as he spotted you one day.

It’d been a week since you fucked Yunho and two since you fooled around with San, and after both experiences, you considered adding a little aerobic exercise to your workouts. Key word: considered.

“For now. We’ll see what happens.”

You finished your set and dropped the barbell to the ground. Yeosang put the weights away as you walked over to your where your water bottle and phone sat. While you drank your water, you checked your phone to see that one of the two gym boys you had sex with texted you.

“Wanna get some cardio in? ;)”

#jeong yunho #yunho smut #ateez #yunho x reader #jeong yunho ateez #yunho ateez #ateez yunho #choi san #san smut #san x reader #choi san ateez #san atez #ateez san #broatz #broatz request

306 notes · View notes

olderthannetfic · 2 months

Note

May I rant?

I’ve had it up to here with people who don’t understand what “writing kink” actually means. It means writing about something in great fucking detail. It means showing how it affects your characters. It means writing about the thing at great length, indulgently, gratuitously.

So I’m sorry but no, mentioning once that character A came inside character B does not breeding kink make. If you mention offhandedly that a buttplug went in and then out (or god forbid, just one of these) then I don’t know how hard-pressed someone has to be to kink on that. I don’t know, maybe you do have that kink, author, good for you, but you’re sure not writing it!

Some people seem to be under the impression that every single tiny act that can take place during sex fits under some sort of “kink” and needs to be categorized, tagged, warned and advertised as such. It does not!!

And on the other side of the spectrum you have people tagging their fic eight different ways for vomit or tickling or whatever and spend 3k lovingly describing every single convulsive retch or gasp for air and nothing else, and then have the audacity to get pikachu-faced when the people with vomit or tickling kinks find that fic and kink on it. You can argue to the moon and back how it’s not a kink for you (or it's not a sexual kink, or your puritan upbringing doesn't let you admit it to yourself) but by god you are in fact writing kink.

If you’re putting so much focus on something to such a degree that it cannot serve any other purpose but for its own sake, for titillation, that’s writing kink. It’s the exact same logic why we have phrases like “torture porn” or “food porn.” What’s so hard to get.

I don’t know, sometimes I think people shouldn’t be allowed to use the word kink without passing a three-part exam and receiving a permit from a reputable bdsm club first. 💀

Thank you for the soapbox, whoever's next can have it now.

112 notes · View notes

choccy-milky · 1 month

Text

oh boy anon, you’ve activated my trap card. GET READY FOR A SEBASTIAN CHARACTER ANALYSIS ESSAY BELOW LMAO

ok so first off I know im obvs biased, but I don’t actually think my seb is that ooc, AND PUT DOWN YOUR PITCHFORKS IMMA EXPLAIN WHY. but im also gonna explain why I don’t think the other more friendly and lighthearted renditions of seb are ooc either. bc theres so many aspects of seb we get in the game that can be interpreted in so many diff ways, and so this is how i see it/landed on MY rendition of seb:

PROTECTIVENESS/POSSESSIVENESS: this is one of the main aspects of him, imo. his entire questline is about wanting to cure anne, and how he’s not giving up, and how he believes that HE is the only one that can do it, because “she’s MY sister!” seb is super tunnel visioned and has a one-track mind when it comes to this, and I headcanon that he’s this way because of their parents deaths. he’s the brother, the boy, he’s gotta be strong for his sister, and ofc when their parents died, he tries to comfort her and be there for her/be the rock, and it happens again when she’s sick. shes his sister, his responsibility, and he’ll die before he gives up on her and her safety.

SO, I just transfer all those aspects over to a romantic relationship instead. you just replace “shes my sister” with simply, “she’s mine/my gf/my wife/etc.” and in the same way I think seb tries to be strong and reliable and protect anne because he’s the brother, I think seb would be the same way in a relationship, because he’s a boy and she’s a girl and its 1890 and he’s chivalrous and he just sees it as his responsibility. I think the death of his parents and his dynamic with anne has baked this sort of mindset into him, and its even MORE intense in a romantic aspect, because then hormones and puberty and sexual tension and attraction is involved (plus the fact that seb in my fic is 17, so he’s older and has even stronger raging hormones and testosterone LOL.

JEALOUSY: who can forget the lines “between the two of you, I’m starting to feel left out” and “ominis simply needs a moment with you and he’ll change his mind. is that it?” the first one is more playful but I feel like the second one really showcases sebs brand of jealousy, and how biting and uncharitable it can be.

AGGRESSION/VIOLENCE: yet another iconic line with: “fine. but ominis knows, I won’t step back from a fight.” LIKE... the fact that apparently ominis knows this means its come up more than once…and im not saying seb is some unruly aggressor who flies off the handle at anything, but he defs has a capacity and is willing to get violent if HE believes the situation calls for it—basically the same way he feels about the dark arts. he felt justified using imperio to protect anne, and taking the relic to save anne, and so he would have fought ominis to get out of the catacomb. and with MY seb, while he doesn’t go picking fights with any boy who looks or gets close to clora, he’ll definitely be willing to beat up or lay hands on a creep who bothers clora/who is in the process of bothering her LOL.

SO YEAH, that’s pretty much it, and I’ll be the first to admit I definitely ramp up these traits further because he’s older in my fic and i think these traits would only get more intensified with age + being in love and also bc IM A TWILIGHT GIRLIE!!! what can I say. there are so many moments in my fic where you can just replace seb with edward and it wouldn’t seem out of place tbh LMAOO so blame twilight, it was a formative experience for me BAHAHA

BUT like I ALSO said, I don’t think peoples more lighthearted interpretations of seb are ooc either. because even all my earlier above examples, you can just focus on diff aspects of them. like his tunnel vision and obsession to cure anne? instead of seeing it as over the top protective and possessive, you can just view it in a more wholesome determined selfless sort of way. like I said we got so many nice little bits and ingredients of his personality that we can turn into anything we want, really👌just pick which flavour of seb u like best and use what we got in game to create it HAHA

AW TYY QUEEN BAHAHA💖 and aw im always so honoured when ppl tell me they consider my stuff canon that’s like the best compliment I can get, tysm 😭 and im glad you like my fic and art so much (enough for your friends and family to unfortunately know💀 LMAOO)

im adding your ask to this because it kinda ties into my seb essay. LETS GET INTO WHY A SWEET BABY ANGEL WOULD LIKE SOMEONE LIKE SEB. the answer ISSS: the same reason WE’RE also all into him I guess?? BAHHA

ok but to start off im gonna defend my seb, not only cause of what you said anon (i dont want you to feel like this is targeted to you!) but also bc I got an ask recently asking me to summarize seb and clora’s relationship since all they see from my art is that “they fuck and seb is possessive” LMAO, and I feel like ppl who JUST see my art and don’t read my fic have a warped image of my seb.

this may be shocking but I don’t consider my seb a red flag LMAO. I joke about how hes more of a pink flag tbh, but even THAT i dont even really believe, and don’t even consider him overly possessive. like yes he keeps an eye on her when shes hanging around other boys, but I feel like that’s normal (esp for 1890) and all of his most possessive moments have been when theres been a threat to cloras life/coming from a place of love and protection (especially since clora is so self-sacrificial, she’d have killed herself by now if not for seb LOL) so to me id actually put Sebastian as being PROTECTIVE as his first and foremost trait, followed by the possessiveness.

and yeah he gets jealous, but unless a dude is actively trying to get with her/hitting on her/harassing her, he’ll otherwise just kinda be unhappy about it/let it play out/ watch on unhappily LOL. and even when lawley was blackmailing clora and getting in between her and sebs relationship and lying about how close he and clora were, seb demanded answers from CLORA on what was happening between the two of them, but he didn’t touch lawley or tell him to stay away. bc seb thought that was what clora wanted, so he let her drift away. if he was TRULY a red flag, in this instance he would have just beat up lawley for taking what was "his"/not allow clora to leave him/immediately go to lawley instead of clora, and tell him to stay away despite what clora might want. (and clora even WISHED seb had interfered and done this. she was like 'why is he letting me drift away and go off with lawley i WANT him to fight for me...but she couldn't actually say anything thanks to the blackmail)

clora doesn’t just 'put up' with sebs more possessive and protective behaviour though, she actually likes it HAHA. just bc shes a precious baby angel, we all like a bad boy, even back then. just look at jane eyre, and how popular the dark and brooding and assholey mr. rochester was.

she tells seb at one point that she likes those things about him, even his immature competitive side, and his darker sides, and that he shouldn’t try to hide them or change himself because she accepts them. and even putting aside all of the stuff they’ve been through together that has bonded them (like the main canon quests + annes curse and then CLORA being cursed, and then clora being kidnapped and seb saving her) clora thought seb was roguish and charming and witty and intelligent and good looking from day 1. add to the fact that he’s just so devoted to her in everything he does, that even if he CAN get a bit overbearing at times, how could you NOT fall for someone like that😩 someone whose possessive behavior just stems from wanting to protect you and love you and want to keep you safe and cherish you like DAMN…. GET ME A SEB, TOO. WHERES MINE!!!😭😭

clora also realizes in ch 32 WHY seb is so protective of her (the trauma with his parents and wanting to be there for anne) and that she accepts it, and enjoys it, and that she might even MISS it if seb were to ever get less protective of her/might get lonely LOL, and then sebs like "i’ve "spoiled you, have i?"

so YEAH I don’t think sebs protectiveness and possessiveness goes into any toxic territory or red flag territory PERSONALLY (and the time that it DID get toxic was because of the relic, and clora DID put her foot down)

but my normal seb? whose dream in life is to whisk clora away into a tower and lock her up to keep her safe and keep her all to himself, but that he’d never ACTUALLY do because he knows its insane and unreasonable but jokes about wanting to do it anyway bc he would if clora agreed? clora finds that endearing and cute and is touched by how much he loves her and wants to keep her safe.

IN CLOSING: I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOUR AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

#LONG ASS SEB ESSAY #this was so therapeutic to write i hope that people who dont read my fic now understand my seb a bit better #like i said i feel like he gets a bad wrap/people think hes super ooc from his canon just based on my art alone #sebastian sallow #i wanted to write this ever since that one ask where they were like what do they do other than bang and be jealous HAHAHA #ANON MY FIC IS 500K WORDS THEY DO A BUNCH OF OTHER STUFF TRUST ME #and even when seb is super possessive and protective im still usually on his side LMAOO #like just based on my art you defs might think seb is unreasonable but #for the ppl who actually read my fic they know clora is on like a self sacrifice speedrun LOOL #forget team edward and team jacob its team seb and team clora #and im usually a girl's girl but sorry clora im usually with seb and his logic when it comes to keeping u safe LMAOO #sebastian sallow x oc #ask

146 notes · View notes

kelcemenow · 11 months

Text

Let's Stay Together.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 2112

Warnings Some strong-ish language and some angst and fluff.

This fic is a request from @fantasywritersstuff and I loved the idea but really struggled to make Travis behave like an asshole! But I think I've done alright with this one! "Hey!! So I have an idea for a request for Travis ! I say him and the reader have a really bad fight/argument and he says something really mean and instantly regrets it and tries anything to get reader to forgive him and in the end they make up !!"

Your eyes scanned over the script on the laptop screen in front of you. Your agent had sent over some scenes for a role in a new movie that the producer and director wanted to see you for and you were intrigued. You had made a name for yourself in your teenage years, starring in Disney movies, usually musical based and after a short break from acting to focus on a singing career, you were keen to delve into more mature characters.

As you read the last few lines, you heard keys jingle by the front door and when it opened, Travis walked in with his practice bag, slightly red-faced and sweaty.

"Hey baby!" He shouted through to the lounge.

You craned your neck in his direction, "Hey! I'm in here."

He made his way to you, leaning down to plant a kiss on the top of your head.

"How was practice?"

He slumped down on the sofa next to you, "Crushed it, baby. You know me, catching shit and running it to the end, man."

You smiled and rolled your eyes, returning to your laptop screen, "Same old, same old?"

"That's right." He shuffled closer, "Whatcha doing?"

"Carl sent me a movie script to look at."

He raised his eyebrows, "Oh yeah? What is it?"

You began to type a response, "It's an action, spy type thing. The role they want me for is the femme fatale sort of woman. It's pretty sexy, actually."

He rested his head on your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck, "I don't mind helping you practice for that.'

You giggled, "I'm sure you don't."

"So, you gonna do it?"

You twisted your mouth, "Maybe, I don't know. I'm asking Carl who else is involved."

"Sounds interesting, baby. You'd kill it." He rose from the sofa, "You thought about what you want for dinner?"

"No, not really."

Travis grabbed his phone from his pocket, "I can order takeout if you want?"

You smiled up at him, "Yeah, sure!"

You were just about to close your laptop when the sound of an email notification chimed. You opened your emails to see a reply from Carl.

After tapping it open, you laughed, "Oh Trav, you'll never guess who I'd be acting opposite?"

Travis stared down at his screen, "Shoot."

"Tom Brady."

There was a silent pause before Travis turned his head to you, "No way. That's crazy."

You breathed another laugh as you read from the screen, "Yeah. Apparently he's branching out into more acting and he's playing one of the male leads."

Travis furrowed his brow, "You can't be serious?"

"Yeah, that's what it says." You pointed to the screen.

"No, I mean you can't be serious about doing it?"

You jerked your head back in confusion, "Why not?"

"Because it's Brady. Babe...I can't watch you getting all freaky with some guy I used to play against. You can't do it."

"Why can't I?

You watched him as he paced the floor, "Because I don't want to see that."

"Since when do you tell me what I can and can't do?"

He stood still for a moment, holding his hands out in front of him, "I told you, I don't want to see you getting fucked by Brady."

You tilted your head to one side in defence, "There isn't even a sex scene, and even if there was, It's acting, Travis."

"It's stupid!" He raised his voice.

"Excuse me?"

"This whole, acting comeback thing that you're trying to do is so stupid. Why can't you just be happy the way things are?"

You closed your laptop quickly, "My job is stupid?"

"Yeah." He breathed as he ran his hands over his buzzed head, "No, no. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant-"

You picked up your laptop and quickly got up from the sofa, "You're an asshole, Travis."

"Baby...Y/N, I didn't mean-"

You cut him off by slamming the bedroom door shut. You could feel the anger rising in your chest and shakiness in your hands. The one person who you needed to support you was Travis. You had supported him through his years playing football but you were bored of being the trophy wife. Staying at home whilst he was away for games, cheering him on in the stands, being on his arm at events. You wanted more and your passion had always been acting.

You stepped out through the doors on onto your balcony area, holding onto the rail and breathing the fresh Missouri air deep into your lungs, desperate to calm down. You stared off into the trees, watching them move gently as you bit down on your bottom lip. You didn't turn around when you heard footsteps behind you, you weren't ready to speak to Travis yet. Instead, you continued to glare straight forward, tightening your grip on the cool metal in your hands.

Travis cleared his throat, "I ordered dinner...your favourite."

"Okay." You said plainly, with no expression in your voice.

There was a moment of silence before you felt Travis' hand on your waist. You twisted away from his touch, hearing him sigh with disappointment behind you before his footsteps signalled that he had left the balcony.

You took another deep breath, filled with hurt but also a feeling of surprise. You had been with Travis since college and married for 3 years. He knew that after a disagreement, all you needed was space. The fact that he followed you outside and attempted to touch you was confusing to you.

"He must really be sorry." You thought to yourself as you turned on your heels and walked back into the house.

As you paced towards the kitchen to make yourself a drink, you noticed that Travis was nowhere to be seen. You peered out of the window to see that his car was also gone. You shrugged your shoulder slightly and opened the fridge, reaching for some orange juice.

As you were flicking through Netflix, the front door opened and Travis walked in, holding a huge bouquet of flowers. You looked at him briefly before turning back to the TV screen. The sofa dipped as he sat down next to you, almost waiting for you for acknowledge his presence. The tension was thick and when Travis cleared his throat, you turned your head slowly towards him.

"Y/N, baby. I am so sorry." His eyes pleaded, his hands held out the flowers.

You gave him a soft smile, "Thank you for the flowers. But it doesn't fix what you said."

"What does then?"

"I don't know." You stood up, taking the flowers from him and disappearing into the kitchen.

______________________________________________________________

The rest of the evening had been exceptionally awkward. You had avoided Travis as much as possible, staying away in separate rooms of the house and when you went to bed, he didn't come with you. Instead, you noticed that he had stayed the night on the sofa. The morning sun shone on his face as he slept, a blanket pulled up to his waist and a cushion under his head.

You continued with your Sunday morning as usual, brewing a pot of coffee and making pancakes whilst singing to the radio. You were halfway through Is This Love by Bob Marley, dancing with the pan in your hand when Travis appeared in the doorway.

"Are any of those for me?"

You picked up two plates from the cupboard above your head, "Sure."

"Does that mean that you've forgiven me?"

You shot him a look.

He held his hands up in defence, "Baby, please. Listen to me?"

"Honestly, I don't know what you can say to make all of this better, so we'd both be wasting our time."

Travis took hold of your hands, pulling them away from the pancakes, "I love you so much and I am a jackass for what I said. Honestly, you are the best thing that I have in my life and I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe jealousy...I don't know. But what I do know is that I will support you in whatever you do."

"Travis, the pancakes are gonna burn."

"I don't give a shit. I will do anything for you to love me again."

You rolled your eyes, "I do love you, that won't stop. I'll always love you. But I can be pissed at you...which I am."

Travis lowered his head just as a song began playing on the radio that made him look back up at you.

"I, I'm so in love with you."

You tried to hold your face straight as he began to sway his hips as he sang.

"Whatever you want to do, is alright with me."

You could feel your lips curling upwards when he pulled you closer, "'Cause you make me feel so brand new, and I want to spend my life with you."

You hid your slight smile by looking at your feet but Travis used his finger to lift your chin, "Our wedding song. Man, what a day that was. You looked even more beautiful that I could ever imagine. I couldn't stop staring at you all day and all night. I just kept reminding myself that I am the luckiest guy in the world. And I was certainly the luckiest guy that night."

You placed your hand on the back of his neck and pulled him down so that your lips were close to his ear, "You'll have to do better than that, big guy. Enjoy your burnt pancakes."

______________________________________________________________

You smiled at Donna, as she returned to her seat next to you at Music Hall Kansas City. Travis and Jason has gotten their Mom up as a special guest for the New Heights Podcast Live Show and she grabbed at your arm.

"Did I do okay?"

"Are you kidding?" You beamed at her, "You were awesome! Did you hear them? They love you!"

The crowd were still cheering as Travis stood up, the microphone held tightly in his right hand.

"Okay, Kansas City. I need y'all to help me out with something now." His left arm was outstretched towards the audience, "You all know my smokin' hot wife is here tonight."

The crowd went wild again as you felt your cheeks burn slightly.

"And your boy Travis has been a jackass."

The noise continued as he hung his head.

"Uh oh!" Jason shouted into his microphone, glancing over to you in you seat, "What did you do, Travis?"

"I said something stupid, man!"

"Is your mouth getting you in trouble again?" Jason asked from his seat.

Travis rubbed the back of his neck, nervously, "I'm in the doghouse, man. So, KC! Can you help me to get back in the good books please?"

You turned to Donna who was grinning at you. The crowd were still cheering so loud that your ears were ringing.

"Oh baby, let's...let's stay together." Travis closed his eyes and sang into the microphone.

You giggled as he began to dance around the stage and the crowd started to join in.

"Lovin' you whether, whether, times are good or bad, happy or sad!"

Jason accompanied by clapping along and Donna placed her hand onto your back, urging you to get onto the stage. Travis held his hand out and beckoned to you. You widened your eyes as you rose to your feet, with help from Donna.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh yeah! Whether times are good or bad, happy or sad!"

You stepped onto the stage, the lights blinding your right side. You smiled at Travis and watched as he continued, urging the crowd to join in louder.

"I, I'm so in love with you. Whatever you want to do, is alright with me." He closed his eyes again and gripped the microphone with both hands as he attempted the high note.

You laughed loudly and walked towards him.

"'Cause you make me feel so brand new, and I want to spend my life with you."

Once you were face to face with him, you placed your hands on his strong jawline, singing back to him.

"Let me say that since, baby, since we've been together. Ooh, loving you forever, is what I need. Let me, be the one you come running to, I'll never be untrue."

You pressed a kiss to his lips, without tongues but still just as passionate. His arms snaked around your waist and he lifted you off the ground for a couple of seconds, the crowd reacting with loud cheers.

Once he had lowered you back down onto the stage, he lifted the microphone back to his mouth, "We did it KC!"

______________________________________________________________

I found it so hard to be mad at him...and to stay mad at him! I kept imagining his sad face and I kept melting! I hope this was what you were wanting? And keep the requests coming!!

Taglist @kkrenae

#travis kelce x reader #travis kelce imagine #kelce x reader #nfl imagine #original story #travis kelce fic #travis kelce #nfl fluff #travis kelce fluff #kelcemenow requests

434 notes · View notes