#you're telling me I alone out here with you and my thoughts??? lmao fuck that I'm gonna go hitchhike back to civilization
Note
Virginal vault dweller reader you say?? I'd eat that up (and so would Cooper, heh) but seriously I would read the hell out of that if you're up for it <3
Different Up Here
Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 6.3k
anon thank you lmao i had already started drafting this, so vault dweller reader isn't quite a virgin but they are definitely inexperienced and have never known pleasure like the kind that cooper can offer 🤎
request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist
minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: power imbalance, dubious consent because once you've said yes to cooper you can't change your mind, overstimulation, crying, oral sex, fingering, rimming, instructional, full penetration babiessss i realised i never tag that shit but yeah it's in here lmao, cumming inside, no protection, sweet coop afterwards but only briefly
If anyone else had asked you in that moment how you were, you couldn't have answered accurately without any hint of sarcasm and irritation. You were being worn down, like buildings by the sands of the desert. Each little molecule of your optimism being torn away from you, painful like plucking a hair. But when Cooper asked you, you tried your best to push down your knee jerk response.
"Let's see, shall we? Since leaving the vault a month ago, bravely in search of resources and supplies for my friends, I have killed, maimed, and eaten things I hope to never think of again. I'm in a constant cycle of very, very stressed and then very, very bored where there is no happy medium between fearing for my life and wishing for death. And oh, by the way, I'm sweating buckets the whole time because it's deathly fucking warm. Thank you for asking, Cooper!"
Instead, you shrugged and offered him at least a partial truth.
"It sounds silly... but I'm kind of bored."
A dry chuckle passed over Cooper's lips.
"Heh, that's a new one for out here."
Sensing an opportunity to at least get some conversation out of him, you sat up on the rusty bed frame, your body sinking into the almost entirely flattened mattress as you crossed your legs and did your best to get Cooper to talk more than a sentence at a time.
"Really? I would have thought you'd be bored a lot, especially when there's no raiders, or mirelurks, or scavengers, or feral ghouls, or super mutants, or roving gangs of-"
"See, this is why I'm never bored. Always somethin' or someone to be killin'."
"But what about like... now? When there's nothing else to do. There's no magazines, no books, no TV."
You watched as Cooper turned from you with a slight smile. You knew the one, the familiar grin that meant you'd divulged some information about your life in the vaults, something he always found so amusing. It was your naivety, your optimism. He was endlessly fascinated by it, as though listening to you talk about it reminded him of something he had before.
That fascinated you. It made you want to stay around him, the way he listened silently as you talked about the old films that were on the holotapes, the food that was still fresh and available, the music you could hear whenever you wanted to, not reliant on some two-bit radio host. He paid attention to you. And any time his deep, brown eyes focused on your lips it made your heart flutter in an admittedly unexpected manner.
Remembering that feeling, you tried again, hoping that your next approach might be something that interested him a little more than just conversation.
"You know how we used to pass time in the vaults?"
Over the sound of the evening breezes that whipped up the sand you could still hear Cooper sigh before he spoke.
"Now if you tell me that you wanna go out there again tonight to find an old blast radius board... well I am just going to have to shoot you."
You laughed at what you hoped was a joke and waved him off, despite the fact that he was still turned away from you, unable to see your gesture as he tried ignoring you in what you assumed was the hope that you might shut up and leave him alone.
"No, no no no no no. Just..."
The lump in your throat felt like it was about to choke you, so you swallowed the clump of nerves quietly, your voice trembling as you finished your sentence.
"... fooling around... y'know?"
Cooper turned to face you. You had piqued his interest, and you couldn't help but show the giddy glee on your face, the smallest smile crossing your lips as your eyes widened. But his words wiped away all hope that you had garnered in that short span of time.
"Oh... oh darlin'."
He laughed a little, each little sound of the short, sharp giggle like a slap to the face.
"I don't think you're ready for that at all."
You raised an eyebrow, defiant, irritated, and keen to know how he thought he had you pegged so quickly. You'd never talked about anything like that with him before. Was he assuming that you were a virgin based on how you behaved around him alone? Maybe he figured that the lack of flirting on your part was down to a complete lack of experience, when in reality, it was because every flirtatious quip he threw your way made you so nervous and flustered you felt like you might throw up.
"How come I'm not ready? I mean, I've... I've done stuff... I've done it!"
"The fat you're not saying it how it is makes me think that you are absolut-"
"I've had sex, Cooper. I've fucked before. I've been fucked."
Blinking off the irritation at being interrupted by you, Cooper pushed up the brim of his hat and stared directly at you, as though he was examining your, to see if you would stand up for yourself any further.
"By who? One of your little buddies underground? Fucking like little bunnies? I don't think that qualifies you, sweetheart."
"Why? Sex is sex..."
You said it with such confidence. As if you really knew. As if you hadn't spent your teenage years practising on your hand, holding a pillow close, lining up for that one girl in the vault who would sell practice kisses for extra bubble-gum. You'd had sex before, of course. You weren't a liar. Just because you'd only ever done it once didn't render it nonfactual. Just because it had only lasted for all of four minutes. Just because you weren't sure you even orgasmed, and your friend had told you that you'd know if you'd orgasmed. Just because it was all over so quickly, and he'd run off before anyone could catch you both, avoiding you at every opportunity after that.
"... Isn't it?"
"Oh no it ain't. Besides, like I keep telling you, it's different up here. Everything's different up here. And that includes fuckin'."
The way he said the word, consonants enunciated with such grit and vigour, filled your stomach with knots that began to tighten as you considered in what way things were so different.
"What exactly do you mean by that?"
Cooper sighed, exasperated, resigning himself to the fact that you were going to keep talking to him regardless of his short replies and attempts to end the conversation.
"You are a dog with a bone, huh? Ain't gonna let it go."
His yellowed teeth were exposed as his lips pulled back in a baring, mischievous smile. Those knots doubled, the ends being pulled by tension in your nervous system as Cooper's smirk put you into a dazed stupor.
"No, sir."
"Now, I don't remember signing on to be your personal tutor in all things apocalypse. Do I really need to show you how everything works up here?"
As your cheeks began to blush, you nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes, sir."
You were hopeful for just a bit of a distraction. Something to help take the stress away. To relieve the tension that had been building up between you and Cooper as of late. You'd been studying him, watching the way he looked at you, fascinated by your perceived, and frankly obvious, innocence. The way his fingers moved, contributing to the skilful way he handled his gun and his ropes. The confidence, the charisma, the charms.
You wanted him, but you weren't quite sure how to broach the situation without it seeming desperate. But you were past that now. You were desperate For anything, just something. Something to cure the monotony of walking and hiding and fighting and surviving. You didn't want to just survive. You wanted to at least find a semblance of fun and pleasure in this nightmare you had found yourself in. And in the vaults, when board games and books and debates got boring, there was always fucking. That was what you desired most right now. The fact that Cooper happened to be the closest target for your desires was just a sweet miracle, or a cruel tease depending on how willing he was.
And luckily, he seemed agreeable.
"Well then, how about you come over here and let ol' Coop show you a little thing or two about how dirty you can really get up here in the mean, dusty Wasteland, hm?"
Your excitement was palpable, even though you were trying to keep your composure. There was no escaping the echo of the giddy squeal you let out as you jumped up from the bed and made your way over to Cooper. He waited in the far corner of the room, setting himself down on an old armchair as you stepped towards him, slapping his thighs as an indication of where he wanted you. And you did as you were told, following his instructions, knowing they hadn't led you astray so far in your time together.
It felt awkward at first, being so close to him. You shifted your weight nervously, trying to get comfortable while making sure Cooper was still at ease, which of course, he was. He always was. Nothing stirred him, he was forever at peace. Competent in any situation. Quick to adapt. And as you fidgeted and fussed, you felt his strong hands pushing you forward on his lap, until your chests were practically pressed together, his hands skirting over your lower back as he held you still. In command. In control. The sudden sensation of his hands on your body made your breath hitch, a soft, surprised squeal on the inhale that had Cooper raising his brow at you.
"Now... you agree that you asked for this, alright? Because I am not going to put my effort into entertaining your little whims if you're gonna get fussy and decide it's too much for you. I did warn you."
"Yes, you did, and I really don't think you needed to. I doubt there's too much different about it, and I've picked up what I needed to know pretty quickly from your other lessons, haven't I?"
Your retaliation to his insistence that you needed him to teach you everything, and that some things just might prove themselves a little too hard even for your levels of enthusiasm, had irritated him when he'd first met you. But now your optimism and sheer refusal to believe anything was too much for you were a source of entertainment for him. A challenge.
"That's fine then, darlin'. But I'll remember that."
His eyes bore into your soul, keeping your focus on him as he dared you to look away. They sparkled as he ran his tongue over his lips, the pretence of preparing for his next words covering the obvious flirtation in the way he dragged the flat muscle along his chapped skin.
"So, gimme a benchmark here, lil lady. How much foreplay was involved in your previous encounters? I'd hate to leave you high and dry."
"Foreplay...? What... uh, what is that?"
Cooper sighed, rolling his eyes before closing his eyelids over gently.
"Well, it's something like this."
He pushed a loose strand of hair back behind your ear, rough fingers following the curve and grazing over your neck as he let them drift down the front of your chest, tickling the exposed skin as far as your jumpsuit would allow before he took a hold of the zip at the front. A quick flit of his eyes up to you seemed to ask for permission, and your small, almost imperceptible nod, told him to keep going.
Slowly, painfully so, he pulled the zip down, watching as the centre of your torso was slowly revealed to him. Smooth skin, in comparison to his anyway, clear of any unnatural blemishes or war wounds. One calloused digit followed down your sternum to your stomach and back up, hooking under the left side of the fabric and pulling it over, then the other, exposing the top half of your body to him.
Cooper traced his fingertips over the top of your breasts, watching as your chest moved in and out, slowly, but exaggeratedly. The knots in your stomach felt like they might burst with the tension as his sharp, ragged nails crossed over your hardening nipples, a gentle tingle coursing through your veins.
"Well?"
"No... n-nothing like that... just grabbing..."
"Oh yeah? You like that? How about this?"
He closed two fingers around your nipple, one hand still on your back to keep you balanced as your body reacted to his touch. Between the two digits, you felt your nipples heating up, the slight, burning pain from the way he squeezed them sending a signal down your spine that seemed to affect every part of you. Tighter, tighter, and then as your eyes closed a little more, eyelids pressed tight, he would ease up to offer some relief.
"You like that? Like it rough?"
"I think... I think I like both."
"So, something like this?"
He teased your nipples once more, pressing harder with his fingertips, pulling them out and jiggling your breasts as he tugged at them, this lewder act interspersed with a gentle caress as he held your breast against the palm of his hand, carefully cupping it as he flicked his thumb over the sensitive and completely erect nipple.
You bit your lip, trying to keep quiet, Coop's hand moved swiftly from your body to your cheeks, popping the lip back out as he pressed his thumb and forefinger into your face. Understanding the message, and seemingly showing this in your wide-eyed gaze, he let his rough, leathery hand make its way back down to your breast, cupping it once more as he spoke.
"Different, see? Pleasure is hard to come by out here. You gotta do it right when you've got the chance."
Cooper leaned into your neck, whispering the words low and slowly, his dry, chapped lips skimming over your skin as he continued.
"I bet down there they didn't know the first thing about real pleasure. Takes time, something like that. You gotta learn the body, gotta make it feel good."
His teeth grazed over your shoulder and back up along your neck before he pulled back, watching your eyes refocus from the haze of arousal.
"Did they make you feel good?"
"No."
You were confident in that statement. It hadn't felt good. It felt rushed. Clumsy. Shameful. And as you pondered it, your mouth remained open in a slight pout which trembled as Cooper asked his next question.
"And what about your pretty lips... did they kiss them?"
"A little..."
Cooper leaned in, his rough lips pressing onto yours with firm contact, his tongue staying in place as though he imagined that might be a bit too much for you right now. But that same level of restraint didn't keep him from letting his teeth catch onto your bottom lip, pulling it out, only letting go when you winced in surprise as the suddenness of the action.
"Didn't bite them either. Of course not, what am I thinking? That would be a little too adventurous for your kind."
His face took on a darker tone as he smiled knowingly towards you.
“And what about these pretty lips?”
Before you could piece together the question, his hand was diving into your jumpsuit, pushing down the front and past the waist, stroking against the front of your underwear which, by now, was soaking wet with your arousal.
“They touch these lips, huh?”
You gasped as he pushed your underwear to the side, stroking his fingers along your slick, plump pussy lips, withdrawing them soon after to taste you on his tongue, the way you had watched him taste the blood of enemies, the blood of victims.
“Stand up, darlin’… Why don’t you take that suit off, hm? Get yourself comfy.”
As you raised yourself up from his hips, your legs wobbled under you, not quite steady enough to support you so soon after being reduced to jelly by Cooper’s touch, his caramelised words that filled your ears, the sharp twang of his accent, the delicate cadence, the power rumbling underneath like an almost silent bassline.
“Do it slowly though.”
Cooper watched carefully as you stood nervously before him, shuffling out of your suit, stripping for him, your hips moving from side to side slow and steady, unintentionally sultry in the way you moved. Without taking his eyes from you he reached for his canteen, taking a long sip from it as you let your suit fall down over your legs, stepping out of it and pushing it to the side with your feet.
“That’s it, darlin’. Can’t do this half-hearted. I need to have access to all of you there. Now come sit back down.”
You held your arms in front of you, feeling far too exposed for the shelter you’d found for the evening. No windows, no locks on the doors. But it was difficult to focus on that worry for too long as you watched Cooper’s tongue flit back out over his lips, clear strands of drool sparkling in the light as he took you in, hungrily, dreamily.
“Turn around though. You face that way.”
The metal buttons on the front of his duster coat were cold against the skin of your back, but you leaned into them anyway. Cooper’s hand curved around your neck and up under your chin, holding your face forward.
“You keep an eye out, holler if you see anything coming. I’ll do everything else.”
A faint clicking sound, the safety on his gun being flicked to off, before those same fingers draped over your mound and down on to your lips, spreading them apart, the cool air of the decrepit room cooling the heat of your hot, aching cunt. With two fingers holding your lips apart, he let the middle digit tap against your clit, each tiny sensation turning your blood cold before heating it exponentially, a cold sweat beginning to form on your brow as you felt a tingle in your abdomen.
The finger that tapped the sensitive bud began stroking it from side to side, laying flat against it length wise as Cooper strummed your body, still holding your chin in his hands, smiling to himself every time your back arched away from him in intense pleasure. Every nerve-ending was at his mercy. He was right, it was different up here. But you wondered how much of that was the Wasteland and it’s effect on sexuality and pleasure, and how much of it was just him. Cooper Howard, Wasteland bounty hunter, a past life he refused to talk about, the most charismatic monster you had ever met. His fingers, daintily crossing over your clit, as you felt his breath, silent except for an occasional hum of satisfaction in the form of a long moan. Maybe it was just Cooper who was different.
It was hard to focus on this new line of though as his hard fingertips clamped down on your clit, pinching it as he rolled it between his fingers. Even harder when he let his hand drop from your neck and instead began teasing at your nipples once more. Soft, cruel flicks over the hardened bumps, his fingers at work on your body, his lips kissing at the back of your neck. Moans growing louder, more frequent, as he let himself enjoy the act of making you squirm. You could tell he was having fun, as you rolled your hips back a little, feeling the thick bulge of his stiffening cock against your rear. You wondered how it might feel, how it might look, and what he could do differently with it.
“Cooper… Coop… I think I’m going to cum…”
His movements quickened, cock twitching against your body as he pinched tighter and pressed his fingers harder against your cunt.
“Don’t you dare, little lady.”
“Ok I’ll… I’ll try but… you have to… stop… please stop… Coop…”
He ignored your please, the whining, desperate begging as you tried to stop your body from the natural, encouraged reaction.
“Have some self-control, sweetheart.”
“Cooper, I really can’t… please… please stop touching me…”
“I absolutely will not.”
Your fingers dug into his thighs, but you noticed that you refused to move away from him. You wanted to do as he asked, wanted to hold yourself back from the brink of orgasm to prolong his touch, but you couldn’t risk him actually stopping, fearing that your body might crumble if his fingers left your quivering, pathetic body for only a second.
Each stroke against your increasingly wet and sensitive pussy had you trembling and shaking, and Cooper had to remove his hand from your breast to keep you steady, placing it under your chin and holding you steady by the neck.
“I am warning you, missy.”
“Cooper… I can’t stop…”
You shuddered and whined as your body gave in to the temptation, feeling a rush of heat and relief as you came on his lap, your arousal coating his pants, adding to the collection of stains and wear on them. But he didn’t stop then.
“No wait… seriously, Cooper… I can’t… I can’t take much more, honestly…”
“Listen, I told you. I said you better not cum. I wasn’t done with you yet.”
Your eyes began to sting with tears of exasperation as your body kept on pushing to its limits, conjuring up another wave of climax, tormenting you with never-ending bouts of arousal that kept you rutting against him, despite how painful it was to keep writhing into his body. You could feel your stomach knotting again, not much time between each orgasm to relax, and you dug your hands into his thighs, pushing your body up off of him as you tensed completely.
“Ok, this time, you do it on my command. You do it when I say you can, alright?”
“Cooper…”
“Don’t give me that pleading shit, you asked me to show you how things are done. Well this is how Cooper fuckin’ Howard does things. So are you ready? You gonna come for me?”
“C-coop… I’ll… I’ll try…”
“Good girl, now you keep that mouth making those whines and moans. I don’t need you to call out my name or anything, I know I’m all you’re thinking about.”
The praise, the self-confidence, the way his fingers seemed to be pulling your orgasm out, motioning for it to come closer to him.
“Come on, darlin’, come on…”
Your vision blurred as the climax came over you, body rolling and convulsing as you came once more at Cooper’s insistence, your cheeks stained with tears, salted water rolling through the layers of grime and clearing paths to your chin.
As you settled back down onto his lap with a shudder, you felt Cooper’s fingers stroking through your hair. He was surprisingly gentle, oddly calm, but you supposed that you deserved his kindness as you had done as he had asked, making up for your previous indiscretion. He was almost cooing, shushing you as you found your breath, establishing your sense of self once more after the overstimulating orgasm that shook your core.
“You seen enough of the big bad world for one day then?”
You probably had, but you still found yourself shaking your head, ignoring the way your body reacted with a violent twitch at the notion of Cooper’s hands delivering intense pleasure.
“A glutton for punishment, hm? Or just keen to learn?”
As you pondered your answer, Cooper seemed to have come to the conclusion for you, as he tapped your hips and began to shift underneath you.
“Alright then, get onto your knees.”
Positioning yourself at his feet, you couldn’t help but look up at him, catching his eyes as he looked down at you with that unique brand of disdain and intrigue he had somehow mastered. You knew what was coming, what was about to happen, and your mouth began watering at the thought. What he might taste like. What he might look like.
You didn’t have to imagine for long though, as you could see his fingers working the belt of his pants, loosening it, unzipping his fly, and gripping his semi-erect cock at the base as he took it out, brandishing it. He kept close attention on your own eyes, a soft sigh of relief imperceptibly escaping his chest as he noticed your pupils widen, your mouth opening in preparation for him.
It was exactly as you had expected. The texture of the shaft was similar to that of his cheeks and his forearms, a similar colouring, though darker at the base and on the shaft which was tinted red. Thick, purple tinged veins covered it, winding around the length, cutting across the ridges of the scars.
“You can come closer, darlin’. I don’t know what they told you about mutations and radiation effects down there in your little utopia, but I can assure you… it doesn’t bite.”
The fear was palpable, clearly, but it was nothing to do with Cooper’s body and everything to do with your lack of experience, which, despite you arguing otherwise, was becoming plainly obvious even to you. You had only ever touched a cock with your hands outside of being quickly fucked. Several times you’d been cajoled into quickly stroking an erection under the blankets before your partner ran off to the bathroom, clean and tidy, flushing away the sins. And you were very well aware that there was always the option to suck on one, but it had never presented itself. It had never seemed that appealing to you. Until you were faced with Cooper’s.
He hadn’t even asked you to do either yet, but you found yourself curious, salivating over the thought of him, mind racing as you imagined how he might feel against your tongue.
“Can I taste it… you?”
Cooper smiled warmly, one of the few times you had seen him look at you with genuine pride.
“Now that is using your initiative. Of course you can.”
You kept your hands to yourself as you leaned in towards his body, content to let Cooper wield his length at you, his hand firm around the base as you inched closer, tongue pressed out over your lips. A strand of drool collected and spilled forward, hitting the floor in a soft patter just before the tip of your tongue came into contact with the tip of his cock.
A lot of the movements were instinctual, following your desires more than what you thought might be protocol as you dragged your tongue up the shaft and swirled over the blushing head of his cock. It tasted bitter, but in a pleasant way. Savoury, not sweet. Salted, a tang that stayed there for a few seconds after your tongue had moved on to another spot. A flavour you found yourself craving now.
Cooper gripped tighter and pushed forward, taking you by surprise as he slid himself into your mouth, his free hand moving to the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair. As the taste of him hit the back of your tongue, cock almost touching your throat, you coughed and spluttered a little.
“Fuck me, darlin’… do you need me to show you how to do this too?”
He looked down at you, filled with pity as he saw your face. Red cheeks, puffed out, lips stretched over the girth of his cock, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to breathe.
“Breath through your nose… breathe in…”
You followed his instructions, instantly calmed when you found your lungs filling with air once more. Almost immediately back to enjoying yourself, the feeling of Cooper inside of you, the control he had as he held your head against him.
“Now… you don’t want to choke too much, so keep your tongue flat… yeah, just like that…”
It was so much easier like that, and you could feel your cheeks getting warmer and redder as you realised that not only had you embarrassed yourself with your spluttering and lack of knowledge, but that Cooper had clearly done this a lot.
“And your teeth… well, usually they’ll tell you to keep ‘em outta the way, but you know me… gotta be different…”
Taking the hint, you let your jaw close slightly, the pain of the stretch lessened, your teeth scraping along the top of his shaft as your tongue worked the underneath, sucking and rolling as much as you could while keeping it flat.
He didn’t say much else, and you couldn’t tell if he was particularly enjoying himself. It worried you, the fact that he had specific preferences, the way it was so clear how much more experienced he was than you. How many others had there been? And were they all better than you? As your mind wandered to your anxieties, you completely missed the fact that you had begun to drool all over yourself until Cooper relaxed his grip on your head and wiped at your chin with his thumb. Catching your eyes and sensing some of your worries, he was surprisingly quick to soothe you.
“You can swallow or spit or let it all spill out, I don’t mind makin’ a mess darlin’. But whatever you’re doing, you keep that up.”
You were so pathetically grateful for the encouragement, for the tiniest semblance of praise, that you felt yourself moaning involuntarily. The soothing motion of sucking on his cock, the taste of something new, the comforting knowledge that he was happy with your efforts. You could feel your clit throbbing, aroused by Cooper’s satisfaction, how pleased he was with the way you worked him over.
Which is why it surprised you so much when he pulled his cock from your mouth, your lips slipping off of it with a disgustingly lewd popping sound, drool spilling onto your chin in long strands which stretched from your lips to his cock and tore apart as he distanced himself from you.
And again, that sympathetic gaze, the way he could tell what you were thinking before you even said it.
“Oh, don’t you look at me with those big, sad eyes. You got nothin’ to worry about, sweetheart. That was good, ‘specially for a first try…”
He winked to you as he spoke, causing your heart to skip enough beats that you thought you might die there and then.
“… It’s just that I’m all slicked up and ready to go now… so you wanna bend over for me? Or do you wanna come sit on my lap?”
“Uh… lap, please… I was kinda bent over for the last… first time.”
“Well, you come and take a seat then, darlin’, let ol’ Coop show you something new.”
You nervously settled your entirely nude body back down onto his thighs. Cooper’s hands were gentle against your shoulders as he pulled you backwards with him, leaning at a slight angle in the chair, his cock rigid and firm as it sat against your waiting cunt, coated in your drool which almost seemed to shimmer with the dancing light of the fire.
Then, so carefully, so gently, far more than you’d ever seen him be before, Cooper took hold of his cock at the base and slid it inside of you, one hand on your stomach as he braced you, keeping your body steady as he inserted himself further and further between your clenching walls.
“Bigger than before?”
You nodded, biting your lip as you felt the distinct stretch, his rough, textured cock forcing its way inside your cunt, pressed up to the hilt, testing your limits.
“Better?”
“Mhm…”
“Speak up, darlin’.”
With your voice strained and breathy, you managed to form some words.
“Yes… it’s better.”
“That’s it, good girl. Now, I’m gonna buck my hips, ok? You just try and keep your balance.”
Below you, Cooper shifted a little, his hips rolling backwards, inches of his cock escaping your tight, aching cunt, before he rolled them forwards and upwards, back into you. A slow, steady pace that he focused on keeping until you felt warmer, more relaxed.
“You got this, it’s like riding a horse.”
“I’ve never… hm… ridden a horse…”
Cooper chuckled, a low and rasping sound that sent shivers over your skin and seemed close enough to you that it was coming from inside of your body.
“Never ridden a ghoul before either, but you’re handling it alright for a first timer.”
You were coping ok, you had to admit, but you could feel your stomach muscles tensing, the knots back in full force as they tensed and tightened, loosened and frayed with each pump of his cock within you.
“Ah… Cooper…”
“Too much, darlin’? Does it hurt?”
There was a sense of genuine care in his tone, as though he had taken it upon himself to show you that yes, things were different up there in the Wasteland, but that didn’t always mean they were worse. Some things were good, if not a little bit difficult to take at first.
“A little…”
Cooper tilted your chin up, forcing your head to lean back completely against his shoulder. In a delicate move, one far more romantic than you imagined from him, he ran his thumb over your lips, angling his neck to look at them, his own mouth open ever so slightly, a monotonous panting as he kept his hips moving, increasing the speed and the force at which he entered you.
His eyes flicked up suddenly, looking into yours, catching your gaze and holding unblinking eye contact as he spoke.
“I know… I know… Just a little longer, though…”
He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of his cock pushing against your body, enveloped in your hot, wet, velvety interior.
“I know it hurts… but I ain’t stopping, so don’t even ask… here…”
You watched as he brought a finger to your lips, offering it up to you.
“…you bite down on that if it gets too much, ok… but don’t hold back on those sweet sounds… I wanna hear you scream.”
With that vaguely threatening remark, he thrust up into you, banging against your body, spurring on your orgasm but unleashing a dull ache that spread through every sensitive part of you.
“Won’t… be long… keep it together… good girl… good girl…”
It felt good, the pain, the sting, the ache, the shivers. The fact that he was using you, finding pleasure in you. All of it culminating in Cooper’s nearing orgasm which you could sense was closing in on him. His movements were becoming more frantic, sloppier, and he was mouthing all manner of sweet nothings as he let his façade slip away.
And those soft mumbles opened up into a wide roar as he clung to your body, the hand on your neck cutting off the air to your lungs only briefly, one hand on your lap pressing sharp indents into your skin as he forced himself into you. The last few moments of his fevered thrusting, fucking you wildly, drool pooling in the corner of his mouth as he rutted into you in a dazed stupor before his body gave in. His cock throbbed, each pulse sending another rope of cum against your insides, filling you with his seed as he shuddered finally, slinking backwards into the chair and taking in a deep breath as you removed yourself from him.
You’d only managed to take a few steps forward before Cooper addressed you, opening his eyes to watch you standing there awkwardly, his cum dripping down your thighs, a warmth that quickly turned cool in the air of the room.
“Did I say you could get up?”
Panic settled in your chest, aware that you had waited until you felt his muscles relax, his body retreating from you, before you slid off his cock, expecting him to push you away anyway, like your first time. You assumed he was finished, and you weren’t sure you were ready for the idea that he might not be done with you.
“Are we… oh, Cooper, I really can’t take anymore.”
Even as you stood, you could feel your legs shaking, weakened by the intense orgasms, the way they tightened against his every movement.
“That’s different up here too then, I suppose.”
Cooper stood up from the chair, pacing towards you with a purposeful stride as he pushed his cock back into his pants, zipping them up as he reached you. You inhaled sharply as he placed his hand at the back of your head, those knots in your stomach beginning to form again, worried that a further, albeit pleasurable punishment was on the cards. But you were surprised as he slid his free hand around your back, tugging at your waist as he pulled you in close to him. A quick smile before his lips were on yours, the brim of his hat pushed upwards as he leaned into the kiss. Warm, gentle, the kind of kiss you’d seen in movies. Practised and confident, meaningful, sincere.
When he pulled back, your body following him a little before you settled back onto your feet, he smiled warmly.
“Sweet with the sour, darlin’. You gotta keep ‘em wanting more.”
“M-more?”
More as in now? Or more as in the idea that Cooper had enjoyed himself and would be willing to offer that kind of pleasure to you again. And he answered with a wink.
“Definitely. There’s a still a lot you’ve got to learn.”
#fallout#fallout amazon#if this flops I’ll nuke everything by the way this fuckin behemoth stressed me out so much lmaooo#x reader#finnie writes#cooper howard#the ghoul#fallout fic#cooper howard x reader#the ghoul x reader#cooper howard fanfiction#cooper howard one shot#cooper howard smut#cooper howard imagine#fallout tv#fallout tv series#walton goggins#cooper howard x fem!reader
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losing my mind thinking about byan being dragged camping, and it's all xeno's fault. but it's so fucking funny bc they're usually the most scrappy mf known to man, happy to get their hands dirty when they're in the city, but the moment you put them in nature? uhhhh that's gross actually, why tf would I kneel in that dirt to light a fire when these are brand new pants???
plus side, you'll never lose them in the dark bc they're dressed in neon pink & covered in a layer of glitter. they are, however, also not dressed for being in nature, what with their short skirt and their knee-high socks and just the chunkiest, worst fucking boots to go hiking in.
#don't even get me started on how annoying they'll be if there's no phone service#'you mean I can't use the internet to ignore you????? dude fuck this'#smh smh they throw themself off of buildings and get into fights where they're outnumbered but you put them in the woods and they're a baby#no they're not touching that branch can you IMAGINE what else has been on that????#ew I'm not stepping in that river are u fucking kidding me#you're telling me I alone out here with you and my thoughts??? lmao fuck that I'm gonna go hitchhike back to civilization#ajsjgjshdj look I'm super fucking high rn and I started laughing about this all over again#so take my weeded up ramblings I'm not proofreading them sorry#━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ OOC ⋮ DON’T @ ME.#weed cw
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✯FreshLove for the Fit✯
pt1
Summary: Y/N decides to DM Chris after receiving threats and things start to escalate between the two.
Warnings: NSFW content, swearing, mentions of jerking off, titties are mentioned, dildos, masturbation.
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
Y/N was dying of laughter.
Two days ago, one of her favorite content creators decided to go on a spam spree and like all of her posts. She was confused, to say the least, then she became flattered.
Now here she is, full-on cackling as she reads the hate comments she's receiving.
12-year-old girls' calling her all types of names and sending death threats, all because Chris Sturniolo was most likely jerking off to her?
It's hilarious.
She starts laughing even harder when she realizes Chris unfollowed her and unliked all of her posts.
She decides to mess with him a little bit and sends a DM on Instagram
Y/I/N
yo, your fans are cray asf. you need to tell them to leave me tf alone.
Chris's heart dropped when he saw the notification. Y/N was DM'ing him? He hesitantly clicks on the notification and his mouth runs dry when he sees what she said.
He felt like shit.
He isn't dumb, he saw what some of the fans were saying to her online. He thought it was crazy they were sending death threats to her because he was horny and dumb. He decides to respond back.
Christophersturniolo
i feel like shit for the stuff they are saying to and about you. it's not fair at all and I'm sorry.
Y/I/N
LMAO, im playing with you. ion care about these little ass girls. they mad at me because you were horny and jerked your shit to me. shit is funny.
Chris can't help but sigh, and laugh in relief. He really didn't want Y/N to be mad at him.
Christophersturniolo
fuck you had me scared. I'm glad you're handling this well though.
Y/I/N
lmao, i can handle myself very well thank you
Chris finds himself being bold behind a screen.
Christophersturniolo
i like the way you handle yourself.
Y/N smiles and turns onto her stomach, kicking her feet as if she's a schoolgirl texting her crush.
Y/I/N
so i take it you like my content?
She knows he likes it, but she wants to see him admit it. Y/N was a bit cocky, she knows she's pretty as fuck, has a nice body, and that her content is one of the best.
She just likes hearing people say it.
Christophersturniolo
love it actually
Y/I/N
tell me what you love about it.
Christophersturniolo
i love that you wear my brand as your getting off. the way you tweak your nipples through the shirts as you shove the dildo into yourself, chasing an orgasm. i love the way your moans are soft yet so loud at the same time. Don't get me started on your thighs, id love to be in between them all day.
Both of them are staring at their phones, bodies shaking as they take deep breaths. this conversation took a turn none of them were expecting.
Chris can't believe he's talking to a CamGirl who could actually expose this whole conversation.
Y/N can't believe she's even talking to Chris. Hell, she barely has wrapped her head around the fact he enjoys her content.
Christophersturniolo
what would you say if i wanted you to call me
Y/I/N
i would tell you to check my stories tab for prices.
Not even five minutes later, Y/N gets a cash app notification for $200 with the message
"FT me and wear FreshLove."
There's a phone number attached and Y/N is shocked. Her FT prices are only $130 but he sent $200.
She copies the number before pasting it into the Facetime log and pressing the call button.
It rings three times before Chris picks up.
"They look good," both of them think to themselves.
Chris is wearing a pink hoodie that makes Y/N go feral on the inside. Pink is one of her many favorite colors and to see him looking so good laid out in it, she's clenching her legs. It doesn't help that his camera angle is low. She wonders if that's what he would like while his dick is in her throat.
Y/N is in fact wearing FreshLove just like Chris asked (it was more so a demand but that's not the point), and he's trying to contain himself. It was obvious the pink shirt may be a size too small considering it was hugging her chest tightly, allowing her pierced nipples to peak through. His mind is running wild as he imagines fucking her while she's decked out in his brand.
"Hi,"
Chris is shocked when he hears the tone of her voice. He doesn't know what he was expecting, but he didn't expect something so soft and dainty. No wonder her moans sound the way they do.
"Hey..." Chris responds.
"What did you want to call for?" for some reason, Chris is too shy to admit the real reason he wanted to call. How do you tell a girl you only wanted to Facetime, in hopes she fucks herself on her pink dildo so he can jerk off.
"I don't know."
Y/N tilts her head to the side as she looks at him, "I think you know you're just too scared to say it." Her words are taunting,
Chris doesn't like it.
"Not scared to admit anything. I just figured you wouldn't like me telling you to go ahead and grab that pink dildo and fuck yourself for me. I was raised to be a gentleman after all." Chris smirks seeing Y/N get shy. Although her skin is brown, he can tell there's a faint reddish tint to them.
He keeps going, "Don't act all shy, like you don't post yourself online doing the same thing. After all that is how I found you."
Y/N likes being degraded. It's one of the many kinks she has.
"But I won't have you do that, I want to get to know you first."
Y/N is shocked. usually, when she does these calls, the guys automatically demand that she strip and start playing with herself. Although this whole interaction will be transactional, it's a breath of fresh air for her.
The call continues, both of them laughing and talking for more than an hour. The conversations jump from topic to topic. One minute they are talking about music (Y/N was shocked when Chris hadn't heard of Jorja Smith), favorite foods, and movies.
Suddenly Y/N asks a question that's been on her mind, " Why did you send $200 when the price was $130?"
"Because I wanted to" he answers so quick and nonchalantly, it surprises Y/N.
"But you didn't have to, especially if we didn't do anything sexual." When Y/N looks back at her phone, she sees a smirk made its way across Chris's face.
"I have a proposition for you."
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
i actually hate this so much but i did want to put out a second chapter 😭 let me know if yall like it or what you want to happen. im very open to suggestions!!!
#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo smut#smut#matthew sturniolo#matthew sturniolo smut#christopher sturniolo smut#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#chris girl#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matt girl
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Sick
Alastor x Reader
Summary : You get sick and Alastor keeps you company <3
Warnings : Swearing(lots of it)
Pairings : Alastor x F!Reader (M!Reader here)
Additional Tags : ALASTOR POV CUZ YES. Sick reader, implied relationship, h/c, fluff, comfort
Word count : 1.01k
“Hey, you alright, kid?” Husk tilts his head to the side, wiping down the last glass of the day.
You don’t respond. Instead, you’re staring off into the distance, dozing off in your own world.
“Kid?”
“Huh? What?” You finally snap out of your thoughts.
“Geez, ya’ look like hell.” Husk acknowledges. “Are you sick?”
“I don’t know.” You shrug. “I don’t think so?”
“Go rest. I’ll work alone today.”
“What? No! I’m fine I swear-” Before you’re able to finish your sentence, Husk flips you off.
“Bullshit. Go find your radio boyfriend.”
“Don’t bullshit me-”
You try arguing but Husk only smirks when he catches a glimpse of Alastor who’s appeared right behind you.
“Well, I just did.” He says. “Now stop being so stubborn.”
“I’m not being stubborn I-”
You feel a hand being put to your forehead and try to fight back, only to realise it was Alastor.
“High fever.” He lets go. “You’re being stubborn.”
“Oh, fuck you, Al.”
“We’ll fuck when you’re better, darling.”
You blush. Alastor grins. Husk tries to hold in a laugh but ultimately fails.
“You’re sick and you need rest, my dear. Come along.”
“I’m fine-”
Alastor can only sigh, picking you up as you yelp.
“This is completely, and utterly, your fault single-handedly.” He smiled as you pouted. “You're very much welcome, darling.”
“Whatever.”
-----
You managed to escape Alastor as he leaves to mess with Vox. (Ep2 lmao)
Upon returning to the bar, Husk was not pleased to see your ass out of bed, emphasising on how important sleep was to someone sick.
You couldn’t care less.
Though, after wiping down a few more bottles with him, your eyes doze off and your eyelids feel droopy.
“Kid?”
The world spins and fades away.
“Fuck! Kid, ya’ alright?! Alastor!”
-----
[Alastor’s pov]
I heard a little groan as my eyes widened.
"Darling." I whispered, hoping not to startle her.
"Al..?" She breathed out.
"Good morning." I joked, though so grateful she was now awake.
"Wha.. What time is it?" She asked, struggling to get up.
"Be careful." I ushered, helping her sit. "I'm not so sure myself. It's very late at night."
"Where am I?" She asked, finally waking up as she stopped slurring through her words.
"My room. ‘I’m not sick’ my arse." I replied.
"Oh. Well, I guess you and Husk were right. I just thought I was a little sick." She murmured.
"You are sick." I replied. "Just worse than you expected."
"Real humorous, Al." She gave a small, yet weak, giggle.
Silence filled the air between us, and we didn't say anything else after that. That was, until she gave a small sneeze. I could tell she tried to suppress it, but seeing it was late at night and so quiet, it was hard not to notice.
"Are you cold?" I asked. I could barely make out the silhouette of her nodding lightly. Without hesitating, I took off my coat and handed it over to her. "Better?"
"A lot. Thanks, Al." She replied. After another few seconds of silence, she spoke up once more. "Why aren’t you asleep?"
"You do remember your dear partner does not need, nor does he enjoy, sleep?"
"Excuse, excuses." She joked, earning a chuckle from me.
"I can't really sleep now." She suddenly says out of nowhere. One thing I really like about this girl, she says the most random things in the most random situations. "Could we do something else?"
"Are you trying to get me killed?" I laughed. "You need to rest."
"I'm aware. That's the initial plan, anyways." She joked. At least, I hoped she was joking.
"You sneaky little deer."
"Yes. That's me. Hello." She replied, sitting on the edge of the bed with her legs crossed as she proceeded to look at me in the dark room. “Besides, it’s not like anyone here at the Hotel is actually powerful enough to kill you.”
"Very well, then. What do you have in mind?"
“Some jazz and cuddles would be nice.”
-----
She chokes on another cough.
"Are you sure you're alright? You should really rest in such vulnerable state."
"I'm," Another cough. "Fine. I swear."
"If you insist."
After a while, I turned to face her, worried she wasn't enjoying herself anymore, only to find her sound asleep, clinging lightly to my shirt. See? I told you were sleepy. You just refused to listen to me. I stopped and watched the girl, moving little by little, afraid of waking her up.
She looked so peaceful. Though, it wouldn't be the first time I find her sleeping in my presence. I tugged a small strand of hair behind her ear as she shifted a little. I immediately paused. Shit, had I woken her? Though she soon returned to her slumber and she curled up into a ball in front of me.
I suppose this would suffice.
"Goodnight, darling." I whispered softly, laying next to her in the bed. "See you in the morning."
-----
[2nd person]
You awoke early in the morning, feeling well rested. Your bed was awfully more comfortable than you had remembered. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, finally opening them for the first time, only to find that you weren't in your own room. It took you a while to let things simmer in.
That's when you heard snoring next to you.
You turned to find the Radio Demon cuddled into a ball next to you in bed sleeping oh so soundly. The poor man probably hadn't had sleep in days. Before you could process what was happening, you checked the time and realized you had to be back at the bar for work in 5 minutes. Not wanting to wake Alastor up, you left him a quick note to thank him and left.
----
The whole day passed and you never caught sight of Alastor. After closing the bar, you headed to Alastor’s room,hoping to find him there.
You stop at his door and break out a tiny laugh.
On the door, a rushed sign saying — Sick. Keep out.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin#alastor#hazbin hotel season 1#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel 2024#hazbinhotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor the radio demon#alastor hazbin#alastor x reader#alastor altruist#alastor fluff#alastor x you#alastor headcanons#alastor hartfelt#alastor hazbin x reader#hazbin hotel husk#husk hazbin hotel#husker#husk#alastor x y/n#sick reader#alastorpov
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an unfinished tale [teaser]
Pairing: Wonwoo x fem!reader
Synopsis: In an age absent of DMs and dating apps, a year you're not supposed to exist in, you defy all odds and manage to fall in love with the neighbor down the hall from your uncle's dorm. Part of you wishes he feels the same, part of you hopes he doesn't - for the sake of your heart and his.
Genre: Fluff, crack, smidgen of angst, first/last loves, time travel!au, 90s!au, college!au, uncle/roommate!chan, chan has a twin brother who is reader's dad LMAO, fairy godmother!seokmin; featuring friends!seungkwan, vernon, and jihoon too 💙
Warnings: PG-13 - profanity in this, they make out (?)
teaser wc: ~1.4k
A/N: One last run before I close this chapter of my writing blog . . .? Pouring all my feels into this one and learning how to be patient with writing and myself 💙 Who would've thunk it would be a Wonwoo series lol - I had the hardest time writing for him early on . . . Pls send an ask if you want to stick around for this one - probably a very long ride lol! Thanks for reading always, even if you never comment 🫶🏻
Adapted from this idea (sorry vernon 😅🙃) and revamp of wish you were here. Inspired by Wendy's Better Judgement.
start date: mid to end of march/early april
"You have to tell me!" Chan begs as you turn and make your way to the other side of the room - not that it was very far. The course from his desk to the bunk beds were less then twelve steps. "You're doing a huge disservice to my bloodline!"
"If I tell you, it's going to disrupt the time and space continuum, and you're whole future is going to be out of wack - I'm doing you a favor," you protest. It's followed by a small snort as you grab onto the ladder and position yourself to hoist up your body. What you thought was a quiet mutter to yourself than him, you add, "As if you'd have a bloodline."
Uncle Chan? Married? Bold of him to assume he could whisk away Sunnie.
His footsteps behind you suddenly come to a halt and the room grows quiet - only the sound of Vernon and his drums next door rattling away revibrate through the thin walls.
"I-I don't?" Chan asks pitifully.
"Fuck," you say under your breath. You make note to to filter that mouth of yours in the near future, especially around Chan and when it comes to his future. You loved your uncle and he was cool - ish, in the present. You didn't realize what a pain in the ass he actually was in his youth. Maybe that's why your father was so put off by him because you too are annoyed.
Making your way down again, you turn to find him pouting, gaze glued to the mysterious purple stain in once cream colored carpet - he claimed it was from when Vernon spilled the EZ Squirt purple ketchup, but something about the shade of it didn't have you convinced. You note how Chan blinks rapidly to will away his tears, an occasional sniffle cutting in.
"Look," you clamp your hands down on his shoulder, but he only hangs his head lower. "I'm sorry."
"I'm a loner hermit in the year 2000," he mumbles.
"Y-you're not!" you argue.
"I'm not?" Chan looks back up at you hopefully.
It's quite unfortunate you inherited the Lee trait of not being able to hold a poker face. The lie is evident in the distress in your eyes and slightest clench of your jaw.
"Seungkwan was right," he wails, slipping past you and flopping onto the bottom bunk, "I'm going to be living in Seungeung's basement and taking care of his kid!"
"You're not a loser, okay?" you exclaim, you rack your mind for some fibs, "Y-you're a music producer? a rapper? and you dance! Kind of."
"I'm dying alone!"
"I mean," you turn to look at his collapsed body, sprawled on the worn plaid comforter, "Y-you're not lonely? That kid Seungkwan is teasing you about is me."
Chan whines even louder, "That doesn't make it any better!"
You roll your eyes, shoulders slumping forward in defeat. Just as you were about to chastise him for self-pitying, there's a knock at the door - three firm, rhythmic beats. In sync, you and Chan lift your heads towards the door. It stops and a half-sheet of blue-lined notebook paper slips through the bottom crack of the door. You'd half expect to hear the footsteps of the perpetrator clambering down the halls, but their steps move at an easy pace and padded.
Chan gets up and follows you as you walk over to the note, carefully unfolding it. Black ink bleeds through - you're able to make out some letters from behind. The corners of the 'r' are darkened, the middle of the 't' sits like a target waiting to be shot at.
rooftop? after curfew :) - ww
As Chan gasps scandalously, your cheeks immediately heat up and you crumple the note into a ball in your fist in hopes that you're uncle didn't read it in full. Wonwoo's handwriting is messy and connected -something between chicken scratch and cursive. It's hardly legible most days. Nonetheless, the hope is weak, knowing the message was short and Chan was breathing down your neck as well.
"After curfew!?" Chan repeats, exaggerated, his existential crisis moments earlier forgotten. "What are you all going to do after curfew?"
You can hardly care for his judgement right now though - all you can hear is the blood rushing through your ears and the jumbled thoughts. Shoving the crumpled note into your pocket, you take off, swinging open the door and eyes darting up and down the hallway, looking for him.
It's almost as if Wonwoo didn't want to go unseen - as if he was waiting for you to come out. He's by the door of his dorm room, one hand rest on the stainless steel handle as his gaze are trained on you. When your eyes lock, the corners of his lips curl up the slightest bit - if you didn't already know him so well, you wouldn't have known he was smiling either. His lips were stretched thin, but pressing together firmly as he tries to hide his nerve and excitement. You curse yourself for letting it affect you so much too, your heart fluttering at the sight.
His composure breaks, the toothless smile, turning into a grin as he breaks eye contact with you and turns his attention to his door, shoving the key into the lock. With a flick of his wrist it opens with a click that echoes down the hall. Wonwoo's eyes flicker once more in your direction before he enters and shuts you out of his world again, and it makes you scoff.
He amuses you, frankly - puzzles you, even.
You wonder how someone like him, seemingly so subtle and so calm, could root himself into your life in the short time you've been here, and paint it with loud colors and cause more turbulence than the waves of the oceans during a full moon.
Bonus because I'm excited 😭:
It was quick, lips wavering and barely brushing against your own before he retreats.
"Oh," is all you're able to say, albeit, it's barely above a whisper. Unconsciously, your fingers fly to your lips, pressing gently at the ghost of his touch.
"Sorry," he mutters.
"Um," you clear your throat, shaking your head, "Y-you don't have to be - you shouldn't."
"I-I . . . I just . . . that was my first time," he confesses.
"I could do better," he declares, a little more confidently. It quickly dissipates however. Wonwoo nervously adds, "Only i-if you want to, of course-"
"Y-your first kiss?" you clarify, asking a little louder - you're taken aback. Wonwoo wasn't ugly and he was a senior - you expected him to collect several first kisses by this point, not be giving away his own.
You crane your neck more to get a better look at him, though it's hard without the lights on in Seungkwan's room. The crescent moon offers a little help, slipping through the opaque curtains and casting a sliver of white across his darkened features, though it reflects off the lens of his glasses, blinding you each time you try to look in his direction.
"You should then," you interject hastily without much thought before he gets any other ideas. Unconsciously, you find yourself leaning in, shifting your seat on the bed closer to him.
He looks up at you this time, lips fallen agape though no words escape.
Only now are you realizing your words sounded weird - desperate almost, and you didn't like it. This is not a proper way to court your crush! Let alone in the 90s! You didn't want to give him the wrong idea.
Letting out a soft sigh, you shift back, pulling your lips in between your teeth in embarrassment. You repeat his last words to you - or at least you try.
"Only if you want -"
Within seconds, His hand reach up to caress your cheek, the other coming to hold your waist as he leans in. His lips are pressed against yours again, but firmer this time. There's certainty in his kiss, a sense of reassurance that this was right.
The first thing to fade are your nerves - gone with the hesitancy, gone with the pounding of your heart, gone with the intricate dance you had perfect when it came to him. You're quick to fall into rhythm with him, his touch brings you relief - comfort even.
The second thing to fade are your surroundings. Seungkwan's room melts away, the muffled beat that Vernon played for the crowd below grows quiet. Only the quiet gasps and twee chortles between kisses fill the room.
"Chan is going to murder me," Wonwoo mutters breathlessly as he rests his forehead against yours. As if to tell him otherwise, you tilt your head up and peck his lips once more, eliciting another chuckle from him.
He feels right in this moment and nothing else mattered.
It's 1993, but for once, time doesn't matter.
#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo scenarios#wonwoo fluff#wonwoo angst#seventeen x reader#seventeen fluff#seventeen angst#seventeen scenarios
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BELONG TO YOU - one
pairing; ellie williams x fem!reader
summary; you're new on campus and ellie notices you. despite your shyness and struggles of being anti social, you can't help but fall in love with her.
warnings and tags; modern!au, college!au, dealer!ellie, reader is shy, anxiety, depression, fluff, angst, eventual smut, touch starvation, ellie has a dick in this, reader is also pretty innocent, might make a kink out of it, drug abuse, obsessiveness, love at first sight kinda thing
author's note; i folded. im finally writing for my lovely ellie and feel like this is the worst thing i have ever written lmao. i was going to write all of this in like a very long one chapter thing but i literally can't so here's what u get. not even sure if i wanna continue this but if u guys like it i might. thanks for reading, pls tell me what u think of it <3
two
You feel lost.
You’re new to this place, new to this city, new to these people. You never expected to get away from your past, awful life and you’re still not sure if you have. Because you look around and observe the people at campus, see everyone with their friend groups or romantic partners and feel so utterly alone. You always have been, always too shy to talk to someone and too awkward to hold a conversation… or a friendship. Not that anyone ever thought you were worth being friends with.
It’s always been suffocating, this loneliness, this darkness that overtakes your mind when it’s quiet and you’re alone. You get that feeling when you sit under a tree in the park on campus and watch and observe the people around you. It’s not like you’re being ignored, you would have to be acknowledged first to be ignored. But people walking past you and not giving a single fuck about your existence is somewhat hurtful. One guy even stepped on your book earlier and didn’t even apologize to you. It was closed, thankfully, but it made you keep your things closer to you, making your little bubble smaller than it already is. You take a deep breath and look away from the crowded park and back down on your notes, distracting yourself from your self deprecating thoughts.
The moment that you look down, she looks up. Ellie’s gaze only wanders over you for a split second and she was going to let her gaze go over the park and the many people that she knows and sells to. But her brain works a second later than her eyes do so she looks back to the lone figure sitting under the tree, hair spilling down as your eyes sharply go over the notebook in your hands. Ellie is mesmerized for some reason, unable to look away from you and your pretty face and your legs enveloped in bright blue jeans and your fingers tracing the words on your book and your breasts pushing up as you breath-
“Earth to Ellie? Hello? You having a stroke or something?” Her eyes break away forcefully from you to look at her friend, Dina, who is looking at her with a questioning but amused glint in her eyes. Her mouth is working faster than her brain so the question doesn’t fully register until she says it.
“Do you know who that is? The girl under the tree? Never seen her before.” Dina’s eyebrows raise at the question and she turns around to look at where Ellie’s eyes have strayed to once more. She watches you take out your pen from your bag and scribble something down on your notebook, your lips puckering as you’re writing. It’s as if you don’t realize how pretty your lips look like this, how Ellie has to restrain her mind from thinking of something totally inappropriate. She doesn’t even know you, not even your name but the way you sit there all alone and almost helplessly lonely makes something in her stir. You shouldn’t be alone when she knows how many disgusting boys are at this college, even if it’s at a park with so many people out on a sunny day.
“Yeah, she’s new, moved into the empty room at the end of our hall. Pretty sure she’s next to your room.” Dina has turned her head back around and can’t hide the little smirk that forms on her face when she sees Ellie staring. She takes another second to let her eyes linger on you, on how gorgeous you look when the sun shines down on you before she stands up. She walks towards you with confidence and determination, not even entirely sure why. You just look so pretty to her, the way you sit there and study whilst everyone else is doing anything but studying. Something in her gut and in her chest stirs when she sees you sitting alone and looking seemingly sad. She doesn't think that anyone else notices but she sees that you look a little helpless, like a lost puppy not knowing where to go.
For some reason, she wants you to go to her.
You don’t realize that someone stands in front of you until a shadow is cast over you and your book, making it difficult to see your notes. When you look up, you see a tall girl in a crew neck shirt and an unbuttoned denim work shirt over it. She’s wearing faded blue jeans and blue converse, her brown, shoulder length hair partially tied to keep it out of her face. Her eyes are pale green and piercing as she looks down on you, the gaze in her eyes so intense but looking at you with all the ease in the world. Your heart races at this, so unused to someone looking at you or approaching you. You grip your book tightly to keep yourself from getting up and running away and hope she says something before you have to.
“Hi. Mind if I sit next to you?” Her voice sounds clear as she speaks, no hesitation or doubt in the way she speaks and even stands in front of you. You’re taken aback by her question and desperately suppress the urge to ask why she wants to be next to you. You don’t know her, only remember that she lives in the room next to yours and that there’s always people coming and going out of her room. You’ve seen her recieve money at her door sometimes in exchange for… god knows what she is giving other people, you wouldn’t know. You nod slowly and try not to look overly confused at her as she sits down right next to you, the body heat she radiates so close to you that it almost throws you off. You don’t know the last time someone sat this close to you and don’t want to think further about the feeling you often feel when you watch other people hug or kiss each other or hold hands. Touch starving, that’s what the internet called it when you googled it. You know that it’s true because you do not remember the last time you hugged someone or felt physical touch in any form. You feel so embarrassed when you accidentally brush against someone in the hallways because most of the time, your body craves more of that touch.
You are unsure of what to do now with someone sitting next to you, your breath held in carefully as if the world would shatter if you breathed out. Why is she sitting next to you? Did you do something wrong? You stare down at the book in your lap but can’t really think when there’s someone, a very pretty girl actually, sitting right next to you. There’s a slight breeze that hits you from the side and it carries the girl's scent with it, earthy and lemony from something that you can’t place. You like the smell, it suits her. You turn your head slightly and see that she’s been looking at you this entire time, the gaze in her eyes studying you and a small smile formed on her lips. God, she’s so gorgeous, it truly takes your breath away. She proceeds to hold a hand out to you and you look down to it before looking back up.
“I’m Ellie.” She says and and you smile slightly at how sweet she seems, introducing herself to a complete stranger. You briefly wonder how lonely you must have looked for Ellie to approach you and try not to think about it for too long. You tell her your name, your voice a little too shaky and too unsure, as if you just came up with your own name. You put your hand into hers and dig your finger into your palm on your other hand because this much body contact is not something you are used to. Your hand is smaller than hers and it looks tiny in her bigger, warmer hand. You almost don’t want to let go because her warmth and touch make something stir in your gut, something comforting and wholesome that you don’t know if you’ve ever felt before. It takes a lot of willpower for you to break your hand away from hers, willing to let it stay in hers for as long as she would let you but you shouldn’t scare her off right away.
“So, you’re pretty new here. What’s your major?” Ellie is captivated by the girl in front of her. You are even prettier up close and Ellie has a hard time not looking at your lips constantly or your tiny hand that fits into hers twice over. You look confused and helpless, even if you try to hide it and it makes Ellie’s heart hurt a little. Why do you seem so scared of even talking to anyone? And why is Ellie so interested in you? She doesn’t know why she even came over here but the moment she saw you, every nerve in her brain only had one goal: to talk to you. You look at her with an unreadable look in our eyes and nervously brush your hair behind your ear.
“Uhm, M-marine Biology.” You feel heat rise to your cheeks at your stutter and hope she doesn’t notice it. She seems perceptive enough that she probably does but also tactful enough to not comment on it. Her eyebrows raise a little at your answer and you hope she doesn’t think it’s lame. You don’t know why you don’t want her to think you’re lame.
“Marine biology… That’s pretty cool.” Your heart does a little flip at the way she draws her words out and you can hear a slight accent in her voice. It sounds southern but it’s not that noticeable. “So, you like fish?”
The question is so silly that it takes you aback and you do something that you never do in front of other people; you giggle. You hope it doesn’t sound stupid to her because it certainly does to you and you quickly bite your lip to stop yourself. You look at her again and now have a small smile on your lips that seems to make her smile in return. She’s so incredibly attractive, the way she sits with her knees drawn up and her hair tied back and her eyes looking at you in a certain way that you can’t describe.
“Yeah, I guess I do. What’s your major?” You mentally give yourself a pat on the back for your progress on socializing but talking to someone like this is still unknown territory for you. You’re still incredibly nervous next to her and hope you don’t say something stupid.
“Fine arts. Was always interested in it, I draw a lot and I guess I’m pretty good at it… or something.” The way Ellie bashfully scratches the back of her head and blushes at the last part makes your chest feel warm, for whatever reason. She seems like an artistic kind of person, the tattoos on her arms catching your attention and wondering if she drew them herself. She must be talented, you think to yourself. How couldn’t she be with hands like hers.
You are distracted by the sound of her name being called and look towards a girl with dark hair and sharp, memorable features. She’s pretty, very pretty and looks at Ellie impatiently. You wonder if that’s her girlfriend, certain of Ellie being gay with the way she carries herself and… sits. And wears converse. Your heart hurts at that thought and you feel incredibly stupid for it. Ellie sighs next to you and gets up, looking back down at you with an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry, I promised my friend Dina to drive her downtown. But… Maybe you would like to see my drawings? Or just, hang out. We’re neighbors after all.” You can’t pretend that hearing her call the girl her friend doesn’t make you relieved and the small smile is on your face again as you feel better at the revelation. You don’t know if you should let news like this affect you the way they do but how could you not cling onto every detail when someone talks to you like a friend… for maybe the first time since you were a child. You nod as you stare and memorize her face, her pretty freckles captivating you.
“Yeah, I would like that.” Your voice is soft as you speak and you play with your fingers to distract yourself, swallowing as you see the way she stares down at you. Her hand reaches towards you and gently, so softly, she brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. Her finger brushes over your cheek so delicately that your stomach twists at the touch and you genuinely don’t know how to keep yourself sane. Your lashes flutter softly at her touch but your eyes remain locked on hers, desperate to hear her say something else or let her touch your however she wants to.
“I’ll see you then.” Ellie pulls her finger away gently and turns around, walking towards her friend. You watch as Ellie moves further and further away from your point of view until she is not even visible but you have barely come back to your senses by then. You exhale the breath you held in and softly close your eyes, touching the cheek that she had touched so softly. The moment keeps replaying in your mind, her intense gaze not faltering for once as she looks down at you like she can do whatever she wants, like… like she owns you.
You’re embarrassed by how much you like that thought. All your life, you have been alone, your family estranged and abusive, no friends to keep you sane, your mentality and shyness not allowing you to make friends. And here comes this girl, this gorgeous, pretty, intimidating girl that just sits next to you and touches you like she’s never done anything different. She seems like the kind of person that makes you feel safe, that protects you and takes care of you. The kind of person that you belong to.
She’s a stranger. You barely know her and yet, you can’t help your thoughts. You want to belong to her.
#the last of us#ellie williams#the last of us imagine#ellie williams imagine#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams fluff#ellie x reader#ellie tlou#ellie imagine#belong to you#ellie williams x you#ellie williams x y/n#ellie williams fanfiction#dealer!ellie
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for the whole marriage thing, it would be kinda funny if you marry someone else out of spite, especially right after Miguel found out that you two were actually destined for each other.
You, out of breath and looking upset: Dude, this is gonna be a lot but, I need your help doing something to spite Miguel--
Hobie: don't even have to finish mate, you've already sold me on it
You: you and I need to get married because I wanna be my own person and rebel against Miguel because he wants US to get married but I don't want to because fuck him and fuck canon and I wanna choose my own destiny idk am I being dumb 🥺
Hobie, who Definitely Has Nothing To Gain Here Wink Wink: alright, that's what I'm talkin about, fuckin mental, let's do it 😌 fight the man ✊️
But no for real, you were actively avoiding relationships and suddenly Miguel hits you with "you and I are canon and I want to start getting to know each other better" and you're, I dunno, would "panic fucking" work. Would you be so bold. You're just trying to hook another person that YOU choose (and again Hobie would still apply here lmao) because, no, no, you can't let canon TRAP you like this!! And it would fucking suck if you had like, neutral or even negative feelings about Miguel. Shit, I've thought of, imagine being his FWB that he's actually catching feelings for but then the Miles Morales Incident happens and, you're just kind of disgusted how he acted, how he spoke to Miles, how he treated Gwen, but before you can officially tell him "hey, I want nothing to do with you anymore", that's when Miguel comes to you wanting to get more serious and he uh, does not accept you wanting to move on
I guess detouring into a different idea but imagine being kind of a FWB or fling of his that you kind of moved on from him from for whatever reason (he can have a temper, he can be too intense, you don't like when he did xyz, or maybe you're a free spirit and don't want to get serious and break things off when you feel he's too clingy) and he like. Cannot accept you've moved on. He's cockblocking you at the Spider Society bars n clubs and little holes in the wall where the adults go to drink and get together. By reputation alone, people know to avoid tou because Miguel wants you back, everyone still sees you as His Girl, like he's claimed you, but he still catches people dumb enough to get close to you (and I imagine his surveillance slips or he gets busy and you have a casual fuck under his radar and he sees hickeys or something on you later and goes ballistic)
But yeah gosh imagine like, he tells you up front you two are canon and not even 24 hours later you can notice the atmosphere has changed in the Spider Society with how people treat you in terms of respect, personal space, not being too touchy or overly familiar, but, most importantly, you just feel. Awkward. It's like everyone knows. Did they all know before you did, or did Miguel quickly spread the news around? You're not sure which of those is worse. He's wanting to get you know you more intimately, he wants to try and take you on dates, but, he sucks at it, he's been out of the game way too long and he's a stressed temperamental half-spider workaholic, so, his dates amount to, him just trying to spend time with you in different ways while trying to make awkward small talk. He takes you to dinner. He sees if there are any movies or entertainment you wanna see in the Spider Society, making awkward attempts to try and hold your hand
But also. Imagine. A version of Miguel that wants to move much faster than that. I mean, you two are going to be canon, so, you might as well get acclimated to him right away, right? He wants you to immediately spend more time with him, he starts controlling where you are and what you do so he can be spending time with you or connected to you in some way, you're living with him in his own residence now, he INSISTS you sleep in the same bed like a married couple, and while he may not immediately demand you do what married couples do, he makes it clear that he wants to eventually. God, you can barely even relax knowing he's in bed with you and he still forcibly cuddles you, getting used to feeling his body against your own (and what if he slept in the nude 😳 he provides you pj's but they're kind of small and thin and he keeps the room cold on purpose so you have to seek his warmth under the covers)
Miguel is like an established adult in his 30s or something all "we'll get to know each other and then we can start planning our wedding. We'll have dinner dates at least once a week and we'll have joint bank accounts--" meanwhile you're just sitting over here like " um 🥺 I um 🥺 have never really even dated anyone before 🥺" and suddenly this 6 ft 9 man is looking down at you realizing there's a lil bit of an age gap and definitely an experience gap and he gets to have all of your "firsts" and he's Just So Weird About It in like, kinda a fetish way. He gets to have your first kiss, your first time (maybe he even wants to wait until marriage), he gets to teach you things, like, lowkey it's kinda like a mentorship as well as a relationship, he's your teacher, your protector, your husband, your jailor
Like imagine you finally have your first baby and you're freaking out and you're so scared and worried about doing everything absolutely perfect and he's just like, so happy but also kind of romanticizing/fetishizing you being a new/first-time mom, he thinks you're so cute, so eager to do good and learn how to do the best for your baby. He teaches you all kinds of things about childcare and being pregnant since, he's already cared for his fiance before his canon event, he remembers all the things he learned to become a dad, all the things he picked up during the second go around, and now everything new he's learned just for you. I mean really if we follow the combo comic/movie canon, you're the first time he's getting a BABY baby and getting to raise it and do everything from the start, and it's his CANON baby so he knows you're both safe.
I just feel like between his literal list of trauma (beaten by abusive father who also abused his mom, he was betrayed and drugged with a highly addictive and agonizing substance to basically be enslaved, he was sabotaged and atomically spliced with a spider while trying to cure said addiction, his pregnant fiance died, his second family died as well as an entire universe) and him not really even having much of an OPTION with breaking canon at risk (which would have such a domino effect because it happening in his Nueva York would dismantle THE ENTIRE SPIDER SOCIETY, so, this is like, QUARDUPLE RISK) he would just. Like damn you don't even need to have yandere stuff in there, he HAS to make you stay with him? Obviously he eventually has no problem with it and fully enjoys the excuse if he wasn't crazy about you on sight, but like. LMAO you're just hanging around HQ with big sad eyes and people are whispering "who's that over there that Miguel is hovering over" "oh that's Miguel's wife. she's scared of him and he's way too intense" "well why doesnt she just leave him" "can't, they're canon, and even if they werent, i dont think he'd allow it. Shit just the other day she wanted to leave HQ to swing through the city and she didn't get his permission first and Miguel activated the Morales Protocol and sent us all chasing after her" "like ALL all?" "Oh yeah it was totally an 'all available units' situation, and once she saw she was being chased she started freaking out and panicking and tried to run, which pissed him off even more, and is why she's got a babysitter now" "oh wow, that's rough... so anyways do you know what they're serving in the cafeteria today?"
#miguel o'hara x reader#yandere miguel o'hara#yandere spiderverse#yandere stuff#sinprompts#woe! my constant barrage of long cringe posts be upon ye
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✨️1K Followers Celebration Day 6: Seventeen bias wrecker - Dino✨️
Affect
AN: This has been in my drafts for 600 years because those clips of him from In The Soop still haunt me. I just think it's funny that because it took me so long to get to this, we got even more shirtless Dino in the gym content recently. Clearly a sign from the universe to finish this lmao. I was going to go on a whole unhinged rant about him but, I'll spare you all. We're all going to ignore that 1. his is the longest so far and 2. I've written the most for him out of every idol, thanks.
Synopsis: You thought working out with Chan would be a fun, productive way to spend time together. However, you're sorely unprepared for just how distracting he can be.
Heads up: Lee Chan x Fem! Reader, friends to lovers of sorts, Reader going through it because of her attraction to Chan, praise kink (f. receiving), Chan being a menace, technically public sex I guess (they fuck in the gym but, no one catches them and it's not brought up as a concern), hair pulling, dirty talk, petnames used for Reader, nipple play (f. receiving), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex, Reader cries a little and creampie.
Word count: 4138
I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.
You knew you were doomed the moment you saw Chan in his workout clothing. His shirt sticking to his torso and practically acting like a second skin. You're sure if you looked hard enough, you could see the outlines of his nipples. His shorts were worse, somehow. Beckoning you to look at his toned thighs and zero in on how they hugged his ass.
Today is going to be more challenging than you anticipated.
"So, where do you want to start?" He asks, snapping you out of so blatantly ogling one of your closest friends. God, what're you thinking? You're here to spend time with him. Not think about how broad his shoulders are and just how muscular his ass would feel if you gave it a squeeze or five.
"You're the gym expert. You tell me," You pray to whichever deity is listening that Chan mistakes the delicate quality in your voice for anything other than how much just seeing him dressed like this affects you.
His laugh is boisterous and fills you with so much warmth, turning the already present butterflies in your stomach into dragons. One person shouldn't have this much power over you.
"I better not hear any complaining then," he responds with a wide smile, his eyes crinkling with mirth. Yeah, maybe being alone with the man you're borderline in love with isn't the wisest decision you've ever made, but it's too late now. You resist the scowl that wants to make itself known on your face when you invision a knowing Soonyoung in your mind. He's the one who suggested this to begin with. You're definitely going to be having some words with him the next time you see him, that evil man. He knew exactly what he was doing.
You severely underestimated how much worse this could get. You thought just seeing him in his tight-fitting gym attire was enough to fog up your brain but, that was before you heard the noises.
Lee Chan is a vocal man in all areas of life. Well, all areas of life that you've experienced him in. He's always talking, laughing, yelling at points, singing, sometimes rapping to fill the silence, and a million other things. The point being, Chan is not a quiet man. So, it shouldn't take you by surprise that he's vocal while he's working out too.
Still, the quiet grunts that fall from his lips and fill the otherwise relatively silent gym when he lifts weights causes your heart to beat wildly in your chest. The drawn-out groans when he finishes a set or stretches out his muscles might be the worst. Coupled with the way he grits his jaw and his face contorts when he's lifting, it's frankly a miracle you haven't spontaneously combusted.
However, as you stand and watch him while he illustrates how he wants you to lift these weights to your absolute horror and mortification, you realise you're getting wet. Not only that, but a barely there ache is beginning to make itself known between your thighs.
You're sure your face is radiating enough heat to power a small apartment building. You're really getting this worked up just watching him work out? What in the world is wrong with you? Are you truly this needy? You definitely need to call Soonyoung after this and yell at him until you're hoarse.
"Do you want to try now?" Chan asks you, kind eyes focused on you. You really might be the world's worst friend.
"Yeah, sure," you respond, pulling yourself together as best as you can given that you're unravelling at the seams. The weights aren't too heavy. You test them in your hold momentarily before imitating Chan's movements. There's a slight burn in your biceps but, otherwise you feel fine. It feels good, even. The slight burn fueling you.
"That's my girl,"
Oh.
Oh no.
That's all it takes for you to falter. Your mind suddenly completely forgetting the motions for the exercise you watched minutes ago.
"You were doing good just now but, try doing it this way," he says, standing up from where he'd been seated to watch you. His hands correcting your hold on the weights and the positioning of your arms. Every brush of his fingers on your skin leaves electricity in their wake. Fuck. Fuck this is bad. This is so bad.
Trying to remember how to be a normal human being, you nod at his words. Following his guidance and resuming the exercise precisely how he showed you now that your brain is semi-functional again.
"There you go. Good job," perhaps you should be a little more concerned about just how much his praise increases your pulse and worsens the way your panties are already sticking to you, but that's a thought for examining on another day. You can only handle so much right now.
"How about some pull-ups next?"
"Chan, do I strike you as the kind of person even capable of doing a single pull-up?"
"You could learn today,"
When all you respond with is a stone faced expression, he seems to get the message loud and clear, "Okay, fine. I'll do pull-ups and you do squats. How does that sound?"
"Now you're speaking my language,"
On the ever growing list of 'things you're violently unprepared for today', the next to be added is Chan just casually taking off his shirt. That stops you dead in your tracks. Your lips parting as his bare back comes into your line of sight. You thought it was broad before, but now? Seeing it completely bare? Broad feels like too simplistic of a word to describe it.
You knew, logically, that Chan was ripped. You've seen his arms, paying special attention to them more times than you care to admit. All of the guys work out regularly, and most of them mention Chan as one of the more dedicated members of the group when it came to hitting the gym.
You knew all of that, and yet, seeing the evidence a mere few metres in front of your very eyes leaves you speechless and stunned. Chan must notice your blatantly staring because he turns to look at you over his shoulder, "Is everything okay?"
You must struggle to come up with a believable response too long because he both looks and sounds panicked as he continues on, "Shit, did I make you uncomfortable? I should've asked if you were okay with me taking my shirt off. I'm sorry."
His panic must be infectious because you soon find yourself in a similar state, "No, no, Chan, it's okay. You did nothing wrong. I don't mind you being shirtless," quite the opposite actually, and that's the issue, but you decide to keep that bit to yourself.
"Are you sure? I really don't mind putting it back on if it's a problem,"
"Yes, I'm sure. It's really not a big deal,"
He looks unsure briefly but seems to accept your words. Giving you a nod before turning back to face the pull-up bar and begin his routine. You barely register the faint sting in your thighs from how deeply your nails are clawing into them. Eagle eyes drinking in as much as you can of every muscle contraction of his back. Your panties growing uncomfortably wet now as your ears are assaulted with grunts louder than the ones before.
You need to take a cold shower that lasts hours after this. At least you have a good month's worth of masturbation material now, so there's that.
Chan finishes his set far quicker than you would've liked. Sweat drenching his handsome face and droplets running down his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, his pecs until they disappear into the waistband of his shorts. Would it be so horrible to admit that you'd love to see just where those droplets wind up? That you'd happily follow their path with your tongue instead of your eyes?
"Hey, is everything okay?" Chan asks, dropkicking you out of your obscene thoughts.
"Ye-Yeah. Why do you ask?"
"It's just um you haven't really moved, and you've been kind of...staring at me?"
Oh no. Oh god, he noticed. No fucking shit he noticed you've probably been staring at him with all of the subtly of a rhino in a tea shop. Why did you have to make a day meant to be catching up with a friend so fucking weird.
"I-sorry. You're just distracting," is what comes out of your mouth in your blind panic.
"Distracting?" He asks, titling his head, "I'm distracting? Distracting how?"
By being shirtless, with all of the noises you've been making all day, by touching me, by telling me what a good job I've been doing, by just existing in the same space as me - are all of the thoughts that spring up in your mind. All the thoughts you show a great deal of restraint in not word vomiting out at him.
To your absolute mortification, an expression akin to understanding dawns on Chan's face. You've never wanted the Earth to spilt open and swallow you whole more than in this moment.
"Oh, I'm distracting huh?" Chan asks with a grin a touch too arrogant for you, taking a step towards you.
"No! It's not - I'm not - I wasn't - it wasn't like that," you stutter out, growing ever more flustered as a shirtless, sweaty Chan invades your space.
"It wasn't like what exactly?" He asks, mischief shining clear as day in his typically warm eyes.
Before you can consciously think about it, you find yourself stepping backwards. Much to the amusement of the man you're not sure if you want to kiss or throttle in front of you.
You decide to abandon the route you were on and attempt another one, "I'm sorry for staring at you."
"You don't have to apologise," Chan waves you off, "But I do want to know why you were staring,"
It's clear as day to anyone with basic critical thinking skills why you were so laser focused on his stupid back and shoulders. He just wants you to say it. You never took Chan for the humiliation type.
"You know why," you mutter, leaning against the wall that you had no idea you'd even gotten so close to. You suppose your brain is too preoccupied with trying to keep your friendship from going up into flames.
"I don't. You have to tell me," You really want to punch that shit eating grin off of his face. Your adrenaline spiking as he takes another step towards you.
"You're really annoying, you know that?"
"I've heard that once or twice over the years. Still doesn't answer my question though,"
"I think you're attractive, okay?" You finally blurt out. Looking at everything but him in the gym. Studiously focused on one of the treadmills in towards the back, over his shoulder.
"Aw, I'm flattered," he responds, so close to you now that all you'd have to do is reach out, and you'd be touching his bare chest. You have a feeling this isn't going to bode well for you.
"Whatever. You got the answer you wanted. Are you happy now?"
"You know, for being one of the smartest women I know, you're pretty dense," he responds dryly.
"What? Hey!"
"Do you really think I'd react this way to anyone saying they think I'm hot? Do I really have to spell it out for you?"
All you can do is owlishly blink at him. His words washing over you, trying your hardest to digest what he just said to you.
"I think you might have to spell it out for me, yeah," you mutter more breathlessly than you care to admit. It certainly doesn't become any easier to breathe when Chan is fully in your space, crowding you against the gym wall. His scent flooding your system, worsening the wetness between your thighs and muddling your mind even more.
"Is this okay?" He whispers, mere centimetres away from your mouth. His eyes considerably darker than they were minutes ago.
"Yes,"
"May I kiss you?"
"Yes," if anyone asks, you don't sound needy in the slightest when you reply to him.
You quickly learn that Lee Chan, as with many other facets of his life, excels in kissing you until you can think of nothing but, him. Not your mind has been anywhere else for the past few hours to begin with.
Your hands make themselves at home on his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle there as you pour what feels like centuries worth of yearning into this kiss.
"May I touch you?" He mutters against your mouth and, you wonder why he'd ever stop kissing you to ask such a stupid question.
"Yes, Chan. You can do whatever you want. I don't care," you rush out in response, dragging his mouth back to yours to feed into what is quickly becoming your newest addiction.
With your green light, his hands drift towards your oversized shirt. Smiling against your mouth when you shudder from the brief brushes of his fingertips along your abdomen while he toys with the hem of your shirt.
"I didn't think you'd be one to tease," you say.
"Have you thought about me like this often?" You really had to be so weak for such an insufferable man huh.
You choose to kiss him instead of replying, tugging on his hair in retaliation for the grin you know is on his face. Luckily for you, Chan seems to have had his fill of toying with you for now. Shoving your shirt upwards, pulling away from you briefly to tug it off of you fully.
He just stares at you. Want clear as day in his eyes as he watches your chest rise and fall and how your sports bra outlines your hardened nipples. You find yourself growing a little self-conscious under his heavy gaze. You hadn't picked your outfit with the goal of winding up like this in mind.
"You're staring," you finally find the courage to say, pushing down every instinct to cross your arms over your chest.
"Just returning the favour," he quips back, jumping back into action and acquainting himself with your throat. You can't help the moans and throaty gasps that leave your lips as his kisses and nips at your sensitive skin, exploiting every weak spot he can find. One of his hands reaching down to fondle your breast, running his thumb over your nipple through the fabric of your bra.
All you can manage to do is lean against the wall for stability. Every kiss and lick and squeeze sending lightning down your spine straight to your clit. You wouldn't be surprised if your legging were wet, too, at this point.
"You're so responsive," he whispers against your neck. Given how quietly he said it, you're not sure whether he meant to verbalise that thought or not, but you can't think to respond when he pushes your bra up.
He dots kisses along your breasts. Each press of his lips bringing him closer and closer to one of your nipples before he envelopes one into his warm mouth. He seems intent to wring every noise, every reaction out of you that he possibly can. Teasingly running his teeth along the sensitive bud, smiling when you arch into his touch. His nimble fingers find themselves at the waistband of your leggings. Slipping into them and pulling a particularly loud gasp from you when they come into contact with your more than likely ruined panties.
Your face burns when Chan's expression morphs into one of surprise, his fingers running along your panty covered slit as if to affirm to himself you're really this wet already.
"I didn't realise I had such a strong effect on you," he says against your breast, his voice gravelly, "Fuck, you're already so wet."
A strangled moan is all you can offer when he finds your swollen clit.
"Poor baby. Don't worry, I'll take care of you. Just need to get you out of these," he says, kneeling in front of you and pulling your leggings and panties down. You kick off your shoes impatiently to help ease the process, leaving you almost fully naked.
"I can't believe you're this wet when I haven't even touched you properly," he says, sounding genuinely amazed. Intense gaze focused on your swollen, slick slit. Lifting one of your legs and letting it rest over one of his shoulders.
Anticipation settles in your gut as Chan makes himself comfortable between your thighs. Your hips jolting into him when he experimentally touches you once more, completely bare this time. Your wetness generously coating his thick fingers. Your eyes flutter shut as he shifts closer, goosebumps rising all over your body when his warm breaths hit you.
His first lap of you is messy and passionate. A muffled groan is your only warning before he grips your thigh and all but shoves his face into you. One of your hands fists his hair, not sure if you want him even closer or whether you need a minute from the sensations wreaking your system.
"Ch-Chan ah god," you cry out, your hold on his hair worsening. He doesn't seem to mind all that much, however. Intently focused on grinding your pussy against tongue until you fall into pieces for him.
With his mouth latched onto your clit, he teases your entrance with two of his fingers and you feel faint. His eyes find yours momentarily, looking at you through his hair as he checks for any signs of discomfort or reservations. Watching your face while he slowly sinks his fingers into you. His cock leaking even more when your warm, wet walls squeeze his fingers for dear life. He's so fucked.
The stretch his fingers provide requires some adjusting to, and Chan catches onto that. Focusing his attention back on your clit and providing some distraction while you get used to his fingers.
The wall behind you is proving to be extremely helpful. You're sure you would've crumpled onto the floor by now with the way Chan is determined to devour you whole and his fingers curl inside of you. Embarrassment warming your face as the squelching sounds of your wetness and his fingers moving inside of you hit your ears. Those sounds are accompanied by louder moans and whimpers from you when his fingers strike gold. Finding your weak spot and going for the kill.
He exploits your weaknesses gleefully, assaulting the spot over and over again while he continues his ministrations on your clit. It's no wonder your orgasm doesn't take long to slam into you. Watery cries of his name and jumbled curses echoing throughout the empty gym. You're sure you're hurting him from how fiercely you're gripping his hair. You couldn't remember the last time you'd cum this hard. Sagging against the wall when the most intense parts of it subside.
Chan presses one last kiss to your pussy before easing his fingers out of you. Standing up on unsteady legs, cupping your jaw and slamming his mouth against yours. The taste of yourself on his tongue further fueling the fog clouding your mind. Desperate hands dragging him closer to you, revelling in his closeness and the firmness of his body against your own.
"If I knew you tasted this good, I would've offered to eat you out a long time ago," he says when you shift to litter kisses on his jaw.
"If I knew you did it so well, I would've let you," you respond with an easy smile. However, any humour in your tone dissipates when you register his cock pressing against your thigh. Scorching and heavy even through the material of his shorts. Fuck.
Your mouth finds his once more. Teeth and tongue clashing with one another as he grinds himself against you, groaning into you.
"Chan, please," you whine.
"Hmm? Please, what?" You're not sure if he's genuinely too disoriented to understand what you're asking of him or if he wants you to beg. Either way, you've long since abandoned any semblance of pride.
"Please fuck me,"
His eyes shut briefly, and you watch the way his jaw clenches, "You're going to be the death of me."
If you weren't aching and noticeably empty, you might've giggled at his words. Watching him shove his shorts and underwear down his thick, muscular thighs through lidded eyes. A fresh wave of wetness gushes out of you when his cock springs free. Of course his cock would look mouthwatering too. Of course.
"You really do like to stare, huh?" he muses, stepping closer to you. Hoisting one of your legs over his elbow.
"Sh-Shut up," you stutter, fingernails digging into his biceps as he drags his cock along your pussy. His cock glistening with your arousal in no time.
"That's not nice," he faux pouts, nudging your entrance with his tip. Your knees almost buckle underneath you. A moan bubbling out of just from him toying with you.
"Chan, please. I want it. I want you, please-"
You're promptly cut off when he pushes inside of you. If you thought the stretch provided by his fingers was overwhelming, the girth of cock brings tears to your eyes. Your strained gasps and his restrained groans intertwining.
Is it possible to cum just from being so full? Lee Chan might just help you answer that question. You're not sure you've ever felt so full and stretched out in your entire life. A few stray tears running down your face already.
"Are you okay?" He asks, looking just as wrecked and overwhelmed as you feel. He's practically vibrating from the effort not to move. His cock pulsing inside of you.
"Ye-Yeah. It doesn't hurt. You can move," you respond. It's now or never.
Chan starts off very slowly. Letting you grow accustomed to his girth with every drag of him along your walls. Muttering quiet praises into your neck about how well you're doing, how good you feel, and how you're taking him so well. His words prompting you to clench around him and gush around him.
"Chan, faster, please. You can move faster. It's okay, I can take it," you whine. You feel like you're going to lose your mind if he keeps thrusting so slowly. His consideration is sweet. Really, it is, but it's torturous too. From the way he seems to be restraining himself, you assume the feeling is mutual.
Something snaps in him then. His eyes more feral than they were moments ago as he picks up his pace considerably. The sounds of your wetness and skin slapping against skin mingling with your respective noises of pleasure.
"Taking my cock like such a good girl," he groans into your shoulder, sliding impossibly deeper into you when he angles himself a little differently than before.
Perhaps he's noticed the way his praise impacts you. His filthy mouth not stopping.
"Look, baby," he mutters lowly into your ear, "I want you to look at how well your pussy takes me,"
You can't find it in you to disobey. Chasing the high of being his good girl. So, you glance downwards. Your cheeks heating up as you watch him fuck into you and the way you're being split open by him. You never thought the sight of yourself being fucked would garner such a strong reaction from you but, you've been learning quite a bit about yourself today.
"It's hot, isn't it?" He asks, a moan falling from his lips when you tighten around him, "So hot watching me fuck this pretty pussy of yours."
You've never cum just from penetration but, Chan is proving himself to be head and shoulders above every other man you've slept with. You're completely and utterly caught off guard when you cum for a second time and, Chan seems to be too. Startled, wide eyes watching you shatter in front and around him for a second time. Ever the caring gentleman as he soothes and fucks you through it.
You're barely coherent when Chan's pitchy moans of your name register to your mind and you feel his warm, thick cum flood your awaiting pussy. His hips weakly twitching into yours with ever spurt of his cum inside of you.
Honestly, it's a wonder both of you are still standing. Barely, but you're standing. Leaning into each other and the trusty wall for support as you come back to yourselves.
"If working out with you always ends up like this, we should work out together more often," he says, kissing your neck and shoulder lazily.
You really just had to fall for one of the most eye roll inducing men you've ever met, huh.
#lee chan smut#dino smut#seventeen smut#seventeen dino smut#dino seventeen smut#chan smut#chan seventeen smut#seventeen chan smut#1k followers celebration day 6#1k followers celebration#1k followers milestone
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Hi!! Its the anon who sent in the chan car ride hard thought with the insta reel, if u remember me. But i have came to give u a new hard thought. First off, HAVE YOU SEEN THE VID OF CHAN DOING THAT LIL FINGER MOVE IN HALL OF FAME?!? i feel dizzy. 😵💫 anyways, onto my hard thought, picture this, y/n is scrolling on twt and that tweet that says imagine chan fingering you till you cry (or sum like that i hope you know what tweet im talking abt) and it has the chan vid attached to it, THEN BANGCHAN COMES INTO THE ROOM AND CATCHES Y/N AND FINGERS HEER OMGGGG (also i jus noticed that i used twt and tweet instead of X, sorry lol)
of course i remember you! hi, love! and YES, of course i saw that tweet, and i feel totally not normal about it! i would link them but i can't remember which accounts they're from sigh. also i hate calling it "x" bc cause wtf is that. LMAO
but onto this gem of a thought. honestly, he'd tease you so much if he caught you gushing over those tweets, he'd be so sweet about it though. if you don't mind i wanna add some more to this under the cut cause it just came to mind hehe (it's so long and i didn't proof read. help).
he caught you trying to finger yourself in his dorm room after spending almost hours scrolling through your timeline. you weren't really expecting to see anything interesting, but the only thing that popped up was the clips of him and that finger movement that caught your attention and immediately drove you insane. you couldn't help but keep watching the same clip over and over again in awe. it was just so attractive, especially when he made that certain expression and looked right straight at the camera, almost as if he were looking right at you.
so here you were now, desperately bucking your hips up against your hand, sticking your fingers as far inside your cunt as you could, palming your clit to gain some extra friction. you whined exasperatedly as you failed miserably yet again, not being able to get that stimulation you so desperately wanted.
chan got home a few minutes ago, so he's already been watching you, chuckling to himself softly cause you just look so cute like that—legs spread, face flushed a bright red, fucking your fingers in and out of your sopping hole. you keep going for a few more minutes, until you finally toss your head back to groan in frustration because it's just not enough.
his cock is already twitching, straining in his pants at the sight of you, so he can't help but open the door, and he finds it cute how you immediately close your legs and draw your hand back, the surprise of having been caught in the act showing on your face. he laughs softly and sits next to you on the bed. "what's wrong, love? you upset?" he asks, his tone teasing, yet sweet, and you can tell it's because he knows exactly what you were doing.
you nod and sigh, trying your best to come up with a reasonable explanation as to why you were naked on your boyfriend's bed, alone, when you knew he'd always expected you to wait for him whenever you needed to get off. "i was scrolling through twitter, and i saw these tweets about you... i got curious so i spent a while looking at them, and then..." you trail off with a gasp as he suddenly grabs your phone from where you'd put it next to you on the bed. you try to snatch it back, but he's a lot quicker than you. he scrolls a little bit, his expression serious, and then a smug smile plays at the corner of his lips as he looks at you again.
"aw baby, is this why you were so hot and bothered?" he asks, as he shows you one of the clips he was looking at, the same one from earlier, and your face turns an even darker shade of red as you nod. "that why you were using your cute little fingers, even though you know they're not good enough? you've got me right here. you could've asked me instead of just watching videos of me. i'll do whatever you want as long as i can make you feel good."
you feel like you're melting at the way condescension practically drips off his tongue, and you let him spread your legs for you again, this time using his own fingers to tease your swollen bud. he's such a dream come true. "'m sorry i couldn't wait for you," you start, but he shushes you softly. "that's okay, baby. i'm here now. i can help you," he says, and you want to thank him, but your words are cut short by the almost embarrassingly loud squeal that escapes your throat when he suddenly sticks his pointer and middle fingers in without warning, curling them just right, just like in that clip, finally giving you that pleasure you'd been chasing for hours now.
he watches you intently, from the way your back arches, to the way you clench around his fingers, but his expression stays blank. it doesn't take you that long to cum, and when you do, he doesn't stop. you look at him with furrowed brows, whining from the overstimulation, and he simply chuckles at your expression, not saying anything as he keeps torturing your walls with his fingers mercilessly. he's pushing you close to the edge all over again surprisingly quickly, and once you reach your second orgasm, you're already asking him to slow down, stop for a minute, so you can catch your breath. still, he doesn't. by the time you reach your fourth orgasm, you're already a sobbing stuttering mess as he makes you even more dumb on his fingers, begging him to stop, but that only makes him go much faster, his palm smacking your clit as he does so.
"this how needy you are for me? wanting to get yourself off without me cause of some video? you poor thing, thinking your fingers alone would satisfy you. you know you can't do it without me. guess i just have to remind you, hmm?"
#solieverse: planet anon#heavy deep breaths#when will it be my turn#skz smut#stray kids smut#bang chan smut#chan smut#stray kids hard thoughts#skz hard thoughts#skz hard hours#bang chan hard thoughts#bang chan hard hours#stray kids hard hours#bangchan smut#solieverse: planet reverie
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I really loved your hc about Sanji meeting Yassop and Usopp meeting Zeff and I start to think about like-
What about this with Zosan, Lusan and Lawsan?? This will be SO funny and perfect-
Just hear me: (and yes, this will be with our queen Trans!Fem Sanji)
Mihawk and Zoro going to a dinner with Sanji and Zeff because both want to know their child partner
Shanks going to Baratie 'cause Luffy insisted, and Sanji going too just to say a 'hello!' to her father and properly give the notice she's dating her captain (Luffy forgot to tell this to Shanks and he just discover he was knowing the father of his son's girlfriend when they already are in Baratie)
Law going because Sanji wanted him to know Zeff, and even hating to interact too much, he acepts because he knows how much this mean to her
And like, how you think they will react about the thing of Zeff eating his own FUCKING leg??
Okay, this is really funny- The chaos. Just imagine the chaos. Gonna try to put my thoughts into words (<- Literally a fucking writer. I'm just tired today don't blame me).
Please assume the OP world here is exactly the same but Mihawk and Shanks actually raised Zoro and Luffy. Somehow. Don't ask me how. They see them as their fathers. Zeff and Sanji's story is still the same because they're canonically family lmao. And also Transfem!Sanji as you said btw bc I love my princess.
─┉┈◈Zosan◈┈┉
The thing about Mihawk and Zoro going to a dinner with them is that Zoro and Sanji would try to behave but they would end up arguing in front of them anyway because that's just how they are and Mihawk and Zeff would end up talking alone about them tbh. Zeff offers Mihawk one of his best wines and Mihawk is- Well, you already know how Mihawk is. Their conversation is pretty polite but they keep drinking while the other two are in the background fighting for some meaningless bullshit like: "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GET HERE FIFTEEN MINUTES AGO, STUPID MOSSHEAD" / "OKAY SO IT'S MY FAULT THAT THE SEA IS VERY ROUGH TODAY AND THE SHIP ALMOST SINKS" / "LIAR!! I'M SURE YOU JUST GOT LOST".
And it's uhhh chaotic. But there's passion and Sanji is mad because she cares about him meeting Zeff and Zoro is frustrated but actually trying to calm down. Zeff and Mihawk are very fond of tough love and passionate couples so these two fighting just means they have strong feelings for each other. However, they end up making up and sitting down with their fathers while they tell anecdotes and try to get to know each other better. Mihawk and Zeff are intimidating af and I'm like 100% sure that Zoro would be scared of Zeff at some point bc he would look at him with that look of "If you hurt my daughter I'm killing you" and Zoro is, for once in his life, scared of a cook. Then that silly topic of "Oh, yes, I ate my own leg to save this little shit of a daughter from starving to death" comes up.
Zoro almost chokes on his food and Mihawk stares at Zeff for a while, looks down at his leg, squints his eyes at him and says: It certainly is a really admirable doing. And just out of mere curiosity, was it good-
Zeff: A little bit of seasoning and less pain would've helped
Sanji: DAD, WHAT THE FUCK
Zoro: Curly, you didn't tell me your dad was cool
Sanji: OH, YES, EXCUSE ME MOSSHEAD FOR NOT TELLING EVERYONE ABOUT MY DAD EATING HIS OWN FUCKING LEG
Mihawk: I say admirable doing because you just met her, right? I would not have done something like this for this bastard right here
Zoro: Thanks, dad
Mihawk: You're welcome I let you and Princess stay with me, don't push it
Sanji: Who's Princess?
Zoro: My sister
Sanji: YOU HAVE A SISTER?
Mihawk: Zoro, you didn't tell your girlfriend about Perona?
Zoro: I forgot
Sanji: I'm going to murder you
And basically, long story short, the night ends pretty well to Sanji's surprise. Mihawk is very nice and polite to her even if he looks pretty dark and edgy, and Sanji can't believe that man raised an idiot like her boyfriend. Then we have Zeff, who shakes Zoro's hand so hard it hurts and whispers in his ear all the atrocities he would do to him if he hurt his precious princess. Things that won't happen, of course. That's why that 'would' is there. But still, he tells him anyway. Just in case.
─┉┈◈Lusan◈┈┉
When Luffy tells Shanks to go to the Baratie together, he doesn't hesitate to say yes because who would refuse to go there? What kind of pirate would he be? Sanji is already there because she decided to go a bit earlier, so Shanks instantly assumes he's just going to have lunch with his son in a very nice place and see Zeff again after a long time. When they get to the Baratie and see that Sanji is there too, Shanks assumes Sanji just stopped by too. A coincidence. He already knows that's Zeff's daughter, btw.
But then Luffy does that thing he always does, running towards someone he loves and hugging them tightly with his legs wrapped around them. And Shanks is just like "Oh, well, that's his usual behavior and he's just greeting his cook" but then they kiss and it's uh, confusing. So Shanks asks what's going on and Sanji is all like "Please, don't tell me you didn't mention this to Shanks" and Luffy just shrugs, turns around, and says "Dad, I'm dating Sanji!" then looks at his cook again smiling and Sanji sighs: "And you obviously didn't tell him this was supposed to be a thing so our dads could talk-"
Shanks: Fuck, am I meeting your dad now? Like, actually meeting him as your boyfriend's dad? That's not- Hey, Anchor, you did not mention this.
Luffy: I'm sorry! But Zeff is reaaaaally amazing!
Shanks: I am well aware that he's amazing but you need to warn me first about this stuff.
Luffy: What? It's just dad stuff-
Shanks: I AM NOT GOOD AT DAD STUFF
Then Zeff appears and Shanks tries to act like a normal father for once (he can't. He fails. It doesn't work) and they actually end up having a pretty calm and fun dinner once he relaxes, remembering that Zeff has always been cool. Luffy is extremely clingy with Sanji, a thing that Shanks already knew but never guessed it was because of them dating. And now that he sees it from a different perspective, it is clear that they're in love, even if Sanji won't stop trying to push the kid away because he's obsessed with sitting close to her and eating food from her hands and things like that. Little shit has a more stable love life than him. That's depressing.
Their laughter and joyful voices fill the whole empty restaurant and Shanks and Zeff are already a bit drunk while Sanji is dragged by Luffy to sit on his lap. And it would be embarrassing but it's not like their dads are looking at them, too caught up in their own anecdotes and stories.
Then Shanks asks how Zeff met Sanji because he knows that's not his biological daughter. He remembers Zeff telling him about his little princess years ago when Sanji was still at the Baratie and Shanks stopped by to eat with his crew. And of course, Zeff explains what happened. Their shared dream and everything. Luffy isn't really listening because he already knows the story and is too focused on his girlfriend right now. Zeff tells them about the leg thing, and Shanks starts laughing so, so fucking loud and hysterically:
Shanks: I DID THAT TOO
Zeff: You did what, too?
Shanks: Don't you notice something missing? Perhaps on the left side of my torso? There hanging? Well- Nothing hanging, actually
Zeff: You did not-
Shanks: I did not, but I lost this useless thingy saving this bastard right here
Sanji: You said you're not good at dad stuff but that's a pretty dad thing to do, huh?
Shanks: I guess so, yeah. We have more things than I thought in common, Red Leg!
Luffy: Except for cooking. Your cooking is awful.
Shanks: My cooking is amazing, Anchor, thank you very much.
Luffy: THAT'S NOT TRUE! YOU ONLY HEATED UP WHAT MAKINO MADE FOR ME
Shanks: But I did a good job!
Anyway, they surprisingly have a very nice and warm meal together without Shanks or Luffy being as chaotic as Sanji thought they'd be. When they're heading out, Zeff just pats Luffy on the shoulder and tells him to take care of his princess and appreciate her food or else he'll make him clean the dishes again but this time for years, quite literally speaking. Shanks sees the couple holding hands when they get out of the restaurant, the redhead staying behind for a second to speak to Zeff. But Shanks is already at that point of drunkness where he starts having a breakdown and he's like "Why does my kid have a girlfriend and my husband left me?????? This is so unfair. They love each other so much, Red Leg, look at them!!!!!!!" and Zeff is like "They're young and stupid too, but they'll grow up. You still haven't. Please get out of my restaurant before you make my onions cry."
─┉┈◈Lawsan◈┈┉
Law doesn't want to meet Zeff, that much is clear. He is not good at meeting new people and even less meeting father figures because God knows he doesn't have a good memory of how his relationship with his dad ended (Rip Cora-san, we miss you). But he goes anyway because Sanji keeps insisting and saying that it's important to her, and of course, Law can't say no to her. Well, actually Sanji just tells him that if he comes with her to the Baratie, she'll wear the Soba-Mask suit (Stealth Black or whatever, Sanji refuses to say those words so-) again for him some time and Law accepts almost instantly. Fucking simp.
So they go to the Baratie and Law is dressed in a white shirt and actual, proper, and almost elegant clothes because Bepo said he needed to do it in order to give a good impression, and Law, deep down, just wants Sanji to be happy. And if getting along with her dad will do it, having to deal with this torture for a few hours is worth it.
Sanji keeps telling him not to worry about Zeff because, even if it's a big step in their relationship, her dad is just a bit scary but a good guy, after all. He will like Law once he knows how much he cares about her too! But Law isn't worried about that, he just fucking sucks at social interactions. Free the introvert from having to socialize, please, he just wants to stay with his girlfriend alone and cuddle and infodump about silly little things and comics. This is highly bad for his mental health (getting out and talking to people).
But, well, turns out Zeff is actually a great guy. Even though at first he looks at his daughter intensely and says: "Why the ex shichibukai of all people? This guy looks depressed too. Have you eaten, kid? You look like a starving man. He looks like a starving man, sweetheart. You're not dating an emo bastard who does not eat" and ends up having an argument with Sanji... He's fun to be around, once he settles for feeding Law everything he can cook. And Law isn't complaining but decides not to mention how much he hates bread because he feels that sentence will end up with him dead on the floor.
However, Sanji is the one mentioning that after a while of seeing Law forcing himself to eat bread, rolling her eyes and taking it from his hands to eat it herself. And Zeff is just like "You should've said so earlier, son! Just eat whatever you like. I feed people for them to enjoy the food, goddamnit!" and Law can only nod and keep eating.
And they actually end up getting along when they start talking more and more. Law starts actually laughing and smiling a little bit and Zeff pats him in the back from time to time whenever he mentions stuff he has done with his powers. Zeff just finds that hilarious. And Sanji is happy they're getting along, but extremely embarrassed when Zeff starts talking about her childhood (Law is enjoying every second of this). Then the topic of how Zeff met Sanji is brought up, and Sanji doesn't really want Law to hear it because she didn't tell him about the leg thing. And when he finds out, he's just...
Law: You didn't tell me your dad did that for you
Sanji: It's not something I like to explain, y'know? I kind of feel guilty to this day
Zeff: You're such a cry baby, Eggplant. I already told her countless times I chose to do that and it ended up saving us both! What's the problem?
Sanji: Shut up, old man, you don't get it!
Law: I do get it. The- Uh- Feeling guilty about your dad sacrificing himself. Without Cora-san... I wouldn't be here.
Zeff: Well, kid, I don't know what your father did, but be grateful instead of feeling guilty. I'm sure he's a nice man if he raised somebody who loves my girl this much.
Law: He was a good man, yes. The best. And- I- I do love her. A lot.
Sanji has a moment where she almost cries, but she doesn't!! (She does. She goes to the bathroom and cries).
When they have to go back to the ship, Zeff stops Law and says:
Zeff: You might need to eat more, that much is clear, kid. But you take care of her and that's good enough for me.
Law: Thank yo-
Zeff: But you also strike me as someone who would die for her and even though I do appreciate the effort because I would do the same, don't die on her, got it? And eat more. Eat what she makes, actually. And you also should check if you're celiac.
Law: I'm a doctor. I know I'm not-
Zeff: Then stop bitching around and eat bread like a man, for fuck's sake.
And, you know, Zeff might be a bit intimidating but he is, after all, a good man just like Cora was.
#this was really fun to write#they all love sanji#i love sanji too#and also they're so iwenfjksndf#the lawsan one ended up being kind of sad#but y'know the other two are funny#one piece#black leg sanji#roronoa zoro#monkey d luffy#trafalgar d water law#red haired shanks#dracule mihawk#red leg zeff#zosan#lusan#lawsan#that lil bit hint of shuggy bc i can't control myself
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Hola Ro 🥰
This is gonna be a mouthful but...
Thinking about Human! College au! Dorm neighbor! Beel and Belphie gets like 5 seconds of this lmao
Oc he's still a big eater but imma tone it*way* down cuz he human.
This bitch is the best cook in the entire dormitory. Like there is no broke college boy here because in addition to his job he sells lunch/dinner plates. They're reasonably priced but he sells so many that his profits are pilin' up Belphie has to help pack and deliver the trays.
Just imagine you move into your new dorm and before you even unpack your first item, there's a soft knock on the door. You open it up and you're honestly surprised at how far back you have to tilt your head to see the smiling face of this ginger. You studder a bit as you greet him and he smiles back warmly. "Hey! I'm Beelzebub, but you can call me Beel. I'm a Junior here" He smiles lifting up a tray "Brought over some lasagna, thought you might enjoy it" Oh! So that's what that gigantic tray he's holding has in it! Accepting the tray with a little smile you swear it weighs like 5 pounds. "Thanks... Uh, Would you like to join me? I couldn't possibly eat this much lasagna alone" He tilts his head slightly "You don't have a dormmate?" You shake you're head in response and Beel frowns a little bit. "I bet that's pretty lonely." He shakes his head and then smiles brightly again. "Well feel free to come by our dorm any time. I'll introduce you to my roommate tomorrow"
Beel comes in and the two of you eat lasagna together on your futon with box tables like a scene from a movie and you're taken aback by how much he eats. The tray of lasagna is finished in just under half an hour and you converse for a bit, complimenting him on his culinary skills and talking about classes and schedules. Eventually, he heads back to his dorm because whatever he was cooking in the pressure cooker is done and he needs to go pack meal trays. You offer to help as a thank you for the lasagna and he accepts joking about Belphie needing his beauty sleep anyways.
This becomes a regular thing for the two of you and Belphie is honestly grateful that his naps no longer need to be cut short. And surprisingly Beel's sales go up because you bring the flavors of your culture to the little business. Eventually it grows so much that Beel can quit his job and expenses are still fully covered.
Cutting to the list part of the hcs lmao
𓆦 Beel who finds himself a bit flustered as mix and chop ingredients, occasionally lifting a little spoon to his lips for him to sample the flavor. Admiring the cute satisfied face you make when tells you the flavor is perfect.
𓆦 Beel who eventually gets bold enough to lick a little bit of batter of your cheek, chuckling as your cheeks turn pink from his actions
𓆦 Beel who buys/makes lots of cream filled treat because he loves how a little bit always spills out of the corners of your mouth when you take too big of a bite. Imagining is his cum spilling out of your mouth instead of just the cream of a pastry
𓆦 Beel who jerks off in his room at 1 in the morning because he can't stop thinking about how your small hands were wrapped around the piping bag as the two of you iced mini cakes together. Wondering what it would be like for them to be wrapped around his cock instead. Belphie eventually knocking on his room door, telling him to be quite because the walls are thin and you can probably hear him from inside your dorm.
𓆦 Belphie who visits you in your dorm asking you to please just fuck Beel already because he has to deal with Beel's horny ass all day, every day.
𓆦 Beel who takes you on a proper date before he even tries to make a move on you because he wants to be a gentleman
My fingers are dead from typing this (´༎ຶ ͜ʖ ༎ຶ `)♡
~🍒
Nsfw content MDNI
🍒!!!!!! I have no words oh fuckkkkk-
𓆦 Very silly first thing but Beel who has a poster of Garfield eating lasagna in his kitchen :))
𓆦 Beel who during your date (if you went out for a change) sends a quick texts to Belphie telling him to get out so he can get laid-
𓆦 Beel who is the perfect gentleman throughout your whole date!!! Even asking before he kisses you because he doesn’t want to move too fast…
𓆦 Beel who can’t and won’t stop kissing you after that. The sweet softness fades away into hungry, biting kisses, as he nips at you bottom lip hoping to slip his tongue into your mouth. Only ever braking the kiss long enough to mumble about how good you taste~
𓆦 Beel who tries so hard not to just rail you into next week- he really wants to be gentle and slow…make it feel special for your first time with him…but when you whine and moan like that he can’t help it. Folding you practically in half on the bed and just stuffing you full~
𓆦 Beel who can’t stop telling you how well you’re taking him, how good you feel around his cock…how it’s so much better then he’s imagined and oh fuck- don’t squeeze him like that….he doesn’t want to cum too soon!-
𓆦 Beel who covers your tummy in his cum cuz he’s worried about cumming inside on ‘the first date’ :((
𓆦 Beel who still, after all that, wants to eat you out and have you cum on his tongue…..please? He knows you’re sensitive but it’ll feel good!! He promises!! He would have done it first but he couldn’t wait to feel you around his cock-
𓆦 Beel who carries you into the bathroom to wash the cum off, before taking you back to bed (dressed only in one of his huge t-shirts)
𓃾 Belphie who sneaks in as quietly as he can’t at like 3am….but can’t help peaking into Beel’s room. Seeing your body wrapped around Beel’s, “Good date?” both you and Beel open one eye and whisper back in unison, “Great date..”
#🍒 anon!#…….I have nothing to say for myself……oddly enough I wasn’t in the mood to write today….idk what happened 🧍🏼♀️#obey me!#obey me#om!#obmswd#obey me beel x reader#obey me beel x chubby reader#obey me beel smut#obey me beel#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphie#om! smut#obmswd smut#obmswd beel x reader#obmswd beel#obmswd beel x chubby reader#obmswd belphie#om! beel#om! beelzebub#om! x reader#om! x chubby reader#obmswd x reader#obmswd x chubby reader#om! belphegor#roro writes#obey me smut
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✯Bestfriend's Brother✯
Summary: Nick has a crush on his best friend's brother and doesn’t know how to tell her.
warning: nothing really lmao
MWW1 MWW2
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Nick was down bad.
He was currently stalking a certain boy on Instagram. Who was the boy? His best friend's older brother Florence. Florence was very attractive to Nick. He was 6'3, had nice brown skin, locs, and was a drummer.
To say Nick foamed at the mouth was an understatement.
He clicks on Florence's story and sees a video of Florence sitting on the ground as Y/n retwists his locs. without thinking twice, he calls Y/n's phone.
"Hello?" Florence's deep voice rings out. Nick basically jumps out of his skin, goosebumps rising on the back of his neck. "Hey Florence is Y/n busy?" Nick manages to get out.
"Yeah she's rig- Ow! Stop yanking so hard!"
"Stop fucking moving then!" Y/n's voice is heard in the background faintly. "Yeah, her heavy-handed ass is here. She's retwisting my hair so she couldn't answer the phone. Could I take a message?"
"Just wanted to know if she could hang out is all." Mumbling is heard before Florence responds. "She said come over. She's almost done ripping out my- Y/n imma fuck you up!" Nick giggles hearing the siblings fighting. He hangs up the phone, quickly changing and catching an Uber to the house.
He arrives quickly, the home of the siblings not being too far from his own. He walks inside and follows the sound of arguing. "You're yanking on purpose!"
"No, you're just tender-headed and don't know how to sit fucking still!"
Nick opens the room door and the siblings look at him in surprise. it's almost uncanny how much the two look alike, but It makes sense with the two being twins. That's mainly how Nick and Y/n became so close, both of them relating to being a twin.
"Nick! " She shouts excitedly. She stands up, giving him a side hug before going back to doing Florence's hair. "I should finish up soon! Then we could go out or something." Nick nods and settles down on the beanbag in the corner.
The two fall into a conversation, the subjects changing quickly. as they talk, Nick can't help but to keep eyeing Florence, watching as his jaw clenches when Y/n separates the hair, or how his arms flex in his muscle tee when he hands Y/n a hair clip. The two males suddenly make eye contact and Nick freezes, does he give him a smile? Should he play it off like he was looking at something else?
Florence grunts and rolls his eyes making Nick want to curl up into a ball. Did he just make himself seem weird? Is Florence annoyed with him? Maybe he should leave and blame it on not feeling well.
"Ok!" Nick jumps and looks at Y/n who pushes Florence away from her. " You're done, now pay up!" She holds her hand out. The boy rolls his eyes, "go to my room and grab my wallet."
Y/n skips out of the room, leaving the boys alone.
"You like parties?" Florence randomly asks. Nick points to himself, "Me?" he questions. Florence chuckles and stands up, stretching his body out. Nick watches as his shirt rides up, the happy trail coming into view.
"Yes, you Nick. I wanted to know if you were up for a party this weekend."
His mouth runs dry at the question. He hates parties, but if Florence is inviting him, maybe he could go?
"I'll go... Is Y/n going?" Florence nods, taking his phone out. “Yeah,”
Nick swears he hears Florence mutter “unfortunately” but he has to be wrong. It has to be his disappointment that his best friend is tagging along that's making him hear things.
He begins to feel bad.
What’s wrong with him? Why does he want to be alone with Florence so badly?
He shakes his head, ridding those thoughts and smiles at Florence.
So here they are, at the party. Nick had lost track of Y/n a long time ago, so he stayed in the corner nursing a drink and scrolling through his phone.
"I invited you to this party to socialize Nicholas." He looks up and sees a half-lidded Florence. It's clear as day he was smoking, the weed making his eyes red. "Y/n was swapped away by a group of girls so I just stayed here." The taller of the two hums before taking Nick's hand.
"Dance with me then." Nick quickly shakes his head, going on a spiel on how he doesn't dance. "come on, you're not Corbin blue, dance with me!" He begins to drag Nick where everyone is. Florence starts moving his body to the beat of the song, trying to get Nick to do the same. Nick slowly begins to do so, his actions still shy.
The song changes to Intimidated by Kaytranada and H.E.R, and the two of them begin to get closer, Florence's hands grabbing his waist. Nick's heart begins to race and he goes to pull away, but Florence pulls him closer, "Relax, just dance with me." He whispers in Nick's ear.
Nick sucks in a breath and does as told. Their bodies move together, swaying with the beat.
Don't wanna waste the feel (feel)
Like we could make it real
Nick can't tell if he's hallucinating or not, it looks like Florence is getting closer to him.
Don't run away when you could be lovin' me
He's not hallucinating, Florence is in fact getting closer to him. He can feel his breath fanning over his face, mainly on his lips. Nick's mind begins to run a mile a minute, is Florence going to make a move on him? Is he even Florences type? Nick is so in his head, he doesn't notice Florence smiling at him.
Don't overthink when you could be lovin' me
"Nick"
He snaps out of it and looks at the taller boy, only to be pulled into a kiss. It shocks him at first, but he feels his whole world blossoming into color. The music and chatter around them now sounding muffled.
The kiss lasts for a few seconds before they pull away from each other, breathing softly.
"Y/n can't know."
That was around a month ago.
Within that month, the two males spent time fooling around behind Y/n's back. Always giving lingering looks, small touches of affection, and even makeout sessions when Y/n is sleeping.
Nick knew it was wrong to be going behind Y/n's back like this, especially because they made a deal with each other.
"No dating each other's family members."
But, he couldn't help it. He could never get Florence out of his head. He always found him attractive, from the first day he met him. He knew he had a crush on the boy, but he never wanted to break the pact he made. Unfortunately, his best friend's brother was the one for him.
Here they are today, currently making out in Florence's room. Y/n had to go get groceries, so she told Nick to just wait for her to come back. The two took the chance, both knowing how long the girl could take in getting groceries.
Little did they know, the store had nothing the girl needed.
"Hey Flo have you seen-" the two jump apart hearing the girl's voice in the room. They look to the door and see her staring with wide eyes.
"Y/n..."
She quickly walks away, Nick jumping up and following her. "Y/n wait! Let me explain!"
"How long Nick?" She turns abruptly and crosses her arms. Nick hates being on the receiving end of the dirty look she's giving. he's so used to giving the look with her to other people.
"A month..." he confesses softly.
"A MON-" she stops herself from yelling and takes a deep breath. "You have been going behind my back, making out with my brother for a month straight? Nick we made a pact!"
"I know! I know, but Y/n just hear me out!"
She shakes her head, being stubborn about the situation. "No! I don't want to hear anything! You broke a promise! How would you feel if I slept with Matt or Chris?!"
" Ok well Florence and I have never slept with eachother-GOOD-" Nick gives her a look. " -But honestly, I might be grossed out at the thought but I wouldn't be mad about it...especially if you were happy," he answers honestly. He didn't want Y/n to be mad at him, he would honestly cry if the girl suddenly decided to stop being his best friend.
She stares at Nick, still pissed off but she doesn't have her defensive stance anymore. "Why my brother? My twin!"
"I developed a small crush on him when we first met... I know you don't get it Y/n but you would know what I mean if you weren't related."
Y/n scrunches her face up at the thought, "ew no! Nick shut up that's my brother! He's not even cute! He's ugly."
Florence rounds the corner, his shirt now on much to Nick's dismay. "We are literally twins Y/n. If I'm ugly that means you're ugly."
"No you're ugly, I'm cute as fuck... And shut your mouth! At the moment I don't like you!" Florence rolls his eyes and walks over to Y/n, pulling her into a hug, "Awww come on. You can't be mad at me. I'm your favorite brother! And I really do like Nick."
"You're my only brother dumb ass-" she hugs him back, relaxing in his hold. "- And I guess this is ok... I just don't like the fact you guys hid this from me."
Nick frowns at her words, " I know and I'm sorry... I love you." She smiles at Nick and pulls him into the hug. The three stand there, embracing each other with smiles on their faces.
"Alright let's lay down rules! No kissing in front of me, I might die, and no hogging Nick! He was my friend first, so you only get him on weekends and maybe when I'm sleeping!" Florence chuckles and kisses Nick's cheek.
Y/n punches Florence's arm making him wince, "What did I just say?!" She rolls her eyes and turns to Nick with a smirk on her face.
"And since you're dating my brother, that means I can stop turning Matt down!" Nick gives her a look but agrees anyway. "fine, that's only fair but the same rules apply!" He turns to Florence only to whip back to Y/n, "Wait! Matt has been flirting with you and asking you out?!"
She giggles and skips away to her room, "You two go back to making out, I'm going to text Matt and plan a date." With that her door closes and the two boys are left together.
" Want to go back to my room or should we piss her off and make out on the couch?" Nick laughs and pulls Florence towards the couch.
"This is payback for her not telling me about Matt."
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3RD FIC FOR MUWAP WEEK. i love this sm yall dont get it!!! I hope y'all don't mind that I made y'all nick's best friend and gave the love interest a name, I just really wanted to use the name! Also, I lowkey see Florence to be lukka sabbat but that's just me, imagine florence however yall want!!!
TMRWS FIC....
✯Malevolent✯
TAGLIST🍑
@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush
@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision
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#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo smut#smut#matthew sturniolo#matthew sturniolo smut#christopher sturniolo smut#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#chris girl#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matt girl#muwapweek🍑#nick sturniolo fluff
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better late than never | lando norris, pierre gasly
pairing: lando norris x reader, pierre gasly x reader
part 3 to better left unsaid (the better series)
the first race weekend after the break is filled with drama, tension and words that you all wished could be taken back, and you're not even referring to what happened on the track
word count: 5.1k
tags: angst lmao also more social media stuff
“What if you just quit your job?” Pierre asked. You told yourself he was only joking, but when you glanced away from the computer screen to look at your propped up phone and his charming eyes on facetime, you knew he wasn’t joking.
“I’m not throwing away six years of post secondary education and thousands of dollars of tuition because you’re batting your pretty little eyes at me,” you looked back at the computer screen that held the blueprints for an upcoming gallery exhibit. As an assistant curator at an art gallery, you had a lot on your plate and you had a dozen things to catch up on before your next trip out of the city.
“You think my eyes are pretty?”
Of course that was the only part he heard.
“Pierre I can't-” you cut yourself off when someone in the background called Pierre’s name. It took a second but you recognized the female voice as one of the student engineers at Alpine. You waited until Pierre and her finished their quick conversation and he turned back to you.
Pierre smirked at how your expression dropped. Even when you forced yourself to focus on your computer screen, those forehead lines could be spotted through the bad quality facetime call.
“Ma chérie, don’t tell me you’re jealous because I’m talking to another girl,” Pierre laughed. You had half a mind to hang up on him.
If you were being honest, the female voice did speed up your heart rate a bit until you figured out who it was. Pierre was somewhere in a hotel, you weren’t sure where because his face took up most of the screen, but you knew he wasn’t alone.
And you didn’t have a right to be jealous either. You and Pierre still weren’t an item, despite what the rumour mill was saying.
You just talked everyday and he sent you flowers to your place of work and he bought your next plane ticket for you to watch the race and you were constantly thinking about how nice it would be to wake up beside him.
For fuck sakes, you liked him.
A lot.
In a matter of weeks you had fallen for him. And he hadn’t even kissed you yet. There were a few times when it came close, but the moment was never right. You weren’t going to rush into anything either, especially not with Lando being an ever lingering thought in the back of your mind that you couldn’t seem to get rid of.
“I’m not the jealous type,” you told him. Lies. You liked when his eyes were on you and only you. You liked how he had treated you during the break. You couldn’t get enough of it.
Pierre didn’t seem to believe you, but he changed the topic regardless, “Did you watch qualifying today?”
“P7 baby,” you grinned, hitting send on the last email before calling it a night. “Alpine’s kicking ass in the midfield.”
“So you’ll be watching the race tomorrow?”
“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good,” Pierre liked knowing you’d be rooting for him. “I wish you were here now, though.”
With yours and Pierre’s relationship, or whatever you wanted to call it, starting at the beginning of the summer break, you had yet to accompany him during a race weekend.
That would change next weekend. You were set to attend the Monza Grand Prix.
And for the first time, you wouldn’t be hanging out in the McLaren garage. Pierre had to pull some strings to ensure you’d be allowed access, but once he made it clear that you didn’t have any affiliation to the papaya team, he sent you the paddock pass and flight information.
Pierre really wanted you with him that weekend. He had won in Monza before, he considered it one of his lucky tracks. Plus Italy was like a second home to him, he wanted everything to be perfect and your presence was a crucial part of that.
You weren’t sure if you were ready for the fans to share their opinions online. Lando had a huge following, and because of that, most of his fans knew who you were. You could only imagine what people would be saying when you were spotted in the Alpine garage for a change.
It shouldn’t have bothered you, but you weren’t as strong as you wanted to be.
“Chérie,” Pierre’s voice had the ability to calm your nerves, even if it was just temporary. “If you’re having second thoughts about Monza, please let me know.”
It was insane how well he knew you. In a few short weeks, Pierre was able to recognize even the slightest change in your mannerisms when something was bothering you. He was observant and it showed.
“No,” you assured him, or maybe you were assuring yourself. “No, I want to be there with you.”
He believed you, why wouldn’t he? These last few weeks with him were otherworldly to say the least. You wanted to keep this going for as long as possible. Pierre left you feeling hopeful and optimistic and after the fallout with Lando, you needed that.
Pierre couldn’t replace Lando, not like you wanted him to, but you knew you had room in your heart for that French driver.
And you were going to see things through.
———————
pre-race press conference
The pizza had just been delivered. You poured yourself a rum and coke. You had on booty shorts and one of Pierre’s Alpine jumpers and you were ready to watch the race.
What you weren’t ready for, was a knock at your door.
“Who the fuck…” It was a Sunday, you weren’t expecting anyone. You put your drink down and headed over to the front door. You rented the bottom half of a house, it wasn’t ideal but the private entryway was nice.
You pulled the door open and was quite literally taken aback to see Max standing there. A case of beer in his hands as he sported a Quadrant sweater.
“Hi,” you said, hearing Will Buxton's voice coming from your speakers. It was only a few minutes until lights out.
“Want some company?” Max asked.
You missed him, there was no doubt about that. He had been so intertwined with Lando’s life these last few weeks that you genuinely thought he forgot about you after your phone call. You didn’t even see him in Monaco until you stopped by Lando’s place.
You weren’t going to question why he was in London. He, like you, was always flying back and forth. At least he had the decency to reach out this time.
“Always,” you stepped aside, making room for him to come in.
Max didn’t comment on your apparel. He also didn’t comment on the state of your place which was always in slight ruins. You had been travelling so much and when you were in the city, most of your time was spent at work and you just could not be arsed to hang your jackets up when you got home, or put your shoes away properly.
It was a little awkward when Max sat down. Not because he wasn’t comfortable in your home, he had been there dozens upon dozens of times before. But because you hadn’t spoken in weeks.
And now here he was with a case of beer acting as an olive branch. You were both hoping it would work, honestly. You didn’t want to have to rely on Lando to be the glue in your friendship. He didn’t own Max.
“How’s Pierre?” Max asked, eyes glued to the screen.
You laughed, reaching for a slice of pizza and sliding the box across the coffee table for him to grab one. “We’re not dating, Max.”
“Kind of seems like it,” Max chuckled as well. You shot him a look, one that basically said shut up and he held his hand up in defence. “I’m just saying, Y/N, he seems to make you happy. It’s not a bad thing. You deserve to be happy.”
“Thanks,” you smiled as he opened up one of the cans he brought but the second it started foaming over the sides, he jumped up in a panic. You covered your mouth with your hand to keep from laughing at his mess and he just stared at you with wide eyes.
“For Christ sakes women, get a towel!” He tried to drink what he could but excess liquid was streaming down his chin.
You held your hand out towards the screen, “The race is about to start! I’m not cleaning up your mess!”
“I’m using the pillow as a towel then,” Max scoffed, wiping his hand on his jeans and grabbing one of the round pillows from the other couch. He did what he could to clean up the spill with the pillow, but your attention was on the screen. You could help him later.
The second the five lights went out, the drivers were off. You held your breath as the twenty cars fought to be the first to make it to that first corner, but all in all it was a pretty clean start. Pierre gained a place. Lando lost one. They were currently P6 and P5.
Why were you even watching the McLaren?
Don’t kid yourself, you still cared.
You cleared your throat, “How’s Lando?”
Max seemed surprised that you asked. So much so that he paused to make sure he actually heard you correctly, “Yeah he’s good.”
“Is he?” The question slipped out. It wasn’t that you didn’t believe Max was telling the truth but you just knew there was more to it. Lando was never just good. And especially after your last conversation…part of you knew he was struggling as much as you were, even if he wouldn’t admit it.
‘See you around then, maybe.’ He said. He could have just said goodbye. He could have just stayed quiet.
Max sighed. It wasn’t a good sigh, but he kept his eyes on the race. Probably for the better. If you saw the hurt he was feeling for his friend, it would have broken you.
“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” Max asked. The air in the room suddenly felt heavy. You weren’t hot a minute ago but your mouth was dry now and your hands were clamming up. “He’s been better, that’s for damn sure. I know he regrets what he said to you and I also know he hates seeing you with Gasly. He nearly breaks his phone every time a photo of you two pops up.”
“So why hasn’t he reached out?” You weren’t under the impression Lando regretted anything. He might have missed you, but he seemed to stick by his words, as did you.
Max turned it around on you, “Why haven’t you reached out?”
“It’s not on me to fix anything.” your voice trembled. Focus on the race. Pierre was doing good. He defended one of the Aston Martin’s seamlessly. He was catching up to Lando. “Plus I-”
Nope, you didn’t need to say it. You shook your head, shoving the last bit of crust into your mouth.
“You still love him?”
And then you were choking on said crust. Max swore under his breath and grabbed your drink for you, encouraging you to take a sip and clear your airways. Water would have been better but maybe chugging the rum and coke would make this conversation a little easier.
You dabbed the corner of your eye, “No Max I don’t,” you inhaled a heavy breath, “I mean, it’s hard to say, okay? Part of me will always love Lando, but I need it to be a different type of love. I need to be content with knowing that him and I will never happen, that we were never supposed to happen. I want to be able to look at him and be his friend but not have it hurt and I just- I don’t know how I’ll ever get to that point.”
Max nodded. You could tell he was trying to understand but you were feeling way too many emotions at once and spilling that beer on his Quadrant hoodie was probably the most traumatic thing he’s had to deal with in the last month.
“So do you want him to reach out or not?” Max asked after a few minutes.
You slumped further into the corner of the couch, “I really don’t know.”
The two of you could have dived deeper into this topic. There was no one better to bounce your thoughts off of than Max. He knew you, he knew Lando. He wouldn’t purposely steer you in the wrong direction and secretly, he was rooting for the two of you to make up.
But the race suddenly got interesting.
You both saw it. Your eyes were glued to the tv throughout your conversation and while the multitasking had worked, now the only thing that mattered were the drivers.
It was only lap 10 of 72, but Lando braked early going into turn 13. Too early, like he knew Pierre’s Alpine was within DRS range behind him and wanted to purposely fuck with him before the start/finish straight.
Pierre usually had better reflexes. But Lando shouldn’t have braked when he did.
The front wing jammed into the back of the McLaren, sending both cars off the track. Lando’s tyres locked up and he spun out but Pierre went directly into the barrier. The cars behind them managed to avoid it, but there was no salvaging the damage on either car. Pierre would have to retire and the hit from the Alpine caused a sudden hydraulics issue in the McLaren.
They were lucky, honestly, it could have been a lot worse.
But you didn’t give a shit about the cars. You were watching the drama unfold on screen as a red flag was announced to pull both cars off the track.
Pierre climbed out of the car first. A marshall tried to usher him towards one of the exit holes in the gate, but he turned his attention to Lando who was also being escorted by a marshall.
Pierre pointed his finger at Lando. The cameras couldn’t pick up what they were saying but you knew it wasn’t friendly. Not by the way the marshall had now positioned himself in between the two drivers.
“He did it on purpose,” Max voiced what everyone and their dog was thinking.
“He wouldn’t,” you wanted to believe that Lando just made a mistake. “No, he wouldn’t sacrifice a race like this. Not to be petty.”
Max could argue that in a second. He had seen first hand how livid and unbearable Lando had become recently. He wouldn’t put it past his friend to pull a dirty move like this.
The camera followed the drivers getting into the separate golf carts as they were driven back to the pit lane. From body language alone you could tell how frustrated Pierre was. This wasn’t his own error that caused him to retire, it was all on Lando. There was no doubt about it.
Somewhere along the lines you had reached across the couch to grab Max’s arm. The anticipation killed both of you as you watched in silence. You didn’t know if one of the drivers would approach the other in the pit lane but you were praying they would stay in their own garages.
“I told you,” Max whispered. “Lando hates that you’re with Pierre.”
“Lando’s an idiot for screwing up his own race because of some childish jealousy,” you said through clenched teeth.
The screen was only showing Pierre now as he pulled his helmet off to speak to his engineers in the garage. His usually charismatic and inviting features were cold and hardened as he vented for anyone to hear. You wished the camera was able to pick up on what he was saying but it was for the better that it couldn’t.
He wasn’t injured, thank god. That was always a fear you had when you watched collisions. But now there was a new fear.
The media was going to have a field day over this. And because you weren’t necessarily private about hanging out with Pierre after having such a public friendship with Lando, you knew that one way or another, you’d be dragged into this.
“I have to call him,” you said, more to yourself than to Max, but he nodded in encouragement. “Before this blows up, I have to talk to him.”
"Him, who?" Max asked, wanting clarification. There were two drivers involved in that accident. Two drivers that had taken up two very different spots in your heart.
You grabbed your phone from the coffee table and your mind turned on autopilot, calling the one driver that you knew you had to speak to first.
“Don’t say anything,” Amelia, Lando’s PR assistant, instructed. “Not to the media, not online, no public statements until we sort this out, do you understand?”
Lando nodded and Amelia waited until she got verbal confirmation that he wouldn’t turn this into a bigger mess before leaving the drivers room.
“Yes, don’t worry,” he huffed out. “Lips are sealed.”
“God you make my life difficult,” Amelia pulled out her phone and walked back into the motorhome, shutting his door with more force than necessary.
Lando changed out of his fireproofs, knowing he wouldn’t need them to watch the rest of the race. He slid on a McLaren polo t and a pair of black joggers. He combed his fingers through his hair and grabbed his phone off the table. He didn’t usually look at his phone much during race days, but he was dying to know what people were saying, what sort of assumptions were being thrown around.
He had just opened twitter when your name showed up on his phone screen. The image being one of the two of you a few years back. He remembered setting it as your contact photo even though you hated how your side profile looked.
Lando wasn’t sure if this was a mistake or not. He had retired early from races before and if you weren’t watching in the paddock, you wouldn’t call him until the race completed, giving him the time he always needed to cool off or collect himself.
But you were calling him now.
Lando slid his finger across the screen and brought the phone up to his ear. He didn’t even get a word in, not like he would act as this was a normal conversation anyway. You were calling because Pierre was involved. Hell you probably already called him first and talking to Lando was just additional damage control.
“What the fuck, Lando?”
He missed your voice. He didn’t miss you scolding him.
“Y/N I-”
“Tell me it wasn’t on purpose,” you demanded. He could hear it in your voice, the shakiness of your breath, the false confidence. You were mad at him, but up until recently, you were never one to paint him as the bad guy so this was completely new territory for you.
Lando sat down on the edge of the couch, foot tapping against the floor, “I didn’t intend to ruin both our races.”
That wasn’t the answer you were looking for and all you could do was sigh in defeat.
But that single breath into the receiver made Lando regret every single wrong action he had ever done. It didn’t matter that you weren’t in the same room, that one goddamn breath ringing in his ear had a way of hitting Lando the way no words ever could.
It reminded him of when you two were twelve and you spent a week at his place with his family and he yelled at you when you tried on one of his karting helmets. You didn’t mean anything by it, you just wanted to see if it fit. Lando yanked it off your head and lost it on you, telling you to never touch it again.
Your eyes welled up immediately. You didn’t even apologise, you couldn’t. You just inhaled and exhaled the heaviest breath your twelve year old lungs could handle and Lando knew he crossed a line more than you had. You shouldn’t have touched his helmet but he shouldn’t have raised his voice. He spent the rest of the day making sure you didn’t hold it against him. He didn’t want to hurt your feelings, he never wanted to hurt your feelings.
And in these last few weeks, that’s all he’s done.
Pulling that one reckless move on the track didn’t just risk hurting Pierre. Lando knew how much Pierre meant to you, for some fucking reason, and he knew that you’d be watching. He knew that move would hurt you.
“You braked early on purpose,” it wasn’t a question. Your assumptions were correct. You just needed to hear it.
“I wanted to get him off my tail,” Lando tried to defend his choices but he didn’t sound the least bit convincing. But that’s what he did when he felt as though he was backed into a corner, even if he was in the wrong, he always tried to talk himself out of whatever mess he made. “Gasly’s reaction times are off the charts, Y/N I just thought I’d mess him up a little. I didn’t think he'd crash into me.”
“God you are so full of yourself,” you spat out. “Lando, we haven't talked in weeks. I’ve been happy hanging out with Pierre, I’ve left you alone like you wanted and you go and pull this shit?”
Lando instantly became defensive, he had to. “Oh I’m full of myself? Why are you assuming this had anything to do with you?”
“I- because-” you stammered. “Lando, come on. You and Pierre have never had issues on track before.”
“He’s been getting on my nerves lately.”
“Since when do you bring your outside problems into the car with you?” You asked.
“He’s been getting on my nerves all weekend, Y/N,” Lando clarified. Why did he feel the need to explain himself?
Maybe because this was the longest you had spoken in weeks and even if you were arguing, he’d rather keep you on the phone and listen to you snap at him than hang up and not know when he’d hear from you next.
You paused, “What do you mean?”
“He’s been dragging my name through the mud since the press conference, did you not watch it?”
You had been at work during the press conferences, plus they weren’t always entertaining so no, you had missed it.
“Subtle jabs here and there,” Lando went on further. “He thinks because you’re his now-”
“I’m not his,” you were quick to interject. You weren’t some piece of property that the guys would fight over. You were a goddamn human being and you didn’t ask for this mess. “I also was never yours.”
That shut Lando up. It was a harsh slap to the face. The painful reality he had to accept but didn’t want to because you should have been his.
He should have worked harder to keep you in his life.
He should have realised how important you were to him before letting you slip through his fingers.
It shouldn’t have taken him seeing you with Pierre to know that he needed you.
“I know,” Lando couldn’t argue with you. You were never his. “I didn’t mean it like-” God this was harder than it should have been. “It’s just- you care about Pierre now, is all.”
You hesitated. Lando wouldn’t have been surprised if you hung up. This conversation didn’t seem to be going anywhere.
And then your voice dropped to a whisper, like you were even debating letting the next words out of your mouth, knowing they would only add fuel to this fire.
“That doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you.”
Lando froze. Quite literally. His legs went numb, thank god he was sitting down. He counted each individual breath you took and he was asking himself why you weren’t there with him, to say this in person. He could only imagine what you were like right now.
He had no idea that you were curled up on the couch, fingers trembling as you held the phone to your ear. He had no clue that Max was staring at you, mouth agape as you said the words that could have single handedly fixed what went wrong. Lando didn’t know that you called him first and that Pierre would just have to wait to hear your voice.
You continued, “Lando we both said some hurtful things, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. You’re-” you chuckled and Lando instantly felt a weight lift from his shoulders. When was the last time he heard your laugh? “It’s not easy to throw away fifteen plus years of friendship, you idiot.”
“I guess that’s true,” he agreed, a smile forming on his own lips. Things weren’t permanently broken between you. There was damage, but it wasn’t a shattered mirror. You could put the pieces back together and not have the remnants of the incident ruin your relationship moving forward.
“I think space is needed, though” you then said. Lando’s heart sank a little further into his chest. “I don’t want to be reliant on you anymore, Lando. For so long, you were all I cared about and I can’t keep living like that.”
You needed the time to get over him.
Lando understood what you were trying to say. You didn’t want to love him anymore. You wanted a clean slate of friendship, something that wouldn’t keep you up at night, haunting your thoughts with all the what-if’s.
He could wait.
He had no choice, essentially.
You weren’t ready to let him go and he was going to do whatever he could to get you back in his life. These last few weeks were hard enough with you. He didn’t want to go the next few years without you at his side.
“Y/N I-” Lando paused, taking his lower lip between his teeth. He’d been holding onto that night in the club for so long, he had to let it go. “I’m sorry.”
If he could see you right now, he’d probably laugh at the way your forehead wrinkled as your eyebrows pinched together.
“For the braking?”
“For everything I said,” he ran his fingers through his hair. It would be so much easier if you two were in the same room. “For making you feel as though I was paying for your friendship. For cancelling your flights. For being a shitty person, you didn’t deserve any of it. Especially knowing how you feel- how you felt, I mean. I made everything worse and I'm sorry.”
This time when you let out a breath into the receiver, it sounded more hopeful, if that was even possible. It sounded like the type of breath you’d take before rolling your eyes at him.
“You couldn’t have apologised the morning after?” You asked. Your tone was finally starting to lighten up. “It took you causing an accident during a race to realise you fucked things up between us?”
“I’m an idiot.”
“I know.”
You were both silent. Lando didn’t want to hang up first. He wanted to keep you on the phone for the rest of the day.
But he knew he couldn’t. His team was waiting for him in the garage. There was still a race going on. He had to sit and watch and think about his mistakes. He should probably apologise to Pierre.
“Are we okay?” Lando asked.
“We will be.”
You didn’t hesitate, but it wasn’t the answer Lando was hoping for. He had to be patient.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” he said.
You knew he meant it.
When you hung up, Max was waiting on the opposite end of the couch for an explanation. He only caught bits and pieces of what Lando said and he couldn’t piece together anything.
“He apologised,” you said.
The smile that spread across Max’s face was photo-worthy. He’d been waiting to hear that. He’d been telling Lando to say sorry since you ran out of the club with Pierre.
“Thank god!” Max fist bumped the air. “Does that mean we can finally all hang out again? I love Lando, I just can’t deal with him alone. He-”
“Woah, okay, slow down,” you felt bad, but you couldn’t let Max get ahead of himself. “I still need time. I can’t just hang out with him and pretend I never loved him, I need to be in a place where I’m content with just being his friend.”
Max’s face dropped, “How long is that going to take.”
You shrugged. You didn’t have an answer. All you knew was that things were going to be okay. You didn’t lose Lando like you thought you had. He was still there and he would continue to be there, waiting for you to return to his life when you were ready. When you could look at him and not see the face of the man you loved.
You then thought about what Lando said about Pierre’s comments during the press conference.
“Hey, what did Pierre say to the media?” You asked. “Did you watch the press conference?”
Max’s face said it all. He inhaled a sharp breath through clenched teeth and you regretted asking the question.
“It wasn’t what he said, it was how he said it,” Max clarified. “He talked about the competition between himself and Lando, but the underlying tone…you could tell it wasn’t just about the points or the driver standings. Pierre was referring to you. As if you were the prize.”
That wasn’t the least bit flattering, but you made a mental note to search up the clip after the race.
At that same moment, Pierre’s face showed up in a split screen on the tv. You couldn’t put into words how mad he was that his race was over as he sat in the garage, watching the other drivers continue on without him. You knew he had a few choice words for Lando and honestly, you couldn’t blame him.
You had to talk to Pierre, about the incident, about what Lando said, about where you two stood. But after your conversation with Lando, you decided that Pierre could wait.
You were leaving for Monza on Friday anyways, which was a good thing. You were going to need those extra days to prepare for what was to come.
part 4 here
read all parts here
#pierre gasly x y/n#pierre gasly x reader#pierre gasly x you#pierre gasly#pierre gasly fanfic#lando norris one shot#lando norris instagram edit#lando norris social media au#lando norris au#lando norris#social media au#f1 social media au#f1 requests#f1 one shot#f1#holllandtrash
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Hey slayer. I've been violently ill lately and thought it be best to turn my misery into your profit, so here's a request for you. May I request the asl trio with an s/o that one night got really really sick?? Like I'm talking throwing up in the toilet, body shaking, feeling like you're going yo die type of thing. Thanks, have a great day and I hope you drink water 👋
a/n - nooo! I’m sorry about that anon :( I hope you feel better soon :) sorry in advance but I somehow make things cracky when they’re supposed to be serious 💀
warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, vomit, comfort
- this guy hasn’t gotten sick once in his entire life, so he doesn’t know what the fuck to do when someone gets sick- (have you seen the way he tried to handle when nami got sick 😭)
- today, you already felt nauseous, sick to your stomach. The thought of eating made you want to throw yourself overboard-
- the rocking waves that shook the boat back and forth only contributed more- you weren’t even sure if this was your sickness, or sea sickness at this point
- maybe both?
- the toilet was your new bestie, the amount of times you threw up in there were countless
- chopper did his best with what meds he had- but nothing really eased the sickness. Your head just kept banging, dizzy from how many times you’ve thrown up
- your captain wasn’t sure what to do- he just kept frantically calling chopper over to see if you were ok.. He knew that maybe his funny antics weren’t going to help you right now
- “Sorry y/n… But I think this is just going to pass tomorrow, hang in there.” -chopper
- You were glad it wasn’t anything serious, but this was horrible
- Don’t you worry, Luffy stayed with you the entire night. He stole a bucket from Sanji for you to throw up in, and tried to tell you funny stories to lighten up your mood
- “Okok- ummmmm. Ok so there was this one time where grandpa kicked me down into a hole at night and-“ (Luffy was abused /with love)
- whenever you tried to sleep, he’d pat your head softly to lull you to sleep, and he tried his VERY hardest not to make any noise
- he ends up making noise but- it’s alright, you still love him (I hope)
- “Y/n! Don’t think about green! Like- don’t think about bushes and stuff! Think about uh… Meat! Wait- no. Uhm….“
- You were getting even more sick at the mention of the color green.. And meat? Luffy no.
- “NO I’M SORRY! DON’T THINK ABOUT MEAT! THINK ABOUT UH- THE SKY? THE GOING MERRY! SUNNY?”
- with him naming random stuff extremely loudly, it was able to distract you from all those gross thoughts, good save Luffy
- you made it through the night (traumatized) but alive. You were glad Luffy was there to stay with you, even though he’s not the best doctor in town lmao
- he loves you, and he’d do anything to make you feel alright :)
- he’s very experienced with almost every sickness, and he’s read about almost every kind of medical book he has in his library
- but nothing prepared him for taking care of the person he loved, because books don’t cover that :)
- you already asked Dragon if you could rest for today, and that alone made sabo so worried. You never had to miss a mission.. This must’ve been really bad
- as soon as the ship docked, sabo sprinted, and I mean SPED towards the headquarters
- my man literally knocked poor koala over on the way 😭
- when he burst through the door like a mad man, he grimaced when he saw how bad you looked
- you were still sitting by the toilet, your face turning green in close intervals
- “Oh hey sabo- how was the m-“ *throws up*
- “Y/N?! ARE YOU OK?!”
- He’s about to faint, but he managed to drag the doctor out from his office, and haul ass back to you for him to check you out
- sabo never knew he could be so tense and anxious, he found out today that he suffered from major anxiety whenever something bad happened to you 😭
- The doctor explained that it was simply a really bad stomach flu, and it would go away by either tomorrow or the next few days
- sabo was glad it wasn’t anything serious! But still, he was worried about you, I mean… You weren’t looking great-
- He tried his best, but whenever you threw up, he felt sick as well- so he comforted you while closing his eyes and covering his ears (he’s trying)
- at one point he had to run off because he threw up too 💀 probably from both feeling horrible because you were going through this. And also, he’s scared of vomit unfortunately
- just because he’s scared doesn’t mean he’s not going to stay with you 24/7! He’s sitting with you, giving you whatever you ask and need
- he tries to talk about anything except vomit and the color green lmao- but he somehow finds a way to get back to it??
- “Yeah on the mission today- we were freeing some of our comrades and one of them- his name’s Steve. He was wearing this AWFUL green shirt and I swear-!” *throws up*
- “I’M SORRY- FORGET EVERYTHING I JUST SAID PLEASE.”
- this poor man is dying, but trying 👍
- like Luffy, this guy has never been sick. EVER
- but he’s an expert at sensing whether or not you’re feeling ok- it’s kinda creepy
- it’s like he knows if a sneeze is coming, and he says bless you early 0-0
- this time, he didn’t catch it since he was off the ship, kicking marine ass on an island
- when he got back, you were- let’s just say.. You’ve been better.
- Whitebeard was worried, and Marco took a look at you right away. No one was as worried as Ace though, this poor guy was on fire, quite literally
- he kept accidentally setting things on fire around him from how worried he was!
- “Ace, don’t panic. Stay calm.” -Whitebeard
- “I AM CALM.”
- no he is not calm at all
- Marco told you that this would just have to pass normally, and he could only give you some anti-nausea meds
- when ace could finally go into your room, he was asking every single question known to man
- “Baby are you ok? You need water? Hugs? Food? A bucket? Meds? Blanket? Marco to turn into a fluffy bird and for you to hold him in your hand?”
- “…what?”
- let’s just say if you need something, he’s on it
- whenever you throw up, he’s like- cheering you on?
- “Great job! Get all that nasty stuff out! You got this!”
- I mean. It helped I guess 💀
- he’ll give you cuddles, hugs, anything to help you fall asleep and get through the night
- you finally fell asleep on him after a couple hours
- but this poor dude needed to pee so bad at around 3am. But the thought of waking you up, only for you to start throwing up again made him so sad..
- he didn’t want you to have to go through it again if you didn’t have to!
- so he sucked it up, and held it until you woke up at 7
- “Oh hey ace.. I feel a lot better now, thanks for staying.”
- “Oh my gosh that’s great! But give me like- 10 seconds I have to pee so fucking bad-!”
- my man SPED to the bathroom, leaving a literal trail of fire 💀💀💀
- he was in there for a while 😭
a/n - ace is so sweet 🥹
#one piece#one piece x reader#one piece hcs#anime hcs#luffy headcanons#monkey d luffy#one piece luffy#luffy x y/n#luffy x reader#mugiwara no luffy#monkey d. luffy#ace one piece#ace x reader#ace x y/n#ace x you#luffy x you#fire fist ace#portgas d ace#ace op#one piece ace#revolutionary sabo#sabo x y/n#sabo x reader#one piece sabo#sabo x you#sabo#sabo one piece#chief of staff sabo#sabo headcanons#sabo the revolutionary
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Hi love your fics. Would you be willing to do an angron x reader. He gets so little content
Part 2
Author's Note: You are my light, anon. Thank you for giving me the platform to go fucking apeshit about my favorite Traitor Primarch. Even if he's not a traitor (yet uwu) in this. It's not my best work, but I've been sitting on this idea for awhile now and decided to just write it before I lost it to time.
Summary: Angron takes interest in a poor young soul who's presence can soothe the nails, much to your own terror.
Relationships: Angron/Fem!Reader
Warnings: Uhhh it's fucking Angron?, It's pretty early so he's not as consumed by anger as he is later in the Crusade, Angron looks at another Primarch's serf and goes yoink I want that, He doesn't kidnap you yet but he wants to lmao, General 40kness so war death blood mentions etc etc (for those curious, this is vaguely based after canon, where it's said that the thought of Sanguinius could soothe Angron's Butcher's Nails)
Word Count: 2002
You have ten more minutes. You know once these men finish their set of training drills, you'll have to be back in the librarium. Your desk and it's piles of documents hails you like some sort of terrible beckoning call.
This has been your system for awhile now, as the frigid air blows through your clothing. The Astartes in training are entertaining during your rare moments of peace, as you lean against the railing to watch.
To think so few people will ever live to see an Astartes, and you watch them train so often. A luxury to be taken advantage of, you suppose.
You lean against the railing with more weight, your arms crossed over the ornate topping. They're so far away you can't quite tell what chapter they belong to, but you can see bits of white and red on the few men that are wearing pieces of their armor.
You wonder if they even know you're here, and if they did, if they'd even care. You're not of their chapter that much is for certain, as they lack the blue gold coloring and the stalwart regime that is signature of the Ultramarines. These warriors fight like it's a free for all, unlike the rigid one on one training the Astartes of Macragge are accustomed to.
You swear you feel the ground almost shake for a moment, but you just end up assuming that it's from the training down below. Or perhaps something elsewhere out of view. You pay it no mind, and continue enjoying your few minutes of respite.
Then there's a feeling in the pit of your stomach that makes your lips purse, looking up at the sky. You can just barely see the legions of ships moored close enough to the planet. There's always so many, even more so when a chapter returns to Terra for brief periods of time.
You hear footsteps coming from behind you; Heavy and armored. More than likely an Astartes, if you had to take a guess. It's better for your own well being if you just make yourself small and don't catch their eye, hoping they don't even notice you.
The footfall continues closer, and closer, until it sounds like they're mere centimeters from you. They must be passing by, until they suddenly stop. There's a shadow overtaking your form from behind, And when you see it's outline, you freeze.
The shadow is massive. It swallows you up and the ornate edges of the armor cue you into the fact that this isn't just anyone. Unless they are of a high enough ranking to sport such unique armor. But you're gut says that this shadow is far too large to belong to an Astartes, and every other sense in your body agrees.
It has to be a Primarch. You can see the absolutely massive shadow, the booming footsteps from earlier, and the feeling. The feeling alone makes you know well this isn't a random Astartes who's becoming oddly interested in you.
The sons of the Emperor are known to have what can only be described as an aura around them, which seems to affect anyone in there vicinity. How they react to it depends on the person, but for most, it's usually fear hidden underneath a mask of stalwart servitude.
Thickly swallowing, you glance as far to the side as you can to see if you can figure out which one it is.
You can see, gold. brushed, but faded gold armor. Beaten and worn though still containing a particular luster about it. Higher up your eyes travel, and you see a faded outline of something around the kneeplate. It looks like, spikes, or a crude representation of teeth. Up a little farther, and you see something dangling from his hip; Cleaned bleached skulls and-
Oh god. Oh god.
You feel your heart slamming against your chest. It's going to break out, you just know it and you can't do anything to stop it.
It's not as if coming face to face with any Primarch is something to be taken lightly. But this isn't The Angel or The Raven. This isn't even your own Primarch Guilliman, who you've only seen a few times in your life.
This is Primarch Angron.
You can't run from him. He'd kill you within an instant if not for the sheer disrespect of it, but for triggering something in him that makes him think you're prey. You only hope that you can hold strong enough that he doesn't hear your heartbeat, or how your trying not to shake in your boots.
Slowly you turn your head more, eyes trailing up his legplate, then his chestplate, before finally reaching his face.
The metal cords coming from his head fall over his armored shoulders almost like chunks of hair, though distinctly old and worn. The metal is rugged; Beaten and warped. Underneath some of them you can see deep red tattoos, some of which trail onto his face. They're warped and shifted by his numerous scars, scattered across his face from forehead to neck. They're all old, long healed and forever telling a story that only he knows.
His eyes bear down on you, the deep red unreadable. He isn't reacting to you at all, but that angered expression is permanently spread across his face. The deep furrow in his brow, the look in his eyes. He's like a pot constantly on the edge of boiling over and scalding everything close.
He has to be toying with you. Like a Fenrisian wolf tossing it's broken, beaten prey up in the air like a game before finally taking the final bite. Is there any other reason why someone who dances along the line between man and god would look your way? Is he just waiting to see how long until you react?
But as quickly as he arrived, he leaves. Turns on one massive armored boot and begins walking down the gilded hallway.
You only have the will to turn your head and watch him move away when he's taken more than a dozen steps away, seeing the battered gold of his armor. His thick furred cape just barely brushes the ground- the frayed edge ripped from endless wear and tear flowing behind him . You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and look back down towards the training Astartes. You peel your hands away from the railing you didn't realize you'd been holding with a death grip, palms slick with sweat.
You hoped desperately that it would be the only time you'd see the Primarch of the World Eaters. To survive once you'd already consider a miracle.
But it wasn't. Maybe the gods that are whispered about in various tomes have something planned for you. Maybe it's some sort of sick joke.
You see him once more not long later, and the exact same interaction occurs. You don't say a word, he doesn't either, and you assume you either pass some sort of trial only he knows or he just grows bored of you, and leaves.
The third time however, you dare to speak.
"Lord Primarch, do you, require something of me?"
Your voice is so soft he barely hears it, over the sound of clashing weaponry and fists on flesh. You look up at him but hesitate to look him in the eyes, but his own look traps you none the less.
You're a librarian or historitor of some sort in allegiance to the Ultramarines. He recognizes the blue and gold symboling embroidered onto your clothing from the various Astartes that traipse around with it plastered all over their armor, and their fancy, hand woven capes.
Gawdy and pointless. You'd topple over your own robes if you tried to run.
But you aren't running, aren't you?
Other serfs he passes by crumple like paper and plastic flimsies, but you're holding strong; A steel box that might be crumpling and walls concaving but still held together.
Angron looks to his left and over the railing out onto the vast open area. Khârn is out there, training Neophytes and newly blooded World Eaters. The warrior has no need for the diplomacy that you're more than likely used to from the Ultramarines, as Gorechild smashes into a thick plating of ceramite with one heavy swing. It sends the Neophyte to the ground in a split second. He looks back towards you, and notices that while your eyes glanced for a moment to follow his own, they now look back at him.
"You enjoying watching them fight." It's what he's found you doing every time he's passed you.
But it takes you a moment until you look up and see that he's staring at you, and that he wants an answer from you.
"Yes. I do."
You see his hand reach out, massive- Your eyes blink closed for just a moment in preparation for whatever he was about to inflict on you.
But instead, he grabs your jaw.
It still hurts, squishing your skin upward and forcing you to look up at him from an awkward angle, but it's far better than dying. You notice the way he stares at you.
He stares back, watching as your wide eyes dart around his face looking for answers.
Then he feels it.
He feels the stabbing, shrieking, aching pain of his nails dull ever so slightly as he watches. Glances over your soft skin. Meets your eyes. So the first time hadn't just been a trick of the light.
Your hands are frozen hovering at waist height, trying to figure out what you should do. Should you put them down, hold completely frozen until he finds or doesn't find whatever he's looking for in you? Or should you reach up and dare to touch the tarnished golden armor that has such a hold of you?
"Lord Primarch?" You mutter, hoping for an answer he doesn't seem keen on giving.
If anyone has passed by this scene they've not so much as uttered a word. None of them would, you'd have to be insane to interrupt a Primarch doings. You wonder for a moment if this scene would look comical from another's point of view.
One of your hands reaches up, shaking as you place it on the armor of his forearm. It's almost hilariously tiny- but much to your surprise the armor feels less cold that you would've thought. You place it there in the rough area of his wrist and try gently hold on and support yourself.
You're still petrified; Angron can see that emotion no matter how deep it's layered beneath other emotions on someone's face. When young men were thrown at him to die in those sandy pits, and he'd see the fear hidden underneath their anger. But as it fades and you become more confused by him than frightened, he feels yet another soothing wave go over his Butcher's Nails.
It's nowhere near enough- they still rip through his brain demanding him to kill to main to scream and bellow, but to edge that away just slightly is to give him relief he hasn't felt since before they dug this hideous tech deep into the recesses of his skull.
He doesn't know what it is about you that's doing it, but he knows he wants it. He wants you.
"Your name. What is it."
You stutter for a moment before speaking. The name is foreign; But given you more than likely hail from one of the many planets under Guilliman's rule, it makes sense.
His fingers shift over your face, and your jaw aches. He notices your hand on his arm and when he lets go, you use that same hand to rub your face.
He'll have to be careful. You're more breakable than him. But if you can dull the pain that sears through his head at every aching moment, then perhaps he'll have enough room in his head to spare the thought to be.
#i love a man that would literally just kill me. rip my head right off.#Angron x reader#primarch x reader#warhammer 40k x reader#Angron/Reader#reader insert#reader#mywriting
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 [𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬] | choi san x fem!reader
PART THREE of : have your way with words, be my people pleaser
“Be mine tonight, Y/N.”
𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: The hour is twisted. You’re not at a club, you’re not sober, but most importantly, you’re not with him. Will Seonghwa do? No, of course not.
But he leaves you no other chance.
“You’re so pathetic, it might actually be worth a try.”
𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: angst, smut
𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜: 2nd half of PART THREE
𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 13.3k
𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): drug-use, drug abuse, alcohol, mdma (ecstasy, molly), vulgar language, just a lot of vulgarities and profanity, hate-fuck?, aggressive, teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex, sex with feelings but no love, sex with no respect, cumming inside; reader cant stop thinking about san, writer is a bit stoic, seonghwa is a hot bitch, hwa and writer are liars lmao
𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: the border looks that ugly on purpose btw not that you think otherwise LMAO
on ao3, this chapter is called “insanity” and i can’t promise it will be the only seonghwa-centred part throughout the series, but do please enjoy for the filth and angst of it all hehe!! <33 if you're asking “does san even make an appearance here?” i won’t tell you :P i know it's intimidating since there's just about like 10k build-up (because i'm a bitch LMAO) so if u wanna skip just find the second border i guessssssss
also, i really recommend listening to KLOUD's ESCAPE HALLOWEEN set (it's a soundcloud link) or any other hard tekno for the whole immersive experience lmao !!! <33
and also, thank you all very much for 100 followers and over 1000 notes ! ! ! wtf it's all happening so fast i can't catch up with yall....
𝚝𝚊𝚐-𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @brown88 : @svintsandghosts: @hanniebeesworld : @downbadreading : @shingsoluvely (kissing all of yall <33)
Didn’t Seonghwa say “club” or are you being some conservative narc flaking out?
You’re standing in front of a white, slightly burnt industrial building that is barely holding on by itself, and taking into account how many people are smoking around here, the likeliness that it will catch on fire again is not too low. You can’t believe that you’re going to meet Seonghwa inside here, let alone San, let alone anyone with a healthy sense for flight or fight, but here you are, walking up to the line with confident steps.
Yes, it has made you very anxious that even the taxi-driver had no idea where he was heading. He promised to drive you back home if anything happened, so the taxi-hotline is on speed-dial— just in case— and you just thought, holy fuck, hopefully Seonghwa won't leave me alone here.
But once you’d seen the seemingly endless line of people, you knew you have arrived at the right place. Or at least something like the right place. It all seems off, this building in the middle of nowhere outside the city, but you told the driver the vague address and he found you this hidden ware- and clubhouse, both of you hesitating to confirm that this was the correct location.
Nothing here seems legal, smells legal, looks legal— oh well.
The only thing you can say with certainty is is that you are looking and smelling the best you have ever looked and smelled this entire semester, and even if you have no fucking clue who these people that are whistling at you are, you know you’ve done everything right tonight when they wave at you to join them. You just skipped a whole chunk of the line here, but nobody seems to mind it. What a democratic party, maybe it’s not all that foul play and people do appreciate good things, eh?
It’s not an exaggeration or empty self-boast: You, in your skin-tight, revealing black body-con dress, skin glowing under the harsh night-light, are absolutely ravishing. There are looks on you— uncountably many of them, and usually, you’d fold under their heavy gaze, but having taken a few shots of the cheap rum back at home, you reciprocate their curious eyes with a sleek, cheeky smile, down-right inviting them to bathe in your appearance.
While the group of people take in the presence of you, blurting out their first thoughts immediately upon thinking, your confidence only grows bigger. Thank god drunk people say the truth, because “damn, she’s hot” is the ego-boost you needed to face whatever awaits you in that cubic building.
“ARE YOU FUCKING READY?”, booms out of it and it seems like a voice sample that’s been altered that hellishly deep. The crowd outside cheers. They're not even a part of the shenanigans yet, but still, they’re screaming and already moving their body in anticipation, throwing funny looking candy (you’re very sure that’s molly) inside their mouths. They’re ready, but Y/N, are you? It is an honest question to ask yourself, and as you inhale the smell of people smoking the devil’s lettuce around you, you draw out how the night might progress for them.
You don’t know about San’s whereabouts, only that Seonghwa and him are going separately, which is a big plus if you want to fuck him today.
Uh-huh. Fuck Seonghwa. You’ve made it up in your mind because he just wouldn’t stop hinting at it in the car this morning. He is going to buy you drinks, going to show you his dancing, but most importantly, going to “make you enjoy yourself”, which of course, could just be wishful thinking from you iterating the conversation, but Seonghwa wouldn’t have bought the tickets for you for free if he wasn’t expecting some type of reward, would he?
At the minimum, the hinting painfully reminded you of the way you talked to San the very first days you first insinuated that he could stay over at your house and — oh, golly! — sleep there. Coming to think of it, your talk actually never worked, and it still ended up being San who made the first sexual move. You’re going to save Seonghwa from this embarrassment, and if not, you’re going to save yourself from your own embarrassment for if you do see San and his volleyball-“date” or whatever here.
Anyhow, at the maximum, you have a brain and are fully aware of the fact that people don’t “meet” at the club to just have a chat, whether it's him or San. People “meet” at the club to get crazy and fuck, and that’s exactly what you’re doing with Seonghwa — End of story. San is not going to write this chapter today. He won’t even end up in the epilogue, that’s how much you’re going to focus on Seonghwa. Go down. Get him on. Get on with him.
You bop your head a little bit to the deep bass that’s vibrating through the walls of the warehouse and the line is taking a painfully long time to move forward. You watch the people in your group chug down their self-mixed abominations and how they're throwing the remaining glass on the floor, whiffing their stimulants through their joints or gulping it down by tablets. Letting out a huff to exhale the sharp smell of weed, you try to become as detached as the ones around you, at the very least assimilate to their mood. You’re going to be with these people tonight, and just by putting one and one together, you get the feeling that it will be a long, ruthless evening. You can hear intoxicated screams leave the front door, the deep voice continuing to hype up their cheers.
It's all a hivemind of pure madness and … well, you're here for it, it seems like, no? Seonghwa is not going to be an exception, and you brace yourself to be meeting your date here.
Show you his dancing, he said…
You don’t know whether the DJ playing some extraordinary remixes or whatever to be deserving this much of screaming feedback, but it’s definitely music to get your mind lost to, you'll give this guy Mingi that; Splurging, ear-numbing beats and basses, inviting you to rock your body. You don’t hate the music, not at all. It just makes you question how Seonghwa was imagining to impress you. Here you are imagining body-rolls or whatnot, but this hard style techno isn't really the tune for that, is it? Okay, let's just say it's not music you'd turn on to get yourself into the mood on a Saturday night, that's what's there to it.
It’s ironical, really. Usually around this time you’d be fumbling around your phone on your couch to ask San if he’s free or not, and sometimes he is, but most of the time he’s not. Those days where he just comes over on your mark have been over long time. Now, he’ll either show up at your house unprecedented or ask you to show up at his house in an ungodly hour.
Huh, isn’t that one funny butterfly effect. You woke up early because of San's mistress and here you are, lining up to become Seonghwa's. Is this right? "I heard you were going to be at Mingi’s party. Meet me there." Even now, you’re trying to convince yourself that this contact name “volleyball” could be anyone, maybe even just a friend that is trying to link up at this not-so party-looking party. Hm, you think, would a friend text him so intimidatingly? San hates periods to end messages, it scares him. So no, not a friend. At least not a friend that knows him as much as you do. Someone he had a fight with, maybe? No, Choi San doesn’t have fights, he’s too avoidant of conflict for that. It has got to be someone that has once been close to him and a bit too close to your liking.
No, no, fuck no, let’s stop this, you murmur to yourself and wriggle down your dress so it covers your ass at least.
Fucking Seonghwa. That’s your one and only mission tonight, of course followed by having fun and getting all hell loose.
It will just be one night and it will either make you 1) want to stay with San, or 2) finally move on and agree that San is just a … friend with too many benefits. You have to convince yourself you’re not in love with San. You can’t be in love with San. Disregarding of how curious you are in meeting him here.
“Ticket,” the control-man orders around the people in front of you and you get out your phone out of your tiny bag for the ticket, when you see that Seonghwa has already messaged you.
Seonghwa (San’s roomie): I’ll be waiting at the bar for you by the way
Seonghwa (San’s roomie): You have to walk up the stairs on the left when you enter
Seonghwa (San's roomie): Excited to see you ;)
You have been guessing already that something was going to break tonight, but it might as well be those stairs Seonghwa is talking about. From the amount of people that are still waiting behind you, you hope that they’re not all trying to go the bar.
“Ticket, please,” the control-man repeats, but strangely enough, his tone is a bit friendlier to you for some reason. “Here you go,” you duplicate his kindliness and he nods, dropping his smile as soon as he moves on to the next guess. Strange.
You eye the buff guy, but the impatient crowd pushes you into the square door. In you go.
“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP!”
Harsh red lights, laser and smoke hit your senses. (Though you can only be so sure that the last part is really planned for the show-experience.)
Maybe you underestimated the capabilities of a warehouse. It’s still not what you thought of when you heard "club", but it surely still gets your club-mind going. Ignoring the grimy looking walls that seem to crumble with every beat that’s drumming inside your ears, the pungent smell of cheap-ass perfume, artificial sweeteners and alcoholic beverages strike into your nose, blurring your sight for a short moment. There are no windows in this hell-hole, but that’s the concern for another hour.
This is only the beginning. So, let’s focus.
Left, stairs, go up, there’s the bar Seonghwa was messaging you about. It surprises you that you’re not being swarmed by more people trying to get drinks, but it makes sense, since so many of them have already drunk outside or taken other substances to get themselves prepared for the night. That’s the first thing.
Second thing; suprisingly, the stairs are actually kind of durable. You can physically feel the bass run through your veins as you grab the handrail, but maybe that’s just because of the cold metal. Nothing to worry about here, you exhale and make your way up.
Lastly, and most importantly, look at you, you’re smiling. That’s the biggest, best thing. The euphoria these people are screaming out is down-right infectious, isn’t it? Their daft, hypnotic cries are calling out to you on the dance floor, but you’re going to be there sooner or later, with the man that brought you here in the first place.
“Hey, Seonghwa.”
“Hey, Y/N, you—“
He was sitting on a barstool, admiring the flashing lights all throughout the warehouse through his sunglasses, when you put your hand on his barely clothed shoulder and make him turn around.
“Holy shit, Y/N.”
You grin. Of course Seonghwa wouldn’t disappoint with his reaction. He rips the sunglasses from his face immediately, gets up from his seat and embraces you with one arm, not daring to let one eye sway away from you, his tongue pushed to the surface of his mouth, as he suppresses his gleeful grin. He looks star-struck, the supernatural-looking lights surrounding him are only emphasising this sight. Otherworldly.
“Where have you been hiding that?”, he asks, commenting on your body as respectfully as he can. You know he can’t handle a lot of alcohol, so his marvel must be double the truth, right? Seonghwa isn’t a liar.
“I’ve not been hiding anything,” you scoff and Seonghwa laughs nervously.
“Y/N, you look… absolutely fantastic.”
“You don’t look to shabby yourself, Seonghwa,” you smile and muster the charcoal-haired man from bottom to top. It’s very out-of the ordinary, but honestly, you should have expected something like this after he invited you here. It goes without saying, you could have served him the same reaction to his outfit. The man who was wearing sportswear? He’s now wearing a black, nylon, baggy pant, with a distressed knitted top that barely serves as an excuse for clothing as it is not covering any of his body parts correctly— and even if you’d already gushed about his athletic figure this morning, you have not expected to be seeing Seonghwa’s abs and breast this exposed this early tonight. There is jewellery all around his outfit, just dangling from the fabric, but also his ear and hands, spiky and shiny, almost hazardous looking.
Damn, either you haven’t seen Seonghwa enough or this dude has been hiding more from you than you could account for. He looks as fashionable as much as he looks demonic, ready to sin with you, and that is the most meaningful compliment of the night.
“Thank you, I knew you’d like it.”
“Really? Me?”, you laugh, getting your hair out of your face, tugging it behind your ear.
“You have a strange taste,” Seonghwa smirks and while you puzzle together what he means, he signs something to the bartender with his ringed fingers.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m ordering us shots. Keeping my first promise.”
“With sign-language?”
Seonghwa smirks and sits down again, you following him to the same.
"I'm a friend of Mingi's, they know me around, that's all."
"Y'all are weird."
“That’s just our ways here.”
“Your ways? You sound like some pretentious club-kid,” you nag.
“What if I am, huh? Are you gonna leave, if I was?”, Seonghwa teases and is served a tray of four shots, coloured a dangerously unnatural purple colour. He slides a 10-dollar bill onto the counter and the bar-keeper takes it with no words spoken out loud, which gives Seonghwa the time to devote all his attention to you. It’s flattering how astounded he is by you, as if he hasn’t seen you pretty ever in his life. But then again, you can only do so much styling and make-up when San calls you at 10 PM, asking you to “hurry”.
“We’ll see how the night progresses,” you smirk, and grab the first shot. Seonghwa also takes one and slightly raises the small cup.
“I won’t disappoint you.”
Sweet — the taste of the shot.
All types of fruits and harsh, cheap liquour plunge into your mouth and melt on your tongue. It’s going to make your head hurt the next day, one hundred percent, but maybe it will be Seonghwa to get you some pills to soothe the ache.
… If he wasn’t San’s god-damned roommate.
Or he could stay at your home. It’s been a while since another man than him has slept in your bed, and maybe it’s long overdue.
“Let’s hurry up, I wanna dance with you,” you gulp down the sugary liquid and Seonghwa chuckles.
“We’ve got enough time, Y/N. Let’s savour this one together.”
Sweet — The spark in his eyes, his flawless skin, perfectly plump lips— holy fucking shit. Seonghwa is fucking breathtaking.
“Y/N?”, Seonghwa asks and you see that he’s already moved on to the second shot, waiting for you to move on.
“I didn’t know you had that kind of sexy stare in you,” your alcohol blurts out for you and in the meanwhile, you grab the next shot glass.
“Sexy stare?”, Seonghwa asks and grins.
“Screw you! You know what I’m talking about,” you hiss and show him your tongue to offend him, but Seonghwa just tilts his head, raising the glass to your face.
“Loveshot?”, he asks and for a moment, you don’t know whether he’s joking or not. Maybe you’re just feeling weird because a male has said the word “love” in your proximity. (The only man in your life who's a candidate in hearing that word avoids it like a disease.)
“Only if you mean it,” you purr seductively, lick your lips, and praise to fucking god he’s taking the hint. Seonghwa leans in and crosses your arms around, the cold rim of his drink suddenly resting at your lip.
“That’s not how loveshots work,” you notify, but you still mirror him and place your glass under his lips.
“Do you care?”
“No.”
Seonghwa chuckles and with one movement of his hand, the second shot is flowing down your oesophagus. It’s cold, starkly contrasting the humid conditions in the warehouse, but it’s just enough to get your senses rolling again.
You don’t even care that you made Seonghwa miss half the drink, his alcohol tolerance will give him just the right kick from the first shot. Also he doesn’t protest at all, when you hop from your seat to finally get the evening going.
“Let’s go now!”, you order him around and he gladly obeys. “Lead the way,” he says, putting his hands on your shoulder, which he hopefully won't be able to keep there for long, as you both strut down the stairs and into the crowd.
The massive crowd is crazy, and it’s ever-growing.
“What is this place?”, you ask Seonghwa, as he’s being pushed against your back by the people on the way to the dancefloor and Seonghwa has the perfect opportunity to grab you by your hips to not lose you, but frustatingly enough, he doesn’t. His hands leave your shoulders and Seonghwa just tries to manoeuvre to you.
“I wouldn’t be able to tell you,” Seonghwa answers honestly and you look for a free place to roam and dance. People are trying to get as close to the DJ as possible, but once those are gone, there’s actually some space you can use— you just have to get there.
“You come here often?”, you ask, leaning backwards for your voice to hit his skin. You'll be hoarse by the end of the night.
“I’ve only went twice. San went to every single set of Mingi, though!”
“Really? San goes here frequently?”
“Yeah! Does that shock you?”
“Of course it does.” You stop, turn around and Seonghwa’s hands stay in place in his pants, as you talk to him. “This, all of this, doesn’t seem like San at all.”
“Hmm, I know what you’re getting at. But that’s just our boy, eh?”
You stare into his eyes and search for some type of playfulness, but Seonghwa means his words. This is where San roams— is roaming right now, maybe— and it, all of it, just fucking confuses you. This is not the "party" you would have expected to see that man in, and if that wasn't bad enough, he's apparently a regular. You hope you’re not pushing some kind of innocent image onto him, but despite the alcohol that's heating up your cheeks and making you dumber every talking second, you’re seriously puzzled. That he’s never invited you is questionable already, but is “that San for you”? You don't know.
Wiggling your hips, you try to retrace history to the very moment you had met shy little San at the seminar, up until now, where he’s grown three times his size and you feel like he's some type of fucking mystery that is impossible for you to solve. Nerd? Hopeless romantic? Hard to get? Playboy? San may act like he’s open-minded, but he’s the most secretive guy you’ve seen. Not like Seonghwa, who, mind you, is still looking at you with the most intense fuck-me eyes, that it’s actually eating you up.
“Let’s stop talking about San.”
“Why?”, Seonghwa asks, obliviously, eyes turning back to normal.
“Because it’s us here! You and I, Seonghwa and Y/N. If they drank a loveshot together, they should act like it, don't ya think, huh?” you grunt, already slurring your words. You start to move your body according to the heavy beat, tits jerking out to the front, arms waving like they have a life on their own. Seonghwa smiles and accordingly begins to step his feet where yours aren’t; your bodies are annoyingly close, but still not touching at all.
“How do you mean that, Y/N?”, he asks and you slap his revealed shoulder with the back of your hand to stop his teasing. “I thought you wanted to show me your dancing, Seonghwa!”, you whine and he laughs at your comment.
But Seonghwa doesn’t say anything after that, which gets on your nerves even more and in response, you turn your body slightly away while swaying your hips from side to side.
“You know what you said,” you hiss and he probably can’t hear you because the DJ is transitioning to a track with even more bass penetrating your ears.
You scurry your body to the beat and catch the gaze of someone in the crowd, who’s noticed you for the same reasons Seonghwa can’t keep his eyes away from you. The stranger is drilling his gaze up and down your chiselled body, licking his lips. Feeling playful, you make a suggestive expression towards him in return of the attention, winking at him. The male immediately makes his way to you.
"You do molly?”, he asks into your ear and you see that he’s got two skittles with cartoonish hearts and smileys drawn on them. That’s Adam. You never did him before, but you surely have heard of him, your friends have had him, your friends have loved him, your friends had painful break-ups with him. Merciless adam, MDMA.
You look back at Seonghwa who’s still dancing next to you, acting like he's not watching this whole situation go down, putting on his sunglasses again, and pushing it up his nose bridge. It sucks. His skin under the top is teasing you to look at it, and it feels so unusual to be longing for him, like you can't comprehend he's not... the other one.
So, though you do hesitate for a short second, you take two of the heart-painted ones and smile at the stranger, who sounds rotten from inside out, voice raspy and hoarse.
“Are you alone?”, he asks into your ear and while you think of answer, you muster Seonghwa, whose eyes you cannot track anymore, since the black cubic shades are hiding his prettiest possession. Is he still looking at you? Watching the sky? Who knows. Only he knows.
“Maybe?”, you answer and rotate your head to the stranger’s direction. You don’t care for this man, not at all, but what you do care for is Seonghwa’s reaction. Bouncing your ass up and down against the stranger's baggy jeans like the grand girl you are, he gets his hand at your waist and tries to pull you over his place, but, there he is, Seonghwa to come save the night.
“Fuck off, she's taken.”
He pushes the male away with his elbow and the grip immediately loosens up. “Hey, hey, dude, don’t hit me. Sorry, dude.” Seonghwa is visibly taller than him, and apparently that’s enough for the poor guy to get intimidated by his sunglassed face and disappear into the crowd with quick feet.
“YOU WANNA PLAY?”, the artificially deepened voice echoes through the warehouse and you stare into what you can make out from Seonghwa’s eyes with an earnest frown. You’ve felt unnecessarily angsty and frustrated the whole day since you saw that message on San’s phone, and this is the guy who’s going to hold responsibility for it, better with his whole fucking devotion now.
“What was that?”, you tease Seonghwa, who’s finally getting his hands out of his pockets and pulling you closer to him by your wrist. You can’t exactly read his expression since he’s covered his face still, but that actually makes it feel a lot better. There's something off about him, like Seonghwa is a stranger, like you’re not doing it for him, but rather… yourself. You're doing this because it makes you feel good, not the other way around. That's empowering.
“Whatever you want it to be, Y/N.”
“Stop tip-toeing around it! Are you going to fuck me or not? ‘Cause there’s more of those guys everywhere here,” your alcohol spits again and Seonghwa pants.
“Well, shit,” he laughs and finally glides into your waist with his arms. “That was direct.”
“I can flirt with you, but not under these fucking conditions,” you growl, intoxicated, recycling gritty air in your lungs, moving your sticky body to the beat and occasionally grinding against Seonghwa’s lower body with your legs from the front. "I can flirt and fuck you," he hums and frames his hands around your hips, connecting himself to you.
“Do you do molly, Seonghwa?”, you grin, the two pills waiting to be popped in inside your hand.
Seonghwa takes a look at the capsules, and you wait for his answer, as he appears to investigate them. Does he know what he's looking for? Apparently yes, as he pushes up his sunglasses and rubs the corners of his lips with two of his fingers, “Gimme.”
He picks it up from your flattened hand, and you would’ve loved to share it like a love-shot again, but before you could request it, Seonghwa has gulped it down. Not his first rodeo, you assume, and follow his suit.
Good thing that your throat hasn't dried out yet and the pill glides down your throat with your saliva. It's not going to take long until the jubilation of the alcohol you've consumed meets the ecstatic effect of molly, and you bite your lip with a grin. "Never thought I'd be doing drugs with you, Seonghwa," you purr and Seonghwa shrugs with a huff, “I thought you’d never even consider it.” Seonghwa exhales in the heat of it all, pulling you closer.
“What? Because of San?”
“Of course because of San,” Seonghwa cackles and puts his pointy chin in between the space of your collarbone and neck, so that his voice is hitting the spot of your hickey. “You know he’s here somewhere, right?”
“Yeah, but the probability that we’ll see him is like zero, so that’s not my concern.”
“You’d be concerned if he saw us, though?”, Seonghwa asks, loose-tongued, murmuring against your neck. He’s definitely fully gotten drunk, his body heavily weighing into yours, as he gets one arm up and around your head; his hand is tangled into your scalp without a caution of messing up your hairstyle. You finding out what the molly will do to him is only a matter of time.
“Are you asking if I’m committed to him?”
Seonghwa licks his lips, “accidentally” getting your skin with his tongue. It takes you aback a bit and you whine, your eyes dozing off for a short moment. You can still taste the remains of the shot at the back of your cheeks and it's the only thing you can sense correctly. Everything else is either fogged or slowly disappearing, or becoming even harsher like the red laser lights that you fear are going to pierce through you.
“No, I’m not asking whether you’re committed,” Seonghwa answers, leaning into your skin even more, “I know you guys aren’t in a relationship. Or, you know, at least he isn’t committed.”
“WANNA GET NASTY?”
It shouldn’t hurt, but it does. Even when you’re feeling very seduced because he is trying to get the same moaning reaction out of you by licking your sensitive spot and it’s working, you don’t want to be reminded that San doesn’t care for you as much as you do for him. Sure, that sounds harsh, but it’s the truth, isn’t it? You’re not the one living in the same space as San, Seonghwa is.
“Huh? Does he sleep with a lot of women?”, you ask him out of morbid curiosity, acting tough, as Seonghwa works deeper into your neck, getting the skin to soften for him.
“Do you really want to know?”
“Fuck you! Don’t protect me!”
“Ask him yourself,” he lisps, his sharp tongue grazing against your hickey, teasing your pettiness.
“I deserve to know.”
Seonghwa is the one rolling his eyes now, sighing, “You can be such an annoying brat, Y/N. How does San keep up with you?”
You try to yank your head back to show your discontent with his choice of words, but Seonghwa has you deep in his grip and puts you in place.
“You were the one who didn’t want to talk about San,” he lulls into your ear, stroking your hair to calm you down. Sure, that sounds reasonable, but still not an excuse to call you an “annoying brat”.
You take a wild guess about why Seonghwa isn’t just giving you the answer and argue, “I can still be curious, can’t I? San is not committed, you say? Why? Does he get more bitches than you?”
“He tried to get back with his ex.”
Bingo!
Wait, no. What the fuck?
“Huh, when?”, you ask, and irritatingly enough, Seonghwa has begun biting and licking into your neck at the one spot you can’t stop exhaling sweet noises for him. “Seonghwa, you better fuu-huucking answer.”
“Yesterday,” he murmurs against your skin and ding, ding, ding; things make a lot of sense now.
“No, you’re kidding,” you scoff, and push him away with all your strength. With a numbed mind, Seonghwa tumbles back and laughs, “Hey, it’s no big deal, he called you immediately after it didn’t work out.“
“Seonghwa, are you listening to yourself?”
“WANNA GET FUCKING CRAZY?”
“I’m saying it all like it happened, Y/N. San tried to win her back by inviting her to an expensive dinner, but then she flunked out right in the end, when he invited her back home. And, when he came home alone with a boner, San contacted you.”
“You're lying. Don't lie, Seonghwa, lying is a sin," your splur, but once his words have met your brain, it all just becomes chaos inside. It feels like marbles are rolling down inside your head and nothing is making sense, it’s all going nowhere and everywhere with this information. What are you supposed to feel like? Betrayed? There has never been a promise. Sad? You were going to fuck Seonghwa, you're not the most truthful, either.
“Come on, Y/N. You knew it the second San slammed you against that wall at 11 PM, didn’t you?” Seonghwa glides his thumb over your neck and grins, confirming the evidence of yesterday’s night. The roughful sucking of San could barely be covered up by concealer, and you probably sweated it away already.
“He— he said he was stressed.”
“Because of uni? Don’t lie to yourself, Y/N~”, the male purrs. Amidst of it all, Seonghwa is strangely still moving his body calculated to the beat, hitting each one of the drums with his shoulders, all while he hushes behind you to brainwash you with a whiskery voice. “It’s still San we’re talking about.”
You huff perplexedly and are too flabbergasted by his harsh words to not be affected by Seonghwa’s talking and let him hug you tightly again. He’s almost putting you into a headlock of consolation, or something that would have been great if it had been, indeed, consolation. (It is not. He’s almost choking you with his forearm and the way his hand is pushing into your scalp, nothing about this position is in any way soothing.)
“Tell me something, Seonghwa,” you gutter, since the thought has been recoiling rounds in your head forever and curiosity will always kill the cat. “… is she from his volleyball team?”
“No,” he answers and for some reason, this is a lot worse, “she isn’t, but— wait, how do you know about the girl from his volleyball team?”
You don’t answer. For the sake of your heart, you do not answer. You’re still moving, but you’re moving silently, staring into the humorously wild lasers that are teasing you just like he is.
Seonghwa gasps and cups your chin, his thumb meeting your lip, mushing the lower half of your face, trying to turn your face towards his direction, but you resist him. But who are you fooling. Seonghwa doesn't even need to see your expression to ask you, in an almost utterly disappointed whiny tone, "Nooo, Y/N, do you seriously check his phone?”
“I’m gonna punch you in your pretty fuck-face if you keep whining like that, Hwa.”
“Feisty and flattering, and a new nickname too! It must be my birthday,” Seonghwa chuckles and suddenly begins to nibble your earlobe, warm breath from his nose hitting the skin as he pants throughout his dancing. The alcohol is boiling inside you, being churned by the molly, and the crushing disillusionment is slowly into flaming, enraging, hateful desire. It has all gotta go somewhere, and for now, all you can do it talk with this scorching tone that is only going to turn into even more fuming, “How long has San been pining for his fucking ex?”
“For as long as I can remember," Seonghwa answers, seemingly not aware of the severity of this situation, "Middle of the second semester? Exam-season?”
“Nooo,” you scoff and can’t believe what you’re hearing. You don’t even need to calculate what time Seonghwa is talking about, it is engraved deeply into your memories. The same fucking exam season, when you were seeing San every afternoon and evening. You were right fucking there. He knew— you, on the other hand, not so much.
But you should have known.
“Well, yeah,” Seonghwa grins and is running his hands low to your stomach, almost touching your pelvis to get you worked up even more.
Should have known that you weren’t supposed to fall for San.
Angel faces hide the guts of devils’, and right now, your insides are over-cooking with the question "what the fuck were you thinking?" That he’d come around? Like no man in your life has ever come around? That San was the one? No, that San was going to believe that you were the one? 'Well, yeah', he should have, because you are the fucking one. You did so much for him, you could have done so much more for him, and it frustrates you.
“What are you grinning for, you motherfucker?”, you ask, as you peek over and see that Seonghwa has lowered his sunglasses and staring into your empty eyes, searching for a sign of life. You asked, but you don't really need the answer, the picture is drawn perfectly in front of you. Seonghwa is smirking for the same reasons he’s telling you all of this; it’s pretty clear.
“I like it when you’re bossy,” he chuckles, having become more than ‘a bit cocky’ with you, “unlike San. He hates that, right? He’s so weak-hearted, how can he—“
“You’re his friend, Seonghwa,” you insist and grit your teeth, pushing up his sunglasses again with your two fingers, poking into the middle of the lens to make it greasy.
“Friends can say things about each other!”, he giggles gullibly, and scrunches his face together.
All you can say is that Seonghwa sounds and looks moronic in those square sunglasses, senseless and boozed out of his mind, but in the short moment he licks his sharp canine teeth, you suppose that this is exactly how you need him to be.
“You listen to everything, don’t you?”, you ask him, giving into his touch, pushing your back profile so close to him, that there is no touchable space left between you two. Ass pressed against his pelvic area, you breathe heavily into his face that’s glued to your temple. “Every single night I come over to fuck your roommate?”
“Noise-cancelling can only do so much, and your sound is addicting,” Seonghwa pouts— babbling his truths like it’s water falling out of his mouth— and when you see his pink lip shine under the flashing lights, your mind disorients. He is still the pretty boy that says pretty words, even when he's probably faking all of it; he is getting your insides all fuzzy, and you are still being lured in by him, but not for the reasons Seonghwa would enjoy them to.
You’re chasing the feeling of his comfort and you know it. You’re chasing after the man that won’t leave you alone. Or no, you are alone— so fucking lonely because of him even— but you don’t want to be alone, you don’t want him to leave you alone.
San.
San.
Fuck. San.
The feeling of drowning in San’s praise, in his words, inside his bedroom, muffled by his sheets, it hunts you, it makes you feel watched, and it makes you feel like you’re hungry for something you can’t digest. Every word he has said to you is written in your memories in special font, and even though he is out of sight, San will always stay in your mind. Does he do it on purpose? Leave marks, with both words and his lips? To profit off of your yearning? To make himself feel better? To own something? To feel proud? Does he say it that loud on purpose, too? To make his roommate hear him? To make his roommate feel bad in order to feel good?
Maybe he does. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe San doesn't know Seonghwa is listening at all, maybe he doesn't care about any of it.
"Your pretty sounds," Seonghwa repeats himself, his face pressed against your cheek and you roll your eyes at his lips grazing your skin, his heavy breath from his nose warming it up.
These two men are woven by the same needle, knitted with the same material for they say surprisingly similar things and act surprisingly same, but for some reason, it does not feel the same. It is not the same. It should be the same. It should be the fucking same, fuck! You’re going to explode. The way that your head is spinning, your hips swinging, music ringing— people screeching, feet stomping— everything is happening around and inside you. Head, shoulders, knees and toes, livid. Brain, guts, uterus, livid. Let’s not talk about your heart or else we have to start over again. Just forget about your heart and think about the things that are of use tonight. What can you focus on? You can focus on your body glowing hot, but you could also focus on Seonghwa, whose baggy pants is rubbing against your thin minidress. It’s Seonghwa that you wanted, right? Or was it Seonghwa you were supposed to want, because he is the one that wants you back? — No, fuck, let's re-roll, quickly; Seonghwa is grinding against you right now, from behind, and that's exactly what you imagined, wasn't it? Under these lights, under this influence, this is what you wanted, wasn't it?
With the state of your mind, you can not agree with anything; your thoughts sound foreign and it's not your voice speaking, when you grind your ass back. It also doesn't feel like it's your eyes that you're seeing with; Seonghwa’s smile behind of you is becoming blurry and there’s just one more face that’s slowly appearing from the front-ends of your head. There’s a catch though; what you’re seeing is not the soft face you usually cup with your delicate hands and observe in awe when he sleeps, it’s not the face that lights up when he sees you enter through his front door, it's a face that's reading a text message from his fucking ex in the morning and immediately forgets that you're next to him, available as available can be.
It is actually going to make you puke, right here and there. All your emotions, all your ambitions, all of your fucking dreams. Who is San to you? What is he? You’ve known him for what, a year? — Okay fuck, that’s actually more than you thought, but still, it’s not like San and you have met up in any way that wasn’t purely sexual during all the time you knew him. Know him. You don’t know San. You don’t know shit about him. What are you— San and you? What are you going to be? Boyfriend, girlfriend? Has a nice ring to it, but fuck no, right? There are too many girls, right? Which is why you wanted to get yourself another man too, right?
“Come on, Y/N, forget him.”
While you have alcohol and molly inside you, singing two different songs of lust and desire, Seonghwa is moving his legs according to yours and pressing himself more against you. He’s one sadistic dipshit if Seonghwa thinks you could forget any of what you just went through just by moaning into your ear, but you're going with it.
You can't feel a lot right now, except that Seonghwa’s bulge perfectly fits in the space of your ass, rubbing up and down between the two circular shapes, getting himself more erected with every passing beat.
This whole situation is so fucked up and messy.
But, add one more: You are fucked up and messy. The music is building up loudly and people are shaking their bodies next to you, dancing in the high they've reached long time ago, eyes having lost any sign of concentration or sobriety, and you came here to contemplate whether you’re going to have a one-night-stand to prove a point, mixing drugs to get it on faster. You feel quicker, no, you are quick, rushing from one thought to another like you’re fleeing from your inner voices, both the devil and angel. They’re useless in this situation, they have too much reason.
And you don't need any reasons to think you're in the right to fuck him. Seonghwa’s hands are on your abdomen and gently massaging the skin, making you feel like he thinks you’re valuable, but you both know that this dance you’re holding right now barely cost you anything but 10 dollars in cash.
The red lasers haven’t stopped. They are pointing upwards or downwards for you, but you guess, from the way you’re watching Seonghwa’s lips right now, there’s only one way down. There has always been only one way down.
San chooses an ex over you? Then you’ll choose his dumb fucking roommate over him. Two can play this game, and even if he’s had the lead, you’re going to make your play. Is it going to hurt him? You don’t know. Maybe it won’t. But at least it will be over, right? At least this fucking thing will be over.
“Kiss me, Seonghwa.”
“You serious? I thought San was all up your mind right now.”
“Oh my fucking god, just do it before I take it back.”
“LET’S GET FUCKING INSANE”
Seonghwa doesn’t let you ask twice. While people all around you are turning up to the beat-drop, he pulls your chin up and clashes his lips against yours. His teeth clank against you lip and there's a short, piercing pain there, but Seonghwa's high chuckle blows it away. It’s a violent kiss, but mind-numbing enough so maybe you can forget why you decided to kiss him in the first place. While your lips are working against each other, his hand is sliding down to your groin and it's dangerously close to the seam of your tiny dress. One tug and your whole leg is revealed to the crowd, but you don't look down to see how naked Seonghwa is making you; all you see is yourself, in the reflection of his square sunglasses.
His tongue is electrifying, when it forces its entry into your mouth. It’s long and tastes deliciously foreign- a mixture of alcohol and tobacco, which you haven't experienced in pair since a long time. San, no, “he” (this is what you’ll call him now) doesn’t smoke, which at first, you considered as a big win, because you were passively inhaling all the smoke from your prior flings that you’d had the feeling your lungs were being polluted. Yet a year later, you’re clean— cleaner than never before, you should be able to breathe, you should be able to think clearly, but you can’t. Did you think he was pure? Was it that? That he was this untouched man? Maybe he was. Maybe he was, when he was still a nerd who had never heard a woman say the word “sex” in his— or had he? Fuck, had he? You don’t know, you couldn’t have known. ‘He’ was a façade, wasn’t it? He turned into another person immediately, didn’t he?
Let's get back on Seonghwa’s lips.
You're reminded of your lost freedom and as much it drives you insane, it's driving you into a state of pure, adventurous lust. The way Seonghwa works across your slick tongue is animalistic and wild, and you feel like you’re being pursued with no escape. To catch your breaths a little bit, Seonghwa lets go off your chin and thigh, turning you around so he can have better access to your mouth. Not letting the enlivening music go to waste, he presses his lips on yours the second you inhaled for the second time.
You slip your hands under his knitted top, running them up and down his breast, his abs and abdomen to feel his muscles and skin. It’s only a matter of time until he asks you to move off the dance floor, but your alcohol is bombarding you with sweet suggestions you can’t let pass without saying. His exposed skin feels cold under your fingers, but when you cup his hardened erection through the fabric with your hand and move it according to Seonghwa’s tongue slicking against yours, he radiates heat.
“Fuck,” Seonghwa pants into the kiss and you hum, continuing to tease him on this godless dance floor. Nobody has their senses right and is observing you two making out with dozy eyes, nobody cares about anything here. There’s only right now, the song the DJ is playing for the mindless crowd of drugged, intoxicated people. Let’s get insane.
You try to get a good feel of Seonghwa’s cock and its girth with your hand. “You’re big,” you murmur, catching air again, “smaller than San though.”
And there you have it, men are so easy to galvanize.
“Say that again, you fucking cunt,” Seonghwa growls and digs his fingers into your ass, eyebrows pulled down so hard that his forehead could explode.
“Why? ‘Cause you’re better than him?”, you taunt him and click with your tongue, catching a breath. “You’re no better than Sannie,” you sneer, pointing at your hickey with your finger to remind him (but mostly yourself), “don’t think you could be.”
Seonghwa goes fucking angry. Apparently he thinks he’s done so much for you, has been so nice to you, has helped you, whatever, and this is how you show him your thanks. Grabbing your hair, he pushes his forehead against yours and you catch a glimpse of his darkened eyes, feeling the stinging pain from the impact linger, while he talks. His breath is scarce from having kissed you, so he’s trying his best to use his voice to taunt you.
"San is probably fucking his fucking ex-girlfriend right now, do you think you're any better than him, huh, slut? You are the one who's so fucking desperate to get him to love you, and you're still here with me, and you're kissing me, so we're both in the wrong, you fucking whore."
His words don’t mean anything to you, visiting the synapses of your brain, but leaving right after. You just grin with your eyelids covering half of your eye and Seonghwa realizes nothing is arriving inside your sweet, broken mind. Your cheeks are red from the lack of oxygen, drugs and you’re flushed at the cause of his libidinous touch, and Seonghwa sees he's been working around your hair a little bit too much, having ruffled it up to the point that a comb-through will not amount to a lot. You look like a crazy person to him, but nothing attracts a joke more than a hard-hitting punchline.
“We're both single,” is what you lull to correct him, licking over your lips that you can't feel anymore since Seonghwa has kissed them numb. "And I think that's all that matters."
You both hear the music come to an exhilarating high and slowly reach your evaporating point.
“You sound like San,” Seonghwa giggles and he probably thinks it's going to push you over, but it doesn't. He’s still staring into you like he’s searching for a weak spot, but you’re persistent, you’re needy, and while you are weak, you are unforgivably yourself, Y/N.
You smash both your hands on each of his cheeks and you look at yourself through the sunglasses, sneering, "Good. San is a better name to moan."
He scoffs and smiles so condescendingly sweet again, but out of his mouth comes nothing worthwhile. "I'm going to fuck your voice out of your fucking throat, you're never going to moan ‘San’ ever fucking again," he growls and you drench yourself in his vulgarity, kissing him repeatedly.
"Never again," Seonghwa repeats himself, digging his thumbs into your ribs, but his tone isn't as forcing as it is... begging. Asking—demanding you to put all your attention on him, like he knows your heart isn't his and he desperately wants to possess yours. Oh, he definitely knows. You're not fooling anybody, at least didn't try to, but Seonghwa is gullible enough to fall for your tricks, how it seems like. San is painted on your body all the while your dance partner is speaking through his heavy breathing; painted on your neck, in your eyes, it’s annoying Seonghwa, it distracts him, it makes him see red, and not the colour on your skin.
"Awww, do you want me to only moan your name tonight?", you baby Seonghwa, mocking that he's finally revealed his motivations behind all of this. At least you think you've hit the nail in the coffin, when you pout to mirror Seonghwa’s expression.
Seonghwa's greatest sin isn't lust, it's envy. It could be any girl coming and leaving their dorm, moaning San’s name through the thin walls, never to be seen again and he wouldn't bat a second eye, but you— Y/N? San letting a woman like you go without further notice sickens him, like a crime, like a mistake. To hear your voice be pleasured by San at night, and then hear you sing good-bye to the man who does not care as much as he does in the morning, that has sent Seonghwa into a spiral of jealousy, but you’re not sure why. Some fucked-up reason probably, though it doesn’t seem like an ex is the cause this time. Maybe it’s really just because of you.
Sorry to say that you don’t care about that though. Not one single fucking bit. You don't want any of that complex trauma-talk tonight. You want to have sex and forget the sex right after.
"Be mine tonight, Y/N," Seonghwa answers and his eyebrows are pushed in to his forehead. He looks sultry, at least the parts you can see. Sultry, passionate, ready to fuck you, no, desperate to fuck you, in fact, you can feel the pre-cum soak his pants, when you cup his girth.
“You’re so pathetic,” you smirk, “it might actually be worth a try.” Seonghwa lets out a breathy exhale, finally breaking. You don’t know if it’s the alcohol, the molly, or his issues that suddenly took over his conscience, but he doesn’t have any of that left. He grabs you by your wrist with a grip that leaves a white mark, and without forewarning, Seonghwa yanks you through the people.
You hit each and every one of the strangers on your way to wherever. Shoulder hitting against shoulder, breast against breast, it better not leave any more bruising that you already have on your neck. “Seong- wha!”, you wheeze, tumbling at his force, tripping over your own feet over and over. The hall is huge, and he’s seemingly seeking to get to the very end of it.
“Seonghwa!”, you repeat yourself, but he won't listen to you. You're being pulled into a rollercoaster of anything but emotions (at least for you) and you can hear laughter leave your mouth without reason as you pass by irritated people who find it impolite to be barging into the big crowd like this. This dude's crazy, they scorn, but they don't really look that lucid as well, you find, with the last bits of thinking you can do.
"Where are we going?", you ask, but mostly to reassure that you still have a sense for geographical knowledge. You can see the bar again, mobs of people dancing on the stairs so that it's shaking even more compared to how you two had left it, but most importantly, you see that this is a space that's occupied by your kind. So much skin. So many slutty outfits. Outfits? Lingerie. This side looks like a fucking strip-club. Are you at a strip-club? What the fuck is this place? No, seriously, what the fuck is this place?
Seonghwa is finally stopping and you catch a breath from the running. With him doing his weird hand-signs again, you recognize the security guard from the beginning, smiling under his sunglasses, showing an "OK"-sign and pointing to the back of the stairs. You could swear he winked at you.
"What the fuck?", you ask, but Seonghwa only shrugs, making you follow his backwards steps under the stairs, where in black graffiti 'MY PEOPLE DONT BELIEVE IN LOVE' is smeared all over the wall. The same walls are occupied by couples or at least people making out wildly with their eyeliners smeared beyond repair. Is this some sex-area? (No idea) Is this legal? (100% no) Does Seonghwa look so fucking hot without his top on? (Fuck) He does.
Your eyes go cross-eyed, when Seonghwa enters the most mirrored bathroom you've ever seen in a warehouse, but before you can question the fact why people invest in decorating a fucking porta-potty, the male is pulling off his knitted top with one smooth pull, barely waiting a second for you to close the door behind you. The vibrations of the music ring on the metal stairs over you, and you feel like the beat is mushing your brain one size smaller, when you're met by Seonghwa barging at your body.
Pushing you against the plastic door, you feel all of Seonghwa's naked torso with your hands stroking roughly over his skin, and you admire his jewellery sitting on his collarbones, getting your fingers at it around his neck to pull him closer. "You like my necklace?", Seonghwa murmurs, as he pushes his lips into the crook of your neck.
"Choke on it," you gutter and yank him upwards, kissing him. While you do so and Seonghwa begins to unclothe you by getting your arms up, you catch a glimpse of yourself through the mirror. Your hair isn't looking as silky as it did when you left your home, there's mascara smudged around your eye already, but if you're not mistaken, and you can see it by how Seonghwa is sucking your nipples the second your bra falls to the floor, you will look worse in no time.
But that's not to say that you aren't still looking gorgeous. You look bewitchingly sexy, eyelids fluttering with each of Seonghwa's eager touches that are tracing down your body. "Fuck, you look so good," he murmurs and he's trying to keep his eyes open in order to see you. He's gotten you naked pretty quick considering the circumstance, you would've wished for a bit more foreplay here, but maybe it's a reoccuring theme to be impatient.
"You are such a fucking gorgeous girl, San doesn't know what he's missing right now," Seonghwa wheezes and goes through his hair, once he has your dress dropping on the dirty floor, revealing your joke of underwear. If he had kept your bra, he would have seen that you've worn a matching set of burgundy lingerie, but Seonghwa's mouth is still drooling at your pair of perfect thighs, his hand stroking over his lips. You roll your eyes at him and lean your head against the plastic door. You've done such a good job forgetting his name, and here's this dumbass mentioning him again. "You bet your ass he's missing this, huh?", you snarl and play with your own breast with one hand, while the other is cupping Seonghwa's rib, gliding down to his v-line, where his throbbing cock is awaiting you.
"He doesn't deserve you, Y/N."
He wheezes again. It seems like Seonghwa is taking his last breaths, unable to form words since your fingers are exploring how quick they can get to his erection.
"And you do?", you snap back and scoff. He pushes his glasses up to his forehead and for the first time since a long time, you can see Seonghwa's eyes shimmer. Oh fuck, you think, and it's difficult to not kiss him again. You're a bitch. You know you're a bitch for not caring about his feelings, and you know you will indeed not be better than San if you ghost this man right after this evening, but it must be done. For your sake, at least.
"I do," Seonghwa answers, though a lot weaker and less confident than he used to be before. You sigh. He may think he deserves you, but you don't deserve him. His gaze is too sweet, you've got to put those sunglasses back on, if you don't want to develop something. The only thing you can look at to get your mind elsewhere is yourself, in the mirror.
"Don't try to prove yourself," you murmur and Seonghwa wraps his arms around your back and props you by your thigh to lift you up. You can see his back muscle tense up, as he has you steadily in his grip. "I'm not," he answers and there's something that's fluttering inside your breast, when Seonghwa licks up your jawline, because you feel everything; From how wet his tongue is, how warm his saliva sits on your skin to the way what an adoring look Seonghwa is wearing on his face, as he kisses you. "I got nothing to prove to you."
You smirk and see yourself looking very dozy, drunken on alcohol, drugged by MDMA, ducked by Seonghwa's hand between your legs. It's pushing between your folds and with your last bit of control you have over your body, you spread your legs for him, inviting him to get his fingers inside your panties, and of course he does.
With a grin, Seonghwa devotes his tongue to your jaw again and works it into your skin with circular motion. "So fucking wet, and I thought you didn't want to fuck me."
"Who said I wasn't going to fuck you?"
Seonghwa is too busy sucking on the other side of your neck (other side meaning the side that is still unhickey-ed) to answer, but you're persistent. You came to this place to fuck him, and you're pretty sure that nothing from what you told him tonight alluded to something else. And also, even when you're fucked out of your mind, you still have a sense for people who keep secrets. So while Seonghwa is sucking small patches of skin on your neck and you see yourself with an opened mouth with sighs leaving it that you can't hear with your own ears.
"San says things sometimes," Seonghwa murmurs and continues to plant roses on your neck that you can see appear on your skin, "but that's irrelevant now."
"What does he say?", you insist, but the charcoal-haired man puts on his sunglasses again and shakes his head. Switch. As if you hadn't had enough from men who were two-faced, Seonghwa hides his eyes, turning into an inscrutable being again. A stranger. A stranger who's groping your cunt from the front, making your groin tense up and push him closer from the back. You're wrapping him with your legs and holding onto him tightly, when he catches a breath.
"Meaningless things,” he pants and throws you over the door, your arms landing on the frail sink in front of you. The mirror expands and all of the sudden you see yourself in full quality, in all your glory and Seonghwa is only supporting you from the back. His hand is grabbing your chin and pushing it up to the mirror, his pointing finger smudging your lip. With your lips slightly opened, it just makes sense to you to lick around his finger and look at him with a demanding look, eyebrows sultrily pushed together.
"Fuck, Y/N," Seonghwa gulps and cups your breast from behind, massaging it, while he presses his hot lips on your back. "Can I eat you out? Please,” he sighs and you take his finger in, lubing it up with your saliva.
"Do whatever you fucking want," you sneer and balance yourself with two hands on the sink, as Seonghwa raises a leg and throws it over his shoulder, his pretty face planted into your pussy the second you've given him permission to. You spasm to the front, Seonghwa's hair tickling your lower abdomen, as he works his tongue over your slick folds. If his tongue was great for kissing, it's certainly great for cunnilingus too, no, maybe even better suited for it. He's reaching spots that haven't been reached by a tongue in a long time and with the wet muscle working in and out inside you, you're becoming a moaning mess with fluttering eyelids in no time.
"Fuuuck", you gasp, when Seonghwa kneads your ass that's extended out in the air. The sound of his slurping and the music outside assimilate and mix up, and if it wasn't for the hightened senses you got from your molly-influence, it feels like everything is hammering you down from the outside. You can feel each twitch of Seonghwa's mouth, how he smiles, how he's yelping for air, how he's licking over his lips — you're going to fall somewhere, and if it's not into the cheap sink and the mirror that's taunting you, it's in love with his tongue that’s going to make you cum.
"So soon?", Seonghwa murmurs, and two fingers begin to penetrate your gaping hole, as he flicks his tongue over your sensitive clit.
"Fuck, fuck!", you whine and Seonghwa takes note of how your entrance is tightening around him, angling his fingers towards your g-spot. "So fucking good!", you breathe and you're trying to get a glimpse of your mirrored image in front of you, but your eyes are rolling to the back of your head too much.
"Mhm~", Seonghwa hums with an amused tone, repeating a cycle of sucking and licking, pumping against your g-spot. You're flying, the loud tunes bombarding the walls of the porta-potty are slowly getting to your head and intrusing what's left of your conscious mind, only feeling the tickling sensation that is being eaten out by none other than Park Seonghwa.
Until it stops.
You were whining, announcing your impending orgasm, but he apparently had other ideas, pulling out his fingers and removing his lips from you the second you were drawing together your body, preparing for sweet release. "Don't fucking stop!", you yell and grab Seonghwa by his hair, pushing him closer to your cunt by force. "Seonghwa!"
Seonghwa, who you don't know if he seriously just wanted to be called by his name in this situation, chuckles in witticism and wraps his arm around your thigh, getting the other leg over his shoulder too. You're sitting up front now, and there is no space for him to get his finger anywhere near your cunt, but his tongue is more than enough.
"Make me cum or I'm gonna fucking leave, you fucking asshole," you growl and grip a big chunk of his hair to get your message across. The man below you moans and resumes his job, clearly attracted by your lust-driven dominance. 'I like it when you're bossy', you re-call, and before you can finish the quote in your head, Seonghwa has plunged his tongue into your cunt.
"Ungh, fuck!", you moan, a bit more sensitive and distorted this time. Trying to hold your heavy upper body straight, Seonghwa is laving at your cunt, driving you crazy with the speed of his tongue maneuvering inside you. Maybe it was better that Seonghwa edged you, because now every flick is shooting you further into the abyss of pleasantry. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," you stutter, the second wave of the overwhelming euphoria gathering itself like a tsunami.
Seonghwa is more relaxed than you are, though his whole face is busy being used to pleasure you. His nose is dug into your clit and he's shaking his head around to be able to tickle it all during the while he's cutting away his breath to pant into your heat and spreading your slick on his tastebuds.
"Make me cum," you whine, "make me cum with your tongue!"
"Say 'please Seonghwa'," Seonghwa smirks and has the tip of his tongue placed on your clitoris just enough for your orgasm to not be washed away, but definitely not coming, while you grip more of his hair.
"You fucking bitch, I'll never fucking—", you pant, but there's no other way around it. You need this orgasm. "You—"
Seonghwa looks up to you and you can see him waiting. Pushing your thighs together because he annoys you so much, you yank his head closer to your cunt and scream, "okay, fuck, make me fucking cum, Seonghwa, please!"
The man between your thighs chuckles through his nose and once you said the magic-words, he opens his mouth back open to lap around your clit and cunt like a mad dog. Having been denied your orgasm for the second time, the third attempt to chase it down hits you even more, making you breathe heavily and loudly, and this time, the strings are pulling you to total stupification.
"Please, please, please, Seonghwa, please—"
Repeating the words Seonghwa wants to hear so bad again and again, you're fuelling his decision to finally allow you to come. His tongue circles around your clit as if he was racing with the music and your face is parallel to the floor, when your body goes lax and the strands of Seonghwa's hair are the only thing keeping you up.
"Seonghwa, please," you whisper again, weak, and almost sent over the top, while Seonghwa growls under you, his tongue stroking over your sensitive bud until you're shaking and pressing your legs together. "Fuck!", you scream out and Seonghwa throws one leg away from his shoulder, your wobbly foot landing on the floor, when the male stands up and gets to fingers into your cunt.
"Seonghwa, please—", you gasp, when he rams them into your throbbing arousal that barely reached its high and you have to get your arms around his neck if your knees are still worth something to you. "Oh my fucking god," and other moans come spurred out of you and Seonghwa bites into your shoulder to add another stimulative pain to all the sensations you're feeling.
His fingers are long and slender and for all you can grasp, they know what they're doing, when they're driving in and out with no mercy. That this is Seonghwa, you don't really care, that this isn't San, you do just a little bit, but "caring" takes a bit too long in the brain anyway. If your first orgasm from his tongue made your head fly, the second one is evaporating it. Your head feels light and corrupted by the DJ screaming inaudible things into his set, an artificially deepened laughing-track following his ad-lib and your lower body is trembling like a new-born deer, when Seonghwa keeps pushing against your soft patch inside. “Stop— stop, Seonghwa—“, you pant and your legs hold Seonghwa's wrist until he wiggles it out.
"You good?", Seonghwa laughs. He walks behind you and raises your face by your chin, pressing his own cheek next to yours, so both of your faces are seen in the mirror, his pelvis pushed against your ass again.
"Uh-huh," you shudder, your runny mascara making your eyes sticky, "very good."
He smiles, though it's definitely not a friendly smile. This isn't what friends do. It never will be something that friends do and you try to find some type of sanity behind your sunken irises, but there's nothing there. There is someone knocking on the door, Seonghwa's phone is vibrating in his pants, and like the bad person you are, you can't stop to wish that behind at least one of these interruptions is a certain someone is waiting for you, asking for you or anything— fuck. It's worse Seonghwa somehow knows what you're thinking, taking out his phone with his free hand, your face still being cupped by the other.
"You think this is him, don't you?", he asks and lets his temple drop against the top of your head, "Let's bet."
"If you think I'm gonna bet on something like that," you hiss and grind your bare ass against his clothed cock to distract him from the fact he's correct, “you’re a fucker.”
"I'm gonna fuck you, so I don't know where you're coming from here."
You scoff and throw his phone into the sink, when Seonghwa seemingly opens the message and starts to grin.
"Seonghwa," and you know you're lying through your teeth here with the full awareness that Seonghwa probably knows that you’re lying as well, "I want you," and yet you have the very secure feeling that you got into his head.
"Hm, what?", he asks and looks confused, unable to be angry that you snatched his phone out of his hand. You smirk for a short time and lean into his hand that's stroking your cheek. "I want you, Seonghwa," you sigh and pout. If you can't commit, you might as well commit to the lie, right? Be a little opportunistic.
"I don't care about San," you whisper and Seonghwa pulls down his glasses, making him human again.
"Really now…”
Choi San: the connection is so bad
Choi San: where are you right now?
You nod and there’s a black-tinted tear rolling down your cheek, warm and melting on your skin. Seonghwa takes his thumb and glides it over the flow and holds his hand at your cheek again.
Choi San: i saw her
Choi San: wtf she looked so different
You both saw the message and you both decided to ignore it. It doesn't matter anymore, his hand was already between your legs, your arousal has already coated his fingers.
That's how this works.
His touch, caressing your woeful face, his eyes pitying your pain. He's still erected, definitely impatient, but Seonghwa has something that you haven't experienced for a long time. You don't want to think of it, you can't think of it, because it might just be an illusion, but when Seonghwa slides his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him, you have to suppress the suffocating feeling that you must never see this man ever again, if you don't want to carry this burden with you. You can't tell yourself enough, you do not want Seonghwa.
But it's nice.
"Look at yourself, Y/N. Look how pretty you are."
It's nice to know that someone wants you. That someone cares to wipe away the tears from your eyes, though they're not tears formed by a sadness you’d be able to express, a sadness that encourages you to hold eye contact with yourself, as Seonghwa whispers words of comfort into your ear. "Don't cry, pretty girl," he murmurs, and it feels like the music is being subdued around you. You've fallen from grace. “You could have anything in the world..”
How nice would it be, if he was right? You’re not sad, you have everything you could, don’t you? It could be this is just another lie you're going to commit to to protect yourself, but Seonghwa is holding you by your throat, cutting your airflow. The blood curdles in your head and while the male behind you is opening up his pants, the phone blinks.
Seonghwa and you both look down. Incoming call: Choi San.
"Oh," Seonghwa exhales and immediately checks for your reaction in the mirror, but your expression is empty. The drugs are fogging your mind and there is no ounce of vitality behind your eyes.
Seonghwa turns the phone around. "Fuck me first, Seonghwa," you tell him, your voice wispy, barely understandable, he probably had to lip-read in order to understand what you were saying, "let's get it over with."
He doesn't appreciate your dismissive tone, but Seonghwa is too horny to say anything against it, pushing you over the sink, grabbing his cock and placing it near your cunt. While your abdomen is pressed against the dirty, cold surface, Seonghwa is murmuring something under his breath and gliding his hot, throbbing erection across your pulsating folds. "I don't care at all," you whine, trying to convince yourself and ignore the continuous buzzing from his phone, but also make him hurry up. There's an end-goal you're chasing here.
"Kiss me," you order the male behind you, and as he finally positions his tip at your entrance, Seonghwa tilts your head to the side, ripping your gaze away from his mobile. "You really like kissing, don't you?", he huffs and smirks, pushing himself into you in one slow thrust. "Fuuuck," you breathe, feeling your walls expand for his length, "what about it?"
"I just think it's sweet. It makes it more personal, doesn't it?"
"Come on, Hwa, are you trying to make me angry again? I'm getting tired here," you purl and visibly roll your eyes at him, your eyelids getting heavier with each word that's spoken out loud. Your body weighs into Seonghwa's arms and if he doesn't hurry up, you'll fall asleep, your pulsating cunt tightening around his girth.
"Sweetheart, let me talk," he says, in a soft voice that makes your heart drop. You don't want him, you don't want his sweetness, fuck, you only wanted Seonghwa for this one night, for his dick and dick only, why is he trying to get inside your head? Don't do it, you try to mouth to him. You don't know him, he doesn't know you, his cock is inside your cunt, this is the worst timing to—
"You're something else."
"Seonghwa, stop, before you say anything too nice. Just close your mouth, this isn't good for both of us, you already said we're bad people. You know we don't want this," you mutter and start moving your ass to somehow get his mind elsewhere, but through his whimpers and low moans, Seonghwa won't stop grunting under the influence.
"No, speak for god-damn yourself, because, shit, Y/N, I can't watch it anymore, okay? Every day and night— You come over and let yourself be played by San, that fucking asshole, and I just think—"
"Seonghwa, shut the fuck up!", you scream and you're a breath away from pulling his cock out your cunt and leave this place naked, but just when you thought you can't do it anymore, Seonghwa has gotten his hands on your hips, digging his fingernails into your skin as if he's trying to hopelessly keep you close, his pelvis clapping against your ass, as he strikes into you.
Surprised, you moan and your fingers slip against the edge of the sink, strands of your hair falling in front of your face. You weren't prepared for that kind of vigor.
"Don't you dare think I'm that pathetic," he growls and thrusts into you with force in a rhythm that is terrifyingly close to the music outside, his cock slamming against your inner wall, making your legs close up by themselves.
"I'm not thinking I could treat you better," Seonghwa huffs and gets the hair away from your face, grabbing your hair to clear up your view, "I'm thinking what a fucking cockslut you are, Y/N."
Drugs never make sad people happier. Never make broken people whole.
So even when Seonghwa makes you realize that none of the men in your life have ever taken you serious, a hoarse laugh leaves your mouth, and you tilt your head to the back to examine the traces of them on your neck. Your eyes glisten with the way you're being fucked from behind and your mouth is not closing, you've lost control over yourself a long time ago, and it's not when this long day started with you in San's bed, it's when he took off your shirt on that random night during exam season.
"You're lucky you're pretty," he grunts and you chuckle, smiling absent-minded, upper body see-sawing with Seonghwa's pelvis-movement. Your ass is slowly hurting from how hard he is driving himself in, but you're too busy looking at your neck.
Red, red, red. A little bit of purple. A big patch here, small spots over there; anyone could look at you and would know that you've been claimed by someone. Maybe even think that you're, gasp, in a relationship! They wouldn't guess it was two people to leave these hickeys, and frankly, they would be right to think you're claimed by one person only.
"San said he'd fuck me stupid," you giggle— you're fetching old memories from your mind, re-painting the colors, completing the gaps like a mandala; the same memories from the older days which you wouldn't call better, but certainly easier; from days where you didn't have to worry about a man breaking your heart.
Seonghwa scoffs and grabs you by your tit, pulling your nipple with harsh tugs, the sensitive, delicate nub being wounded by his aggressiveness. He's stopped being gentle a long time ago, leaving a big star-shaped mark on your ass by clapping the surface of his hand.
"San said I'm his whore," you reminisce, biting your teeth through the pain, and Seonghwa is speeding up his thrusting, his cock angled inside you to entirely fill out your tight space.
"San said—"
Seonghwa has had enough. He's pressing the surface of his hand onto your mouth and nose, silencing you, cutting you short of your air, your eyes rolling back, but it doesn't prevent your thoughts to continue tumbling down. Seonghwa may be jolting his hips into you like his life depends on it, and in a way, that may be true, but he'll never pleasure you like San could.
People-pleaser. San said he was a people-pleaser.
You don't remember the orgasm, you don't remember Seonghwa's loud grunt into your ear, you don't remember how much hot cum he ejaculated into you, how panicked the black-haired was, when he asked you whether you took the pill, how quickly he became sober and put his clothes back on, the speed of time seemingly passing like a rocket-ship, the music never stopping to blitz into your brain, how the porta-potty became really fucking empty, once Seonghwa left it, but what you do remember is how you took his phone that he forgot like the dumb-ass he was, and how weak your voice sounded, when you answered San's call that by some magical way, kept ringing in.
"Can you come fetch me?"
"Who is this?"
"Come fetch me, please."
"Y/N?"
And people-pleasers should do anything to keep their people happy.
Especially if they're Choi San and avoidant of conflict.
part 4: coming soon!
#choi san smut#choi san x reader#ateez smut#ateez x reader#choi san scenarios#choi san x y/n#choi san x you#park seonghwa smut#park seonghwa scenarios#park seonghwa x reader#park seonghwa x y/n#haveyourwaywithwordsbemypeoplepleaser#chokkiwa
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