#He pushes boundaries but almost always only the boundaries that he knows he can push against. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

solarmorrigan · 3 months

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I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!

[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]

Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.

“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.

“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.

“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.

He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.

“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”

Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”

Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.

“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.

This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”

Steve snorts. Is he okay?

Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”

Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.

And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”

It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.

He couldn’t.

He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.

So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.

But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.

“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”

Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.

“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.

Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.

“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”

Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”

“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.

“I guess,” Steve mutters.

“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.

Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.

Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.

“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”

At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.

“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”

But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.

“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”

“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”

Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”

In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”

Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”

Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.

“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.

And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?

(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)

(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)

“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.

“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Munson presses.

“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.

“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”

“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).

“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”

Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”

“Ah,” Munson says.

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”

“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.

Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”

“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”

Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”

“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”

The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”

Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.

“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.

He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.

“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”

That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).

“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.

“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”

“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.

“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”

Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”

“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?

“What?” Steve asks.

“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”

“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”

And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”

“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”

“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”

“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.

It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.

On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.

Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.

“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.

“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”

It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.

“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.

Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.

He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?

Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.

He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.

The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.

After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.

“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.

“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.

When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”

“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.”

Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.

(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)

“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.

If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.

He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.

“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”

Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”

“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”

“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”

Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”

“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”

“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.

Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”

“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.

His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”

“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.

“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.

“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”

Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.

“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”

Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”

Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.

Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”

Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.

“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.

“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”

Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”

And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.

And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things post s2 AU #stranger things #this one is a bit long just as a heads up; about 4.6k #is it good? I dunno but I had fun writing it and you guys seem interested so here we go!#eddiesteve #solar wrote

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hwaslayer · 4 months

Text

crimson (cs) | one shot.

—summary: life has always revolved around the club, the money, the clients— that is, until a first-time experience changes everything for san, for you; causing lines to be blurred, boundaries that are crossed. he didn’t think he’d get wrapped around your finger, falling deep into your spell. after all, he did become your number one client.

—pairing: choi san x stripper!reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, nightclub au | smut, angst

—word count: 21.8k

—content/warnings: cussing/mature language, heavy on the night club/strip club setting, lap dances, oc doesn’t remove her clothing by choice but is a little more hands on with her clients at the club, alcohol consumption/intoxication, san’s got some baggage with his ex, mentions of a toxic past relationship, mentions of severed relationships with loved ones, protected/unprotected sex, praising, making out, one shower together hehe, missionary, doggy style wooof, cowgirl, sprinkle of spit play, clit play, breast play, mentions of marking, ass slapping, mentions of men getting touchy at the club, fighting (some pushing and a few punches), arguments, flashback scenes, not all ateez members are present - only mingi, san, wooyoung, hongjoong and jongho

—on rotation: agora hills - doja cat | anywhere - 112 | all night long - thuy & lil kev | IT’s you - wooyoung, san & yeosang

He became your number one client.

Quick.

You remember the first time he stepped into the club with his friends, eyes roaming the floor until they landed on yours. You hadn’t expected the group to walk in when they did— the club being pretty dead lately, with the usual, familiar men walking in to let off some steam, to get their fix. You could tell it was the first time they’d ever walked into a strip club with the way they paused near the entrance, not really knowing where to go or how to get settled from there. One of his friends took the lead and walked towards the main stage, his hesitancy obvious with how stiff and awkward he was as he sat on one of the velvet chairs closest to the stage. You hadn’t really paid much mind to them at first, especially him. You had been busy on the other end of the stage, but his eyes had been glued on you the entire time.

That solely piqued your interest.

He sunk into the chair comfortably, manspreading as his hands rested on his legs. He stared at you with his cat-like eyes, almost pleading for you to come closer and entertain him while his friends were busy tossing bills at your coworker on the right side of the stage.

He didn’t budge.

You strutted over, initially planning to tease him a bit; play around, work with his ways to give him something to remember. Little did you know that taking the first leap, giving him that attention, was going to change everything between you and this stranger.

Everything.

▹ FLASHBACK

You step in front of the pole, sliding down until you get to a crouch– making sure your legs are spread enough for him to see the itty bitty fabric from your bodysuit barely covering your parts. You can see him subtly bite onto his bottom lip as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You get a little closer, getting onto your knees to crawl towards him; ass posted up in the air while you keep your eyes glued onto him. You’re close enough to the point where he can slip a few dollars into the v-neck of your bodysuit.

And he does, adorning that pretty smirk of his; pearly whites peeking through those pink, plump lips.

“Atta boy!” You hear one of his friends yell. “San’s finally enjoying himself!”

“Dude’s got heart eyes. Look at him. Mesmerized as shit.” Another of his friends laughs before continuing to shower the right side of the stage with bills.

San was his name.

San.

“Gorgeous.” You hear him mutter as you continue to work the stage, eyes glued onto him with every move— every twirl, every dip, every roll, you make. His eyes are taking note of every detail, every tattoo that lines your arm, down to your hip and thigh. Because he wants to study you, all of you.

“It’s his birthday, give him something special!” You glide down the pole before stepping off the stage to greet the men sitting around. It was a normal routine for you, a way to initiate flirty conversations and take men back to a VIP booth for lap dances— lap dances that could easily earn you rent in one night.

A few of your regulars are sitting around, waiting for some kind of touch, attention. Which, you easily give through running your hand down their chests, whispering sweet nothings as they tuck a few more dollars under your bodysuit.

Throughout all of this, San is still focused on you.

So, you make your way back to him; his friends are still loudly proclaiming he’s the birthday boy that needs a little gift tonight. And lucky for him, you’re feeling rather generous— especially with the way San buckles around you, pleading, begging, for more of your attention since he walked through the door.

“Is it really your birthday?” You crouch in front of him, hands traveling up his thighs while you lick your lips and bite onto your bottom lip.

“Yeah, it is.” He swallows the lump in his throat when your hands brush against his belt.

“Please give him a private dance.” The same friend from earlier says. He has short black hair with a mole underneath his eye, black button-up exposing his honey skin underneath. He slips you a few hundred bills, a smirk plastered on his face when you meet his gaze. You gladly take the money and stuff it into your bodysuit, grabbing San’s hand as you lead him to the VIP area.

“You didn’t have to.”

“You come to a strip club on your birthday and try to deny a lap dance? That your friend paid for? Odd.” You tease as you push him against another velvet couch. The VIP booths are off to the side of the club, with red mood lights and cringy, dark red velvet curtains draping the front to provide privacy. The booths are small, intimate; just enough space for you to work the pole and be all up on San.

“I mean, I just—” He chokes on his words as he plops onto the couch. “You’re a busy woman, it seems.”

“I am.” You straddle his lap. “But, I can make time for birthday boys, too.”

“That’s nice to know.” His eyes carefully watch your every move. Your hands travel down his neck, down to his tie— tugging on it as you start to bodyroll against the music, against him, making sure San feels you. “Fuck.” He mutters under his breath. You watch as he reaches, but prevents himself from touching your thighs; afraid he’d be crossing a line even though, technically speaking, those lines have been blurred since he walked into the club.

“It’s okay, San.” You reassure him with a whisper, lips almost grazing his ear. His eyes meet yours just as you pull back and bounce on him a bit, hands caressing up and down his chest. You continue to work him slowly, taking your sweet time to make San feel appreciated, to make San feel like he’s had the best birthday in years.

“You know my name?” He says, hands comfortably coming up your body, giving your breasts a squeeze. His hand runs up your neck, to your jaw— gently forcing you to keep eye contact with him as you continue to dance on him. He’s entranced by you that he doesn’t really know what else to say, or how to react. But god, do you feel amazing on him. That body, too?

Heavenly.

“Your friends have been yelling it all night.” You stand and straddle him in the opposite direction, legs wrapped around his torso as you lean forward and bounce on his dick a little more. San can’t help but run his hands down your ass, giving it a good squeeze before you come back up and pry yourself off of him to head to the pole in front of him.

“Fair enough. What’s your name then, beautiful?” You look at him, ignoring the question at first. But, San feels a little different than your usual customers, feels a bit more personal even though you don’t know anything about him nor does he know anything about you. It’s the way that he looks at you, focused on your face, your every move. It’s the way that it’s a room full of dancers and he’s stuck on you. Most men are in the club to fill a void; seeking for quick satisfaction, something that’ll eventually blow over until the next visit. But, it’s nothing more than that. You are nothing more than a dancer, nothing more than a face on stage— someone who collects their bills and runs.

But to San, you feel different.

Before you look into him too deeply, you quickly snap out of it and begin to twirl around the pole, doing your usual pole routine when you’re in the VIP booth. You fall into a split, hand coming down from the pole, down to your body.

San follows.

“My name?” You repeat, and San nods.

“Is that not a normal question here?”

“No one ever gives out their real names here.” You chuckle.

“Then, what’s your stage name?” Time passes when you’re dancing. Usually, you give them 30 mins tops, 45 mins if they keep sending big bills your way. But, you never try to spend more than that with the same person. Not in this community. With the hundreds San’s friend handed you, you would’ve stopped at 15 minutes if this were anyone else.

You’re closing in 20– probably will be 30 when you blink— but you don’t really wanna stop giving San this attention. He’s attractive, fitting his button-up and slacks in all the right places. He has black short hair, a few strands draping over his forehead, a pretty Rolex sitting on his wrist. You think he could handle you if you gave him the chance, and the thought is enough to make your brain short-circuit.

“Crimson.” He smirks, running his finger across his bottom lip while he continues to watch you bounce your ass on the stage. He thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on— the bodysuit doing your body wonders as it makes his mind wander to the unknown.

To what you would look like naked, to have you underneath him, to have you calling his name.

He’s been glued to you from the start and he’s not sure what kind of spell you have him under, but he wants more.

“Crimson.” He repeats, the stage name dripping off his tongue like water. “Are you here every night?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” You twirl with a smirk on your face.

“Come on, don’t do that.” He leans back, head resting against the couch as his hands rest on his thighs.

“Why would it matter?”

“I wouldn’t wanna come back if you weren’t here.” You giggle, stepping away from the pole and slotting yourself back in between his legs at a crouch.

“There’s plenty of other amazing dancers, you know? I don’t make the club.”

“You’re right, you don’t. But, it’s not them I’m asking about.” Your hands travel back up his legs, your face inches away from his dick. You swear you hear him hiss a bit the minute your face glides over, planting small, chaste kisses against his clothed stomach right above the belt.

“I’m here 4 days a week.”

“What days?” You stand, bending to whisper in his ear. His hand comes up to graze your thigh and hip, shivers shooting down his spine when you respond with:

“I guess you’ll have to find out.” Because now, San takes it as a challenge and he’s determined to figure out which nights you’re here. Initially, he agreed to this whole thing thinking it’d be a one-and-done— a birthday done differently after all these past years only to become an after-thought as time goes on. But now, he wants more of you, all of you; wants to keep seeing you, feeling you, touching you, seeing you dance for him and him only.

He’s not sure what kind of spell you have him under, but he wants more.

You look at him once more, tipping his chin with your finger before dipping forward. You only give him enough so that the tips of your noses brush against each other, enough to tease but not please the birthday boy on his special night.

“See you soon, Sannie. Happy birthday.” You whisper before turning on your heels and leaving him in the VIP booth to return to the stage. San has to gather himself for a minute, loosening the buttons on his shirt and his tie and adjusting his pants before heading back out to his friends.

“So?! How was it?” Wooyoung leans over on the chair right after he greets another dancer making her rounds across the floor.

“Good.”

“He’s red in the face.” Mingi laughs. “It was more than good.”

“Say thank you for the best birthday ever, Wooyoung.” Wooyoung teases and San can’t help but shake his head. He’s still lost in thought, eyes subtly scanning the room to find you but you are busy taking new customers into the VIP booth. The room feels hot, and he wishes he could be in the VIP booth with you, alone. He truly wished it never ended. “Let’s head to the bar and get more drinks.” San shrugs and follows along, the 4 of them heading into the bar where the music is louder, and other dancers are flooding the area.

As the night goes on, you’ve finished tending to your regulars— already knowing what they want, what they need, but making your boundaries clear every time they try to step over the line and take advantage of your generosity tonight. By the end of your shift, it’s 3am and you’re exhausted. Your feet are hurting from the platform heels you’re sporting. It’s crazy how after all this time as a dancer, you still aren’t used to the heels you have to throw on, excited to dip your feet in a hot, lavender foot bath when you get home. You change back into your casual sweats and matching hoodie, throwing the hood over your head as you bid farewell to your coworkers and step out the back door into the cold, crisp night. When you cross the alley to get onto the main road, there are a few gentlemen standing around, some smoking their cigarettes while chatting with their friends.

Usually, no one causes you trouble. From time to time, your usuals are drunk and babbling nonsense about how they wish they could take you home, show you ‘a new world.’ But, no one ever gets handsy, no one ever forces themselves on you. For the most part, they know what this is, they know at the end of the night this is nothing but a temporary fantasy— one you fulfill for a specific time frame before the new day dawns and things go back to normal, to routine.

Tonight, it’s a bit different.

“Yo, isn’t that the dancer?” You hear a familiar voice as you cross through the alley, passing by a big group on your way. They seem to be tending to a friend who has gotten sloppily drunk, yacking their brains out off to the side of the club.

“Aye cutie, going home already? Wanna give the birthday boy more love?” Another friend questions after he pulls the cigarette from in between his lips and exhales. “Bro, Mingi. Hurry up and get your sloppy ass together. It’s fucking cold.” He scolds their incredibly drunk friend afterwards.

“Hongjoong.” You hear San call for his friend. You do nothing but give them a simple look as you continue to walk on, trying not to feed them any attention. As attractive as San is, you are too tired to deal with this right now. After all, you are just a dancer. What more could you be to him? You temporarily feed into their fantasies, nothing more, nothing less.

“What, it’s a simple question. You never know, she might be down.”

“Sorry.” San apologizes on his behalf, his eyes red and glazed from the alcohol.

“Not down?” Hongjoong asks again, his eyes now glued onto you.

“No, I’m not.” You respond, walking backwards to maintain eye contact.

“Aw, why not?” Honey-skin with the black-button up chimes in. “He’s single. He could use it.”

“The fuck? Not helping.” San looks at his friend and taps him on the chest, making him bust out into a loud laugh.

“I don’t do that. Nothing beyond the club. Sorry to disappoint.” You smile at them before walking off onto the main street.

“Can he at least escort you home?!” They call out as you cross the street, making you roll your eyes as you continue the journey home all by yourself.

▹ END

Since then, there’s been a new addition to your regulars. One particularly more intriguing than the rest. You didn’t really believe Mia when she told you the familiar face came on your days off, asking the bartender if you were dancing tonight. He came, and he came, until he figured out the exact 4 days you worked. To say you were surprised would be an understatement because why on earth was San actually looking for you?

Why was he actually trying to figure out your schedule?

Did he really want to see you, or were you just his favorite dancer? Was he too shy to get close to the other dancers [at a strip club]?

It’s been a couple of weeks and San still comes. But, you’ve pushed the questions to the back of your mind; taking his visits with a grain of salt. You weren’t sure you’d pry anyway, afraid you’d be reading into this too much. After all, you are just a dancer.

What more could you be to him? You temporarily feed into their fantasies, nothing more, nothing less.

“Babe, your man is here.” Mia peeks into the dressing room, her head popping in from the doorway.

“He is not my man.” You give her a look, but she giggles and smirks before turning.

“Hurry that ass up, he seems anxious.” She calls out just before she heads back out to the main floor. You roll your eyes, dabbing more lip gloss on your lips before heading back out onto the floor. As promised, San sits in that same chair you met him during his first night at the club while Wooyoung [you’ve come to learn] lingers near the stage. Wooyoung is already entertaining another dancer, taking every opportunity to slip a few bills underneath her bikini top.

To tease San a bit, you come up from behind up, trailing your hands down his chest while your lips ghost his ear. He turns slightly just for some sort of confirmation, though he’s already studied your body— down to the way you move, the way you tease.

“San.” You call his name. “Should I still be surprised that you’re here again?”

“You tell me.” He smirks, that pretty smile of his slowly becoming a weakness for you. “I’m just here to get my fix.” He winks, even though he really just wants to see you and be alone with you again.

“Get in line.” You tease. San immediately holds up a few bills, eyes darting from yours to your cleavage in that incredibly tiny silver bikini top you have on.

“Should I?” He subtly bites onto his bottom lip as he slips the money right into your top. You playfully roll your eyes and lead the way to a VIP booth, San undoing his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves just about halfway up his forearm. Truthfully, yes, it’s been a long day [week, even] and he’s needing a release; wanting to let out some steam. But, he’s also excited he could do that with you and only you. He watches your hips sway as you walk and wait for him to enter the booth, shutting the curtain close so that it’s just you and him underneath the red mood lighting.

You step onto the stage; twirling around the pole before you bounce your ass on the stage. San watches intently, eyes glued to your bottom half when you spread your legs and show him how much those bottoms aren’t doing shit for you.

He is so, so curious.

He takes note of every detail of your body, studying it over and over again like a book. And god, he wants to do everything and nothing all at once— stuck between wanting to get his hands all over you and doing nothing just to admire your pretty face, your figure. San felt like maybe this was just a phase, a new, exciting experience in his life that’ll soon fizzle out.

But when San looks at you, he can’t agree. He’s not sure what kind of spell you have him under, but he wants more.

He leans back onto the couch, his head resting against the edge as he manspreads. He licks his lips while watching your hands travel down your chest, your stomach.

“Why are you so far?” He questions, motioning for you to come closer. Your bikini top and bottom are still driving him crazy, and he’s certain he’ll lose his shit once you sit on his lap.

“So eager tonight?”

“Just been a rough week.”

“I’m sure, as with everyone else here.”

“Am I just everyone else?” You let out a small chuckle, straddling his lap. His hands immediately come up to cup your ass, giving it a good squeeze before you start to work your hips on him. He’s gotten pretty comfortable by now, though San still shoots you a look as if it’s his way of asking for permission first. You appreciate the little things, and San most definitely isn’t just like everyone else. But, as with any defense mechanism, you resort to a guarded response:

“I mean, you’re here at ungodly hours tipping girls for a dance.” He lets out a small laugh, strong hands now at your hips.

“Mm, I really only come for my favorite though. You might know her?” He jokes, his face only inches away from yours.

“Do I?” You follow along with his teasing. The strap to your bikini top falls off your shoulder and San’s eyes follow; the small room feeling 10 degrees hotter, pants a little tighter.

“Mhm.” He hums, his finger tracing a line up your leg. “She has tattoos just like this lining her thigh—“ He moves it up to your hip. “Up her hip.” His thumb comes up to your lip. “Pretty lips just like that. Long lashes. Prettiest smile I’ve seen.” His face moves towards your neck, lips grazing the surface below your ear. “Mole on the neck.” You subtly bite onto your bottom lip. San’s hand brushes up against your breast before he touches the small mole on your neck.

“Sounds like a lot of the girls around here.”

“Mm, but the one I’m thinking of goes by the stage name Crimson.” You continue to tease, bounce on him a little more, shake ass a little more. Your eyes linger on him a bit longer than you’d like, and you find yourself retracting. To him, the room is probably degrees hotter— for you, it’s starting to feel suffocating.

“She’s nothing but a ‘lil dancer, San.” You whisper in his ear, lips brushing against the surface before you hop off his lap. San is a little confused at the sudden change, but you feel like you’re reading too much into this, too much into San.

This isn’t supposed to be anything but business.

Why would San ever want you in that way? Most of this is to fulfill a want, a need, a fantasy. San is most likely saying this to get what he wants, to take charge and lead you on.

Though, at the end of the night, you are nothing but a face, a dancer. He wouldn’t think about you past the club. That is where this ends, regardless.

You give San one last look before you brush past the curtain, returning to the stage closest to the bar. Wooyoung is getting dragged to a VIP booth, his other friends now standing and gathering around the stage to get up close and personal to the girls currently on there. You make a beeline to the stage near the bar, the area being a little more dead than the main stage room.

Right before you hop on stage, Mia is delivering drinks to a few men off to the side of the room. She shoots you a look, following after handing over the drinks.

“Why are you rushing? Did something happen?” You wait for the bartender to hand you some water.

“Nothing happened.” You sip a bit to shake off your thoughts, your feelings.

“You sure? I’ll beat someone’s ass if you need me to and call security to toss them out.”

“I promise.” You look at her and squeeze her arm. “I’m just gonna stick here for the rest of the night, though. Need a change of pace.” She nods.

“Alright, if you say so. I’m still onto you.” She says, leaving you to help the bartender with delivering the drinks.

For the rest of the night, you continue to dodge San and his friends until the end of your shift. You don’t usually leave through the front doors of the club, but tonight, you sneak out and rush across the street with your hood up. You can hear San and his friends as they leave, causing you to pick up the pace of your steps— hoping you’ll avoid being caught.

But, San sees you, anyway. His eyes can’t help but watch for a few seconds more before he’s returning his attention back to the boys. He felt the shift earlier, and he picked up on the way you continued to hop from stage to stage— seemingly avoiding their group. He’s not sure what happened, or why he feels like you’ve suddenly got your guard back up around him. It’s something about you, and San knows it shouldn’t be that serious. This became a fun little past-time for him and his boys. But every time he’s left the club recently, he leaves a little bit more attached to you.

Because yes, you know how to work your magic in there. It’s no fucking joke. He gets a taste of you on stage, in the booth, and it blows his mind. But other than that, it’s the way you return the same look, the same touch. There’s something else, more to you than the surface, and he’s curious to find out.

It shouldn’t be that serious, but for San, it is.

“What’s wrong?” Jongho pushes a small coffee your way, cocking a brow when he sees how checked out you seem today.

“W-what?” You look at him, finally pulled out of your daze. “Oh, nothing.” You grab the cup and take a sip, giving him a tiny toothless smile of appreciation. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” He sets his coffee onto the side of the cart, helping you unbox a few albums that arrived today and needed to be restocked on the shelves. “So, really. What is it?” He asks, eyes still focused on restocking. Jongho has been one of your closest friends— probably the only closest, genuine friend that stuck by your side since you were younger. He still keeps in touch with the group you grew up with since middle school, but lots of those relationships have been severed after you started dancing at the club. Jongho was the only one who didn’t see you any differently, nor did he take the job as anything bad. He always knew you were passionate about dance and he understood you when times got tough; strapped on cash and needing a quick fix that would help you get by. It was a bit of a risky, somewhat dangerous step, but who was Jongho to control your life? You already didn’t have a great relationship with your parents, so the least Jongho can do is support you and be your pillar if no one else would be. He knew you could make your own decisions, and only you knew yourself best. He knew you’d take care of yourself, whatever that looked like.

Jongho was the manager at this small, quaint music shop in the city. Though, the city you lived in wasn’t entirely huge compared to others. It still had its old-school touch of wooden, soft decor with a rage of vintage to mainstream albums and art throughout the shop. The owner was a middle-aged man who used to play in a band back in the days, now retired and trying to stay in touch with his roots through the shop. Jongho had worked here for years before stepping into the full-time manager position and helped bring you on, especially during the time you needed it the most.

You really appreciate Jongho, and you’re glad you at least have him.

“Sometimes, I feel like I should’ve just finished school.”

“You did. High school?”

“College.” Jongho shrugs when you respond and give him a look.

“If it wasn’t what you wanted to do at the time, then why force yourself? Besides, it’s never too late. You can always go back to school.” He turns to you and places a hand on his hip. “Why are you thinking about this all of a sudden?”

“I don’t really know. What if they were right? What if I’m not good for anything besides being a stripper? What if I’m just that?”

“You and I both know that’s not true.” Jongho tosses the empty box aside, triggering you to get it together and start doing your job. “You’re smart, talented, and passionate about a lot of things. Especially dance. Just because you work at a club doesn’t make you less of a person, Y/N.” He says in that usual serious tone of his.

“Thanks.” You poke your bottom lip out as you arrange the albums and start tagging the price stickers onto them.

“Who is it?” You sigh, already knowing Jongho won’t leave it alone until you finally tell him the truth about why you’re suddenly questioning your life.

“It’s the same guy I told you about. The birthday boy.” Jongho does a tiny nod of acknowledgement.

“He’s still showing up with his friends?”

“Yeah, surprisingly. And he always looks for me. Asks for me. Doesn’t pay attention to any other dancer there.”

“Maybe he has a crush on you.”

“We know nothing about each other. He knows my stage name, he knows my club persona.” You sigh. “That’s why it made me question life. It’s dumb, I know.” You purse your lips together as you shove the albums into the shelf and move onto the next task.

“Well, there has to be a reason why he keeps coming back for you and only you. Maybe he wants to know you, outside of the club and that whole persona thing.” Jongho shrugs. “Never say never.”

“He’s a businessman of some sort. Suited up all the time. He must work for a really good company. Probably has a family that is well off.” You shake your head and make your way back to the front. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Why don’t you ask—“ At this point, just as you settle at the register with Jongho, a few people enter the shop. You whip your head towards the entrance when you hear some laughter, only for your eyes to widen.

“Oh, shit. Jongho!” You whisper harshly. “What the hell is he doing here?!” He looks over your shoulder as San and Wooyoung walk in, Wooyoung instantly making a turn to head to the vinyl collection.

“Is that birthday boy?” You nod with a worried expression on your face. San is about to walk past the register when he furrows his brows at the small commotion happening behind the counter, turning his attention towards you and Jongho.

“Too late dude, he’s right there.” Jongho blocks you from leaving. “It’d be too obvious now, just take it like a fucking champ and say hi.” He says through gritted teeth. “I gotta walk around anyways.” He turns to San enthusiastically. “Hey, welcome in.”

“Hey.” San looks at the both of you, his brows still furrowed when his eyes land on your face.

“Hi. Let me know if you need help.” You try to scurry off, but San stops you.

“Woah, wait. You’re—“

“Don’t say it outloud here.” San’s lips form into the shape of an ‘o’ before nodding. He can’t help but glaze over your features and how naturally beautiful you are– the sun hitting your skin perfectly. You never packed on the makeup heavily on stage, but you did still have a face on every time you worked at the club. He subtly nibbles onto his bottom lip, hands dug deep into his jacket pockets.

“You work here, too?”

“Makes up for the days I’m not there.” He nods.

“Well, hi.” He gives you a small smile.

“Hi.” You tilt your head. “I’ve never seen you around this part of the city. Ever.” He snorts a bit.

“We’re never usually on the outskirts, but Wooyoung was adamant about getting vinyls for his new record player. You guys are the only shop that has a good collection.” You nod, San stepping aside when a customer unloads their basket onto the counter. He lingers around, watching how delicate you are handling the merchandise and how big your smile is when helping the customer. As expected, you’re very different from the club— you seem more relaxed, laid back. Sweet. Happy.

“So, are you just gonna stand there and wait for Wooyoung?” You chuckle after wrapping up the transaction and handing the customer their bag, bidding farewell as they head out of the store.

“I don’t really need anything so, yeah. I guess so. I’d rather talk to you, anyway.” You give him a look and take the sticker gun in your hand, walking away from the counter when a coworker comes back from break to relieve you.

“I’m working.” You head back to the floor, San following behind.

“I know.” He watches as you begin to sort through another shipment. “Are you gonna tell me your name now that we’re outside of the club?”

“Why do you wanna learn my name so badly? And why are you always at the club? Don’t you have like.. other things to do? A girlfriend or someone to entertain?” You shiver at the thought. God, you hope not. Especially with how he’s been lately. But, men are trash and you wouldn’t expect any less.

“Because I do? You’re not just someone from the club.” You look at him briefly before looking back down at the stack of albums. “And no, I don’t have someone to entertain. I wouldn’t be there often if I did.” Touché. “We just had fun on my birthday. It’s a good way to let out some steam after busy days.”

“Hm.” You hum.

“I like seeing you there.” He casually says, making you pause in your actions before continuing.

“I don’t make the club, San.”

“You make it for me. Or else I wouldn’t be going.” You look at him again with a hand on your hip. He has a small smirk plastered on his face and you can’t help but notice how attractive he looks under the daylight— smooth honey skin, hoodie over his head, soft black hair teasing his forehead. Your eyes linger on him for a lot longer than you’d like, having to force yourself to snap out of it when you realize [again] that San wouldn’t want you in that way.

“What are you trying to do here?” You cock a brow up just before you start working on the CDs in front of you, marking them down and adding new price tags to the back.

“Get to know you.”

“Why me?”

“Why not you?” San continues to smirk, leaning against the shelves.

“Y/N, take your break in a few minutes.” Jongho says coming down the aisle before giving San a small, pursed smile.

“Yeah, Y/N.” San chimes in and teases. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“You ready? I found what I needed—“ Wooyoung comes from around the corner, pausing mid-sentence when he realizes San isn’t alone. “Oh, hey! I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Your eyes dart to Wooyoung and he smiles. “Wow, you’re really pretty in the daylight—“ San taps him on the chest. “What, I’m just saying! It’s hard to really see faces in the club lighting. Besides, I don’t get the privilege of having private—“

“Okay, that’s—yeah.” San cuts him off and scratches at his head. “Really sorry.”

“You ready?” You let out a sigh before asking Wooyoung. “I can ring you up at the other register before I head to break.”

“Yeah.” You lead them to the smaller checkout stand at the end of the aisle, scanning Wooyoung’s items and bagging up his things as he pays. Throughout the entire time, San is still watching you; subtly biting onto his bottom lip when he can’t help but think of the nights at the club, being intimately close with you— seeing you in a different light than this.

Which, he’s trying not to. He just can’t help it. You are beauty in its purest form, and he wishes he could know more about you.

And you don’t fail to notice.

The look San has in his eyes is different from what you’re used to seeing at nighttime. It makes you nervous from the butterflies you feel, the curiosity running through your veins— even if the other thoughts in your mind say otherwise.

“Guess we’ll see you around?” Wooyoung smirks before walking out of the shop first.

“See you soon, Y/N.” Just before San walks out, you shut off the part of your brain that keeps spewing negativity and all these other ‘what if’s.’

“W-wait.”

“Hm?” He hums, his hands in his pocket as he cocks a brow up. You begin to scribble your number down on a random receipt that was left behind, pushing it over to San shortly afterwards.

“Don’t ask for free dances or anything though, I’ll block you.” San chuckles before grabbing the receipt and tucking it into his pocket.

“Don’t want that, now do we?” He winks before stepping out of the shop.

“Cute.” You glare at Jongho and hit him on the arm. “Ouch, what!”

“Why would you say my name around him!”

“You act like he wasn’t gonna find out one way or another, the dude definitely has googly eyes over you.” He crosses his arms and smirks. “Besides, you slipped him your number.”

“Ugh.” You continue to glare at him. “I’m going on my break.”

“So you can text San, hm?” You mouth out a quick ‘fuck off’ before turning on your heel and heading to the break room. The entire scenario hadn't been processed in your mind until now, unsure if giving your number to San was a good idea or not.

You didn’t wanna get attached to him. Not him, of all people. Though, you know you will, and that’s why it feels like a bad decision.

A decision you think you might regret.

The thought blows over when you get home that night, exhausted from your work day and the commute. You hop in the shower and whip up a teriyaki chicken rice bowl with some veggies. You plop onto your couch and turn on the TV, picking up on where you left off on the last episode of the series you were watching. Barely 7 minutes in, a call comes through on your phone, your eyes widening at the name flashing across the screen. Just as you briefly debate on answering the call, your hands are already moving towards the phone; swiping right to pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” San says on the other line so nonchalantly, as if you two had been talking for years.

“Hi?” You let out a small, nervous chuckle. “What made you call?”

“I just wanted to talk to you and ask how the rest of your day at work went.”

“Oh.” You shrug as if he can see you. “It was alright. Nothing too bad.”

“Yeah? Nobody get on your nerve throughout the day?”

“I also work at a strip club. I think the music shop is very mild when it comes to that.” You joke, making San laugh a bit on the other line. “How was the rest of yours?”

“Good. Wooyoung and I just grabbed something to eat before he brought me home.”

“Where’s home for you?”

“Probably 20 minutes away from the city.” He responds just as you hear dishes clinking in the background. “Did you eat already?”

“I am right now.”

“Oh shit, sorry. Do you want me to call you later? Or, I guess, I can just text you?”

“It’s okay, San. I don’t mind.”

“Mmkay. Just checking.”

“I know you just saw Wooyoung, but you guys aren’t hanging out with the rest of your friends tonight?”

“Believe it or not, we like taking breaks from each other.” He laughs a bit. “No but, Mingi, the really tall one, has a date or whatever tonight.”

“Or whatever?” You laugh.

“He’s weird about these things. Says it’s a date when we all know he’s not really ready to date seriously.”

“Mm, one of those guys. You like that, too?”

“Definitely not. If I really like someone and we hit it off, I’ll pursue them to no end.”

“Mhm.” You find yourself teasing him more. “Cute. Have you guys known each other for long?”

“Me and Wooyoung grew up together. Our parents are close, too. We met Hongjoong and Mingi in college.”

“That’s sweet.”

“What about you, Y/N? What about your friends? Tell me more about yourself. I meant it when I said I wanna get to know you.” You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, even though every bone in your body is telling you to continue keeping your guard up.

“Ah, did you? Cause it definitely sounded like a line.” You snort.

“It’s not just a line. Seriously.”

“I honestly don’t know what to tell you. I don’t have an interesting story.” You poke at your food before taking a small bite.

“Don’t say that. I find you interesting no matter what.”

“You say that now.”

“I’ll say it later, too.” He reassures you.

“I– I don’t know. I’m not close to my family after the decisions I’ve made, and friends left my side especially after I started working at the club more. Jongho is really the only person who has stayed by my side since we were younger.”

“I’m sorry. Why aren’t they your friends anymore?”

“I guess they just think I’m dumb for not going to school and for settling at the club.”

“I mean, that’s not really fair? It’s not dumb if it wasn’t what you wanted.”

“Yeah, well. They didn’t think I’d take dance that seriously.”

“You’re really good at it.” You chuckle hearing his response. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“Wish I could tell you. My family is in the same boat. My older sister graduated from college and started her own lab after finishing her postdoctoral appointment. Imagine how much my family looks down on me. I struggled for awhile and Jongho helped me out a lot.”

“I’m glad you at least have him.”

“I am too.”

“What else do you like to do?”

“San, are you sure you don’t have anything else to do tonight?” He laughs. “What about your family?”

“Swear. My family is fine, they’re doing their own thing.”

“Do they live around here too?”

“Nope, maybe an hour or so away? I have an older sister too, but she’s overseas right now. She’s in the fashion industry.” He lets out a small sigh. “I genuinely wanted to call you and talk to you after seeing you today.”

“You’re such a mystery.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. You just are. I see you at the club a couple of times, then I see you at the shop. Now we’re on the phone. It’s just funny how things play out.”

“Nothing mysterious about it. Maybe it’s just meant to play out that way.”

“What’s meant to play out that way?”

“Us.” You pause. Mainly because you couldn’t believe this is how things were meant to play out with San. Why was he everywhere and nowhere at the same time? Why was he calling you and trying to get to know you? And what if it was meant to play out this way? It could either mean two things— one, San was meant to play some sort of good in your life.

Or two, San was meant to break your heart and teach you yet another lesson in this crazy universe.

You weren’t sure what to think of it all, if you were even ready to figure out what all of this meant.

But, at this moment in time, all the regrets and thoughts continue to brush over your head because you like hearing San’s voice and you like talking to him outside of the club. You are intrigued, and you can’t say you aren’t keen on finding out what this is.

So, you continue to talk to San. 30 minutes turns into an hour; slipping into bed with San still on the other line. It’s easy to talk to him and you like that he initiates most of the conversation. He doesn’t judge you and he doesn’t pressure you into talking about things you don’t feel comfortable diving into right now. He doesn’t put the focus on himself much and he listens. You find yourself giggling, tossing and turning under the sheets— thoughts exploring uncharted territories.

San almost feels like a bad decision; a decision you think you might regret.

For tonight, you’ll take it. You’ll take this for what it is, and you’ll take San for who he is. You’ll find out what his role is in your life and why this is playing out the way it is for the both of you.

Maybe he is good.

Maybe he is a heartbreaker.

Or maybe San is meant to be San, a passing moment in your life that eventually just ends.

Whatever it is, you’ll figure it out. Even if it's something you might regret later on.

“Can I tell you something Y/N?” He asks just as you feel the exhaustion hitting your body.

“Mhm?”

“You’re really beautiful. I like seeing you, especially on stage. You know how to drive people crazy.”

San continues to text and call you, just to ask if you’re doing okay— to let you know he always looks forward to seeing you. Small smiley faces, goodmorning’s and goodnight’s, dropping by with food or just to say hi at the music shop; you can’t help but feel the butterflies in your tummy grow when it comes to San.

You’re not sure if you despise it or not.

Jongho says you should just see where it goes and tries to reassure you by telling you what’s meant to be, will be, and that you shouldn’t read too much into things right now.

Keep doing you as you have, and continue to move forward.

But, it’s a lot easier said than done. Especially when you don’t understand what San wants out of you. He’s respected your boundaries through text, not asking for free dances or nudes, only keeping it brief to check in on you sometimes. Yet, at the club, he’s handsy. He’s vocalized how much he wants you and how much he wishes he could know more about you outside of the club.

San is an enigma.

You count in your head as you slowly take steps forward on stage, trying your hardest not to get distracted.

One, two.

Twirl around the pole.

Three, four.

Fall into the splits.

Five, six.

Bounce.

You get back onto your fours, shaking ass for the men lined up near the stage constantly tossing bills your way and shoving it under the ties of your bikini bottoms. It isn’t long before the main stage is where the most activity is happening— the club incredibly busy tonight with tons of celebrations. You’ve just stepped out of a VIP booth, your client paying you more than you could ask for by simply requesting if you could just work the pole for him. You gladly oblige, making it one less man to give a lap dance to before your shift is over.

Besides, you can’t help but think of San.

And the moment you start to think about him, is the exact moment you find him lingering in the club with his boys— eyes scanning the stage and room before they finally find you near the VIP booths. It’s been a minute since they’ve stopped by. San has mentioned that he and his friends have just been swamped at work and that he can’t wait to let some steam out soon. He’s in all black tonight; black fitted slacks, boots, a black-button up with his chest partially exposed. He’s got a silver chain around his neck, and god, does the sight immediately do things to you.

They order a round of drinks before San finds himself at one of the seats next to the stage. He’s entertaining the crowd a bit, joining in when your coworker steals the stage and grabs the attention from the men around you. You don’t mind because it gives you the opportunity to slip away and take a breather, maybe run for a quick water break before you sway your hips in San’s direction.

And sure enough, he’s been waiting. Like he always is.

Just as you sweet talk your way through the crowd and grab a few extra tips for it, San gently wraps his hand around your wrist and pulls you onto his lap. He smirks at you, eyes glazed over from all the alcohol he’s already downed.

“Mm, I’ve been waiting.” He says. “Can I have you?” The question sends shivers down your spine, his touch against your hip electrifying.

“Depends.” You tease as he slips a few bills into your bra. “Can you handle it tonight? You’re pretty drunk.”

“Can always handle you, babygirl.” He says in your ear. You instantly stand to your feet and grab his hand, leading him to one of the free VIP booths. As soon as you pull the curtains close and try to work your way over to the pole, San pulls you back onto his lap— hands caressing your sides as you fix your position and properly straddle him. “Need you here, not there.”

“Thought you liked watching me work the pole.”

“I do, but not as much as I like watching you on me.”

“You’re incredibly suave tonight, what’s gotten into you?” You giggle, feeling San’s hands grope your ass.

“Just missed you.”

“We’ve been talking quite a bit.”

“I know, but it’s not the same as seeing you.”

“You just missed the club.”

“Nah. You.” He corrects you. Something about San is different tonight, but you can’t say you dislike it. He’s a little more straightforward, a little more bolder, a little more open about his want— his need— for you. Especially when he caresses your tits; palm gently gliding over before giving your nipples a good pinch. Especially when his lips ghost over your neck, jaw, finally finding its way to your ear. Especially when he whispers about how pretty you look and how he wishes he could kiss you.

“Who said you couldn’t?” He pauses for a moment to look at you, really look at you, before taking his hand to your cheek and bringing you down to his lips. The way your lips crash is intense, full of lust.

Want.

Need.

A craving to be fulfilled.

The kiss easily turns wet, sloppy; San’s hands digging half crescents into your hips as he guides you to work your hips against him. He lets out a shaky breath in between, lips now traveling down to your jaw, neck.

“Fuck.” You hear him groan against your skin, right before his tongue glides against the surface; nibbling and sucking gently to soothe the mark.

“San.” You call his name as he continues down to the base of your neck, collarbone— lips now pressed against your inner breast. Part of you feels so, so good in San’s arms. But the other half feels so incredibly conflicted about the whole situation solely because San is an enigma. You aren’t sure if it’s enough to sway you away. Reality hits when the crowd outside roars in cheers, pulling you away from the sweet daydream, the sweet fog that temporarily clouded your vision. Your hands rest on his shoulders as you gently pry him away and push him back. “San.” You repeat.

“Yeah?”

“We shouldn’t.” He licks his lips, eyes still glued onto yours. Surprisingly, he doesn’t fight back, no. Instead, he kisses you one last time— lips locked until one of you pulls away first. You hop off his lap and walk off towards the curtain, giving him one last look before leaving him alone. “See you out there, okay?” Is all you manage to say. San knows better than to do this here, of all places, but he can’t seem to help himself. He’s stuck on you, has this pull to you, and he wants it all. He doesn’t fight though, because he should be doing better. This probably looks all wrong and confusing to you and he doesn’t mean to do that. He’s just no good at this, no good at approaching you— you, so sexy and so independent.

It’s something about you, and he’s losing his mind.

“Shoot your fucking shot already.” Hongjoong comes around the corner from the bathroom, running into San as he exits the VIP booth.

“What?” He asks, still a bit discombobulated after the short but intense session in the booth.

“Your girl.”

“She’s not my girl.”

“Shut up.” He says, forehead furrowed. “We come to the club and all you do is look for her. Can’t tell me there isn’t anything more to it.”

“I don’t know.”

“Just do it. What do you have to lose? You’re not getting any younger.” Hongjoong snickers, but it quickly fades when San’s expression hasn’t changed. “You’re just trying to fuck, right?” San finally meets his eyes but he doesn’t say anything, and it kinda freaks Hongjoong out. “What the fuck, San?”

“What?”

“You actually like her? You can’t be serious. I thought it was just a one time thing–”

“What the fuck does it matter?” San lets out a small chuckle to play off the whole thing, but frankly, he’s trying his hardest to not let Hongjoong ruin his mood. “Look, I’m not trying to think about this here. Ready?” He nods towards the bar, finding Mingi and Wooyoung amongst the crowd.

For the rest of the night, you do what you do best— deflect and avoid. You’re not sure how long you can keep doing this around San, especially every time you have an encounter with him. You start questioning yourself so much that it gets to you, that the reality of the situation starts dawning on you even though you have no foundation to back things up. But, you’d like to think that you haven’t fallen too deep; you could still swim up to the surface if you needed to, and you’d like to keep it that way.

However, that feels like a far reach when your shift ends. You feel like you’ve escaped for the umpteenth time until you realize you really haven’t, and that maybe, San was always going to be an enigma you were meant to figure out.

“Y/N.” You hear a familiar voice call for you as you walk down the street. You’re still walking at a steady pace, but the steps behind you seem to be catching up fairly quickly. “Y/N—” You turn and place your hand over his mouth, making San furrow his brows at you.

“We’re still nearby. I’d like it if you didn’t go yelling my name around like that.” He chuckles as you let him go, continuing your walk home.

“Some people should know your name by now, right?”

“And the majority that don’t?” You look at him. “Let’s keep it that way.”

“Sorry, beautiful.” You playfully roll your eyes, trying to keep your guard up.

“What’re you doing, San?”

“Walking you home.”

“What about your friends?” You pause in your steps, creating enough distance between you and the club by now.

“They can handle their own.” He shrugs. “Let me walk you.”

“Then, what?”

“Then at least I know you’re safe and sound.” You let out a breath before continuing to walk with San. You aren’t gonna lie— having San’s company makes you feel ten times safer, and you feel comfortable having him alongside you. Usually, you rush your walk just to get home in one piece. Tonight, you can finally enjoy the crisp, night time air for a bit longer.

Tonight, you can finally enjoy the stars for a bit longer.

Tonight, you can enjoy San for a bit longer.

“San?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t you get tired of going to the club?” He shakes his head and laughs.

“Not really. It’s kinda fun. Beats going to a regular club.”

“Can I ask?” He nods. “What do you do for work?”

“I just work for a tech company in their finance department.”

“Interesting.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know tech guys liked strip clubs so much.”

“Change of scenery.” You chuckle, easing up a bit in San’s company. “Is this your usual walk home?”

“Mhm. It’s not so bad.”

“Yeah, but it’s also like.. 3am.” San looks down at you. “Why don’t you just take an Uber home or something?”

“Why, when it’s within walking distance?”

“Safety reasons. You don’t feel scared?”

“Not really. I’ve done this walk for years now.”

“Why don’t I just bring you home from now on?” You laugh.

“Even if you don’t go to the club?”

“Especially when I don’t go to the club.”

“That’s too much work. I can’t ask you to do that. Plus, you work a regular 9-5 I’m assuming.”

“But, I’m offering? I don’t really trickle in right at 9 for work, as long as I make my 8 or so hours for the day. Plus, I can work from home sometimes.” You don’t say anything, so he quickly follows up with: “I know the walk is close, but it makes me feel weird about letting you be out here this late after work.”

“Hm.” You look at him.

“Let me.”

“Hey, just so we remember this— you offered and put that out on the table. Not me.” He laughs.

“Got it, your honor.”

“Are you not cold?”

“No. The cold is helping a lot right now.”

“How drunk were you today?”

“Pretty drunk.” He laughs. “It’s been a very long couple of weeks. I probably sound like a broken record but there’s no better way to put it. Lots of deadlines to meet with little time to prep.”

“Ah, the surprise deadlines. I’m sure it went fine, right?”

“Yeah, sure. After all the stress they put me through first.” San snorts.

“It’s done now. You made it.” You turn the corner and continue to walk down the path until you reach your building— a small, quaint building in the middle of the residential area. You lead San to your door at the far right corner of the building. “Welp, this is me.” You turn to look at him and he gives you a tiny, toothless smile.

“Cute.” You awkwardly fiddle with your fingers, feeling bad about turning San away. A part of you genuinely wants his company outside of the club and he seems to want the same, too.

“D-do you wanna come in, by any chance?”

“Only if you’re okay with it.”

��I am.” You turn to unlock the door. “Sorry if it’s super small and not aesthetically pleasing to look at.”

“Y/N, don’t apologize.” He steps in and steps out of his shoes, eyes wandering around your tiny studio. “It’s nice. I like the plants.” He eyes the plants near the shelf that blocks off your bed from the couch, TV and ‘living room’ area.

“Thanks. I try to take really good care of them.” He chuckles as he plops onto the couch.

“It’s a cozy space. It’s perfect for you, no?”

“I like it. I’ve been here for the past year and a half or so? Jongho’s aunt is the landlord and he did a lot to convince her to let me have this place for decent rent.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah. He was probably tired of me.” You grab two water bottles from your fridge. “I lived with him for a long time. We shared rooms.”

“He’s a really good friend.”

“He is.” You stand near him and hand him the water bottle. “Make yourself at home, I’m just gonna take a quick shower.”

“Can I join?”

“Do you wanna be tossed out?” He laughs.

“Kidding.” He pulls out his phone and begins to scroll through his social media. “I’ll wait patiently.” You grab your shirt and shorts before running into the bathroom to take a quick body shower, excited to rinse off the night from your skin. It only takes you about 15 minutes to fully get ready for bed, San still waiting patiently on your couch. His eyes shift from his screen to you—

Slowly ogling your body,

Down to your legs.

“Feel better?”

“Mhm.” You plop next to him, watching as he lets his head rest on the back of the couch. “Tired?”

“Yeah.”

“You should go home and get rest.”

“Do you want me to go home?” He looks at you and you aren’t really sure how to answer the question. Yes, you do, so San can rest.

But no, you don’t, because you like having him here.

You can’t help but remember the events that transpired earlier at the club and what it would feel like to have his lips on you again—

“No, not really.”

“Good, cause I wanna keep you company for a little longer.”

“San?”

“Yeah, pretty girl?”

“When you kissed me earlier—” You lick your lips and swallow the lump in your throat. “Did you kiss me because you were drunk at the club, or because you genuinely wanted to?”

“I told you I really wanted to.” You sit and look at him, unsure of how you feel about his response. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then?”

“I don’t know, San. I can’t read you.”

“You don’t have to.” He sits up, his face only inches away from yours. “It’s okay to tell me you don’t believe me, Y/N. I’d rather you be honest than not.”

“Then, no. I don’t.” He lets out a tiny, breathy laugh, a small smirk perked up on the corner of his lips.

“Fair enough.” He says lowly, eyes scanning your lips, your face and all its features. “Then, will you give me another chance to show you so you do believe me?” His thumb gently caresses your chin before grazing over your bottom lip. “Hm?” He hums. You nod, giving him leverage to dip down further, lips locked with yours for another soft, passionate kiss. It quickly deepens when San slips his tongue in; his fighting for dominance against yours. You find yourself hurrying to position yourself onto his lap, hands grabbing at his shirt. He gently nibbles on your jaw before making his way back down to your neck, no longer hesitating to suck on certain spots to leave his mark. His hands make their way up your shirt, palming at your tits while you fiddle with the buttons of his shirt. “Let’s get this off, baby.” The petname sends shivers down your spine, making you easily oblige to his request.

You shed off his shirt just as he tosses yours to the side, mouth instantly latching onto your perked bud. His tongue moves in a circular motion, pulling back with a pop before moving onto the next. You let out a moan when he flicks around your nipple, sucking gently before trailing his lips a bit further down.

“Hold onto me. Need you on the bed.” He huskily says as you wrap your arms and legs around him, San’s hands coming down to grip your ass. He takes you to your bed, wasting no time to get rid of the rest of the clothing sitting on your bodies. Everything feels so intimately rushed with San because there’s so much desire, so many thoughts and cravings to be fulfilled. He continues to kiss you, slipping two digits into you to test the waters— to see how wet you are, how tight you are. “Jesus.” He mumbles against your lips.

You are dripping.

“Sannie.” The nickname accidently slips from your lips again, making him smile against you.

“So cute when you say my name like that.” He lets out a breath. “You’re so wet for me. Think you can take me now?” He’s pumping himself and the sight makes you drool. He’s perfectly built— toned abs and biceps, skin dipped in honey, a perfectly thick cock. You nod, eager to get a taste of San, eager to see what he’ll do to you.

“Need you.”

“Oh, you do?” He has that smug smirk on his face just as positions himself at your entrance. “Shit, I don’t have a condom—”

“Here.” You quickly dig through your nightstand and grab a condom you got last week. Dude who tipped you off thought he was slick by throwing a condom in there, thinking he could get some.

At least it came in handy to your liking.

San quickly rips the packet open, throwing the condom on before lowering himself back down onto you. You let out a broken moan when he slips himself in, slowly burying himself to the hilt. His breath is hot against your neck, the both of you releasing shaky exhales while you get used to the feeling. He begins to rock his hips at a slow, steady pace; mumbling curses against your skin as he adjusts to your walls sucking him in.

“God, you feel so good— fuck, Y/N. You’re so hot.” He grunts, his thoughts running wild about seeing you at the club, getting his lap dances.

To this.

Everything about you drives San wild and he’s not even sure how he can explain the feeling. So sexy, so independent; attitude on na-na while worrying about yourself and yourself only.

San starts to fuck you faster, hips pounding against you and echoing in the studio. You’re both probably a bit too loud for your neighbors right now, but you truly could care less. San was driving himself into you at a delicious pace, hitting you in all the right spots.

“San.” You call his name, hands tugging at the hair sitting on the nape of his neck. “Like that— like that.” You whimper. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah, baby?” He sits up to pound against you at a different angle, hands at your thighs to spread you completely open. He loves seeing the way your slickness coats his cock, his head tilting back in immense pleasure. “Wanna cum for me, pretty girl? Wanna cum all over this dick? So good for me.” He praises, and praises, thumb coming down to work your clit.

“Oh, god.” You moan, hands gripping at the sheets as you feel yourself tipping over the edge the more San fucks into you, the more he rubs at your clit, the more your hips match his movements. You have never been this turned on by someone— at least, not in a very long time. San is so, so attractive. He is suave, and he knows what he’s doing with you. “So close.” San continues to praise you, telling you how beautiful you look underneath him.

How pretty you are.

How badly he wants you.

How you always drive him crazy.

And if it wasn’t for the constant praising, if it wasn’t for the way his hips worked so well against yours, if it wasn’t for the way San was skillfully rubbing at your clit— you wouldn’t be close to unraveling so quickly.

“San, I’m—“ You barely make out before you come undone beneath him, mouth slacked open as a silent moan leaves your lips; body trembling in his grip. This gives him momentum to drive his hips into you faster, harder; uncoiling shortly afterwards.

“Shit, Y/N. Feels too good.” San groans, unloading into the condom. His hands tightly grip your thighs as he gives it one, two more thrusts before coming back down from his high.

Everything feels so beautiful, yet intimately rushed. So, so good yet equally so, so bad for you.

Before you can even say anything, San lowers himself to give you a kiss on the lips. He kisses you for awhile before slipping himself out and grabbing a napkin to wrap the condom in. He quietly takes another few napkins to help clean up, wiping you gently before moving onto himself and plopping onto your bed next to you.

“You okay?” He asks, eyes closed as he regulates his breathing.

“Mhm.”

“Good?”

“Maybe.” He chuckles at your response, pulling you into his arms while you pull the sheets over the both of you. “Definitely worn out, though.”

“Yeah, same.” He kisses the top of your head. “Mind if I crash here for a bit? I don’t mind leaving too, if it makes you uncomfortable. Just let me know.”

“No, you’re good. I don’t mind, San.”

“Was hoping you’d say that.” You chuckle, adjusting your position to comfortably lay on San and fall asleep on his chest.

This is when you start to regret ever giving San the attention, your number, everything.

Because now that you know him a little more, San has become your kryptonite.

After that night, you woke up to an empty bedside— almost no signs of San entirely in your studio. Though it made your heart clench a little bit, part of you knew you wouldn’t be waking up to him.

For work, for other reasons.

Other reasons being that maybe, he really just did want you the one time. And the thought lingered for a little longer when he took awhile to text you that day, your mind running through all the worst possible scenarios during the hours.

▹ FLASHBACK

You slept like a baby after what felt like years, warmth of the sheets still engulfing you as your eyes flutter open. The sun leaves a trail down your sheets, everything quiet; still. When you turn, you find that San is gone— the dip on that side of the bed long gone, his clothes gone, waterbottle gone.

It was like he was never here in the first place.

Your clothes are set neatly off on the edge of the bed instead of the floor. And god, it feels kinda lonely without San. It’s your first telltale sign of attachment, though you know you shouldn’t be at that point after one intimate night with him.

But, it’s hard.

You check your phone and there aren’t any new texts besides Jongho and his need to send you random Instagram reels or TikToks. You lay in bed for a bit longer, letting out a soft sigh when you catch yourself wondering about San in that way. You shut your eyes for a little more, hoping you’ll be able to shake off the ‘what if’s’ with a couple of more hours of sleep.

Meanwhile, San tiredly walks into the office a bit past 10am, hopping straight into his first meeting of the day. It lasts an hour before he’s finally able to walk to the kitchen to grab his first [and much needed] cup of coffee.

“What the fuck happened to you last night, Mr. Suave?” Wooyoung comes beside him, waiting to get his cup of coffee refilled.

“I walked Y/N home.” San smirks.

“Yeah, obviously.” Wooyoung slightly glares at him. “You’re not slick, dumbass. You fucked, didn’t you?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Wow, I’m your bestfriend and you’re asking me that question?” Wooyoung lets out a little ‘pfft’ before playfully shoving San aside to finally get his refill. “I’ll take that as a yes. What’s the deal with you and Miss Crimson, anyway?”

“I like seeing her.” San shrugs. “I like her company.”

“You barely know her outside of the strip club.”

“I believe that’s the point of getting to know her.” San says in a very matter-of-a-fact tone.

“Dude, I didn’t think you’d actually go for her.” San raises his brow.

“Why is everyone saying that? What’s so wrong about it?”

“Nothing! I really just thought you were trying toot it and boot it.”

“Hm.” All San can do is hum while he stirs the stirrer around in his cup.

“But what about Noelle? You guys have that weird, toxic ex relationship thingy going on.” Wooyoung almost visibly shudders at the thought of their complicated relationship. So much back and forth, lying, getting in each other’s beds just to fulfill a need even though they don’t mean it for shit.

Yeah, toxic.

“Yeah, no. I’m done with that.”

“Mm, but you’ve said that before. You mean it? Like you’re actually over her because you genuinely like Y/N? Or, you’re done with it until you cave again?”

“I’m done with it.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.” Wooyoung takes a sip of his coffee. “I saw her texting you again.”

“I’m trying to tell her it’s done with.”

“Don’t see the urgency though, Mr. I-like-Y/N-and-I-enjoy-her-company. Out here breaking hearts in true Choi San fashion.”

“Don’t say shit like that.”

“Okay.” Wooyoung laughs, leaving him in the kitchen. San sighs to himself, a little tired, stressed even, about the whole Noelle situation. Truthfully, Wooyoung is right. Him and Noelle have too much history, too much baggage. Too much of that toxic shit. San is partially to blame because he does crawl back to her, he does cave pretty easily. And it’s not even because San wants to get back with her, no. He knows they can’t work out. All they do is bring out the worst in each other.

But, Noelle is the only thing he’s known for awhile. She fills his void pretty well because it’s familiar territory.

He’s done with it, though. He swears. He’s confused and not entirely sure where he sees this going right now, but you are intriguing. He sees you and his curiosity skyrockets. He wants to know more about you, and after last night, he feels like he can’t get enough of you. He wants more, and he’ll continue to show you that.

▹ END

“Yo.” Jongho’s eyes are barely peeking over the screen on the FaceTime call.

“What’s up?”

“What’re you doing?”

“Just hanging out. Eating some lunch.” You continue to poke at the salad you made. “How’s work?”

“Good, I guess. I’m grabbing some food right now from the shop down the street. How’s loverboy been?”

“Would you stop calling him that?”

“Well, what else is he, Y/N?” Jongho laughs a bit.

“Not my loverboy.”

“Says you even though he drops by to bring you food and calls you nonstop.”

“He doesn’t call me nonstop.”

“Sorry, once a day.” He gives you a look. “Have you seen him lately?”

“No. He went to the club once last week. Said he’s been busy again with work. I feel like it’s something else, though.”

“Mmm.” Jongho hums. “You’re overthinking.”

“I’m not.”

“I can hear you from here. What is it?”

“He’s just been kinda weird lately.”

“Distant?”

“Yeah. Maybe it is just work.”

“He’s probably just got way too much on his plate.”

“I shouldn’t even be thinking about it like this too much.” You finish up your salad. “It’s fine. I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Mm, okay. Well. Are you doing your usual shift at the club later?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s it been? Wanna hang out tomorrow before your shift?” He slightly pushes the phone away after placing his order and paying at the cashier.

“It’s the same old.” You sigh. “I’m down for that though.”

“Okay. I’ll come get you.”

“Jongho.”

“Yeah?”

“Seeing San makes me question myself. I don’t know if that’s good or not.”

“In what way?”

“I just feel ashamed. It makes me wanna look for a different job and leave the club.”

“Well, okay. Are you still happy at the club, or do you wanna do something else?”

“I’m happy but I feel like I could do better.”

“Because of San or because of you? Kinda important to differentiate. If you’re still happy but feel like you could do better for you, then great! But, if you wanna do better just to impress San and do it for him, then no.”

“I feel so stupid. I mean, he drops me off at home. We see each other from time to time–”

“Have sex with each other from time to time–”

“Jongho!”

“What?” He laughs.

“You’re in public!”

“So?! It’s natural human behavior. My god.” He laughs a bit more. “I’m not wrong though.”

“It’s so dumb. I don’t even know what this is. Probably not even something to be questioning my life like this.”

“Has San ever said anything to make you feel that way?”

“No. In fact, he’s supportive about everything and didn’t make me feel terrible about my past decisions.”

“Then you’re overthinking again.” He thanks the staff before grabbing his bag of food. “Y/N, what did I tell you? Just let things be. Don’t make any rash decisions or start assuming things if everything is fine.”

“But is everything fine?”

“It sounds like it to me. He seems like a nice guy. You might wanna have that conversation about what you two are later on if things really haven’t progressed yet, but otherwise, I truly think he’s a nice guy and he’s probably just busy.”

“Jongho–” Suddenly, a few knocks come to your door, throwing you off guard mid-call.

“Guess that’s my cue to go. Text me about tomorrow.”

“Alright.” You say right before ending the call. You set your bowl aside in the kitchen before looking through the peephole on the door. To your surprise [or not], San is standing there on his phone with a small bag in hand.

“Hey.” You say, as you let him in. He smiles, but San doesn’t respond right away with the same enthusiasm. Instead, he shifts his attention to the text that came through on his phone before tucking it away and smiling at you.

“Hey. Sorry.” He hands you a small bag. “I bring pastries.”

“Mm, more pastries.” You tease with a giggle. “Thanks. What brings you here?”

“Sorry, I meant to text you but I forgot. I just wanted to see you since I haven’t been able to for a bit.” He kisses you on the cheek before making his way to your couch.

“Work’s been crazy, hm?” He sighs and leans his head back.

“Uh, yeah. It has been. But, it’s finally the weekend and I can kick back for a bit.” His hand comes up to run your back while you dig through the pastries he bought. “Did you eat already?”

“Mm, yeah. I just made a small salad. I’m not too hungry. Was on the phone with Jongho for a bit.”

“I see. You should eat a little more before your shift.”

“I will.” You look at him. “Are you guys going to the club tonight?” He nods.

“Mingi said he needs it.” You chuckle.

“Do you need it, too?”

“Kinda, but I’m here with you already and I get you all to myself.”

“You do that at the club, too.” You tease.

“Can’t help it.” San quietly looks at you while his arm is loosely around your waist. You observe him for a bit, trying to see if you can read into him or find any obvious signs of what else has been stressing him lately. He’s the same, except more tired, not as talkative or playful like he usually is. Your gut tells you it’s something deeper than work and you’re not sure how you’ll figure him out.

“San.”

“Mhm?”

“You sure it’s just been work stressing you out?” He leans forward to meet your gaze with a small smile.

“Yeah. I’m sorry I haven’t really been myself lately.”

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize.”

“I missed you, though. I really missed you.” His finger is tracing soft circles against your hip. He dips forward to place a gentle kiss right below your earlobe, his soft, pink lips sending tingles down your spine. You shouldn’t be buckling this fast around San, but god, does he have you wrapped around his finger. He places a kiss at the corner of your lips and you instantly feel like jelly.

You missed him, too.

And you want him. Badly.

Before you know it, San is sitting up against the wall, watching you bounce on his dick like the good girl you are. He’s watching through hooded eyes; glued to the way your tits bounce, the way his cock slides in and out of you, the way you moan for him like all of this was made for you and you only.

“Fuck.” San groans, hands on your hips to guide you and slam you down onto his length. “You know how to ride me so well.” He watches as you begin to roll your hips against him, taking more control while riding him; it's pure ecstasy. Your moans, your movements, everything about it is just.. addicting.

You have such a captivating presence, and San can't help but lose himself in you.

“Baby, if you keep working me like that, you’ll make me cum.” He moans, head resting back against the wall. Your hand rests on his neck, giving it a gentle squeeze as you feel yourself bubbling with pleasure. Your clit is rubbing against him deliciously, and you can’t help but sit back and ride him at a different angle.

“Sannie.” You moan loudly. “Ohhhhshit.” Your words melt together when you suddenly feel yourself unraveling quicker than expected. “I’m cumming— fuck, fuck, fuck—“ You repeat like a mantra, hips working sloppily against him as you come undone; the sounds bouncing off the walls nothing short of pornographic.

“That’s my good girl.” San loves watching the way your face contorts in pleasure, the way you moan loudly, the way he could hear how wet you are. Once you’ve come down from your high, San wastes no time getting you on your fours— face down, ass up. He gives your ass a good knead, spitting onto your pussy before lining himself back up at your entrance. He pushes himself in and works at a steady rhythm, giving your ass a good smack. You let out another moan, tears pricking your lids at how sensitive you’re feeling right now. He’s fucking into you so good, your ass is clapping against him. “You look so good like this, baby. You like it when I fuck you like this, hm?” He gives your ass another smack, cheek red from the impact. “Does it feel good?”

“So good, San.” He moans loudly as he continues to piston into you.

“Your pussy was made for me.” He groans. “Whose is it, Y/N?”

“Y-yours.” You choke, cheek digging deep into the mattress.

“Louder, babygirl. I can’t hear you.”

“Yours!”

“There you go.” He grunts, ass feeling numb from San fucking into you. The way he’s driving into you and hitting your spot at this angle feels so good, you feel the pleasure bubbling in your pit again. You raise yourself up a bit to rub at your clit, pushing your orgasm forward as San’s movements begin to get sloppy. “Shit, Y/N.”

“San, cum for me.” You egg him on as he begins to pant. Hearing him praise you and call your name pushes you over the edge once more, hands gripping at the sheets while you shudder from the second orgasm taking over. San quickly pulls out and unloads onto your ass, back.

“God.” He huffs as he gives himself one last pump and pants heavily. “So good for me. You okay, pretty girl?” His hand comes up your back, leaving a random trail of kisses along the way.

“Yeah.” You let out a breath.

“Let me clean you up. Don’t move.” He quickly runs to your bathroom to grab some wipes. “Gonna be kinda cold. I’m sorry.” He apologizes in advance before taking a wipe to your back.

“That feels kinda nice.” San chuckles, allowing you to lay back on your bed first before slipping in next to you post-cleanup.

“You feel nice.” You laugh, laying your head on his chest while he grabs his phone.

“So, what time are you guys heading to the club tonight?”

“I don’t know. Probably between 9-10pm?”

“You know there’s an event tonight, right?”

“I heard.” San laughs. “Some male dancers are guesting at the club?”

“Yeah. They’ll be on the second stage, though.” San nods, a few texts coming into his phone. You can’t help but glaze over the previews, back to back texts coming in from a ‘Noelle.’ The messages aren’t too lengthy, but she is texting him quite a few times and the previews alone are enough to make your stomach twist and turn.

It’s making you anxious, and for some reason, your gut tells you this Noelle is significant to San.

He’s not trying to pay attention to it right now though, and it’s probably just because he’s in your company post-sex. He briefly looks at the messages at the top, thumb coming up to swipe them away.

“Is it just you guys?” You ask, wondering if San would open up to you otherwise.

“Uh, yeah. Pretty sure. Unless Mingi invites other people.”

“Mmm, okay.”

“I’m excited to see you on stage again.” He looks down at you with a smirk.

“Yeah right.”

“Swear. Everyone knows I’m only there for you. It’s kinda nice to show it off.”

“Show what off?”

“That you’re mine.” He winks, making your heart melt into a puddle. You hate that San gives you these signals, but there hasn’t been much to it besides seeing each other occasionally outside of the club and fucking each other’s brains out.

“Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

“Who said I didn’t mean it?!” You shake your head and turn to your side, now going through your own phone. San gives you a kiss on the shoulders, hand coming up to rub your arm while he continues to plant random kisses at the nape of your neck, below your ear, jaw.

“Sannie, what are you doing?” You giggle, ticklish from the feeling of his lips against your skin.

“Kinda want you again.”

“Are you serious?” You turn to look at him and he smirks.

“Can’t help it. You drive me crazy.” His hand comes down to your thigh, giving it a squeeze. “Wanna keep taking care of you.”

“Do you, now?” You tease, letting San continue to kiss you; hand coming down and ghosting your clit. You decide to let San have you once more before he’s struggling to part from your lips, even as he’s about to head out the door.

You blush watching him leave, excited to show off and see him tonight.

The night comes rather quickly because the club is incredibly packed with all sorts of people making their way in to see all of the dancers. You’re having to entertain on stage, deliver drinks and give a few private dances. It’s nothing beyond what you’re already used to doing, but the clientele is booming tonight and you’re constantly moving around all ends of the club.

It’s a little past 10pm when you catch wind of Mingi, Hongjoong, San and Wooyoung. And for a minute, your eyes light up. San immediately plops onto a chair, legs spread as he smirks. He gestures for you to come over with his finger and lightly taps his lap, making you giggle to yourself while you continue to perform a few tricks on the pole.

“Gorgeous.” San eyes the high-cut bodysuit sitting on your body, showing off all your curves beautifully.

“You made it.” You crouch down in front of him, hands trailing up his legs.

“Of course, why would I miss out some more?” He winks, stuffing a few bills in the slit of your bodysuit while you stand lean towards his ear.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“You?” You laugh.

“Cliché.”

“Kidding, baby.” He bites onto his bottom lip. “Can we get shots of whiskey?”

“All four of you?”

“Yes please, pretty lady.” Hongjoong smirks. “Bodysuit looks good on you.”

“Openly hitting on San’s woman is crazy.” Wooyoung laughs loudly.

“Just complimenting her.”

“Yeah, keep it up.” San teases Hongjoong.

“Thank you. I’ll be back.” You smile at Hongjoong before stepping over to the bar to grab their shots. At this point, it feels like everything happens so quickly; the following moments, the rest of the night— all a blur. When you return to the four, they’ve added a few more to the group. And this time, it’s a group of 5 girls— one that is in a heated conversation with San off to the side. You slow your pace, watching as she clings around his waist, but he gently shoves her off and shakes his head. He heads back to his seat and she welcomes herself on his lap, ignoring everything that he had just done to her moments ago. San doesn’t seem entirely pleased being that he’s been trying to distance himself from her, but to no avail— you’ve already returned and he panics.

“Here.” You hand them their drinks, handing San’s last.

“Noelle, seriously. Can you please get off my lap?” Noelle. You can’t help but feel your heart fall to the pit of your stomach, though you’re trying your best to brush it off in the heat of the moment.

“You’re such a killjoy.” She whines, sitting on the edge of the chair.

“Thank you, love.” His look is unreadable when he reaches for his glass and so is yours. But, San knows you saw everything and he knows it all looks wrong. It, all of this, must seem so fucked up to you right now and he wishes he could just pull you aside to clear up the air.

“Thank you, Miss Crimson.” Mingi raises his shot glass to you.

“Is that the stripper San is into?” You overhear one of the girls ask, followed by a:

“He’s not serious, right? Her?” Noelle scoffs and you subtly roll your eyes, getting ready to head back to the bartender. You weren’t gonna let this girl get to you. Not today.

“Have a good night.” Is what you tell Wooyoung in passing, making him flash San a look shortly afterwards.

“Don’t think she’s too happy about Noelle being here.”

“I didn’t know they were actually coming either.” San glares at him, trying his best to shake off Noelle and continue to create some distance. He truthfully didn’t think Noelle and her friends were coming along. Mingi had briefly mentioned the event to them, sliding in a stupid joke about how much San loves coming solely because of you. She didn’t take it lightly, hence why she decided to come along even though their initial plan was to head to the regular club down the street.

When San sees Noelle, he’s pretty irritated. The last time she was texting him, she was blowing up his phone about shit from the past and their relationship. Quite frankly, he no longer has energy to deal with her and he’s tired of the back and forth. He doesn’t wanna start any issues tonight since it seems too late to brush them off and he doesn’t wanna dampen the mood. He knows how clingy she gets and he knows how she can act when she feels him slowly slipping from her grip, especially if they’re together in person. The last thing San wanted to do was upset you, nor did he want you to think of him as an asshole who only wanted you for one thing.

That was not his plan.

He knows you’re not happy and he knows he fucked up for even trying to brush this off, for hiding Noelle when he had no reason to.

“You aren’t actually into the stripper are you?” She questions San and he furrows his brows.

“It literally isn’t any of your business.”

“Wow, so you are? I came out tonight, hoping we could—”

“Oh god, enough of that shit. Not here.” Wooyoung sighs. “Let’s go enjoy ourselves, that’s the whole point of tonight, right?” Wooyoung tries to push his bestfriend to the main stage, leaving the girls to enjoy the men on the second stage. You’ve continued to deliver a few drinks around the other room before stepping back onto the main stage. In your peripherals, you can see San eyeing you; almost pleading for you to swing by his way.

Except, you don’t, and you start to entertain a few men on the other side of the stage. San feels his blood boil a little when he sees you giving your attention to another man, knowing full well you were doing this on purpose.

And you were. You weren’t exactly sorry about it.

Because you didn’t have time for this bullshit, and your job still needed to get done. At the end of the day, you are just a dancer. What more could you be to him? You temporarily feed into their fantasies, nothing more, nothing less.

The reality is hitting you more and more tonight.

It makes you feel stupid for having thought otherwise, for letting the possibility live longer than it should’ve.

You’re not sure if you have time to entertain someone who has all that baggage.

San comes around to see you in better view, watching as you crouch down with your legs cocked open; swiping two fingers across your tongue before running it over your [barely] clothed pussy. San clenches his jaw when the man in front of you leans forward with a huge smirk on his lips, holding a roll of bills in his hand.

“Uh oh.” Wooyoung instigates. “I told you so. In true Choi San fashion.”

“Stop that.” Wooyoung shrugs.

“Noelle’s here, hoping she could be the one to go home with you tonight. And that one—“ He points at you over his glass. “Thinks you’re toying with her emotions. Pick a fucking battle.”

“I already told you I was done with the whole Noelle thing. She doesn’t get it for whatever reason.” San slightly groans and clicks his teeth. “Why did Mingi invite them, anyway?”

“I don’t know? I can’t control that boy’s mouth. Besides, you know he’s been trying to get with Donna after those dates didn’t go well.” San sees you dip into a private booth with the guy, shutting the curtains closed without looking his way. He takes a sip of his drink, stepping closer to the stage to try and enjoy himself– ignoring the possibilities of what’s going on behind that curtain.

The club feels suffocating, and he wants out.

Especially when you seem to be taking your time in the booth.

“You wanna head out? Noelle and the girls wanna head down the street now. Said they’re bored of the guys already.” Mingi asks, pointing at the girls getting ready to head out to the next club down the street.

“Already?” Hongjoong cocks a brow up. “We literally just got here.”

“Yeah, I guess they’re over it.”

“I mean, whatever. Just don’t ask me to leave the other club hella early.” Joong rolls his eyes. “Whose bright fucking idea was to invite them anyway?” He glares at Mingi.

“Sorry! I wanted to be nice and extend the invite. I didn’t think they’d be over it so quickly.”

“Right, you wanted to be nice and get into Donna’s pants.”

“Do you wanna stay back?” Wooyoung asks in San’s ear, but all San can do is shrug. “We don’t have to go with them.”

“Let’s just go, I’ll never hear the end of it if we stay back.” Wooyoung simply looks at him in return.

“Let’s go!” Mingi yells. San subtly looks back to try and see if you’re out of the booth, but Mingi is already shoving him towards the door– towards Noelle and her friends.

“Choi San, hurry up!” Noelle whines as she waits for him.

“Noelle, you don’t have to wait for me. You can go with your friends.”

“Why are you acting so mean tonight?” She tugs on his wrist, but he snatches it out of her grip. “It definitely can’t be about her, right?”

“Go have fun with your friends and I’ll worry about my own.” San doesn’t mean to sound like an asshole, but he’s truly tired of the back and forth between Noelle. He hates that she acts this way, and he hates that she’s here. He feels like the night has gone to waste because he won’t be able to fully enjoy himself.

On top of that, you’re livid with him.

Speaking of you— You’ve kept yourself close to the pole even though your client has asked you for a lap dance. Once, twice, maybe even thrice. He’s attractive, but your mind is glued to San and how terrible this night ended up playing out for you. Luckily, the client doesn’t seem to fight much against it; as long as he gets his fix of you somehow, he’ll take it. Tonight’s one of those nights where you’ll stay for the full 45 to get the extra money, to hide away from the rest of the crowd.

One, two.

Twirl around the pole.

Three, four.

Invert and lean back.

Five, six.

Gently fall into the splits.

Seven, eight.

Bounce your ass on the stage.

“You’re a fucking goddess.” He says, gently palming himself through his pants, forcing you to mask the disgust you feel watching him openly do that. Though, you’ve seen worse and you’ve trained yourself to have the thick skin needed in this industry. Right now, it hits differently. Because of San, because of Noelle.

Because of everything.

“You sure you can’t come down here and get on daddy’s lap? I think I’ve slipped you enough money to at least get a lapdance.”

“Sorry, not doing that tonight, love.”

“Aw, why not? Not even for me?”

“Not for you. Or them.” You say, bending over to at least give him a peek of what he wants.

“You sure you’re not saving it all for someone else?”

“Nope.”

“Gonna have to come back on a better night then.” He bites his bottom lip. “You’re my favorite. I swear you drive me crazy.” The statement is enough to trigger San’s voice in your head, causing you to rush through the last bit of your pole dance before thanking the man for his time and tip.

When you step out of the booth, you no longer see San and his group and it instantly makes your heart clench. You didn’t know what to expect tonight, but you definitely didn’t expect San to leave so quickly with his friends—

With Noelle and her friends.

Now, you’re back to square one. You feel like a mere distraction, something that temporarily fills the void; nothing more, nothing less. You quickly head to the back to get some air and a moment to yourself, finding a few texts from San:

san: Y/N, i’m sorry. i didn’t know they were coming. mingi just invited them and didn’t really say anything about it.

san: i know you’re probably wondering about her and i can explain. it’s really not what it looks like.

san: let me know when you’re off? i wanna take you home still.

san: i wanna talk to you and see you. please.

You swallow the lump in your throat as you shut off the phone and ignore the texts. Even if you wanted to answer back, even if it fucking pains you to re-run through those texts, you keep your head up and throw on a brave face for the rest of your shift.

San is still your kryptonite, and you aren’t sure where to go from here.

You need to leave quickly enough to avoid running into San tonight.

Guess you’d be taking your usual walk alone.

You managed to dodge San and his friends on your way home that one awful night, ignoring his calls even as you’ve gotten comfy and tucked in your bed. San continued to blow up your phone into the next day until he realized you weren’t gonna answer him anytime soon.

And it sucked.

But, you needed to hold your ground. You needed to go back to the Y/N who worried about her own, the Y/N who didn’t let anything faze her even if she was hurt by loved ones, by friends.

You needed to go back to the Y/N who kept it real with herself and was proud of how far she’s come despite the ups and downs.

You hadn’t seen San come to the club, and it was probably his way of giving you the space that you indirectly asked for. And indeed, you needed this.

You needed to go back to the old Y/N and reprioritize.

“Hey baby.” Mia says, hand on the small of your back as you dab a bit of lip gloss onto your lips.

“Hey.”

“How’re you doing?” She brushes your hair back and gives you a small, sympathetic smile.

“I’ve seen better days.” You let out a chuckle.

“You haven’t texted him back?” You shake your head.

“No. I don’t really know what to say. I just feel kinda dumb. Maybe we were just meant to be a thing in passing.”

“Don’t say that. I know he had some feelings for you, and I know the situation was unique. But, nobody would go through all that effort if it didn’t matter to them.”

“Mm, yeah, He just has some baggage he has to deal with and I don’t think I have time or energy for that.”

“For all you know, it could just be her.”

“But, why hasn’t he officially let her go then?” Mia pouts a bit.

“I think he’s over it. He didn’t seem all that interested in her at all.” She nods. “Talk to him, hun. Let him explain. It might just be a misunderstanding.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She gives you a reassuring smile.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“I know, babe. Thanks.” You give her a toothless smile, letting out a small squeal when she slaps your ass.

“Now get out there and do your thing, the clients are waiting.” You chuckle and shake your head, taking one last look in the mirror before you head out to the main stage. You strut your way across the floor, doing your usual sweet talk with a few of the men lining the stage. You take the stage for a bit and do your usual routine, letting them slip their bills wherever they can under your gear, or shower the stage with a few more extra tips. Just as you were getting into the swing of things, you catch San walking in by himself. You almost lose track of your thoughts, distracted by how good he looks. He’s sporting simple slacks and a gray-striped button up with chelsea boots, rolex on his wrist. He looks around the club before his eyes land on yours, and you suddenly feel like you’ve lost the ability to move, to dance.

▹ FLASHBACK

“I’ve never seen you this sulky. It’s kinda annoying.” Wooyoung plops next to San on the couch, watching as he slouches and lazily texts back on his phone.

“Fuck off.”

“I’m assuming she’s not answering your texts or calls yet?”

“Nope.”

“Down bad.”

“Are you here to help or to get on my nerve?” San glares at his bestfriend.

“Why don’t you just go see her?”

“I don’t wanna cross boundaries and be in her space, especially if she’s already not answering my texts or calls.”

“Maybe this is what she needs, though. She’s probably still assuming shit about Noelle. Which, by the way, I hope you ended it. For real.”

“I did. That’s why she was hella upset during the last half of the club and I left.”

“I thought you left to go after Y/N. Where exactly did you go?”

“I mean, partially. I was gonna go after her and bring her home, but I was too late. The other half of me was pissed off because Noelle kept crying and trying to gaslight me. I told her I didn’t wanna do this anymore. Was tired of it. I told her we just don’t work and it’s time for us to move on.”

“‘Bout time you realized.” Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “I know you have love for her and I know she meant a lot to you, but that girl is crazy. You continued to feed into it, too.”

“Yeah, well.”

“Just go see Y/N, dude. You look terrible.” San flips him off. “I mean it. If you want shit to change, then keep taking initiative.”

“I just don’t wanna scare her off. I already fucked up enough with this whole Noelle thing.”

“Damn, what did Y/N do to you?” Wooyoung laughs. “I truly didn’t think you’d end up finding your boo thing at the strip club. I’d like another thank you if this all goes well.” He smirks. “Thank you Wooyoung for making us go to the club on my birthday.” He says in a sing-song tone.

“Yeah, yeah.” San sighs. “I’ll probably head to the club tonight and try to talk to her.”

“Want me to come? Moral support.” He shakes his head.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll be good.”

▹ END

You quickly head off the stage and head to the bar, switching gears to take a break from the stage. You scurry along, hoping you aren’t making it too obvious that you’re trying to deflect and avoid San yet again.

But, he knows.

“Y/N, hey. Wait.” San says as you brush past him, hand gently coming to your wrist. You wiggle out of his grip, giving him a look as you continue on to the next room. “Y/N.” He continues to call, hurriedly following after you. “Y/N, please.” He says as he comes to your side while you gather a few drinks onto your tray.

“San, what? I’m working.” You respond, still keeping your attention to the drinks.

“Why haven’t you been answering my texts or calls?”

“Because.”

“Because, what? I didn’t mean to leave early without saying anything to you that night. I wanted to come back and take you home.”

“Oh, but Noelle didn’t let you, right?”

“Y/N, please don’t do that. That’s not even what happened—” San has his hand around your wrist again, his eyes pleading for you to hear him out.

“Aye, come on, my guy.” An unfamiliar man from the crowd comes in between you and San, ripping his hand away from your wrist. “Care to share? Stop being so selfish and gatekeeping her—”

“The fuck are you?”

“I see you come into this club with your friends, acting all high and mighty. You heard what I said.” He steps closer towards San. “Stop being so fucking selfish with her, hm? She’s for the crowd, baby’s meant to be shared—” The man suddenly slaps your ass and it turns a switch on for San. San pushes him away, causing the other man to lose his footing before attempting to swing at him.

“Stop that!” You try to yell, hoping it’d somehow break them apart. San is quick to dodge the first swing, but he gets unlucky with the second. San is quick to regain his composure, throwing a punch to him and causing him to fall to the ground. He towers over him and continues to lay a few more punches while you yell at security for assistance. “Quit it! San, stop! Stop it!” You repeat, prying him off of the man on the floor. “San!” You grip his bicep and pull him back.

“Fucking idiot.” San spits, hand coming to his jaw to ease the soreness.

“Get them out of here!” You tell security and San furrows his brows at you.

“Y/N—”

“Out. Now!” You repeat yourself, following after security as they get their hands on both San and the other guy, escorting them out of the club. One shoves the other man through the front entrance, while the other shoves San out of the side entrance. You’re already following behind, signaling for security that it’s okay for him to leave you alone with San. He gives you a curt nod as he walks around the corner— giving you enough distance that allows privacy, but also allows him to step in if necessary. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“I wasn’t gonna let him talk about you like that, Y/N. Don’t ask me that fucking question.”

“It’s my job.” You remind him. “I meant what are you doing here?! Why did you come here, San?”

“I came here to talk to you!” His tone raises. “You aren’t answering my texts or calls, and all I wanna do is make this right. What do you expect me to do?”

“Let it go.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because, San. What is it to you, anyway?”

“Are you serious?” He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “If you would just give me one second to talk to you—“ He pauses and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Y/N. All I want to do is talk to you and explain. I don’t wanna leave things like this.” He lowers his voice and steps closer to you.

“Then talk.” You cross your arms and shift your weight from one foot to another.

“Y/N, me and Noelle are done with. We’ve been done with for awhile. She’s my ex and we’ve gone through some shit but it’s over with.” He lets out a breath, the air cold and crisp against your skin. “Mingi invited them that night, and I just didn’t wanna cause any issues between us and ruin the night. She threw herself on me and I had been asking her to stop. I didn’t ask her to do that, nor did I want to entertain it. I shouldn’t have left with them though, I knew how that would look, too. I’m sorry. I promise you it meant nothing. I even told Noelle she needed to move on that night. I came back to the club, but you had already left.”

“San.” You shake your head. “Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why me?”

“Y/N, I really do like you.”

“But, that’s the problem. You don’t even see the issue with this.”

“What issue?!

“Us! That’s the fucking issue, San! We come from such different lives, does that not bother you? We’ll never be on the same page, we’ll never work.” San furrows his brows, trying his hardest to take the blow even though it hurts to.

“Why would you say it like that? I don’t care about how different our lives are. That doesn’t matter to me–”

“It does to me!”

“Why?! I don’t care what people think and so shouldn’t you! Wouldn’t we be enough?”

“It’s so easy for you to say because you don’t know what it’s like to be on my side of things.”

“Then, let me know!” San raises his voice before running his hand through his hair. “Y/N, I would never take advantage of you. Never in my mind did I ever think of you that way. Why won’t you let me be here for you?”

“Because San, you had me thinking I was stupid. I felt like you were here for one thing, and it made me question everything about myself, my life. I hated feeling that way. I even compared myself to Noelle at one point.”

“She’s nothing to me! I’m sorry for having hid that from you, but I didn’t think much of it at the time since the whole thing caught me off guard. She means nothing to me, and we’re done with. I’m sorry.” For some reason, you are torn. You want to believe San, and there is a small part of you that does. However, you still can’t get over the fact that he still kept her close for lord knows how long. What if he was balancing you both at the same time? How could you know he was for sure over her and that this wasn’t just a phase?

“What if this is just a phase to you, huh? What happens when you realize how much we don’t work? That we’re just too different? That maybe she or someone else is a better fit for you all along.” Your bottom lip trembles and even though you try to hide it, San catches on. “This is my life, and it won’t change for awhile.”

“Stop putting words in my mouth and choosing how I should feel. That’s not how this works. I caught feelings for you, Y/N. Genuinely. None of our differences mattered to me, and it won’t ever. I’m sorry you felt that way and that was never my intention.” San says calmly, but god, is he terrified right now. He is anxious. Nervous. Scared. And as much as you wanna cave, you remember you are outside of the club in the freezing cold.

Arguing with San.

“San, you know what? This is enough.”

“Y/N.” He pleads through his tone.

“Please just go home.” You point at the side door before nervously rubbing at your sides. “We should talk about this another time. Not here.”

“O-okay, so are you gonna answer my texts or calls then?”

“I’ll text you, okay?” You look at him with some remorse. Right now, you don’t think you’re ready to talk to him and you probably need to sort out your thoughts before the next time. Or else, you’ll continue to try blaming him, the situation. You’ll continue to deflect, you’ll continue to let San’s words brush over your head because you aren’t used to this genuine attention— these genuine feelings, genuine intentions.

San doesn’t say anything else, but his expression makes your heart break more. You let out a sigh before turning on your heel to get back into the club and finish your shift. As soon as the door shuts and acts as a barrier between you two, a few tears escape your lids. You quickly brush them away and shake off the feelings, storming out onto the main stage to finish your night strongly.

You need Jongho.

“This fucking sucks.” You tuck your knees to your chest as Jongho sighs and pours you another shot of tequila.

“Why don’t you text him, Y/N? Just talk to him.”

“I’m kinda scared. And nervous.” You take the shot with him.

“Why? He’s literally waiting for you to text him. You’ve just been big sad over him too, don’t you think that’s a sign?”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know, ‘hey, can we talk?’ maybe?” Jongho gives you a look before shaking his head. “I love you, but dude. Get it together. You should just talk to him and stop putting yourself through this. You obviously like the guy and he feels the same way. The whole thing with his ex was just a misunderstanding, too. What exactly are you trying to put off?”

“I think I’m just scared. You know how it was with my ex. He wasn’t nice and also made me feel ridiculously stupid and incompetent for my decisions. Even after the break up.”

“Yeah, but he’s your ex for a reason. San is not the same person.” Jongho pours you another shot. “I understand you’re scared. But, you can’t shield yourself off from everything forever. I truly think he’s a genuinely nice guy.”

“Plus, I worry about him too. How would his friends feel about us being serious? His family, his sister?”

“I’m sure it’ll all be fine. San isn’t even worried about that, nor does he seem to care. It doesn’t matter where you come from. They should be able to see what kind of person you are and the heart you have.”

“Mm, yeah. I just worry too much. I don’t want my life to bleed into his and ruin the shit he’s built for himself.”

“It won’t. Jeez, you aren’t a criminal Y/N. You’re great at everything you do and you’re incredibly talented. You have a lot of qualities that could take you far.” There’s another pause, enough for you and Jongho to take the last shot to the neck before you pull out your phone and click on San’s text thread.

“Fuck it.”

“Exactly.” He sips on some soda to wash down the tequila burn. “By the way, I’m never talking about you that way again.” Jongho visibly shudders, making you playfully hit him on the shoulder.

you: hi, sorry for the random text. can we talk?

You toss your phone aside and dig your face into your hands, nervous about the text back. Granted, it’s only been close to a week and a half after the whole thing went down at the club. Time moves so fast that part of you felt terrible for making San wait in general. But, it should be a testimony to how he truly feels about you.

“What if he’s over it?” You groan into your hands.

“Then at least you know, right? You can close that chapter and move on.” Jongho takes a bite of his chicken. “Highly doubt it though.” At this point, the phone dings behind Jongho and he’s quick to grab it for you— flashing you San’s name on the screen.

“Fuck.” You whine.

san: hey. don’t apologize. of course we can. should i swing by your place soon?

“I’ll drop you off in a bit.”

“Are you sure you’re good? I can ask him to pick me up.”

“Actually, yeah. Ask him.” You chuckle as Jongho pours another shot for himself.

you: yeah, but i’m at jongho’s. do you think you can pick me up?

san: yeah i can, love. just send me the address.

“He always gets so sweet. I can’t do this.” You send San Jongho’s address.

“Yes you can!” Jongho responds. “Here, drink.” He pushes your water glass towards you. “So you don’t feel like shit later.”

san: on my way. 20 mins.

“Thanks for the food and drinks. For letting me be a crybaby. You know, the whole nine.” Jongho chuckles and nudges you on the arm.

“I got you, dude. You’re my bestfriend. I won’t let you go through these things alone.”

“I guess I’ll keep you updated?”

“Take your time. And just be honest with him, alright? Be straight up about how you feel with everything.”

“I will.”

When San arrives a bit after 20 minutes, you grab your things and bid your bestfriend farewell. You feel nervous, palms sweating the more you fiddle with your fingers and head down the steps to San’s car. Once you catch wind of him, you pause in your steps just to give yourself a tiny breather before committing and approaching his passenger door. He’s in a black shirt and sweats, glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

“Hey.” You say as you climb in, San giving you a small smile.

“Hey. You good to go?” You buckle your seatbelt and nod, allowing San to drive off to your studio. “Did you work at the shop today?”

“Mhm, I worked an earlier shift to get off at the same time as Jongho.”

“You guys just hung out?”

“Yep. Drank, ate some food. Talked about some things.”

“Some things?”

“You.” You give him a look and he nods.

“Fair enough.”

“What have you been up to?”

“Work. I’ve been working from home lately since there isn’t much requiring me to come into the office.”

“Been busy?”

“Yup, but I’ve seen worse days.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” He lets out a small chuckle as he continues to drive on. The rest of the drive to your place is quiet, but nothing feels weird or awkward. It’s surprisingly a comfortable silence and it’s probably due to the fact that you two have missed each other even though you’re both still trying to gather your thoughts.

When he pulls up into a spot on the street, San shuts off the car and immediately runs to your side to help you out. He follows behind as you lead the way, quietly unlocking your door and tossing the keys off to the side. San sits on your couch and lets out a sigh, watching as you plop next to him after grabbing some water.

“Want anything else to drink?”

“I’m okay.” He gives you a small smile. You turn to face him, a leg tucked under the other that’s swung over the edge of the couch.

“Thanks for picking me up.”

“Of course.”

“Can we talk about what’s been happening? I just really need you to be honest with me, that’s all I ask.”

“I’ll always be honest with you, Y/N. It was never my intention to make it seem otherwise.”

“Well, after everything, I did feel pretty stupid. You knew I was already doubting myself after I lost my family and friends because of my decisions. For a second, I felt like you tricked me and that I was stupid not to realize you only wanted me for one thing.” San shakes his head, but he continues to let you talk. “I started questioning myself more and I hated the feeling. I knew I couldn’t be enough for you, or that I was completely different from girls in your past. And it felt terrible. I couldn’t help but jump to conclusions that night because who am I compared to her? I’m living such a different life and I honestly wouldn’t blame you if you realized that.” You shrug. “Anyway, I felt shitty because I genuinely had feelings for you even though I was scared. I still am, especially because I don’t know if this is just a phase or what.” You feel the tears pricking your bottom lids again but you do your best to prevent San from catching on. You look down at your hands, fiddling with your sweater sleeves. You feel San shift closer to you, his hand coming up to your cheek.

“Can you look at me please?” Your eyes shift back up to him, and you feel the butterflies in your stomach the moment you two lock eyes. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” He says softly, his thumb caressing your cheek. “I really didn’t mean to. That whole thing Noelle—” He sighs. “I’m not gonna lie, it’s been a ride with her. But meeting you and getting to know you made me realize how much I didn’t wanna be stuck in that anymore. It made me realize how much I craved normalcy with someone, something that doesn’t have to be so sad and toxic all the damn time.” He lets out a breath. “I know it sounds dumb that it took me all of this to realize, but I mean it. You make me feel things I haven’t felt in such a long time. It feels good.” He does a subtle nod. “I feel happy and good around you.”

“San, you just scare me.” A few tears stream down your cheeks and San is the first to catch them; gently wiping it away while he keeps his eyes locked onto yours. “Our lives are so different, I can’t help but worry about how this is gonna make things turn out in the future. Your family, your friends—”

“My friends are fine, they know how I feel about you. And my family knows they can’t dictate everything about my life. You—” He pauses. “Y/N, you aren’t any different just because of what you do. What matters is the kind of person you are, how you genuinely make me feel. None of that matters.”

“You know it isn’t gonna be that easy.”

“So be it. I know you’re scared, but I’m with you on this.” He runs his other thumb across your lip. “We can figure this out, okay? We can take this slow and figure it out together. I’ll stop heading to the club with the guys and be there for you in many other ways. Just know that I’m gonna support you no matter what, I’m not like everyone else. Fuck all of them.” He gives you a small, reassuring smile. “I’m sorry.” He repeats. You can’t help but lean into his hand and let out a shaky breath, kissing the palm of his hand before returning your gaze on him. His smile grows, making him plant an eager kiss on your forehead, to the tip of your nose.

Lips.

“Are we okay?” He whispers against your lips and you nod. “Can I have you then?” He whispers against your lips in between another kiss. “Make it up to you?” Another kiss. “Show you how I really feel?” You nod, giving San leverage to scoop you into his arms and carry you to your bed. He gently lays you down and is quick to shed off your clothes, admiring every inch of you. San tosses his glasses onto your nightstand before placing random trails of kisses along your body, kissing every scar, every curve, every tattoo; everything about you still continues to drive him crazy. Today, San takes his time. Though he’s eager to show you how you make him feel, he decides he’s gonna take his time with you.

Even when he laps at your pussy, your clit, making you cum within minutes of being positioned in between your thighs.

Even when he rocks his hips into you— it’s a slow and steady pace, enough to make you feel every inch of him.

Even when he sits back onto his knees, letting you ride him.

His hands run up your sides while your hands are tangled in his hair, rolling your hips against him steadily, slowly, letting him feel every inch of you. He moans against your neck before placing wet kisses on the surface, hands now gripping tighter as he feels himself nearing his high. Everything is so intimate, so raw, so close— San can’t keep his lips off of you and hearing your moans bounce off of the walls adds to the pleasure. Your clit is rubbing deliciously against him, causing you to bite onto his bottom lip before tilting your head back in pleasure.

“Gonna cum, baby.” He groans in between open-mouthed kisses. “Be my good girl and cum with me.” You furrow your brows in pleasure, hands gripping his jaw as you continue to deeply kiss him, your climax heightening at your gut.

“Sannie.” You whine, unable to form any thoughts.

“You know how to fuck me so well. You’re perfect.” He hisses, the pleasure almost feeling too intense with how much he’s having to hold back. You start to rock your hips at a messier pace when you feel yourself climbing, moan loudly and gripping the ends of San’s hair when you finally come undone. He almost whines when he feels you twitch against him, hissing at how good you feel wrapped around him. San quickly lays you back and pounds into you, releasing his seed and painting your walls white.

The both of you stay stationary for a second, panting and regulating your breathing once you’ve come back down from cloud nine. San brushes the hair away from your face and adoringly looks into your eyes, placing a kiss on your lips before slowly sliding himself out of you.

“Let’s get cleaned up.” He jogs over to your bathroom and turns on the shower, waiting for the water to reach a perfect temperature before grabbing you.

While in the shower, San makes sure to lather your body with soap, giving your back and shoulders a good massage before rinsing off. You follow suit, giggling when you plop a few bubbles on his nose and cheeks. The best thing about the shower is that San doesn’t pressure you for more, no. He showers you with kisses, surely showing you just exactly what you mean to him through the action alone.

After the shower, you climb into bed with San, letting him take you into his arms while you turn on some music to softly fill the background. He gently strokes your hair, and hums along, keeping you close in his warm embrace.

“San.”

“Yeah?”

“You know what I want to do in the future?”

“What’s that?”

“I wanna own my own dance studio and teach. Help people grow their confidence and embrace their sexiness.” San chuckles. “You know? People get shy about these things or hide because they feel like they can’t dance or be sexy.”

“You’d be an amazing teacher for that.” You giggle.

“Hopefully one day.”

“We’ll make it happen. No matter how long it takes, hm?” He hums. “I got you.” You look up at San and stare at the galaxies he holds in those beautiful, brown orbs. What you did to deserve someone like San, you’ll never know— but you’ll take it as a gift from the universe; a gift that shows how proud the universe is of you for never giving up and for staying true to yourself.

For once, everything feels right. Everything seems to be where it should be. Everything in your life, as it is now, is what’s meant to be. And out of all the changes the universe has brought you, you’re at least thankful for this; for that moment San walked into the club, for the moment you took the first leap.

“You got me?” You tease and he nods.

“I got you.”

▹ taglist: @itsvxlentine @vantediary @certifiedmoa @asjkdk @bintificreads @frobin4ever @persphonesorchid

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anantaru · 1 year

Text

— rejecting his cuddles

including dan heng, jing yuan, gepard, blade x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, crack, we‘re evil

— dan heng

"nope!"

you quickly place your hands on top of dan heng‘s chest to swiftly push him away— although tied with an eased and playful shove, your boyfriend was still left baffled and most of all, supremely confused out of his damned mind.

primarily— since when did you ever reject a comforting, cozy cuddle from your pretty man the moment he rushes straight home to come and see you, principally spoil you with all the bundled up physical affection he could possibly channel and provide?

one hundred percent, never. in point of fact was it you instead who would hug him first afresh.

"oh— i‘m sorry." dan heng backs away, as to not cross any boundaries with you. his voice shakes and creaks in the back of his toughened throat. it doesn't take a genius to figure out that he in fact, did not expect to have such a hard time being rejected by you.

"s-so.. uh, yeah."

dan heng corrects himself— or lets work something out to express it differently, at least tries to spell out a follow up sentence because you actually managed to make him speechless, at loss of words with nothing more than arbitrarily prattles bubbling past the tip of his tongue and leaving his lips.

there‘s a punch of cold silence, stolen by a deep sigh from your irritated lover— one might think that dan heng strongly thought about what he had done wrong or if he messed up in some way. yes, the possibility on you playing tricks on him was always there but this time you really put in all your acting skills into this one moment, carving it to almost perfection.

"can— can i ask why?" he nervously whispers, deciding that there, nothing was as gruelling as not receiving a hug from his significant other, "i don't know, can you?" which unbeknownst to him, was playing a devilish play with all expenses falling flat on top of his shoulders.

you smirk, your body moving on its own as you suddenly shelter his body into your frame, "surprise! it's a prank!" and nuzzle yourself into his chest, cheeks flushed on top.

granted, his facial expression was hilarious, but you could only go that far before the man would suffer from a heart attack.

"you're unbelievable." dan heng rolls his eyes while leaning his head into your neck, his nostrils slightly flaring at the pocketed entry of your signature scent welcoming him at last.

"you still love me though."

— jing yuan

to wholly fool someone, precisely form their running thoughts anew, was it wishful thinking or actually possible? what an absorbing charge to partake in, you figured.

but despite that, you were awfully aware that someone as hellishly meticulous and careful to their surroundings such as jing yuan was without question to be an utmost arduous task to accept— yet, who were you to give up so easily?

your heart had been softly pounding with a minuscule increased pace signalizing your nervousness the minute your boyfriend unlocked the door to your shared home. if you had been honest to yourself, the following sequences that would normally happen work as followed— if you didn't decide to be a little evil today, they never change, you greet the man in addition to embracing him in a warm hug, point blank, and jing yuan unreservedly savored such implementing like no other.

the man sought after a soothing embracement all day long, he thinks about it, and when closes his eyes he imagines it too. it's a crucial source of serotonin to him and he requires it each night before passing out into a deep slumber with you by his side.

"i'm home, my love."

your ears point at the all too recognizable voice dotting a comforting timbre into the living room as you silently moved up from your seat to walk towards jing yuan who had made it his own personal duty to part his arms the second he sees you saunter towards him.

"hello, love." you greet him with a smile, your voice had been soft and actually managed to fool him for the short duration of your prank.

but then, "oh, no thank you!" you skillfully dodge his attempt to wrap his arms around you, waving your hand in between the awkward space of your bodies, shaking your head.

"excuse.. excuse me?" that's a little less confident than how jing yuan would for the most part articulate himself— to underscore his brilliant irritation, he cocks up a brow in disbelief.

but he's cautious, your darling— so don't be fooled, the man had a sharp and blazing eye on remote sections that might go unnoticed to other people, to the innocent faces and crowds, it was jing yuan who was keeping the control interlaced in the palm of his hand.

"hmm?"

you play the guiltless, in the clear significant other a little too well and you applaud yourself for your very own performance— at this rate it makes you wonder if you should have actually pursued a career in acting after all.

while your boyfriend was now feeling a sense of dread in his joints and limbs, the color of his eyes had gotten hidden by a dusty darkness.

"ah, i understand." he smiles, but the way he approaches you was almost tactical, and that grin on his face— on the outside, modest and upright while on the inside, it concealed a bristling confidence that yes, figuring you out was easier than he thought.

"that's okay." jing yuan walks past you, slow, each step echoing and slipping past your ears, his hand too, was listlessly tapping your shoulder once twice, as he made you turn around to face him again.

"i do not need it anymore." huh, for him to not even utter a single complaint, something, anything would do, really.

your lips pucker into a pout when you realized it‘s over, when you noticed that your boyfriend was getting way better at this, as if he had you wholly figured out from the very start— did you never stand a chance to fool him to begin with?

"ugh." you cross your arms around your body, "you knew from the start, didn‘t you?"

"of course i did, love." he breathes his words featherlight, but his smile stays strong regardless.

"i always do."

— gepard

in the beginning of your comical scheme, gepard was convinced you didn‘t want to hug him because he had just returned from training the new recruits of the silvermane guards and fair enough— he didn‘t have the chance to take a shower prior to returning to you.

yet, keep in mind, in any other instances you did not care about said fact, more so was it you who‘d practically hug him for hours on end and pepper him with kisses all over. being the mighty captain of the silvermane guards of beleborg not unexpectedly came with a tightly shut package of both it‘s very own positives and jarring negatives.

while the positives would greatly outweigh the stormy negatives by a tenfold, having limited free time to spend on each other would sometimes be a strenuous obstacle you can only manage together, as a team.

"i can shower right away." gepard panics, he didn't think it was possible for his body to sweat even more than earlier when he fought against the new recruits and your poor boyfriend curses himself underneath the warm racks of his fastened breathing on why he didn't manage to be in the bestest shape for you tonight.

he adds on, "don‘t move, i‘ll be right back!"

the sides of your mouth twitch in an amusing snort and you carry on to gnaw down on your bottom lip to suppress yet another wave of laughter, "oh, i think you‘re misunderstanding me." and step back just a little bit more to accentuate your evil plan and push your boyfriend over the edge for good.

"i don‘t want to hug you tonight." you raise your brows while scratching the back of your neck.

this sentence alone was like a sharp stab into the blonde's heart as he sets his eyes to meet your own.

"like at all." and you finish him off with an indirect blow right against his handsome features, "at— at all?"

if you were aware of one thing, it was that gepard never wasted any time to talk things out with you— basically being transparent and working together, "okay, baby'" he pauses, "listen to me." and almost squeals in sadness, placing both hands on top of your shoulders.

"if you're still sad i had to cancel our dinner the other time, i can try to figure something out—"

how adorable, you realise.

pinching his cheeks with your fingers, you smile, a shadow of intense guilt poking on your heart, "i’m sorry!" you yell, "everything is fine, i‘m sorry." and abruptly lean into his warm body, arms crossed around his chest as you sensed the upping beat of his heart underneath his ribcage.

gepard couldn’t believe you this time, truly, and lets his eyes fall close before sighing out— in relief but also a slight bit of annoyance written across the rest of his heavenly features.

"i‘ll get back at you for this."

— blade

"hmm, you sure darling?" he acts innocent that's for certain but blade’s next look on you, fuck, if you didn‘t know any better you would've sternly stated that it entirely formed into a menacing demeanor— stone cold and fierce as you felt it wash over your trembling skin.

a followed sharp click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth is all it took for you to whole-heartedly regret and loathe even considering to work out a prank against your boyfriend, at all.

"yes, i pass."

notwithstanding, you couldn‘t back away now, quite obviously would it blow up in your face with you becoming the pranked one instead. at this graven point the entire situation had already been in great favor of blade instead of you— the most plausible solution would be to somehow make it out as a winner regardless while your lover thoroughly found delight in engaging in those games with you.

"what a shame." he sighs and tilts his head to the right— pending his eyes from your lips to your legs and up, then approaching you a step closer so your cheeks could immediately sense his warm breathing.

"and here i thought my significant other actually liked me." and slowly whispers his finishing line against the shell of your ear while idly leaving it to his gravelly voice to place a shivering thunder-like sensation on your skin, in this cold your body welcomed the flames of your flustering frame, the furnacing warmth and the fuel this man was capable to inflict on you was ridiculous, but so did you work wonders on his psyche.

you knew your boyfriend, entirely— his sweet perceptions, his personal views and his virtually scary attention to detail for bodily responses of his usual targets.

"ugh, cut the crap blade." you roll your eyes at him playfully, laughing out a frustrated heave with a deep scowl on your lips.

"me?" blade dramatically places his hand on top of his chest, his mesmerizing eyes growing at the size of saucers, what a pain in the neck, literally.

"yes you."

despite everything, you, with the kindness of your heart, attempted to silently move forward to cuddle him, practically leaving your failed prank in the past while blade, in his radiating confidence, was swift to dodge you.

"no thanks." blade says sternly, "i‘m rejecting this hug."

how unwelcomely, indecently, annoyingly typical for your boyfriend to turn this entire malfunctioning situation upside down and play it into his very own favor.

if only he wasn‘t so breathtakingly handsome when he greeted you and presented his confidence so tastefully, smiled so prettily at you too, his shining whites and canines poking from under his lips and greatly accentuating the rest of his bewitching features while his large hands slowly ran up and down your shaking arms.

"tsk." you avert your gaze, not being certain if you're more embarrassed that you lost or that he beat you so effortlessly too, "you‘re unbelievable blade."

okay, hold on— even though you started this game, now witnessing it in a different perspective on how it would‘ve played out the other way around was a little frustrating, to say the least— while you also made sure that you‘re calling yourself out for that sprinkle bit of hypocrisy climbing up on you.

"i‘m unbelievably funny." he drawls back at you with a wink and kisses your forehead playfully— then your nose, which he found adorable and lastly your cheeks before gently trapping your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger to make you look at him, "and i have to put you in your place sometimes, you know?"

as he at last, conveniently pulls you into a warm hug, both smiling and laughing into the comfort of the situation.

2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

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roguelov · 7 months

Text

Sleepless Night

Summary: Unable to sleep, you stumbled across Sanji at the back of the ship. A quick exchange, and some teasing remarks, a realization was made. Sanji hasn’t been with anyone, and you wanted to be his first

Word Count: ~ 4k

Reader: Afab (referred as love/sweetheart)

Warning: SMUT (oral (m!receiving and f!receiving), light exhibition (outside at night), voyeurism, inexperienced!Sanji)

Part 2

MINOR DNI/ 18+ ONLY

The late night breeze rippled across the obsidian glasslike sea. The ship, the Going Merry, was gently rocked like a baby in a cradle. The moon and stars glittered across the sky, guiding those to the land of dreams. It was a calm night, a peaceful night.

Yet, one soul was awake.

Sanji leaned his forearms on the railing, overlooking the sea staring off into the horizon. The sky and sea almost seamlessly blended together. A cigarette lazily hung from his fingertips. The salty water misted in the air, mixing with the light smoke. He brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. The sweet nicotine swirled around, filling his chest. Tipping his head back, he exhaled slowly. His usually pristine suit was exchanged for sweatpants and a plain shirt. The chilly air nipped at his skin, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he welcomed it. Everything about tonight should lull a person to sleep, and have them running to be tucked nicely under the covers, yet he was wide awake.

The only one, or so he thought.

“You know those things can kill you.”

Sanji immediately smiled to himself. He laughed once, then glanced over to you. You strolled up beside him, sporting similar pajamas. Another sign you both should be asleep, you were dressed for it. You leaned your arms onto the railing, mimicking his stance.

“Is that so?” He quipped. “I’m sure a few won’t kill me before the Grand Line.”

“No,” you tilted your head in thought. “But, I might if I see you light another one.”

Sanji dipped his head, leaning in close to you. The smoke wafted off of him, a smell which always lingered around him. A smell which stirred such conflicting emotions in you. A devilish smirk danced over his lips. “Are you threatening me, sweetheart?”

You let out a bark of laughter and matched his smirk. “Definitely.”

You quickly snatched his cigarette then flicked it out into the sea. Sanji blinked, stunned for a moment. “I still had some left,” he mumbled, disappointedly. He shook his head, then smiled back at you. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You rolled your eyes, and bumped his hip, “So, why are you up so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep, you?”

“Same,” you sighed, leaning heavily into the railing. It was just one of those nights, your mind and body were at war with each other.

Sanji smirked, “Bet I could make you tired.”

You snorted, playing into this game of yours. “Yeah? Do you think you could keep up with me?”

“Oh! Well, look at you,” he chuckled. “I certainly will try. What do you say, love? Should we give it a go?”

This was your normal relationship with Sanji. The light teasing, the flirtatious comments; well, him more than you. Sanji’s silver tongue was far faster and sweeter than your own. Yet, you never thought it was nothing else but some simply fun.

Or you thought it was just for him.

Maybe it was because the two of you were alone, maybe it was because you knew you would probably just crawl back to your bed unable to sleep the rest of the night, maybe it was because he looked so unbelievably beautiful in the moonlight, you wanted to push it tonight. Normally, you would have dropped it by now. You would both laugh, and pretend nothing happened. Only for these same heart pounding scenarios to happen over and over.

Yet, a voice called out: your buried desires for the cook.

You wanted to test where the boundary in the sand was drawn between the two of you. Was it only games? Was there some truth behind his words? With the rest of the crew sleeping, you had to take your chance now.

Staring unwaveringly into his dazzling blue eyes, you said, “And if I say yes? What then?”

Sanji blinked, taken back. He opened his mouth and muttered utterly confused, “Wait, what?”

Don’t turn back now.

“I said -“

“No, no, I heard you. It’s just I, uh, I didn’t really expect you to ever answer with a yes.”

You cocked your head. Sanji’s smooth, wicked tongue was failing him. This was a side you never thought you would see, let alone a side he had. His words then replayed in your head, making you question a few things. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Sanji was handsome, sweet, kind, a great friend and cook. Only a fool would say no to him.

And a fool you were for a long time.

He licked his lips, glancing away. “I, uh, I don’t know -“ he fiddled with his hands, wishing desperately you didn’t toss away his cigarette - “I just never thought you would or if … if …”

His voice trailed off.

Your eyebrows knitted together. You stared more and more, watching him with confusion while he oddly retreated within himself. Under the moonlight, a faint blush dusted across his cheeks. His eyes widened, actively avoiding your gaze. He fidgeted in place, picking at his nails or part of the banister.

He was so nervous, so unlike him, almost as if -

Realization finally struck you.

“Oh - oh!” You twisted around to face him directly. There was no way to beat around the bush, you just had to ask him. “Sanji, have you ever been with anyone before?”

He tensed up at your question. You hit the nail square on the head. He sighed, dropping his shoulders. Was there any real point in hiding it now? “I may or may not have been busy with the Baratie and the old man, never had much time to myself.”

“Really?”

You would have never guessed. You would have assumed he had flings almost every night with the constant stream of customers. A new love, a new interest, with every ship that came in.

“Yes,” he groaned. Shame and embarrassment bubbled up inside of him. He may talk a big game, but he had nothing to back it up.

“Hey.” You gently rested your hand on his arm. His attention dropped to your hand then up to your kind face. “I’m not judging you, I don’t care honestly. I’m just surprised because you’re just so - so … flirty? Sauve? You’re just really good with your words.”

Even if he can be a bit cheesy at times.

Sanji laughed through his nose. “I find words are easier, sweetheart.”

You smiled at him, so endearing and sweet. His heart skipped at such a loving sight. “I don’t blame you, people can be a bit more complex,” you chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood.

He smiled softly in return, then glanced away. You both looked back out towards the sea. Sanji still naturally leaned into you, seeking out your warmth and comfort. Despite it all, nothing seemed to truly change. He was still Sanji, and you were still you.

Or so it seemed.

You, on the other hand, were now utterly restless. An idea was planted inside your head. One you couldn’t quite ignore. You bit your lip, nervously.

Where is the line? And do I dare keep pushing it?

“Sanji?”

He hummed, almost absentmindedly.

“Could … could I be your first?”

“What?” He whipped his head towards you.

“We don’t have to go all the way, I thought maybe I could just …”

How could you word this? You didn’t want to be harshly blunt and possibly frighten him.

“Just to start off small, I was thinking maybe I could … suck you off?”

You winced internally. That wasn’t entirely smooth. But, like you said, Sanji was better with words than you were.

He gulped, gawking at you. His quick fire mouth silenced for once. How could he say no? Why would he say no? To be his first, it was almost like a dream. Excited nerves sparked across his growing hot skin. His heart pounded feverishly in his chest, and he licked his lips trying to find his voice again.

“Are … are you sure?” He asked in a soft dazed whisper.

You smiled. “Sanji, I don’t mind but this is about you. Do you want this?”

“Yes,” he breathed out, without needing a second thought.

He wanted this, he wanted you. He wanted you the moment he saw you, but he never thought such fantasies could become reality.

“Good,” you whispered. You slowly sank to your knees in front of him.

“Out here?” He whispered out in surprise.

“Why not? Everyone else is asleep, and we’re at the back of the ship so no one should see us.”

His body buzzed. “Are you sure?”

You glanced up at him for a moment. Nerves were written so plainly all over his face. Maybe, this is a bit too much. “Sanji, we can go inside if you want. This is about you so -“

“Out here is good.”

You blinked, shocked by his quick change. “Are you sure? Because I want you to be comfortable.”

“Yeah,” he sighed then smiled. Honestly, the place didn’t matter. He just wanted you. But, out here on the deck, oh it sent a pleasant chill down his spine. “I’m sure, love.”

“Okay then,” you nodded.

You situated yourself, ensuring Sanji’s back leaned into the railing while you sat on your knees before him. Your hands skimmed up his thighs, just dipping your toe into the water. And yet, Sanji shook slightly under the simple touch.

“Relax, Sanji.”

“Sweetheart, I’m trying but - oh my god, you look so - so -“

Amazing. Beautiful. Stunning.

You peered up at him with adoration. Yet, a sinful darkness swept over your features. A viper-like smile crossed over your lips. You couldn’t hold back your desires. Seeing him stuttering, so unlike his usual composed self, was absolutely thrilling. You chuckled at his rosy tinted cheeks and ears.

“What happened? You’re usually so good with your words,” you teased, running your hands up and down his thighs.

His knees nearly buckled. You hadn’t even truly done anything, but any touch left his body dizzy. He was trapped in a whirlwind of building desires. “Hard to think when you’re looking up at me like that,” he mumbled.

You hummed, smirking to yourself. “Well? Can I take these off?” You snapped the band of his sweatpants, almost making him jump.

Sanji didn’t trust his voice for once. He simply nodded.

“Wonderful,” you purred.

You carefully tugged down the sweatpants, revealing a wet spot on his boxers. You bit your lip. You hadn’t begun, and yet he was already turned on. It fueled your ego a bit.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” You promised.

But, you would also have your fun along the way.

You softly blew on the wet patch. Sanji’s hands grabbed the railing, holding it in a crushing white-knuckling grip. He swallowed, and groaned very softly.

How was he going to last?

You kissed directly over the patch.

Sanji shoved a fist into his mouth, forcing back an awfully loud moan.

You slowly slid down his boxers, and his cock sprung out. You shivered at the sight of it. To say the cook was packing was an understatement. You snuck a glance up at him. He looked adorable. No, appetizing. His cheeks were flushed, and a hand covered his mouth preventing any wayward sounds. He was fighting back against his own desires, but you desperately wanted the cook to lose control. You wanted to see this side of him, to see pleasure wrought into every inch of his body.

And to know you were the first made it all the more delicious.

Your fingers curled around the base of his cock. Sanji fiercely but his lip, trying to keep calm. Your thumb brushed over his red, swollen tip, gathering up precum. You gave him a few soft and teasingly slow pumps. Sanji tipped his head back, falling under your spell. His hand slid from his mouth, latching onto the railing. Your hands were far better than his own.

You then swept the flat of your tongue over his swollen tip. He bit down on his lip harshly, almost about to draw blood. His eyes squeezed so tight, losing a part of himself with every passing second.

“Fucking hell,” he hissed out.

You chuckled, mischievously. Teasing him was so easy now. His reactions were delightful, and spurred your own growing desires.

Your tongue ran up the underneath of his cock. He slapped his hand over his mouth, groaning into his palm. Then, you peppered kisses up and down. With each kiss - each sweet butterfly kiss - he became more and more vocal.

If only you could hear it so clearly.

Kissing his tip one last time, your lips finally wrapped around him and took him inch by inch. Your tongue glided along his base, tasting him and feeling the weight of him. Taking all of him, you held him in your mouth for a second before slowly pulling back. You repeated the movements, slow and steady. A teasing pace, or a way to warm him up to it.

Your eyes flickered up, eager to see all of his reactions.

His eyebrows were pinched together in pleasure. His soft pants could not be completely silenced by his hand. While, the other held firmly onto the railing. He needed stability, he needed support.

You removed your mouth completely. You reached over, gently grabbing his hand on the railing and guiding to the top of your head. “Here,” you encouraged. “You can keep your hand here, and tug on my hair if you want.”

He peered down at you like some dazzling treasure. “I - really? Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

You laughed lightly. Your hands wrapped around his thighs. “You can’t hurt me. Besides -“ you threw him a wicked smirk - “maybe I want you to hurt me.”

Fuck.

He could have came right there.

“You’re dangerous, sweetheart,” he muttered in awe.

You winked, then chuckled darkly. You quickly took him in your mouth again, setting a faster pace. Your tongue swirled and grazed along him. Your fingernails dug into his thighs, eager to do all you can for him.

And dear god, you were.

Sanji was losing himself. Pleasure was filling his veins, and blood rushed in his ears. He was becoming wildly desperate for his release. His hips bucked once, unconsciously chasing his high.

You groaned, feeling his tip kiss the back of your throat.

Sanji flinched, and froze in place. Has he hurt you? He grunted, forcing himself to stay still and enjoy it.

You pulled away with a pop.

Sanji nearly whined.

“Don’t hold back,” you said, a little breathless. “I don’t mind if you move your hips.”

‘You can fuck my face,’ you almost said. However, you tried your best to be a little tame.

Sanji’s heart nearly bursted. He nodded, humming in response.

“Good.” You kissed his tip, and Sanji almost fell backwards into the sea. “Because if anything was wrong, I would tell you. Now, enjoy yourself.”

Your lips wrapped around his cock. Your head bobbed up and down again. Sanji bucked his hips again. You hummed, encouraging him.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned. He was panting heavily. His head fell forward, watching you. Your lips covered in spit, wrapped so perfectly around him. It was a sight he never thought would happen. Your eyes locked with his. His hair clung to his forehead. His eyes had pooled into the sinful black, and sweat glistened along his skin.

He hasn’t looked more beautiful until now.

You hummed. He hissed then moaned softly. His lovely lips were now an incoherent mess.

He gasped, “Love, I - I -“

He choked on his words. He couldn’t form a thought, let alone a full sentence.

But, you understood. His cock twitched in your mouth. He was close. You wanted to whisper to him, to whispering loving praises in his ear. ‘Come for me, Sanji’, or ‘you’re doing so good’ but perhaps another time.

He moaned, and leaned heavily back into the railing. He could barely keep himself upright anymore. He rocked his hips, matching your pace. He tugged on your hair, drawing you closer. Your nose brushed against his abdomen with each thrust. You relaxed your jaw, allowing him to use you.

You moaned, loudly.

This was all so hot.

His head fell back, mumbling your name over and over. This was heavenly. You were heavenly. This was better than he dreamt over, far better knowing you were the one doing such things.

God, he was already imagining other things. He wanted fuck you, he wanted to make love with you, he wanted to have you on the counter, he wanted to see you riding him, he wanted to try it all. He wanted to do it all with you.

“Please,” he whimpered. He wanted this to last forever, but the pleasure was too much. “Can - can I come in your mouth?”

You moaned a ‘yes’.

That was all he needed.

He came down your throat, moaning out your name. You hummed, taking it all. Sanji glanced down at you with heavy eyes. He panted loudly, gulping down air. Ever so slowly, he released his intense grip on your hair. His legs shook slightly reeling from all of this.

Peering up at him, you pulled away then opened your mouth. His cum sat on your tongue. He whimpered faintly, utterly spent and in awe. You gladly swallowed it with a devious smirk.

His reaction was priceless.

You pulled up his boxers and pants. Standing up, you patted his chest, feeling his chaotic heart race under your fingertips. A swell of pride surged through you. You opened your mouth to ask if he liked it, when he swiftly grabbed your face kissing you.

Your eyes widened, but instantly fell into him.

His tongue slipped past your lips, drawing out your wondrous sinful sounds and desires. He could taste himself on your tongue. He groaned.

Fuck, he thought.

He pushed off the railing, flipping you around. Your lower back dug into the wood, but you didn’t mind. Your hands wandered up his chest into his hair. Your fingers tangled into the blonde locks, tugging on them softly. He moaned against your lips. He nipped on your bottom lip, loving your small gasps.

“Please,” he murmured against your lips. “Please, I want to return the favor.”

His hands skimmed down your sides, gripping your hips. He drew you close to him. You grinded softly against him. A small, sweet moan fell off your lips.

Sanji was greedy for more.

You had only given him a tasting, he now wanted the meal.

“I … I want to … please,” he begged again.

He was already sinking down to his knees. His fingers dug into your thighs, bunching up your sweatpants. Your heart pounded in your chest as you bit your lip. Just as he thought earlier, why would you say no? Even if he was inexperienced, you didn’t care.

“Okay, okay,” you mumbled, shakily.

His eyes twinkled with glee, like a kid in a candy store. You hastily kicked off your sweatpants, and about to remove your underwear -

“Let me.”

Sanji’s hands stopped yours. You froze then nodded, letting go. You wanted him to try and take charge, to see what he would do.

Sanji hummed. He slowly pulled down your underwear. He was entranced. His fingers delicately traced down your thighs and legs being as gentle as possible. As he brought them down, you stepped out of them. Sanji placed them with your sweatpants. Glancing back, he groaned at the sight of your glistening cunt.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, licking his lips.

His breath on your dripping folds made you shiver. You were immensely turned on by all of this. But, it was the hunger in his eyes that made you weak. Such hunger and want. He wanted to please you in any capacity, he wanted to be good for you.

Holy shit.

“Sanji,” you breathed out. “Can - can I -“

“Do whatever you need to, love.”

“I just want to -“ you carefully hooked one of your legs over his shoulder. You leaned backwards using the railing and Sanji for support.

He firmly grabbed your thigh, thrilled by this. He turned his head, kissing all over your thigh. Up and down, up and down, until he trail led back to where you needed him. You shivered, tipping your head back.

“Sanji,” you sighed.

“What do you need? Tell me what to do,” he purred, buzzing with excitement.

“Your tongue, your tongue, I -“

His tongue quickly swept through your folds. You groaned. His mouth latched itself onto you, swirling around. His tongue was like utter magic. You supposed you should have known from the kiss. Sanji knew how to work his tongue, he had experience in that field. All he needed was a little guidance and encouragement elsewhere.

“Higher,” you gasped. “Go higher.”

His mouth moved. His lips wrapped around your clit and you whined.

“Right there, fuck,” you hissed.

Sanji hummed.

For a brief moment, you saw stars. He sucked on your clit, feeling your thigh twitch. Sanji groaned at the thought of both of your thighs wrapped around his head.

Another time, he swore to himself.

His tongue slowly swirled around again, lapping up your juices. His movements were hesitant, yet with each of your sighs and praises he grew more and more confident. Every sound was music to his ears. Sanji pulled away. He stared up at you breathless. His chin coated in your juices. He wanted to savor this moment.

Savor you.

“Sweetheart,” he mumbled. Your eyes dropped down to him. He smiled softly with such a boyish charm. “You are absolutely stunning.”

You laughed once, shaking your head. It seemed he had his silver tongue back. Sanji dived back in. His tongue parted your folds, curling around, and pushing inside of you. You moaned. Your fingers tangled into his hair.

“Fuck, Sanji,” you hummed.

Your foul mouth only encouraged him.

With his hand still on your thigh, he tugged you forward. His nose brushed against your clit. You gasped. Pleasure shot through you. You whimpered as your hips unconsciously bucked forward again.

More. You wanted more.

Your heel dug into his back, and you yanked on his hair. Sanji moaned, sending sweet loving vibrations throughout you. “Keeping going, Sanji, just like that.”

Sanji listened perfectly. He devoured you.

Fuck, he’s a natural.

Just with your gentle guidance, and your soft moans, Sanji had quickly learned your body. His tongue swept against your folds again and again. You moaned, almost pornographically. You rode his face, bucking your hips against his wondrous tongue.

You were panting as your pleasure built and built. “Fuck, Sanji, I’m about to come.”

He whined, “Oh, please, sweetheart.”

His fingers dug into your thigh. His lips wrapped around your clit, hearing your sweet sharp inhales. All your weight fell into the railing. You gasped, chanting Sanji’s name over and over. Your eyes squeezed shut, and finally let go, let pleasure consume you. You cried out his name. Sanji moaned as you came all over him. He greedily lapped up everything, not daring to waste a single drop.

He carefully pulled away, and your leg slid off his shoulder. He stood up, and cupped your face. He kissed you passionately once more. His expert tongue slid inside, making you taste him and yourself.

“Fuck,” you mumbled into the kiss.

Your knees were weak. You clung to his arms, humming into the kiss. Sanji slowly broke the kiss, enjoying your soft whines of protests. Both of you were panting, filling up the quiet still night.

Sanji chuckled once. “So? How did I do, sweetheart? Tired yet?”

You may have created a monster.

You blinked, then shook your head. You smirked, “Oh, I’m not done with you yet, unless you’re tired.”

He wrapped an arm around you. “Oh, sweetheart, I can keep going.”

I want to keep going, I want to have it all, he thought. Besides, what meal isn’t better without some dessert?

#one piece #one piece live action #Opla #sanji vinsmoke #opla sanji #opla x reader #sanji x reader #sanji vinsmoke x reader #smut #afab!reader

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skullvgirl · 13 days

Text

needy!nagi ིྀ | headcannons

incl. nagichi ≧▽≦

warnings: school!au, suggestive, fem reader, fluff ooc ( ? )

an's: idrk if this follows the theme of [ ooc trait x character ] yall, nagi is kinda need no?

needy!nagi who follows you around, everyyyywhere, like theres an invisible leash attached to your hand and his neck, you literally had to force him too leave when he tried following you into the bathroom

needy!nagi who calls for you to do even the littlest things, because somehow you 'do it better' or 'make it look easier'

needy!nagi who forgets all rules physical boundaries when he's near you, who has to hold you always and for as long as possible

needy!nagi who makes the biggest fuss when you have to leave the house without him. even if it's just a 5 minute outting from your house to the store he acts like your moving half way across the world { but you are he'd say }

needynagi who texts you all the time, 24/7 365 days a year is always blowing up your phone asking you and talking about the most redicoulus things

"did you tie your shoes before you went out ?"

"did you make sure too look both ways when crossing the street?"

and don't even get me started on when he's needy, needy

an obnoxious and repetitive beeping sounds on your alarm and you groan, twisting your body uncomfortably in the shared bed sheets before finally turning it off.

"seriously morning already..." you mumbled quietly, the darkness shrouding your thoughts.

i need to get ready for school.

and you did just that. at least you were going to before you realized there was another person in your bed, someone who felt very familiar.

oh no...

"nagi ???" you whisper-yelled it, patting his face lightly and turning the lamp on to get a clear veiw of your boyfriend.

"nagi wake up, your not supposed to be here" you sat up and began shakimg him this time.

nagi only groaned and wrapped his arms around his arms around your waist, nuzzling into the side of your thigh. "shhh, m' tryna sleep"

you shook your head and attempted to unwrap his hands from your body, with much struggle, he was surprising strong for being half asleep.

"nagi stop, nagi it's monday—a school day, you were supposed to be gone last night, why didn't your parents pick you up?"

"didnt tell them too"

"didnt tell them too...whadday mean didn't tell them too—im gonna get in trouble—wait a minute, nagi you didn't..."

"didnt what" his voice unmuffled as he moved his head to rest on your lap, his eyes staring directly at your own.

"you didnt lie to your parents and say you could stay for the whole week...did you?" you cupped his cheeks, studying his expression.

he didn't answer, "kiss me"

"nagi now is not the time—"

"kiss me pretty, please?"

you stared at him for a moment before leaning down, softly pressing your lips on his.

"good now?"

he looked dazed, and he was quiet so long you'd thought he didn't hear you. "almost"

your hands which had previously been rubbing soothing strokes across his face were quickly held behind your back.

he kissed your belly softly, relentlessly pressing butterflies into your body. "nagi that tickles" you giggled, trying to break free from his grasp.

"really? does it?" he murmured, rubbing his nose in the crevasse of your thigh.

"it does, now let go we have to get ready for school before my parents wake up"

he continued nuzzling your body however, then began slowly pushing his other hand against your chest to lean you back.

"i can make you feel alot more than tickling if you let me"

your cheeks felt hot. jeez, what has gotten into him !

"mmh, tempting but we cant and you know that—look it's already 6:09 we gotta g—OH!"

your stentence was cut off by the sensation of nagi feeling you through your shorts. his hands releasing your wrists long ago, he was now tugging at your pj's in hot desperation, probing his nose against your—

"nagi! what are you doing! school remember? we have to be there at 7"

"but do we reallyyyy..." nagi groaned, the vibrations sending shudders up your spine.

"y-yes, really, we have to be there, my parents own this house remember? not me"

"fine, but ill only go under one condition"

you sighed in preparation, for whatever rediculous reason was coming your way.

"and that is?"

"i get to stay over for the rest of the week AND, you sit on this right here..." he pointed too his mouth, and you squeezed your thighs together at the proposition.

"nagi, staying over defeats the purpose of you leaving, a-and i dont think that second option would be good for us either..."

"you wanna test to see?"

"i-i,—test and see what?"

"how bad our second option would be"

"..." he began moving in your silence, flipping your legs over his shoulders and kissing your belly once again.

"i'll take that as a yes"

an's: nagi is needy but somehow this still came out ooc, ( do i consider that a win or what...? )

#fanfiction #anime #blue lock #skullgirl #bllk headcanons #bllk fluff #bllk imagines #bllk x reader #bllk #bllk x you #nagi seishiro #nago blue lock #nagichi #nagi x reader #nagi x you #nagi x y/n

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satorusugurugurl · 26 days

Note

I know you might have one like this … but can u do a multi fic with jjk boys (gojo geto nanami and toji) where they push their girl to using the safe word.

If this is too similar to ur other fic I get it lol. If it is then can u do a jealous fic for them.

JJK Men: Safe Word

Summary: Things get a little too hot and heavy, and you have to use your safe word!

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Toji, FAB!Reader

Word Count: 2,038

Warnings: Rough sex, mentions of blood, public sex, teasing, boundaries crossed, safe word use, after-care!

A/N: Thank you for the request, Nonnie! I hope you enjoyed it; I know I did. Requests are open!

Gojo Satoru:

“Fuck!” Satoru growled from behind you as his cock slammed in and out of your pussy at a rough pace. “Baby, you feel so fuckin’ good!”

It did feel good. God, you loved it when Gojo fucked you rough. Rough sex was always fun—depending on where you were. You loved it in bed! On the couch, the kitchen, and even the shower. But your private onsen? Yeah, this wasn't exactly it.

“S-Satoru,” You winced out, hands scraping over the rocks of the private hot spring you were in. The pain in your hands stung as the hot water started making you dizzy. “Satoru!”

Your attempts to grab your boyfriend's attention went over his head. You crying out his name meant you must be enjoying yourself. Gojo loved it when you cried and screamed his name. It made his cock throb inside of you. He grabbed the back of your neck, pushing your face against the rocks.

“That’s right, say my fucking name~!! Let everyone here know who fucking you so good that you're crying, Y/N. Take it, take it~!”

Your face stung, the rocks cutting into your delicate skin. The hot water sploshed around as your breasts bounced. Fuck you were dizzy, and your palms were sore. You might pass out, and not in a good way.

“Toru!” you yelled again, tears in your eyes as black spots formed in your vision. “T-Torr—” Hot, too hot, “Toru,” Panic rose as your vision blurred. You had to use it, your safe word. There was no other choice. “Mochi!! Mochi!!”

Instantly, Satoru stopped, pulling away. “What's wrong? Are you okay?!” Concern laced his voice as you weakly tried getting out of the heated water. “Y/N?!” He scooped you up in his arms, carrying you out of the hot spring. “Holy fuck, you're burning up!”

You whine, trying to blink away the black spots, listening as Gojo runs around the room. You sighed in relief as a cold rag was placed on your forehead. The chill felt good against your heated skin, bringing your temperature down slowly but surely. After laying on the ground for a couple of minutes, you slowly opened your eyes, seeing Gojo looming over you, towel around his waist as he fanned you.

“Hey, there you are.” Tossing the fan to the side, he gently examined a couple of scratches on your face. “Fuck, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?”

You tried to get up, only to be shoved back down. “I got so dizzy, and my hands were killing me.” Satoru frowned, grabbing your hands gently and turning them over to examine the red skin littered with tiny cuts. “I'm sorry, Satoru, I just couldn't do it.” your boyfriend shook his head, kissing your palms so softly you barely felt it.

“Don't you even think about apologizing! We have a safe word for a reason.” Satoru sighed in relief, the back of his hand feeling your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, I was way too rough.”

“I don't mind you being rough. Just preferably in bed. Or the kitchen. Or that time in your office.”

Satoru scoffed, shaking his head as he picked you up, carrying you into the room. “You just almost passed out ten minutes ago, and you still like it rough?” He sat you on the bed, taking the rag off your head, heading to rinse it out, and put it back in place.

“I may not be the strongest or the chosen one.” You lay down, watching his toned back flex with laughter as he shook his head. “But you chose me ~ I'm the strongest at making you cum.” The wet rag promptly smacked you in the face. The wet plop had you giggling as the bed dipped.

“Alright, chosen one, lay back down and let me cuddle you.”

Geto Suguru:

“S-Sugu~!.” You gasped out, face pressed into the corner of the small closet you were in. The tiniest fucking closet in the world. And your leggings were around your knees as Suguru humped into you from behind.

“So tight, fuck you're clamping down on me.” Suguru humped faster, pushing you deeper into the tiny constricting corner. “You like this? Like it when I fuck you when people could catch us?”

Usually, yes, you got off on it. But right now, in a coat closet, that was constricting your air, not so much. Your body was tense, legs trembling as waves of nausea washed over you. Your chest felt tight, and you suddenly couldn't breathe all that well. It felt like the closet was getting smaller and smaller, threatening to crush you.

“Y/N fuck~” Your boyfriend whispered. “Are you gonna cum~? You're getting so tight~ Gonna cum on my cock?” Suguru slid his hand up, grabbing your throat and squeezing it. “Let me help.~”

Now, you really couldn't breathe, and it triggered your fight or flight. “Red!” You barked out, clawing at his hand around your throat.

Hearing your safe word, one Suguru never heard you use, had him moving so fast. He released your throat, pulled out, and quickly readjusted both your clothes before opening the door to the closet. He watched in fear as you stumbled out, falling to your knees as you gasped for air.

“Y/N, princess?” His hand gently pressed against your lower back. “Are you okay? What happened? Did I hurt you?”

“N-No!” You gasped out. “I was getting claustrophobic. I couldn't breathe.” Your heart rate slowed down as you turned to face him. His bangs dangled in his face as his dark eyebrows knitted together. “You didn't do anything wrong. It was all me.”

Suguru felt somewhat relieved that he had not been entirely responsible for your use of the safe word. But that didn't stop him from feeling bad. He turned his back to you, motioning for you to climb on.

“Come on, let's get you outside.” You eagerly climb on his back, resting your chin on his shoulder. “This party is lame anyway.”

“Yeah, it is. On the way home, can we get boba?”

“That's a silly question. Of course, we can get boba. Watching you suck down balls would be far more entertaining than this party.”

“If I'm feeling up for it later, can I suck on your balls?”

“We’ll see how you feel later.” God, why was he so caring and perfect? You buried your face in his neck with a happy hum. “Okay, back there, princess?”

“Never better.”

Nanami Kento:

One of Nanami’s favorite things to do when he got back from a mission was to tease you. It started as simply worshiping your body, gentle actresses of skin, and kisses down your neck. The man wanted to retrace every part of you he hadn't gotten to see while he was away.

So this time around, he was paying extra close attention. He had just gotten home from a two-week mission, and he was desperate for your touch. Nanami was gently caressing your arms, your inner thighs, all the way to your dripping pussy. But he never touched your sex. He wanted to savor every inch of you. Taking in the way you whimpered and twitched as his hands trailed over your body.

He could do this for hours.

You gripped the sheets in your hands, whining as Nanami’s fingers drew closer and closer to your clit, but he never touched it. What had started as loving, longing touches had turned into an almost torturous touch. Your legs began to tremble and shake, aching for your fiancè to do something, anything!

“So beautiful~” Nanami whispered as his fingers grazed your inner thigh, all the way up to your pussy. “God, you're so wet.” oh, this was it. He was finally going to touch you! But to your absolute disappointment, he trailed his finger back down to your thigh.

It was too much; you were so turned on it hurt! Covering your eyes, you whimpered in frustration. Nanami focused on your calves, honey-brown eyes transfixed on the soft skin, reveling in the feeling of it when his world crumbled at your soft cry.

“Yellow.”

Nanami whirled his attention back to you, his hand cupping your cheek. “Y/N love, honey, what's wrong?” You said nothing; your bottom lip trembled as you clenched your thighs together. “Y/N, talk to me.” His deep voice was concerned as his eyes focused on you while you pulled your hands from your face.

“I-I can't take it anymore. I need you to touch me, like really touch me; it hurts.”

Nanami’s shoulders slumped down as he sighed in relief. “Oh love, I'm sorry. Was I teasing you too much?” Calloused fingers immediately found your clit, sending you nearly off the bed. “Is that better?” he cooed as his lips pressed against yours as you whined.

“Y-Yes!” You inhaled sharply, eyes going wide as he slid those two fingers inside of your wet heat. “K-Kento!”

“Shh, I got you know, just relax.” But it was hard to relax when he started pumping those thick fingers in and out of your cunt. “I got you.”

Toji Fushiguro:

“Fucking bitch.” You whine as Toji slams into you. “Trying to flirt with you.” your nails dig into the brick wall of the alley Toji fucking you in. Your panties dangle from your ankle as he presses your back harder into the wall. “I'll show them; all of them you belong to me.”

“T-Toji!” you whine out, “please be quiet.” Your eyes darted down the alley. People were talking and walking by. The streets are busy on a Saturday night, and you'd much rather not get arrested for public indecency.

“No.” His teeth clamp down into your neck so hard you scream. “Let them hear, let everyone know who's fucking you so good.” You winced, trying to ignore the anxiety settling in your chest. It would help if you focused on the pained pleasure instead. “You want that? Don't you want the whole city to see you getting fucked like a bitch in heat?”

“I-I—!”

“‘I-I—’ what slut? Use your big girl words.”

“Toji I—I don't—!”

“If you don't tell me what you want, I'll just have to take you to the street and fuck you in front of everyone.” Sharp teeth bit down on your earlobe as a group of people laughed yards away.

Everything hit you at once. Toji’s words, the sound of approaching laughter, the fear. “Red!” His eyes widened as he gently pulled out, placing you on the ground. Just as a group of people walked by. Gripping your dress, you shakily slid down the wall.

“Hey, hey, you okay, Y/N?”

“I—I—” you flushed, putting your panties back on, “I didn't like the way you were acting. I don't like the idea of someone else seeing me like this.” Toji’s face softened as he nodded. “That was too much. Way too much, Toji.”

His face fell. The confusion that was etched into his features was replaced by regret. You were visibly upset, arms wrapping around yourself as you took several deep breaths. You were right. He had gone too far. He was so annoyed with the guys looking at you in the bar that he took it out on you—the last person who deserved to be treated that way.

“Y/N.” His fingers graze your cheek. “I’m sorry, babe. I was so in my head I didn't even consider how you would feel.”

He was being sincere. His cheeks were flushed as you looked at him. He rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced down the alley; for him to apologize like this meant a lot. Toji wasn't the best when it came to using his words.

He flinched as you fell forward into his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist. “You dummy.” He scoffed, wrapping his arms around you and leading you down the alley to the street.

“Come on, brat, let’s get you home. I'll snuggle the fuck out of you as an apology.”

“Can I be the big spoon?” You asked, leaning into his side as you walked.

He snorted a laugh, his hand holding your hip, pulling you tighter against him. “You sure can.”

716 notes · View notes

kittenintheden · 2 months

Text

Ethics Review

Dave Matthews voice: I DID IT

Tav (reader) and Astarion pay his old office at the Courts a visit in the middle of the night for funsies and things get spicy.

aka it's the switchy bitchy magistrate roleplay fic

Rating: E Word Count: 5.2k Pairing: Astarion/reader (Tav) Content: 18+, light BDSM elements, sexual roleplay, bitches be switches, dirty talk, spanking, orgasm denial, light edgeplay, oral sex, PIV sex (AFAB reader, not gendered)

AO3 Link

It’s late, but then, it’s always late when you’re out with Astarion these days. By necessity, mostly, but also because it’s the best time for the pair of you to get up to your more unsavory plans without catching the watchful eye of the newly-reformed Fist.

“Where are you taking me?” you laugh as you follow him through a series of dark alleys. “This better not end with me having to send for Gale to get your hand out of another magicked jar.”

“Never going to let me live that down, are you?” He looks over his shoulder and gives you an affectionate smirk.

“Not ever.”

Astarion peers around the corner of a brown brick building, checking that the coast is clear. To you, he says, “You’re lucky I’m such a kind and forgiving soul.”

“Ah, yes,” you agree, wrapping your arms around him from behind and nuzzling his neck. “Two of your most obvious and accurate qualities.”

He chuckles. “We’re almost there. Come on.”

A labyrinthine dozen alleyways later, you’re deposited in an open square, quiet and still. The cobblestones are dark with recent rain, sending their petrichor scent into the air. As you follow Astarion out into the space, you realize where you are. It’s the Courthouse District of the Lower City, where people are tried and held for petty crimes that aren’t suitable for Wyrm’s Rock.

You huff a laugh through your nose and look over at your partner with a raised eyebrow. “Did you need to tell me something? Have a court date you forgot to mention?”

“Hush,” he playfully scolds you, holding a finger up to his lips. “Let me think a moment.”

He peers up at a particular building on the square and furrows his brow, closing his eyes and moving his hands through the air. You fold your arms and watch as he moves his fingers like he’s following a path only he can see, turning corners and raising level by level. At last, he opens his eyes, and points at window on the third floor, two in from the corner.

“That one,” he says.

“That one what?” you prompt.

He grins devilishly. “That…” he points again. “... is my old office. I thought we might pay it a visit.”

“To what end?” you laugh.

“What can I say, I’m feeling a touch nostalgic these days.” He keeps his eye on the window and beckons you to follow closer to the building. “Something about my old haunts is calling to me.”

Behind where he can’t see, you pay him an affectionate smile. In the last year or so since the fall of the Nether Brain, you’ve seen the city rebuilt and gone on your fair share of adventures and quests, always searching for some way to give Astarion back the sunlight you promised him. No luck yet, but there have been promising leads here and there. It’s not a lost cause. Not yet.

The last few months in particular have seen certain changes in your lover. The terror and fear he carried for so long clung to him like a shadow, and ever so slowly it’s beginning to lift. His laugh is more present than before, more real. The intimate moments you share are filled with trust and care, even as you get more comfortable pushing a few boundaries here and there.

Most of all, he’s been remembering. Not everything. There are parts of his past forever lost to him, written over by more years of torment than he ever had of life. But there’ve been flashes every now and again of who he used to be. Some of them he likes, some he loathes. He doesn’t always talk about it, but you know being able to pick up a piece once in a while has meant a great deal to him.

So you follow along with whatever little game he has planned.

He walks along the building, scanning the brick for footholds. Just as he puts his hand on a storm drain and tenses to leap, you halt him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. When he looks back at you, you flick your eyes up toward the window.

“Three up, two in from then end?” you ask.

He nods.

“Allow me, love.”

You hold up your hand and cobalt magic pools in your palm, forming into a sphere. You send it up above you, the arcane eye floating until it finds the correct window before it slips inside. You blink, your own eyes glowing blue as you use your magic to scan the room. It’s certainly an office of some sort.

Astarion takes your hand when you hold it out for him and instantly you’re transported inside the office thanks to a handy little dimensional door spell you picked up on one of your many adventures. You wave away the arcane eye and give Astarion a wink.

He smirks and shakes his head at you. “Take all of the fun out of the thing, why don’t you,” he says through his smile. “Suppose I’ll have to make do with checking that the place isn’t alarmed. Alas.”

The place is, indeed, alarmed. Astarion manages to disarm two common magic wires and one trickier sending stone scattered throughout the room. You reach out through the Weave for any other whispers of magic. Some artifacts and lightly magical office supplies. Nothing worrisome.

Once you’re both satisfied that you won’t end up immediately arrested, Astarion moves to the center of the room, hands clasped behind his back. You’re quiet as he scans the walls, turning in a slow circle as he takes everything in. His fangs flash as he gives a quiet laugh.

“The layout is different, and the color,” he says. “But yes, this is the place.” He furrows his brow slightly and holds out his hands, eyes on the floor. “I… worked here. Me. A magistrate.” His eyes find you and his smile widens. “It was a lie for so much longer than it was a reality. But it was a reality, once upon a time.”

“I’m surprised,” you say, folding your arms and nonchalantly stepping closer. “The way you spoke and dressed when we first met, I thought you must’ve been an Upper City fancy defending-the-powerful type.”

Astarion clicks his tongue at you. “Now, don’t be judgmental. That’s my job.” He waves a hand through the air. “I was quite young in my career, but I was working my way up. All the way to the third floor, thank you.”

You come in to wrap your arms around his waist and lean your head on his shoulder. “I’m proud of you. Genuinely.”

He spreads his fingers over your forearm, pressing his lips to your hair. “Thank you. That’s always nice to hear.” He clears his throat and removes your arms, backing away from you with a toss of his head. “But don’t be too proud. I wasn’t exactly a… what’s the term? Model citizen.”

Astarion begins to walk around the small table with four chairs set in the center of the room.

“Oh?” you say, walking around the other side to mirror him. “Were you terribly corrupt?”

He pauses and tilts his head, shrugging. “‘Terribly’ is such a strong word, isn’t it? Lets just say I may have been known to, ah… sway the odds in my favor.”

You stop and look across the table at him. “What do magistrates even do, exactly? What did you do, specifically?”

“An absolutely stupid amount of paperwork, as I recall,” he says. “At least, I certainly remember hating every scrap that came across the desk. Meting out appropriate punishment for any minor and petty crime you can think of, most of them horrifically boring. But…” He leans over the table and holds up a finger. “... sometimes I got to conduct interviews to determine if crime was worthy of Wyrm’s Rock, and I was very good at getting the verdict I wanted.”

You rather like seeing this side of Astarion. Honest pride, confidence, and authority. The tip of your tongue runs along your bottom lip as you take in your love leaning over that table, dappled in moonlight. Gods, he’s beautiful.

“And how did you do that?” You pop your hip and raise your thumb to your mouth, teasing your lip as you peer up at him through your eyelashes. “Exactly?”

Astarion notices the shift in your demeanor immediately, his own eyes going half-lidded as they track the path of your hand to your mouth. His grin goes predatory and he leans back so he can come around the table to you and pull out the chair.

“Please, darling,” he says, nodding for you to sit. “Let’s talk, you and I.”

You pay him a sultry smile and sink into the chair, which he pushes in under you. Then he walks back around to the other side with his spine straight, hands folded behind his back.

A new game begins.

Astarion rolls out his shoulders as if he’s shedding a coat. When he turns to look at you, he does so down the length of his nose, his hard gaze making it clear that he thinks you beneath him.

You shiver as a thrill runs down your back and attempt to hide it.

He shakes his head above you, tutting. You’ve disappointed him.

Instinctively, you shrink into your chair slightly as he leans forward and places the tips of his fingers against the table in front of him, continuing to lower his face until it’s a mere foot from yours.

“A pathetic display back there,” he says, voice dripping with condescension. “Your associates have hung you out to dry. You do know that…” He tilts his head. “... don’t you?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and drop your eyes. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Silly little patsy,” he chides as he straightens to glare down at you again. “Such stars in your eyes for friends who would sooner see you burn than stick their necks out for you.”

“I’m not telling you anything,” you say, raising your eyes to him in defiance even as you let a waver of nerves shake your voice.

“What must it be like to be so tragically misguided?” he sneers. It’s like an echo of a man you once knew. One you met on a sunny beach amid burning wreckage.

You blink up at him, eyes going soft. “I can’t betray them.”

“Betray them,” he breathes, huffing a mirthless laugh as he leans one hand onto a nearby chair. “My dear, they are in the next room, and the room after that, giving you up as we speak. No loyalty among thieves, I fear.”

“No,” you gasp. “They wouldn’t.”

Astarion holds a finger up to his lips, shushing you. “I think you know better than that. But fine, have it your way. Don’t give them up to save your own hide. Let me sweeten the pot.”

He turns his body so he can side-sit on the table and put his first knuckle under your chin, lifting it so he can inspect you. The corner of his mouth ticks up. “Gold to line your pockets, perhaps?”

Though you try to stop it, your body betrays you as a bright blush blooms across your nose and cheeks. Astarion’s pupils dilate above you.

“Or something else entirely?” he whispers, tilting his mouth closer to yours. “I’d much sooner send those two cads to Wyrm’s Rock in your place. Help me, and maybe you and I could have a bit of…” His eyes trail down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, and beyond before he looks back into your eyes. “... fun in celebration.”

“Why would you do that for me?” you whisper back.

He shrugs. “What can I say? I rather like you. Plus, I might get a little kickback in the form of a promotion for bringing in two thorns in the Fist’s side, but that’s neither here nor there.” He rolls his eyes and pays you a flirtatious smile on the last bit.

And that… is your opening.

Your expression grows serious and you note the moment that Astarion’s eyebrows give the briefest twitch of concern.

"You've overplayed your hand, Magistrate Ancunín," you say.

Astarion draws his hand back and gives you a perplexed look. “Have I?”

You smile, then. Calm and dangerous. "I've been sent by the Board of Ethics, you see."

Astarion is thrown by this turn, but he recovers quickly, offering a simpering smile. "Oh? Oh, dear. Seems I've been caught with my pants down."

You stand, holding his eye. "Indeed. Best go place your hands on the desk where I can see them."

With a flourish, he holds his hands up for you to see. No funny business, none at all. He goes to the desk and spreads his palms flat against the polished wood. He must feel the heat of your skin as you come close, only inches away. Inspecting. Considering.

You lean in close to his ear. "Say our word if you'd like me to stop, Ancunín," you whisper.

"Stop what?" he asks.

In answer, you grab his hips and pull them flush against your own with enough force that he gasps from it, genuinely surprised. In his ear again, you whisper, "Teaching you a lesson."

You release him and move to his side. He turns his head to look at you and you can see the openmouthed surprise in his face, but it’s more than that. Surprised, yes, but also open. Interested. Very turned on. You know this look.

This is Astarion’s “oh, we’re doing that thing I like?” look. It’s a good look on him.

You tap a finger on his nearest hand. “Keep these exactly where they are. I must warn you that you face serious repercussions for witness tampering. I have some questions. Answer them to my satisfaction, and I may consider…” Your gaze trails down to the front of his trousers, which are straining. When you meet his eye again, you add, “... reinstatement.”

Astarion tilts his chin down so he can give you a heated look. “Then by all means,” he says, lips parted. “Ask.”

“Hm,” you hum as you trail your fingers over the desk as you walk around to the other side. You mimic his stance with your hands on the table, though yours is one of authority while his is one of awaiting judgment. He tilts his head at you in question, gaze hot. You match it.

“Let’s start with an easy one.” You tilt your head toward the wall without breaking eye contact. “That placard hanging there. What is it?”

He looks and then huffs through his nose. “It’s an oath.”

You tilt your head the other way. “And what does it say?”

Astarion smirks. “‘As an officer of the Court, I will strive to conduct myself at all times with integrity, dignity, and honor.’”

“That’s right,” you say, nodding. “Now tell me, Ancunín… do you feel you’ve conducted yourself in accordance with that oath?”

“Of course,” he answers without hesitation, flashing you a winning smile. “I offered you the utmost dignity and honor, did I not?”

An idea occurs to you and you imagine he catches the twinkle in your eye as you raise one of your hands to click your fingers, a glowing web of pale blue stretching to cage you both inside. Astarion frowns up at it. The moment he realizes what you’ve done, he gives you a look that’s half-exasperated and half-devious.

“What’s this?” he says, playing along.

“A little insurance policy. To ensure your adherence to honesty.” You reach to the collar of your shirt and undo one button. Then another.

Then another.

Astarion struggles to keep his eyes on your face, but when you lean back down onto the table, he can’t help but sneak a peek.

You toy with another button. “Why don’t you tell me what you think about dignity now?”

Astarion bites the corner of his lip to keep his expression serious. He keeps his eyes trained on your chest and seems to carefully consider his words before he says, “I maintain that I respect the dignity of your tits.”

That’s not what he meant to say. He blinks. His eyes flick up to yours. “Your position,” he amends.

His eyes flick back down. “Your position and your tits.”

“Ah,” you say. “Yes, I thought that might be the case. That you might be… what do they say? Dipping your wick in the law office wax.”

You stand and come back around to his side, maintaining your spell as you do. Astarion tracks you all the way back around.

“I’d like you to be as honest with me as you can be,” you say softly. “Not that you’ve much choice. So, in that case, here’s some extra… motivation.”

You’re behind him now and you hear his sharp intake of breath when he feels your palms spread over either side of his hips before moving around to the ties at the front of his trousers. You loosen them just enough to give you space.

Astarion’s knuckles are going white where he presses his fingers against the desk.

Your fingers are soft and warm against his lower abdomen as they dip below his waistband, then inside his underthings. You find what you seek and grip it firmly, fisting the length of him. He bites back a groan and flexes his hands against the wood as you draw him out into the open air.

“You do keep it cool in here,” you whisper into his ear. You keep your touch light as you tease his cock, just enough to make him want but not nearly enough to satiate the need. “Why is that?”

Astarion swallows and looks at you out of the corner of his eye. “A little discomfort loosens the tongue, I find.” He struggles to keep the breathiness out of his voice and very nearly succeeds.

Nearly.

Your smile is wicked. “I see. Well.”

You rest his hardened length against the varnished wood of the desk. It’s cool on his touch-warmed skin and he whines lightly as you leave him there to walk around to his other side, fingertips drawing a trail across his broad back and shoulders.

“In that case, we’ll be leaving that…” You glance down at his cock, then back at his face. “… out in the cold until you’ve answered my questions to my satisfaction. Understood?”

He takes a deep breath through his nose and meets your eye. “Completely.”

“Good.” You move one of his misplaced curls back into place. “If I’m satisfied, I just might let you warm it up again. We shall see.”

“Indeed we shall,” he says, voice dropping deeper, and you can sense the challenge there. You smile as you turn away from him.

“Let’s try again,” you say. “Do you make a habit of lying to your interviewees in hopes of manipulating a confession?”

“Is ‘lying’ the word we want to use?” he says with a lilt.

“Yes.” You turn back to look at him.

He clears his throat, chewing his tongue to hide another smile before he looks away. He thinks a moment, then says, “I occasionally massage my message to pave the way for a more fruitful discussion in my favor, yes. Only in the interest of this office and my personal satisfaction.” He smirks at you, clearly pleased with himself.

You shake your head. “My, my. And just when I thought we were getting somewhere. Perhaps you need a reminder that I hold your immediate future in my hands?”

When you move back in and loosen his trousers still further to shove down his hips and below his arse, he wriggles to help. He seems to think he’s won this phase of the game. Adorable.

Rather than give him any relief, you reach out to the desk and pick up a wooden ruler, thin and flexible. Astarion opens his mouth, presumably to ask what you’re doing, but doesn’t get the chance as you use the flat of the ruler to give him a quick smack on his bare arse.

He cries out in surprise and looks around at you. You raise an eyebrow at him and give him the opportunity to call his out. Instead, you watch his eyes darken. He’s still in. Which is good, because gods above if you aren’t beginning to make a mess of your underwear already.

“Do you understand your situation?” you ask.

“Maybe you ought to remind me again,” he rumbles.

You do, leaving another slap on his pale skin. A shiver travels up his back from the base of his spine all the way up.

“I understand,” he says.

“Very good,” you say. “Do you manipulate the outcomes of your interviews?”

“Sometimes, yes,” he says quietly, peering up at you from under his brows.

“Thank you for your honesty. With bribery?”

He nods.

You bend forward so you’re eye-to-eye. “And do you frequently offer favors of a sexual nature?”

Astarion’s gaze drops to your mouth and he blinks heavily. “That’s only for when I see someone I like,” he says.

There’s another slap to his arse, quick as reflex, and he gives a small, broken “a-ah” as he drops his head. He spoke the truth, your spell ensures that, but you want him to be more specific. You look down to see he’s subtly grinding himself against the desk, his cock beginning to weep pre-fluid as you watch.

You place the ruler against his back to hold him in place. “None of that,” you say. “Not until you clarify. Why me?”

He groans in frustration. “Because I like you. Because I’m attracted to you. Because I want to be inside you and fuck and fuck and fuck until we’re both hoarse from crying our ecstasy.”

Well. The pair of underwear you’re wearing are officially done for, you fear.

“What a wicked tongue you have,” you breathe, not quite able to keep up your aura of authority. You swallow and add, “Perhaps I’ll consider letting you off with a warning if we can figure out a better use for it.”

Astarion goes to his knees so quickly it makes your head spin. You don’t hesitate to take care of the bindings on your own trousers and he’s eager to help, shoving your clothing to the floor. You’re trying to remove a boot when he presses his face into the crux of your legs and runs his tongue along the seam of you so hotly that you nearly fall over. You lean down and give him another half-hearted smack. All it does is elicit a groan against your most sensitive of places.

With some struggle, you manage to remove the boot, kick your trousers and underthings off of one leg, and hop up to sit on the desk, Astarion follows you along, refusing to let you leave him now that he’s on you. His mouth works against you on its own, tongue lapping firmly at the edges of your cunt, flushing you and making you swell. He hasn’t even touched your clit yet and you know you’re already slick with desire.

You’re so momentarily distracted that you almost miss where his hands have gone.

Chest heaving, you weakly wave to dismiss your Zone of Truth and call up your mage hand, sending it down where you can’t reach to grab the wrist of the hand Astarion’s using to pump his cock while he licks at you.

“I don’t think so,” you gasp. “Still on… probation.”

You’re losing the thread and you’re perfectly okay with it.

Astarion growls in response and comes up higher on his knees, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you tight against his face. His tongue finally finds your center and he rolls it against your entrance, plying the place just inside that makes you go flush with arousal, your clit swelling further. Then he finally pays it attention with a light draw followed by firm circles, teasing until you feel sparkles of arcane energy tingling at your fingertips and zaps of pleasure shoot through your core.

He holds you so tight to him that there’s no escape from the assault of pleasure he’s waging on your body. All too soon, you’re whimpering as you approach your peak.

And Astarion simply stops. He leaves you there, right before the edge, and you cry out in dismay and frustration. Before you realize what’s happening, he’s on his feet and pulling you onto yours, spinning you around until your hips are pressed to the edge of the dark wood. You can feel his rock hard length against the cleft of your arse, feel the wetness at the tip of him against your lower back.

“You’ve overplayed your hand this time, I think,” he pants into your ear. “Let your guard down. What member of the Board of Ethics accepts bribes?”

When you try to wriggle free, you feel his fingers at your wrists. He takes your hands and spreads them on the desk as you’d done to him, bending you over. His hips draw back and then return and you feel his hardness drag over your folds from behind, teasing but not quite putting pressure on your clit.

His breathing is heavy, but through it, he manages, “This time, you tell me the truth. Why did you meet with me?”

“To catch you out,” you gasp. “Your behavior has been… unethical.”

“Is it unethical to recognize when someone wants your cock?” he whispers, sending a tingle over your shoulders. “Is it against my oath to offer?”

“That’s not… I didn’t…”

The head of his cock nudges your clit and you both hiss through your teeth. He pulls back until he catches at your entrance, pushing in just barely. Just enough to begin to feel him, but nowhere near enough of him. Instinctively you arch your back harder, trying to take more, but he won’t let you.

“Beg me,” he growls in your ear. “Beg me for my cock. Tell me it’s why you came here.”

Your very last thread of remaining restraint is pulled to its absolute limit, but it doesn’t break quite yet. “I came here on orders to uncover a magistrate with loose morals,” you manage.

Astarion reaches a hand up to the hair at the back of your head, grabs a handful, and gently pulls to bend your head back. Directly into your ear, he whispers, “You’ve found him. Now beg for it.”

In the quiver of his voice, you can hear that he’s the one begging you.

So you give in.

“I came here for you,” you whisper back. “Please, let me. Let me take your cock.”

His breath shudders out of him. “Take it you shall.”

Astarion thrusts his hips forward, burying himself in you, and you hardly have time to so much as gasp before he sets a punishing rhythm, one arm around your waist to hold you in place and the other one still tangled up in your hair. You arch deeply, giving him as much access as you can, and he pounds into you relentlessly. On the outskirts of your awareness, you feel bruises beginning to form on your hipbones from where they repeatedly hit the desk.

You don’t care one whit.

He keeps you bent over the desk, your palms spread to keep you both upright as he fucks you hard, his moans trapped behind his clenched teeth. As you fly full speed back to your edge, he removes the hand from your head and absently places it over your mouth to muffle your own escalating cries.

The coil of your climax tightens and Astarion begins to mutter a steady mantra of “yes, yes, yes, gods, yes” beside your ear. He presses himself all the way to the hilt and rocks, the base of him stretching you just right and his balls pressed firm to your clit and there, oh there, it’s right-

You scream behind Astarion’s palm as you come, the delicious tension boiling and spilling over as contractions roll through you, pleasure washing over your body with every heartbeat. You nearly blank out for a second and when you blink back down, your lover continues to pump into you as he chases his own end.

With a shaking hand, you call up your mage hand from where it shimmers nearby and press it to his chest, pushing back with soft pressure.

“No,” Astarion whines, attempting one or two more thrusts before you back him up. “No, please, please, I didn’t finish, I-”

You turn, bottomless and eyes full of fuck and revenge, and add your own hands to the mix, all three pushing him back until he hits the deposition table, going flat on his back. You crawl up over him and straddle him, up on your knees just out of reach.

You look down upon him, beautiful and fucked out in the moonlight. “Do you regret any of it?” you say.

“I’m regretting a lot of my decisions at the moment,” he snarks. His lips part as he breathes.

With a smile, you roll your hips just enough to catch the head of his cock back at your opening. “Do you regret any of it?” you repeat.

He pants, looking up at you. Then he reaches up to grip the front of your shirt and pull you down over him in a searing kiss. When you break, he whispers, “No. Not a moment. It brought me to you.”

You roll back, sinking down onto him. He gasps and throws his arms around you, helping you get back into rhythm, and he’s so close that it’s barely any time at all before he arches his back clear up off the table and groans as he spills inside of you, the relief painted across every inch of his face. He comes for nearly a minute, twitching and humming beneath you until he finally relaxes into a boneless heap.

When he next opens his eyes, you lean down and catch him in another kiss.

The pair of you have barely redressed and cast a few prestidigitation cantrips as a courtesy before there’s a sound somewhere down the hall. Footsteps. Coming closer.

“Shit,” Astarion whispers, startled. He grabs your hand and spins you both into a dim corner of the room before you both cast Invisibility. Just in the nick of time, it appears, because there’s a jangle of keys and then a harried-looking halfling comes bustling into the room, dark bags under their eyes.

They grumble to themselves for a moment, going to a box to sort through files. They don’t find what they’re looking for and move on to the desk. Once there, they open a drawer, then wrinkle their nose.

“Bleeding hells, it smells like sex in here,” they grumble. “Gonna tell Jackobson that Cole has been using his office again. Teach that arsehole for making me come fetch the file he forgot.”

The halfling pulls a file from the drawer, slams it, and exits the room.

Neither of you move for the rest of the minute your invisibility lasts. As soon as the cloaking spell fades, you both collapse to the floor in quiet giggles. You kiss Astarion through your laughter, again and again.

It’s nice to see this side of him.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #tavstarion #kitten writes

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queerfables · 5 months

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'Wilson' as an episode fucking slaps. I'm obsessed with Wilson's complete lack of boundaries and I'm obsessed with the way he acts out to express resentment while still being completely incapable of saying no. He gave a patient part of his liver!! The man is in no way hinged.

For all the emphasis that gets placed on Wilson's failed marriages and infidelity, we don't ever actually see it directly on screen. This is a narrative choice I love, for the record. We see Wilson's relationships through House's eyes and it allows us to understand Wilson as a deeply flawed person without ever making him unlikable, because Wilson's flaws and contradictions are what make him irresistible to House. It's so effective, the way these failed relationships say so much about Wilson's character while being constructed largely out of inference.

In this episode, though, we watch his inability to self advocate play out in real time, and I guarantee that this is what every one of his relationship meltdowns looked like from the inside. On some deep fundamental level, James Wilson doesn't believe "I don't want to" is a valid reason not to do something. You know the fantasy trope of an obedience curse, where the victim is inescapably compelled to obey other people's requests? Wilson casts that spell on his own damn self, and he'll hold true to it even to the point of violating his own bodily autonomy. When you lack boundaries like that, it becomes almost impossible to even know what you truly want, let alone to act on it. So Wilson says yes and yes and yes until it breaks him, and then he still can't say no.

When saying yes feels like surrendering to torture and saying no feels like committing murder, the only option left is escape. So Wilson goes out drinking to trash the liver he's going to donate. He gets dinner with the pretty nurse instead of going home to his wife. All of it is him scrabbling at the bars of his cage. And the irony is that the cage is unlocked, he just has to walk through the open door, and that's the last thing he could ever bring himself to do.

I'm pretty sure that when he went to Cuddy and told her his plan to donate, he wanted her to say no. She almost did! And I think she should have, because her first impulse was right, it is insane. Unfortunately this is the Insane Lack of Boundaries Hospital, and she can't actually be expected to guess when her employee's mouth is saying yes but his eyes are saying dear god no. By the rules of universe that House MD operates within, this doesn't even break a 7 on the "unhinged measures to save a patient" scale, and Wilson invoked the power of friendship. What was she supposed to do?

And through all of this, House is the person Wilson lashes out at. I love, love, love that House is the person Wilson lashes out at. Wilson can't even admit to himself that he's angry about the position he's in. How can he be angry when he's the reason the patient needs a new liver? But House sees right to the heart of everything going on with him, and he says all the things Wilson wants to be true and can't afford to believe. Because if he lets himself believe this wasn't his fault then he might not be able to say yes. And he's going to say yes. And he hates that he's going to say yes. And he hates that House knows he's going to say yes.

So he gets angry with House, because it's safe to get angry with House. He lashes out, because with House, he can. He tells House he's wrong about him, and demands House move out, and that's not at all what he really wants but he feels helpless and coerced and he desperately needs to exercise some kind of control over his own life. The fact that he can let go like this with House is in part about knowing House isn't ever going to leave him - the closeness of their relationship is always defined by what Wilson wants, House has never once pushed Wilson away and fights to reconcile when Wilson wants distance. But it's also about knowing that he can't hurt House by setting boundaries with him. Mostly this is because House will walk right over any boundaries he considers unacceptable, but in fairness, the fact that House is kind of a terrible person is part of his appeal. If Wilson had issues around other people violating his stated wishes, House would be the last person in the world that he should have anything to do with. But Wilson's issues lie in the fear that not being compulsively available and accommodating to everyone around him might permanently fuck up the life of someone he loves. House's fucked up life is never going to be Wilson's fault and even if it was House would still kind of deserve it, so Wilson's anxious people pleasing compulsion can chill the fuck out for five minutes at a time.

I don't want to idealise, there are times in their relationship when Wilson absolutely makes fucked up sacrifices for House. I don't think it's the case that he earnestly wanted to every time. But it's also true that House brings out authenticity in Wilson that few other people manage to. House knows him. House allows him to give in to his selfish impulses without guilt and consequences, and for all the people who love the best in him, House knows and loves his worst. While Wilson is caught up in trying to bend himself into whatever shape someone else needs him to be, what House wants more than anything is the truth. For Wilson, who is so out of touch with his own desires, being an object of fascination to someone obsessed with drives and motivations must be a rush. And if we accept the throughline of this episode, it might just be the case that House's boundary pushing and obsession is something Wilson needs.

#house md #fable talks

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sleepyangelkami · 3 months

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You having a secret crush on ellie and you keep it to yourself but she finds your diary one day and she can't help herself so she reads it when you go to the bathroom

DEAR DIARY e.williams

☆ WORD COUNT - 3.4K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - you and ellie have been best friends for as long as you can both remember. she was the artist, you were the writer. you both respected one anothers hidden sketchbook and diary. until one day you're taking much too long in the shower and it's just... sitting there! ellie can't help herself and she finds out a little secret.

☆ WARNINGS - snooping? tinsey bit of angst if you can even call it that, touch starved reader, sort of loser!ellie a little, lil crying, petnames, use of y/n like once, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

for as long as you could remember, ellie had been your number one. she was your best friend in the entire world, you told her everything and she told you the same in return. okay maybe not... everything. there was one thing you'd been having an awful hard time keeping to yourself. though, you were sure it was much better in than out.

you and ellie were like an orange and black cat, you were fire and ice, the sun and moon, a writer and an artist.

ellie drew a lot. you'd seen multiple of her drawings before. you remembered the first time she'd doodled a frog onto your arm during a boring lecture from tommy and maria. she gave you a confused look to your state of shock. but you were merely surprised. sure, you knew she could draw. but you didn't know she was that good.

you were the writer. ellie was well aware of this. whether you had your laptop propped up on your knees, writing away or a pen in hand scrawling letters around the little pages. ellie always thought your handwritting was nice. it was much better than her fat chunky lettering that everyone always seemed to have trouble reading. she'd always watch the way your pen would dance across the page, so easily and smoothly. she was almost jealous.

you'd both grown to understand the boundaries of her drawings and your writing.

two things were off limits. one, was her big black bulky sketchbook that she often brought around to your house or sat under her arm. two, as your pink journal. she'd seen it once, questioning you what book was falling out from your locker drawer. you were honest with her. you told her it was your diary, the book you cherished the most, the book she could never read.

at first, ellie was a little taken aback.

sure, she knew everyone had their own secrets but it was you. you told ellie everything, or so she thought.

"oh, thank god." she spoke, pushing her jacket off as she walked into your house, right through the front door. the snow from outside decorated the crown of her head and the tip of her nose. "i was looking everywhere for that." discarding her wet boots at the door. "thought i lost it."

"nope." you chimed from your place at your kitchen counter. your stools had been the very ones joel had built for you. well, not for you. he really built them for anyone but when no takers raised their hand, you sort of felt like you had to. ellie laughed at you, stating nobody would want to sit at your kitchen counter ever again. "right here."

ellie soon made her way across the kitchen, taking the sketchbook from your hands softly. "you didn't... look at anything, did you?"

you shook your head from side to side. "'course not, els." that beloved nickname that had her cheeks turning pink. "'s the same way i wouldn't want you reading my diary. i wouldn't look at your sketchbook like that." god only knew what ellie williams was drawing on the cream coloured paper.

she breathed a sigh of relief, believing you. "okay, thank you." though she still had a gnawing feeling at the bottom of her stomach. what if you did? i mean, you wouldn't do that much less lie to her afterwards. but what if. once the thought entered her head, she had a hard time getting it to leave again.

"wanna watch a movie?" you questioned, placing your chin on your hands that had been propped up by the elbows onto your kitchen counter.

ellie sat herself on one of the white stools, not the wooden ones joel had made. "whatcha have in mind, sweetheart?" it wasn't often that ellie came over for less than a day. i mean, you two were practically attached together by the hip. if ellie was at your house, and even just for something as small as to collect the sketchbook, she was more often than not staying over.

you hummed, your lips pressed together. try as you must but you never were able to play off the stammering and flustered appearance as she called you those pretty names. but that was sort of the whole point, she liked the way your cheeks heated up. "something christmassy." you spoke. "like the muppets or something."

the girl merely raised a scarred brow at you. "it's november."

you huffed out a sigh, rolling your eyes. "'s never to early for christmas, els."

that was enough for ellie, she supposed. after this short interaction in the kitchen, you both ended up sat atop your living room couch, you fishing around with the remote. thankfully, she'd agreed on the muppets christmas carol, and you were not about to give up the oppertunity to watch your favourite movie with your favourite person.

a hand came down to your side, gently rubbing up and down gently. suddenly, the buttons on the controller seemed hazy and you blinked not once, not twice but three times, a breath falling from your lips. her fingers were so long and pretty, gently soothing the bare skin from underneath your shirt, barely hitting against your stomach. it wasn't much but for a touch starved girl alike you, it was enough to have your stomach in knots, your mind blurring into one big watercolour.

ellie seemed to have taken notice to the way your entire demeanour changed, her brows barely moving. "something wrong, baby?" you couldn't tell if she were being serious or not. perhaps it was because everything seemed hazy but truly, you couldn't distinguish whether or not she was trying to fool around with you or if her words had really been spoken with such innocence.

did she know what she was doing to you?

you cleared your throat, bee stung lips rolling. "lets jus' watch the movie, els." pressing what you assumed was the start button and watching as the screen lit up. avoiding the question completely.

you'd missed the way her lips curved up into a smirk.

of course, ellie williams was well aware of the effect she had on you.

you see, you'd been hiding this 'crush' on your best friend for quite a long time now. but it was times like this that you swore she knew, she had to. of course, she had to be aware of the way you stumbled upon your words around her or the way your face seemed on fire when she used those pretty nicknames on you. that was the thing, she called you the names, nobody else, not even those fuckbuddies of hers.

it begged the question, where did you stand to her?

you'd been best friends for so long now, you were sure she merely called you these things and seemed so impossibly close because she was comfortable with you. otherwise, there'd somehow be a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why she treated you so differently. though, the bigger part of you, the one consumed by romance novels and love letters, the one that consumed romantic films as if it were food, that part of you wanted to believe it was because you were different. well, not you necessarily. you didn't want to be different to all the girls she fucked, well, you didn't really care. you just wanted ellie's feelings for you to be different.

you didn't want ellie to look at you like you were one of those girls that'd spend the night then leave by morning without so much as a breakfast or goodbye.

you wanted her to look at you like you were worth a million stars. the way you looked at her.

you'd been enamoured by her since the day you'd met her and it appeared as though it were obvious to just about everyone other than her. your best friends dina and jesse had instantly picked up on it when you were kids. it was a wonder to both you and them how ellie still hadn't found out.

but even when dina and jesse brought it up, whether there was a teasing tone etched to their words or perhaps they were asking a serious question, you did exactly what ellie told you to do in every other situation. deny, deny, deny. probably the only time you ever took on ellie's advice.

the one person or thing, i should say, that actually knows about this little 'crush' on the auburn haired girl was the little pink notebook tucked away in the side drawer of your room, right next to your desk.

seeing as it was merely ink to a page, you didn't have to hide. you didn't have to become flustered the way you did when talking to ellie and you didn't have to lie the way you did to dina and jesse. you could simply breathe again.

it was the thing you admired most about this little book, the freedom.

you could say anything you wanted about anyone you wanted and nobody would ever know. it'd never leave the little pink book. besides, the only person that knew about your diary was ellie and you trusted her enough not to look through it. the same way you'd never pick up ellie's sketchbook and look through it.

not only because she asked but because you too know what it's like to have something of yours worth so much value. not in money, of course, but in a sense that it truly was yours and nobody elses.

"yes i could." you bit back to the auburn haired girl that sat atop your bed. the movie had ended hours ago, you'd even thrown on another one. this time, ellie got to choose and as always, she chose a horror. you hated horror movies and yet every single time, without fail, ellie was throwing one on.

"no you couldn't." she rolled her eyes. the current debate was whether or not you would be able to survive the scream movies. you were sure that you would, without a doubt but ellie wasn't so sure. "you can barely sit through a horror movie let alone be in one."

"they're just not interesting." you all but pouted, your stomach leaning against the bed as you looked up at her, tight lipped smile on your lips. "they always have the same plot and they're so... gory." it wasn't that you were scared of them necessarily. don't get me wrong, sometimes you're halfway behind ellie, screaming in her shoulder at what you're watching but even then, you still wouldn't choose to watch horror movies even without all the jump scares.

"yeah, yeah." she rolled her eyes again, she seemingly always did that when you were around. "just say you're a pussy."

you narrowed your eyes at her. "am not."

"annabell." the one word sent shivers down your spine.

"that's different." you defended. you hated the movie more than anything else in the entire world, probably even more than you hated ellie's silly jokes (you loved them really).

she cocked a brow. "how so?"

"because!" you exclaimed, flopping onto your back. "that's a scary doll that'll break into my house while i'm sleeping and―i don't know find some really creepy way to kill me. but ghostface?" you huffed out a giggle. "I could take him on."

this time, ellie tilted her head, a smirk on her lips. "really?" as if she didn't believe you at all.

you frowned at that, did she not think you were strong? you liked to believe you were strong, strong enough to take on ghostface? perhaps not. "i could take you on." you scoffed, looking at her arms.

although you wish you hadn't. the way they flexed under her shirt was enough to have your stomach rolling. her arms were the very thing that had you squirming, they were so defined and toned, along with her stomach, showing you what true muscle she had. your head felt nauseous merely looking at her.

she was getting closer to you, watching as you observed her, eyes never leaving her body. "that so?" teasing voice.

but you didn't respond with words, a mere "mhm." falling from your lips though it sort of sounded like a mix between a hum and a whine, you were failing so horribly at keeping your little secret inside.

"show me then."

you'd done this with ellie before, giggles falling from the bedroom door as you attempted to pin ellie down but right now felt so different. the air was off and the tension was rising.

at first, you tried to play it off. you playfully grabbed at her wrist, trying to push her onto the bed. usually, she'd let you win. she loved to see that victorious smirk on your face after she let you beat her. in the back of your head you'd know, though. you could never beat ellie.

but this time, she didn't let you win.

this time, she flipped your wrists and then you completely. your eyes widened when you realised how strong she was. you always knew she was strong, don't get me wrong but never had you been pinned down by her with such force behind her hands. you felt your face heat up and your stomach swirl as the girl landed above you, her head looking down at you with a smirk playing on her lips.

this time, she won.

"whatever." with a little shove, you manged to push her off. she let you, grinning as she sat back on the bed, pride swelling in her chest as she watched you flusteredly try to hide your face. "i have to go shower."

"good." she joked, watching you get up from the bed. "you fucking stink." she watched you grin and stick your tongue out at her, she did the very same in response, watching you enter your bathroom with clothes that had been sitting on your chair now in your hands.

and then, she was alone.

you'd done this the other day, about a week ago and everything changed. it was the day that ellie did the very thing she swore she'd never do and yet she did it anyway.

she just couldn't help herself.

when you were in the bathroom, showering, she'd reached over to the nightstand to look at the photograph you had on it, you and her, icecream on her nose and smeared on your cheek. a week ago, she'd grinned at it, thinking it was the most heartwarming thing she'd seen in months. then, her eyes had glanced to the little pink book that lay beneath it.

a month ago, she'd swear she'd never go near the thing, ever.

a week ago, she opened it and her eyes scanned the page.

she hadn't had any bad intentions, not really. she was just curious as to what you wrote about, what you were keeping so hidden from your dear, beloved best friend. and when she started, she couldn't stop. she soon realised that the lovely words scrawled across the page weren't about how the sunlight peeked through the clouds or how the rain fell into the puddles collected on the ground. the words were about her.

soon enough, she'd made herself believe that if the words were about her, surely, she should be allowed to read it, it was only right.

she waited until the batrhoom door closed before she reached over to the side of the bed. she knew it was wrong, so wrong, it was an invasion of privacy and she knew you'd probably burst into tears if you'd seen it. but you know what they say, curiosity kills the cat.

she placed the book on the bed, attempting to pick up where she left off.

i just can't help but like her!! what does any of this meannnn??? you don't touch someone like that as a friend, you don't call your 'friends' names like that, it's not normal!! i'm reading into this. i always fucking do this, i read into it and then bam! that's it! i'm gonna loose her to this stupid crush. it's not a crush, i think i'm in love with her. no, i can't be. it's a silly crush and it'll be gone in a day. EVEN THOUGH IT'S BEEN YEARS!! i hate myself and the only option is to throw myself off of a fucking cli―

"els, i think i left my―" she'd never shut something so fast in her entire life. ellie's wide eyes shot up, looking at you standing in the front of the bathroom doorway. "w-what are you doing?" you'd barely registered what'd happened, your eyes already burning.

"shit." there really was no way of defending herself. you'd caught her red handed with the book sitting on the bed. "darling, i didn't―"

"you read it." you deadpanned, feeling the tears begin to well up in your eyes. "you read it, you promised me you wouldn't read it!"

but ellie was already standing from the bed, discarding the book completely. "i know, angel, i know, i'm sorry i jus―"

she was attempting to race to the other side of the room, get to you and presumably comfort you. she couldn't stand the tears in your eyes. "do you know?" that you've been helplessly in love with her the past four years and running? her silence gave a response but not one that you were particularly happy with. "do you know?"

her voice was a meak whisper. "yeah, baby, i know."

humiliation, embarrassment, shame,

all you could feel.

you'd been helplessly and hopelessly in love with ellie for as long as time yet never have you truly worried about it getting back to her. dina knew but she'd never squeal, neither would jesse if he knew what was good for him.

that little pink book didn't just know briefly of this 'fleeting crush' it knew everything, every minor detail. ellie consumed the pages, every pen stroke had her name on it. you were sure that the book knew more about this crush than you could ever grasp.

"hey, hey, don't cry." she was up in your face, hands attempting to hold your face, soothing you gently. "hey, i'm sorry, i'm sorry." she kept repeating everything but nothing could stop the way your lip wobbled and your eyes filled to the brim, the dam breaking as a fat tear rolled down your cheek. "okay, just―"

ellie was panicking. she knew how you could get, once you started crying it was damn near impossible to get you to stop. the way your lip trembled served as a constant reminder that she had been the one to put you in this situation, she had made you cry.

before you could even thin, there was a big black book being shoved in your hands. you didn't think to look down, mind to foggy and far away but ellie was already opening it up for you. "angel, look, see?" finally, you pulled your eyes away from the little pink book on your bed, eyes trailing down to the sketchbook. ellie briefly flickered through the pages, your brows pinched together. were they... drawings of you? "i do it too, see?" had anyone ever put their heart on the line merely to get you to stop crying? no. then again, nobody else had ever been quite like ellie williams.

you sniffled, glancing at one of the pictures. it looked so real, as if you were looking at yourself right now, eyes shut and lips sort of smashed against the pillow. "am i sleeping?" you sniffled, mouth sort of dry.

ellie found herself a dark crimson. "well―yeah." she only now realised what she'd done. she just wanted you to stop crying, she didn't think of what she was doing to herself, outing herself like that. then again, it was only right as she'd outed you before.

you swallowed thickly, wiping the tears away with your sleeve. "'s really stalkerish, els." you mumbled and she couldn't help but grin at you.

"i'm really sorry." her voice low enough to have you glancing up at her, straining your ears. "i shouldn't have read it."

you nodded your head. "you shouldn't have." but you couldn't help but feel a little weight lift off your chest. she knew now, at least you'd no longer have to hide it.

once again it left you wondering where you stood.

ellie could see the way your eyes went sort of foggy, blocking her out. she wondered what you were thinking now. "y/n?"

finally, you pulled your eyes away from the ground, looking at her perfect green eyes.

"i love you too."

main masterlist/ellie's masterlist

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yourtamaki · 10 months

Text

monster trio + anal

the first time the tip of luffy’s cock presses against your hole is an accident, both of you in too much of a rush to get him inside you to line him up properly. even through the haze of frantic lust, he doesn’t miss your choked off gasp or wide eyes, how your legs spread a little further for him. the moment passes but he can’t forget your reaction or the thrill that shot through him when he thought about what it would be like to be buried inside you in a new way. luffy has always thought the best part of being in love is the freedom that comes with it. freedom to explore boundaries and discover what makes you both feel good, to chase that pleasure shamelessly, to indulge in it whenever he wants. he's addicted and there’s nothing more he wants than to grab you by the hand and share in that freedom with you. he doesn’t expect all the work it takes to get you ready to take him but it was all worth it when he lines himself up to your hole, soft and wet from all the prep, and his blunt head pops inside. luffy hardly feels himself cumming, too lost in the open, vulnerable look on your face and the tight heat wrapped around him. time slips away from him as he fucks you open with his tip and savours the joy of being in love.

zoro has to remind himself sometimes that it’s not about how much he’s willing to give you but how much you can take. because really, there’s nothing he wouldn’t give you. no line he wouldn’t cross, no throat he wouldn’t slit. and when he has you like this, face down, ass up, and fucking back on his cock like you need it to breathe, zoro can’t hold back the urge to grip the back of your neck and push you right up against your limits. his thrusts are slow and heavy as he grasps your ass in both hands and spreads you open, drinking in a sight meant for him alone. your hole is more honest than you, telling him what you need as it winks and clenches for him even while you whine in faux embarrassment. it calls to him and zoro answers, spitting a fat glob right on it and spreading the mess around your rim with his thumb. there’s no greater pleasure than feeling you relax under his touch and knowing you’re ready, that you’re begging, for more. he works himself inside you slowly, distracting you with dirty rolls of his hips until his thumb is hooked inside you. he holds still while you tremble and get used to the stretch, the fullness. a predator lying in wait, ready to lead you straight to your ruin.

there are days when sanji can't quite look you in the eyes, overwhelmed and sick with want. it almost feels like hunger, the way it sits heavy in the pit of his stomach, aching and gnawing on itself. you are his only relief, his salvation from the void that demands to be satisfied and sanji can only thank you by helping you onto all fours on your shared bed, shoving a pillow under your hips, and devour you. he’s grateful that you don’t have to see him like this, unmade and reduced down to his most base urges, barely a coherent thought in his mind except for more, more, more. he loses himself in the sweet way you rock back against his face as he traces around your rim, tongue dipping inside. he keeps one hand on your ass, keeping you spread open for him while the other wanders lower to where your cunt drools for him. you’re so relaxed and wet it’s easy for sanji to slip two fingers inside and give you something to clench down on. a reward for being so good and letting him indulge that terrible want. he’ll make it up to you, he thinks as he laps over your hole and kisses it once, then once more. just as soon as the hunger is fed.

#luffy smut #zoro smut #sanji smut #one piece smut #one piece x reader #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #is this anything?

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ghcstao3 · 3 months

Text

(x)

It’s… different, having a teammate held for a genuine interrogation, and not just for some qualifying exercise they’ve all had to participate in.

Soap and Ghost’s fight hadn’t been very fun, for as long as it had lasted. Nothing like their spars where teasing remarks were made around skillful manoeuvres, where at the end of everything they knew what limits could be pushed and what boundaries to respect. Instead it was fought dirty, viciously, and only because Soap knows Ghost was he able to stand his ground at all.

In the end, though, as the targets were detained or killed and the illegal fighting ring shut down—Soap came out victorious, when Ghost had been tranquilized.

The lighting is hardly any better in their makeshift interrogation room, but it’s enough to show Ghost’s withered state since his capture; gaunt cheeks, new scars, hollow stare. He hadn’t come into the arena with a shirt, so he doesn’t have one now—and it hurts Soap to see the outline of his ribs with every haggard breath he takes.

Soap is off in the sidelines as Price pokes and prods his lieutenant for answers—Soap had been deemed too injured to risk getting close, even when Ghost had been restrained. He holds a melting ice pack to a swollen, split lip with the one arm that hadn’t been recently dislocated and reset. He’ll admit that Ghost did a number on him.

He just prays they can get the lieutenant back.

But as the days stretch on, it gets increasingly difficult to hold onto hope. With no information, no signs of breaking, no signs of Simon—he might become a lost cause. And Soap doesn’t think he’s prepared to accept that yet.

Two weeks later, after they’ve moved location and shifted accommodations, Price resigns to finally let Soap help. He’s in much better shape, though the same can hardly be said about Ghost; he barely eats, hasn’t spoken once, and no one on the team is sure he’s really been sleeping.

Soap’s approach is slow. Ghost has already been roused and restrained yet again, perhaps only to be pushed and questioned to no avail like every other time. He barely spares Soap a glance upon his entrance into the room.

Their eyes properly meet for the first time in years when Soap kneels on the ground before Ghost, almost pleading. As if in prayer.

Simon’s eyes were always warm. They were the colour of Simon’s favourite tea, flecked with honey gold when the light hit his irises at just the right angle. Now, his gaze is frigid, his eyes nearly black. It takes everything within Soap not to mourn then and there.

“I’m sorry,” Soap murmurs. “I was supposed to have your six.”

Ghost stares at him with indifference, his attention in a faraway place. Soap misses his lieutenant now more than ever.

“I’d understand if you never forgive me,” Soap continues, itching to reach out and touch, “but I at least need you to come back, yeah? Please, Simon.”

Ghost’s jaw twitches almost imperceptibly.

Against all orders Price had given Soap, and against all training that has Soap’s instincts screaming—he leans his head against Ghost’s knee. He exhales shakily and just… sits like that, for a little while. Ghost doesn’t move, so neither does Soap, and maybe this will be the best thing the sergeant could get ever again, so he relishes.

Soap almost misses the hitch in Ghost’s own breathing, but he certainly doesn’t miss trembling, curious fingers dragging through his mohawk, now nearly overgrown. Soap freezes.

Ghost’s voice is nothing more than a hoarse whisper when he speaks, but Soap’s heart is pounding loudly in his chest as he listens anyway.

Quiet, broken, and nearly inaudible, something slips from Ghost’s lips for the first time in two weeks.

“Johnny.”

#this has not been read over and it is 4am so pls overlook any mistakes #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #writing

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bucks-babe · 4 months

Text

Munch

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky x f!reader

Summary: Bucky gets his first taste

Warnings: Angst in the beginning (mentions of Hydra and potential abuse), smut (oral f!receiving, fingering), Bucky humps the bed, sub!bucky, mommy kink ( I don’t know what came over me), aftercare, slight overstimulation, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not me disappearing. Oops. Special thanks to @bucknastysbabe for proof reading and edits. Part of the Virgin!Bucky series of one shots but can be read alone

Next to you in bed, Bucky was twisting and turning. He agreed for you to sleep over in his room after this week's movie night. Ever since the night you both ‘watched’ When Harry Met Sally, Bucky had been acting weirdly. At first you thought that maybe he was just embarrassed; it was his first sexual experience after all. But he hasn’t looked you in the eyes for more than three seconds before blushing and turning away.

It had been almost two weeks since that night, and now you’re starting to get worried that you pushed him too far. What if he wasn’t ready for you to see him like that? What if he didn’t want you to touch him but he didn’t want to hurt your feelings by saying no? Did you violate his trust? You worked so hard to get him to trust you, to be the person he can always turn to.

You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you forced his hand. After so many years of not having any choices, or any control of his body, maybe Bucky got used to seeing himself as a toy, an object to be used and not as his own being, entitled to saying no if he didn’t want something. “Did I do something, Buck?” It comes out as a whisper, but he catches it with his super hearing.

Bucky’s entire body freezes. “No,” is all he says, looking up at the ceiling in the dark. He doesn’t know how to stay still around you. Not when his brain is replaying the events from a few weeks ago, happened in the very same bed he is laying in. How fucking good you made him feel, how pretty you looked, and how he’s been fucking himself almost every night since, dreaming about you.

Bucky has no idea that you think you’ve pushed him too far. If anything, he wants more. He wants you to blow him again, wants to eat you out, and above all, he wants you to take his virginity. He craves for you to be his first and only, to corrupt him, show him every dirty thing possible, teach him how to fuck. But he doesn’t know how to ask for it.

“Is this about what happened a few weeks ago? I need you to tell me if I crossed a line and made you feel like you had to say yes.” You need to know if you did something he didn’t want, make sure that he feels comfortable enough to set boundaries. You also don’t need to clarify what incident you are referring to. The two of you haven’t done anything near that intense since.

Bucky’s eyes widen and he flips onto his side to look at you, the light of the moon showing how glassy your eyes are. “No, Doll! I wanted that to happen, I promise! It’s not that.” With his metal hand, he pulls you into his chest, needing you close to him. He can’t believe you would think that he didn’t want you to suck his dick. Bucky chokes up a little at how much you care, not used to warmth and care for him as a person.

Hydra cared about his physical health, making sure he was ready for the next battle, that he was strong enough to carry out his mission, not him, never him. You, on the other hand, are right here in his arms scared that you coerced him, because you care for him.

“Then what is it? I feel like I’ve done something. You’ve hardly looked at me these past two weeks.” You pull away enough to look him in the eyes, seeing his blush.

“Oh, doll, this is so embarrassing.” You reach up and cup his face with your hands, silently encouraging him to proceed. “It’s not because I didn’t want you to,” his eyes leave yours, “you know.” A small chuckle leaves your lips at his shyness. “It’s because that’s all I’ve been thinking about, and more.” The end of his sentence comes off in a whisper, not intending for you to hear.

A weight comes off your chest and you laugh, much to Bucky’s chagrin. “Honey, that’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” At his frown, you kiss his nose, then his cheeks, before landing a chaste kiss to his pouting lips, giggling in between each peck. “You had me scared. And here you were just being a little horn dog.”

“It’s not funny.” Bucky buries his head into your neck while you continue to laugh; however, you feel his smile. After a minute he pops his head back up, “Okay, maybe it’s a little funny.”

You both laugh for a while until you remember his sly, ‘and more’ comment. You find his shyness adorable, but you want to corrupt this man, if he’ll let you of course, so you feel compelled to pry about his tiny admission. “What else were you thinking about doing? With me”

Bucky groans, face still buried in your neck. “What do you mean?” He decides to play coy, knowing that it won’t work. Your hand goes to his hair and you lightly tug on it, pulling his head up. A choked groan leaves Bucky’s lips and he grinds his hips against your stomach. At the look on your face, he feels like he could cum right there, and he feels such a deep and powerful urge to be good for you, to do whatever you want him to.

“I wanted to do what you did to me… on you.” His cheeks are as red as a tomato, and you feel your own arousal pool in your panties. Evidently, Bucky could smell your wetness as his eyes darkened.

“You wanna eat me out, honey? You wanna try to eat pussy for the first time?” You still have your grip on his hair, and you can feel how hard his cock is from where he’s grinding against you. He nods his head, only to have you pull on his hair, “Use your words like a big boy and tell me.”

“Yes, mommy. I wanna eat you out, but I don’t know how. I need mommy to teach me.” Your eyes widen at the title but Bucky doesn’t seem to realize, eyes foggy and mindlessly humping you. Poor baby had dropped headfirst into sub-land.

“Don’t worry, honey, mommy will teach you. Such a good boy for using your words.” Bucky whines as you pull away from him to turn on the lamp on the bedside table, hips chasing any type of friction they can. “If you want to eat mommy out, honey, you have to let me move.”

After turning the lamp on, you kneel on the bed, gesturing for Bucky to follow, which he does without hesitation. “Bucky, are you okay with this? I need to make sure this is something that you want.” You stop Bucky from laying you down when his only answer was a gentle, “Yes mommy.” You need him to be present when he consents and when you get him to look you in the eyes, see the fog behind his eyes clear up some, then you accept his consent, knowing that this is something that he is okay with.

You let him lay you down on the bed, with him in between your legs. “Take mommy’s clothes off, honey.” Immediately, Bucky goes to take your shorts off, taking your panties off with them, feeling the cool air hit your slick. You could feel your clit pulsing at the sight of Bucky right next to your cunt.

“Mommy, your pussy is so pretty. Can I lick it, please?” You don’t miss the way Bucky’s hips are rocking against the bed.

“Not yet, honey. First, I want you to use your hands, okay?” You could tell how excited he was, and how confused. “Touch mommy’s clit with your thumb.” He was a little over enthusiastic and was a little too hard, making you wince and your hips jerk, but you couldn’t blame him - the poor thing was clueless.

“A little lighter, just like that, good boy. Now rub it in circles, shit, uh huh.” Bucky was watching you like a fucking hawk, torn between watching your face contort or watching the way your clit was throbbing and slick was seeping out of your hole. He was salivating at the thought of having his first taste of you; your smell alone could have him cumming on command.

“Do you feel good, mommy?” He needed your confirmation. His cock was harder than ever pushed up against the bed. He knew that he should slow his hips down, but it was like he was watching the sexiest porno ever, eyes drawn to the slick leaving your pussy, how you were drenching the sheets underneath you.

“Feels so good, honey. Now I want you to use your index finger and put it inside real gentle.” Bucky was absolutely incredible at following directions and reading your body, seeing what you were responding to. “Curl your finger, fuck, good boy! Use your mouth now, on mommy’s clit.” Bucky whines, he wants to be your good boy so fucking bad.

At your direction, Bucky latches onto your pulsing clit, moaning at his first taste, and holy hell, Bucky feels his cock twitch and he knows he's about to cum. He flattens down on the bed, humping faster, his moans match yours in volume. Pride blossoms in his chest - he’s making you feel good. He’s being a good boy.

His balls pull up tight to his body, but Bucky cant fucking stop, and he cums in his boxers and all the way to the sheets. Ropes and ropes of his cum shoot out, but he’ll be fucking damned if he leaves your pussy. Every groan leaving him goes straight to your clit, and you’re reeling with pleasure. Men who had twice the experience than Bucky couldn’t give you half the pleasure he has.

He alternates between sucking and licking, watching to see which you like more, bringing his other finger to your entrance, now using two fingers and his mouth, more feral than ever to pleasure you, all the while his hips are still rocking against the bed. “Keep going, just like that, Bucky.” There is no way that Bucky could stop now, not when he hasn’t seen you cum. He’s in his own world at this point, eyes closed, hips still grinding against the bed, listening to the way your pussy is sucking his fingers back in, feeling your thighs shake around him, fucking tasting your slick like it’s water.

Each time he moans into your pussy, he feels your walls clamp down on his fingers. Your hips start to chase his mouth, wanting more. “Bucky, I’m gonna cum! Please don’t stop! Make mommy cum!” Bucky wants you to cum more than anything, he needs it like its air.

He wants to speed up his ministrations, but he knows that’s not what you want. Instead he speeds his hips up, feeling his second orgasm building. His movements are much easier with the surplus of cum that’s already on the bed. Distantly, you hear the bed shaking with the force of his thrusts, but your orgasm is about to hit you and you can’t focus on anything.

His free hand reaches up to grab you, grounding himself, desperate to make you cum before he does. He wants to beg and plead for you to cum but he can’t tear himself away from your cunt. If he could, Bucky would stay between your legs for the rest of his life. He can feel you pulsing around him and he knows you're going to cum soon.

When his eyes find yours it’s over for the both of you. You cum first, crying out his name, thighs clamping around his head, suffocating him. The sight of you cumming has Bucky finishing immediately. You look so fucking gorgeous, slight frown pulling at your lips, lines forming inbetween your eyebrows, it’s heaven on earth for him. His hips spasm and somehow even more cum than before bursts from his tip, making an even bigger mess.

Bucky doesn’t pull away from your pussy, he cant, it’s fucking addictive. He feels your slick running down to his wrist, and the taste of your cum is driving him insane. Only when you push him away does Bucky leave your pussy. “Did I do good, mommy?” He groans when he licks his fingers. Both of you are panting heavily, trying to catch your breath.

You pull him up and let him rest his head on your chest. “You did so good for me, I’m so proud of you, honey. You made mommy feel so good.” You feel how he relaxes into your chest, all the while you whisper to him, letting him know how good he was and how much you love him.

After a few minutes, Bucky begins to wiggle around, the cum in his boxers becoming uncomfortable. You have to move him, going to the bathroom and getting a damp cloth to clean him up with. “Honey, can I take your pants off and clean you up?” At his blush you add, “It’s okay, honey, mommy just wants to make you feel better, nothing to be embarrassed about.”

He lets you take his boxers off and you clean him off as gently as you can, trying to avoid the overstimulated tip of his cock. You throw his soiled underwear in the hamper and give him a new pair to put on. Climbing back into bed, Bucky goes straight to your chest, cuddling to you. “Go to bed, honey. Mommy’s right here.” Bucky falls asleep, feeling safe and protected in the arms of his best girl.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #sebastian stan x reader

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cupid-styles · 7 months

Text

silk (grumpy!h)

in which harry is grumpy with everyone except y/n, and he realizes he's never been so enamored with someone in his life.

word count: 5.9k

content warnings: smut!!

author's notes: last part of grumpy h! thank you sm for all the love on this series, I love these two<3 lmk if you'd like to see any blurbs or one-shots for them!!!

part one | part two

masterlist | talk to me

From: H🌷

My friends want to meet you. Would you be willing to come out with us tonight?

Y/N reads over Harry's most recent text for the fourth time in 10 minutes. If she's being honest, the resounding answer is no, she has no desire to go out with Harry and his friends. But she also knows that they've been spending a lot of time together lately and he's been skipping out on hangouts and evenings out, so it only makes sense that his friends want to meet the girl he's constantly ditching them for.

She sighs, thumbs hovering over the keyboard, and types out an answer she wouldn't give to anyone else.

sure.. when and where?

It's only a minute or so before Harry replies. She shuts her laptop, knowing that the attention streak she has on her outline for literature theory is out the window, especially with the prospect of meeting Harry's friends in the near future.

I'll come get you and we can go to the bar together at 9:30, if that works for you. I know this is probably overwhelming for you so please don't stress, sweetheart. They're going to love you.

Her heart skips a beat. Sweetheart. That's a new development since that evening a few weeks ago, when she disclosed the story of how she lost her virginity. Since then, it seems like boundaries had carefully been crossed, but neither one of them minded. Pet names fell easily from Harry's lips. When they were together, they were almost always touching, whether it be warm cuddles on the couch or holding hands on the walk out of the English department.

Y/N doesn't know what they are — she knows that Harry has some record of dating and sleeping around, and it doesn't seem like that's what they're doing, but she can't help but fear that that's what it is. She always manages to shove those anxieties down when they're together so they don't accidentally come out in an embarrassing stream of consciousness.

okay, that works, she eventually types back, i'll try not to worry too much.. what should i wear?

Y/N has to smush her face in her pillows to avoid squealing at his answer.

Anything you would normally wear is perfect. You'll look beautiful no matter what.

. . .

Harry will never admit it out loud, but he's so excited for Y/N to finally meet his friends.

Niall, Mitch, and Pauli have been on Harry's back about constantly being out of the house and not hanging out with them. They're all quite needy, really, but they're his best friends and housemates, so he doesn't fault their curiosity. Especially because they've noticed his happier-than-usual demeanor, which says a lot, considering he usually walks around with a permanent scowl on his face.

So when he invites Y/N to come out with them tonight, he's fully expecting her to say no and he's shocked when she doesn't. He can practically feel her nerves through their text thread but he's over the moon that's pushing past her anxiety for his stupid friends. For him.

When he arrives at her place, she's overanalyzing every aspect of her outfit. It makes him smile, the way she cares so much, but he takes her concerns as seriously as he can.

"Are you sure this is good enough, H?" she asks, walking back over to the floor length mirror. She's wearing a pair of light wash mom jeans and a lacey white tank top, her makeup subtle with smudgy brown eyeliner and pink highlights.

"Baby," Harry murmurs, strolling up behind her and pressing a hand to her hip, "You look absolutely gorgeous. There's nothing to stress about."

She flushes instantly and squeezes her thighs at his touch. She spins to face him, a pout on her lips.

"I just wanna make a good impression. I don't want your friends to think you're hanging out with some—"

"Whatever you're about to call yourself, it's not true." Harry cuts her off, squeezing her hip. "Now c'mon, Niall gets testy whenever someone's late."

"Fine." Y/N grumbles, grabbing her bag and cardigan. She follows Harry out of her apartment, both of them stopping to bid Ginger a quick goodbye before locking the door and walking out to his car.

"Do you mind if I come back with you tonight?" Harry asks, intertwining their fingers together on the short trek to his sedan. "Feel like I barely saw you this week."

Y/N smiles, looking up at him as they walk. "You saw me yesterday in class and after at grading, silly."

"Yeah, but that was professional time. Couldn't hold you or anything."

She giggles as they approach his car, getting in on the passenger's side and buckling herself in. Harry does the same and starts the vehicle, reaching over to place a hand over her thigh as he pulls out of the parking spot.

"Yeah, you can sleepover tonight, H."

"Whoa, who said anything about staying over, darling? Think you're getting a bit presumptuous—"

Y/N rolls her eyes and cuts him off with a light swat to the chest, "You've stayed over tons!"

He laughs, his eyes crinkling the way that always makes Y/N's heart feel like it's about to burst.

"Just like teasing you, pretty baby."

. . .

Harry's friends are actually quite nice.

They have a clear connection, easy-going and kind, that makes it easy for Y/N to sink into without giving too much weight to her worries. When her and Harry walk in, the blonde one immediately waves them over with a huge grin and a half-full glass of Guinness in his hand.

"H! You're late!"

Harry rolls his eyes and grumbles out some insult, his palm flat against the small of Y/N's back. She wants to hide behind his towering figure to avoid being the center of attention, but he gently pushes her towards the tabletop to introduce her.

"Heathens... this is Y/N. Y/N, these are my housemates, Mitch, Niall, and Pauli," Harry announces, giving her side a small, comforting squeeze. "Be nice to her or I will put hair removal in all of your shampoos. Especially yours, Mitch."

The long-haired one — Mitch, Y/N presumes — instantly puts his hands up in defense. "Why would I be anything but nice? Niall here is the one that's five beers in."

"Shut up, I'm nothing but sweet when I'm drunk!" Niall exclaims, his voice booming over the soundtrack of other patron's conversations and some random rock station. "Hi Y/N, it's nice to meet you. Tell me, how did you manage to sweeten grumpy Harry here? He's usually so—"

"Niall," The last one, Pauli, Y/N thinks, warns, a protective arch in his eyebrow as he cuts his chatty friend off. "We're so happy you decided to join us, Y/N. It's nice to finally put a face to the name."

"Alright, you guys have caused enough chaos," Harry steers the conversation away, tugging Y/N closer to his side, "We're gonna go get drinks."

Harry knows Y/N doesn't drink very often and he doubts she'll get anything tonight, but he can feel her clamping up from the attention.

"Y'okay?" he asks, leaning down slightly to catch the shell of her ear. She shivers at the low tone of his voice, biting her lip as she looks up at him.

"Mhm. They're nice, H."

He smiles and moves his arm up to wrap around her shoulders. "I know they're a bit much. I appreciate you being here, though. Promise we won't stay too long."

"It's okay," Y/N giggles at his overprotectiveness, though her heart swoons as she tucks herself into his chest. "They're special to you and that's important."

Harry's grin only widens, showcasing his dimples and the cute eye wrinkles Y/N loves.

"You're special to me. That's why I wanted them to meet you."

Y/N doesn't know how to reply without squealing so she just blushes and buries her head into his shoulder, a warm chuckle vibrating from the depths of his chest.

. . .

"Yeah, and that's how Harry ended up having to sneak Niall out of the emergency room at 3 in the morning."

Despite Niall's already red face, his cheeks turn a deep crimson at the end of Pauli's story. Harry and his friends erupt in a series of laughs as Y/N looks up at the curly haired brunette curled around her form, his arm slung casually around her shoulders. The PDA initially made her heart thumb noisily in her chest, but she couldn't help herself as she snuggled further into his side, his scent and warmth radiating instant comfort.

"Yeah, yeah, you lot think you're so funny," Niall grumbles before lifting his pint to his mouth.

"That's 'cos we are, Ni," Harry smirks, "Anyway... it's been fun, but I think we're gonna head out."

Y/N's heart squeezes at him saying we're, like they're some sort of collective. She has to roll her lips into her mouth to stop a smile from curling onto her face.

"Ah, you guys aren't gonna come back to the house?" Pauli asks with a pout.

"Let them live," Mitch interjects, nudging Pauli's ribs, "H is happy for the first time, like, ever."

"Alright!" Harry exclaims, clapping his hands together as Y/N's lips part in surprise. Was he seriously that noticeably happy? Because of... no, it couldn't be because of her. That would be silly. "Y/N, you about ready?"

She nods and slides out of the booth behind Harry. "It was really nice to meet you all," she says with a polite smile, hugging her bag closer to her side as Harry heads up to the bar to settle his tab. "Thanks for having me."

"Oh, of course!" Niall grins. "Just make sure Harry wraps it up tonight, we all know he's been around—"

"Niall, you're cut off!" Mitch is quick to snatch the beer glass out of Niall's hand just as Y/N's face warms, insecurities suddenly brewing deep in her body. She knew of Harry's reputation, but if his friends assumed they were sleeping together already... was there something wrong with her?

Thankfully, she doesn't have to stumble over an awkward response because Harry's already reappeared, not even bothering to question why Niall's whining.

"'Kay, see you lot later. Get home safe."

He slings an arm around Y/N's shoulders and she gives a half-hearted wave as he guides them out of the crowded bar. She feels a sense of relief when the cool air hits her skin, the weather finally feeling fully autumnal as October nudges in. Harry notices her involuntary shiver and holds her closer, giving her shoulders a squeeze as they approach his car.

"You did so good tonight," he murmurs, glancing down at her proudly. "How do you feel?"

"Good." she lies, a tight smile on her face. "I can drive, you had a few drinks, hm?"

Harry nods and digs his keys out of the pocket of his jeans, handing them to Y/N. She clears her throat as she unlocks the vehicle, both of them climbing in wordlessly.

"Was it too much socialization? I can go home if you want to be by yourself."

Y/N's heart squeezes at his words as she turns the key in the ignition. It's silly to her that a month ago, she dreaded being alone with Harry and now, she can't even find it in her to be upset with him.

"No, I want you to come back with me."

Y/N is rarely assertive in her words, let alone her plans with Harry. Even when she does miss him and wants to see him, she'll send him a picture of Ginger being cute, and he'll reply with some iteration of "can I come over?"

So she swallows harshly after blurting the words out, thankfully missing the way Harry's eyes widen slightly. And he can tell that something's up — she's grasping the steering wheel tightly and won't stop chewing on her bottom lip, a nervous habit of hers that was easy to pick up on — and he mentally curses at his friends, hoping that they didn't say something idiotic to make her overthink anything.

He doesn't say anything until she's pulling into a spot outside of her apartment. As she's about to turn the car off, his hand grasps at her thigh, her eyes flying to his face. It's dark, so he can't see much of her facial expression, but he can tell by the slight crinkle in her eyebrow that she's nervous.

"What's wrong, sweet girl?" Harry asks gently, circling his thumb over her knee. "Did something happen at the bar? Did they say something?"

She shakes her head quickly, "No, of course not. They were really nice, H, I had a good time. Can we just go upstairs?"

"What's the rush?" he presses, trying to catch her low gaze. "Are you tired? Wanna go to bed?"

"Not tired," she mutters and lets out a frustrated sigh. The quiet hum of Harry's car fills the silence, but it's not enough to tear his attention away from the anxious girl in front of him. "I just... why haven't you tried to sleep with me?"

Embarrassment floods her entire body as Harry's eyebrows shoot up. Immediately, she feels ridiculous and wants to take it back.

"That was really dumb of me. I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I didn't even drink, I just—"

"Y/N," Harry says lowly, giving her knee a squeeze, "What did they say?"

"Nothing! Niall just said... well, when you were paying, he told me to make sure you, y'know, 'wrap it up' and I realized that, like, you haven't even tried to kiss me! And you call me these sweet names and we cuddle and hang out all the time and I don't know, I thought maybe you liked me but I understand I could be wrong and misinterpreting everything."

She's exasperated and Harry thinks it's adorable, but he hates that he could ever question his intentions with her. He notices that her hands are trembling and he sighs, shaking his head.

"First of all, Niall is an absolute idiot so never take anything he says seriously," he replies, taking her hands into his. He stuffs them underneath the soft fabric of his cardigan, trying to warm them up. "I... I know I have some sort of reputation on campus and you've seen me do some things I'm not proud of, but that was never the case with you. I wanted to take my time with you and go slow, especially because of your history. I like you, Y/N. So much. You didn't misinterpret anything."

She swallows nervously and if he didn't have her hands held captive in his fuzzy yellow sweater, she'd be fidgeting anxiously, picking at the her nails. Her face is far too warm for her liking, her heart jumping for joy in her chest as she replays his words over and over again. I like you. So much.

"I like you, too," she finally peeps out, clearing her throat, "I'm sorry I assumed differently. I didn't mean to be dramatic."

"Not dramatic, love. I understand why you got nervous," he murmurs, smiling gently. "Can I kiss you, then? If you like me back?"

It's overwhelming for Y/N — she feels like she's about to kiss her second grade crush, but only because of the flocks of butterflies invading her stomach, shaky hands, and an inability to croak out an answer, instead just nodding her head. Harry chuckles at that, and she's grateful for the way he's able to easily read her.

It's not the most romantic kiss Harry's ever had, but that's only because they're parked outside of Y/N's house in his car. If it weren't for the way he has to lean over the middle console to catch her lips in a lock, he would swear it's absolutely perfect.

Simultaneously, Y/N realizes that kissing Harry feels like coming home.

She's only ever felt this way when she's, quite literally, returned to her childhood home after hellish months away at college as an undergrad. The way the interior of the space always smelled like balsam and freshly baked cookies, warm lights twinkling on the Christmas tree, her mom hugging her tightly and murmuring in her ear, "it's okay, you're home now."

She tastes twinges of beer as their lips meld together, his musky vanilla cologne invading her senses and making her melt. It's all so good, like being wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, drinking hot chocolate during a snowstorm, carving pumpkins while you eat those Halloween sugar cookies from childhood.

If she didn't have to break away to breathe, she thinks she could kiss Harry for an eternity.

Harry is clearly more experienced in the kissing department than she is, but he doesn't tease her for needing a break. He just smiles softly as she quietly pants with spit swollen lips, her eyes darting between his own raspberry mouth and the inviting jade of his eyes.

"You're good at that." Y/N breathes, and he chuckles, letting out his own deep breath.

"Do you wanna go inside, sweetheart?" Harry asks gently, his voice quiet, "I really wanna keep kissing you, but maybe not in my car."

"Yes, please."

He laughs louder at that, giving her thigh one more squeeze as she pulls the car key from the ignition. It's nearing midnight so it's far chillier now, goosebumps immediately forming over Y/N's arms. It's a race to her front door from there, her eagerly unlocking it and kicking her shoes off, Harry following closely behind.

Ginger is tucked into herself, snoozing steadily in the little cat bed Harry bought her a few weeks back. He'd immediately admitted that it was an impulsive purchase, claiming that he simply couldn't resist.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Y/N asks, hanging her bag and keys on the hooks in her entryway.

"'M okay," Harry mumbles, plopping down on the couch. He sheds his upper body of his cardigan and Y/N swallows as it leaves him in a plain white tee-shirt, contrasting the inky swirls on his arms beautifully. "Relax, baby. Come sit with me."

Y/N nods and walks over to him submissively, her socks padding across the plushy expanse of her carpet.

"Do you wanna sit on my lap?" he asks softly, reaching out to intertwine their fingers together. "You can say no. We're going at your speed."

"No, I do." she says quickly, not wanting him to suspect an inkling of hesitance. She'll admit, she's nervous, but it's not because she's uncomfortable. If anything, Harry is still so intimidating in this regard, and she feels like a fumbling mess in comparison.

He's gentle in his movements, guiding her body down to his and helping her straddle his waist. It's not inherently sexual, despite the fact that her thighs split readily, their cores pressed together and separated by layers of clothing.

He wraps an arm around her waist to keep her steady, her hands automatically finding his broad shoulders.

"Can we keep kissing?" Y/N peeps out. A lopsided grin appears on Harry's face, making her own warm.

"Course, honey. Keep kissing me."

She's anxious about the prospect of her leaning in to kiss him, worried that she's doing something wrong, but the nerves instantly melt away the second their lips reconnect. This kiss is less hesitant, a slow stream of confidence beginning to radiate from Y/N's actions. She fists his tee-shirt in her hands as she presses her chest against his, Harry's tongue gently probing her mouth. She opens readily, happy to allow him.

Harry's surprised by her sudden eagerness but welcomes it. He can feel his cock starting to plump beneath them, but he hopes she doesn't notice it as she squeezes her thighs around his waist. He doesn't want to make her uncomfortable, wanting nothing more to prioritize her own wants tonight.

"Baby," Harry breathes, breaking their kiss and nudging his nose against hers, "Baby, hold on a sec, wanna talk to you."

She hums and blinks her eyes open. "'bout what?" she asks, licking over her swollen lips.

"Do you know what you want to do tonight? If anything?"

Y/N swallows. She definitely hadn't thought that far. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't thought about sex with Harry at all, but she was so over the moon with knowing that he liked her that she couldn't think past it.

He squeezes her hip, bringing her back down and out of her thoughts. Swallowing, she parts her lips nervously before licking over them.

"I'm not really sure," she admits, adjusting out of awkwardness but accidentally brushing against Harry's cock, "I... I know I want you. Closer."

"Okay, that's a good start," he murmurs. He tries not to let his facade crack, but he's in shambles over how sweet she's being. If it were up to him, he'd devour her whole, but he has restraint — even if she's unintentionally testing them. "How close do you want to be, honey?"

"More than this."

Harry chuckles and nods, reaching up to run his hand through his hair. "You're killing me, y'know that?"

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to do anything."

"That's the problem."

His smirk makes her blush and she stares down at her hands, wringing them together in their laps. Gently, he tucks his hand underneath her chin, bringing her eyes back up to his.

"You're doing perfectly, sweetheart. I just want to make sure that we're doing everything you want. I want this to be a good experience for you."

She calms slightly at that and Harry feels her body relax. "It already is a good experience, H, it's you."

"You're too cute," he mumbles with a shake of his head, tilting his head to press featherlight kisses along her jaw, "Too fuckin' cute."

He lowers down to her neck, entirely too intoxicated by the scent of her vanilla perfume and the feel of her soft skin against his lips. He could spend the entire night planting kisses across every inch of her body, he thinks, but he knows they'd both be too needy to let him finish that ask.

"Inside," Y/N suddenly breathes out, a gasp falling from pillowy lips as he nips as a sensitive spot, "Want you inside, please."

"Fingers?" Harry guesses, suckling gently to create the faintest of marks.

"No, no. You."

Harry's eyes snap open at her admittance, blinking owlishly as he processes her request. Did she... was she asking—

"Please, Harry, I— I know you want to take it slow but it's been months and I want it, I'm sure of it, please—"

He hushes her with a firm kiss to the lips. Her trembling hands reach up to fist at his messy curls and he can feel her getting progressively more desperate, pink-hued smoke clouding her typically shy demeanor.

"It's okay, baby, I got you," he murmurs against her mouth, squeezing at her hip. "I'll take care of you, alright? If that's what you really want."

"I do, H, please."

Harry can't take a second more of her pleading and he thinks if he denied her again, she'd be down at her knees groveling. (He has to quickly push that image out of his brain, knowing it'll only send him further into a tizzy.) She mumbles out consent as he plucks at the button of her jeans, nudging her to sit up so he can pull the denim down her legs. He tries not to groan at the sight of a tiniest wet patch seeping through the fabric of her light blue underwear but fails miserably, pressing his forehead to her clavicle in frustration.

"What's wrong?" Y/N asks, pausing their haphazard movements to take in his facial expression.

"You're gonna kill me," he repeats his sentiment from earlier, "You're just fucking adorable and hot without even realizing it and it's taking everything in me not to completely ruin you."

Harry glances up at her to see her rounded eyes and plushy lips, gasps parting from the muted pink hue of her mouth.

"What if I want you to ruin me?"

He shakes his head and tightens his squeeze on her hips. He lays her back down against the couch and spreads her legs, kneeling to thumb at the dampened patch between her thighs.

"You need to shut up. You don't know what you're asking for, Y/N."

"Tell me then," she eggs him on, squirming as he begins to draw small circles into her covered clit, "You've always taken care of me, why would this be any different?"

"Because you're different," he mutters tightly, his large hands finding the expanse of her ribs and pushing her shirt upwards to reveal her lacy bralette, "I don't want to treat you like any other person I've been with. You don't deserve that."

She whimpers when he bucks up against her lower half, his jean-covered bulge nudging at the place she needs him most.

"Show me what I deserve, then. Please."

"That," Harry says, undoing his pants and tossing them off to the side, "I can absolutely do."

It's a mess of kisses and touching from then, eager to feel one another without any additional clothing in the way. She's naturally submissive, Harry finds, but he's not surprised at that in the slightest. He'd assumed that from the first day they met, though he'd never imagined that he would be the one nipping at her skin, licking and sucking her nipples, and pressing kisses down her stomach and over her mound, taking his time to inhale her sweet scent.

Y/N's all but gagging for it now but he refuses to go any further without stretching her out, knowing that it's been five years since she's last slept with someone. She's wet — dripping, really, from her pulsating hole down to her ass, and he wants to press his tongue flat against her lips, suckling every last bit up, but he's a man on a mission. Plus, he knows he'll cum on the spot the second he wiggles his tongue inside, and that's not part of tonight's plan.

Instead, he's able to fit three fingers inside of her, but it admittedly takes a lengthy amount of pumping, scissoring, and pressing up against the spongy spot inside of her that makes her moan especially loud. She's squeezing his fingers so tightly, her hole contracting every time he uses his thumb and swipe over her clit.

"You— please, Harry, I'm ready, I can't— can't take anymore."

He looks up to see the prettiest, most desperate looking angel with baby hairs matted to her forehead, her chest warm and splotchy. Beads of sweat are dripping down her thighs and her mascara has smudged below her lower lash line, making her look beyond fucked out.

"Okay," Harry nods, withdrawing his fingers carefully, "Okay, baby. Lemme just grab a condom."

He probably looks ridiculous as he scurries over to his pants to grab his wallet, digging to grab the condom he'd stuffed in there the day after he decided he really liked Y/N. She doesn't say anything as he peels his briefs down, revealing his painfully hard cock slapping up against his lower stomach, pre-cum beading at the slit.

He rolls the condom on and shuffles between her thighs, pumping himself a few times to relieve just some of the pressure. Their eyes are glued to one another's in an intense, lusty stare-off.

"You're sure, lovie?" Harry asks, massaging her inner thighs carefully, "You can change your mind at any time. Even if I put it in and it hurts, you can tell me."

"I trust you," she replies softly, her throat already sore from nearly a half an hour of teasing. "I know it's gonna hurt a little... but you'll get me through it, right?"

His heart breaks a bit at her need for reassurance, nodding his head quickly. He adores this sweet girl beneath him, nothing meaning more to him than her implicit trust in his care.

"Of course I will. Just keep communicating with me, okay?"

She nods and he shuffles up to her core, stroking his cock twice more before stretching his body over her. He presses a kiss to her forehead, then down to her nose, and finally to her lips.

"I'm gonna start putting it in."

It's... a stretch, a big one at that. Y/N initially winces at the pain and Harry's head snaps up, halting his movements, but she shakes her head quickly, encouraging him to continue. He slows down, slowly moving centimeter by centimeter until her breathing starts to even out. When he finally bottoms out, she feels like she's absolutely stuffed to the brim, but in the best way possible.

"Are you alright, honey?" Harry asks quietly, leaning up to brush a few hairs out of her eyes.

"Yes," Y/N murmurs, swallowing harshly, "I... I feel like you've always been meant to be here, H."

His eyes well up slightly, not only because it's the sweetest thing she could've possibly said in this moment, but because he feels that way, too. He's never felt such a connection with someone before on both a physical and emotional level and he knows right then and there, Y/N is the person that's meant to be his.

"You're incredible," he says, beginning slow, shallow thrusts, "You're everything I could've ever wanted, Y/N. This is... you're perfect."

"Oh," Y/N breathes when Harry's hips snap up against hers, the tip of his cock pressing against the spongey spot deep inside of her, "That's... you're so deep."

He groans at her widened eyes, shutting his own to prevent himself from bursting early just from her cute reactions. She feels better than he ever could have imagined the many times he fucked his fist, thinking of how warm and sweet she'd be beneath him.

"Faster, please," she mewls, her jaw falling slack at his continued assault on her g-spot.

"Yeah? Need me to go faster, honey?"

She nods vehemently and he smiles gently, beginning to quicken his pace. She loves the way he's hovering over her, closer than they've ever been before, invading all of her senses. She hooks her ankles around his waist and he groans at the small sign of initiative.

"Can I make you cum on my cock, sweetheart?" Harry asks through a tight jaw, feeling his balls start to tighten as they bump up against her ass.

"P-please," she nods, her hair a mess from Harry thrusting her into the mess of throw pillows on her couch. She's made herself finish tons of times before, but only with her own fingers and the occasional smutty book as inspiration. With Harry in her life, she'll admit that she's been hornier than ever before, always finding a sodden mess in her underwear after hanging out together. (It even happens when they spend time grading in Donnolly's office when she watches his jaw flex, gum between his teeth. The thought is enough to make her shudder.)

But with Harry finally stroking at the spots inside of her that had been neglected for years, it doesn't take much to get close to her peak. She's never felt so full before, and it's making her pussy squeeze over him in steady pulses, eliciting a grunt deep from Harry's chest.

"Can you rub your little clit for me?" Harry asks, leaning back on his heels to watch himself pump in and out of her hole. "Jus' need to see the way you touch yourself, baby... know you do, hm? My girl has a naughty side, doesn't she?"

Y/N nods her head, trailing her fingertips down the length of her body and to the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs. She moans loudly as she applies a bit of pressure, pinching at it. Harry's eyes are immediately glued to her fingertips, pausing his movements momentarily to spit, landing squarely on her clit.

"Oh god," she moans, partially from shock at his boldness. She rubs his saliva in, circling the nub it small, tight circles.

"That's my girl," Harry repeats, his hands finding the back of her thighs to spread her legs a bit further apart, "So good, baby, so fuckin' good for me."

"H-harry, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum—"

He grunts as he feels her hole contracting around his cock, gushes of arousal seeping out between them.

"There you go," Harry encourages, slamming into her, watching her eyes squeeze shut and shudders coil through her body. Her fingers tremble around her clit as she orgasms violently around him, squeezing so tightly that he nearly slips out.

The image of her coming below him after imagining it for so long is enough to send him into his own orgasm. He spurts warm and hot ropes into the condom, filling it up so much that as the intensity begins to wear off, he worries that some of it will seep out from the rubber confides. He pulls out just to the tip to make sure, his cock still twitching in aftershocks.

"S-slow, please," Y/N stutters and he nods, shushing her softly.

"I know baby, I'm sorry, just gotta make sure we're all... cleaned up down here."

He'd filled the condom nearly to the brim, but thankfully, it's not enough to ooze out. He takes gentle fingertips to the insides of her thighs, where her legs meet her core, softly running them up and down as he fully withdraws.

"I'll be right back, honey. Just stay here, 'kay?"

She mumbles out some affirmative answer and he chuckles, stumbling to her bathroom to toss the condom and clean himself up. He wets a washcloth and walks back out to the living room, Y/N's body still strewn across the length of her couch. He kneels down to face her swollen pussy, swallowing at the sight, ignoring the urge to continue playing with her. He knows she's exhausted based on her silence and wouldn't be able to take a second longer of stimulation. Instead, he gingerly cleans her up with the warm cloth.

"Do you feel okay?" Harry asks softly as he rises back up to his feet, grabbing his briefs and slipping them back on, "Was all of that alright?"

With tired eyes, Y/N smiles gently, nodding once. "It was perfect, Harry."

. . .

From: H🌷

Running late to class this morning, they made your latte with almond milk instead of oat

To: H🌷

h!! u didn't have to have them remake it, that would've been fine!

From: H🌷

You never get almond milk and you would've never even told me if you didn't like it. I can afford to be a few minutes late if it means you're happy.

Also, may or may not have bought Ginger another toy at the grocery store on my way home from yours last night.

Sitting in her usual seat at the front of the lecture hall, Y/N has to roll her lips into her mouth to avoid a massive grin from breaking out onto her face. She busies herself with scribbling notes in her planner as she waits for Donnolly to begin class, her nose stuck in her calendar as Harry enters the room with just a minute to spare.

She's admiring her new collection of sparkly gel pens when he plops down next to her, pushing her iced latte towards her.

"Morning." he greets with a grin, leaning down to press a kiss to her hair.

"H," Y/N whines with a blush, biting her lip at the small display of affection.

"Shush, I know."

She giggles as she takes a sip of her coffee, the familiar taste of vanilla and espresso coating her tongue.

"Thank you, by the way. I appreciate that you do this for me."

"'course, baby," Harry smiles, leaning back in his chair with his cup of black coffee. "Missed you."

"You saw me last night, silly."

"Yeah, but you wouldn't let me sleep over so you could do homework." he teases lightly, tucking his black sunglasses into the collar of his tee-shirt.

"Mhmm, but since you let me get that done, you can stay over tonight."

"Thank god."

She laughs and shakes her head at his dramatics as Donnolly claps her hands together, her signature announcement that class was beginning. Y/N glances over to the curly haired brunette next to her, who playfully widens his eyes at her. Again, she has to bite her lip to prevent herself from grinning even more.

She's not sure when her fellow TA, a grumpy, mean boy who only wears black became the best thing in her life, but she couldn't be happier that it happened.

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