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hockey-for-hotties · 3 months ago

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opposites attract ⏐ l.hughes

pairings: luke hughes x afab!reader genre: fluff ⎜ strangers-to-lovers ⎜ he falls first ⎜college au ⎜slow burn? ⎜ warnings: mentions of a shitty old ex ⎜protective Luke ⎜ Sick Luke ⎜ not much tbh ⎜mentions of Luke naked but not in a sexual way synopsis: you're not quite sure what to make of the oversized golden retriever defence man, especially when he asks for your help to pass his upcoming exams. word count: 11.3k authors note: this took me a really long time to write and I was not expecting to enjoy writing it so much but I really did - so I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. (UNEDITED)

You remember the first time you saw him. You had been locked up in the library for hours, your notebooks scattered around you, your pens all over the table, two highlighters had already made it into the bin, and your laptop was begging for a charger.

The library is quiet, it usually is around this hour - especially on a Friday night - just late enough that most students have given up and gone home to either finish their study or not do anything at all - but it was still early enough that it wouldn’t have you questioning all your life choices the next morning. The overhead fluorescents had been switched out for the small individual table lamps on each table - your usual table, the third from the back, right under the large window letting the soft moonlight in.

Your laptop flashes the red warning again, begging you to plug it in. You oblige letting out a soft groan as you heft your tote bag onto the table and begin digging around for the white chord, only pausing when movement in the corner of your eye catches your attention - the library was almost completely empty, bar a few students littered around the stacks of books who were definitely not studying if the soft breaths were anything to go by - so what was this lanky, clearly overgrown, drank too much milk as a child, obvious athlete doing in here - at nine pm no less, no one comes in here after eight.

You relax a little at the soft ‘bing’ of your laptop being plugged in, the warning disappearing instantly as you take in the new intruder. He was clearly an athlete, that wasn’t a secret, he was completely decked out in the u-mich sweats and shoes, the backpack slung over his shoulders looked heavy but it was clear that no one had used it since it was bought at the start of the year - the fabric looking almost coated with dust from sitting in a cupboard or under a bed for too long.

You watch him as he looks around the library, his eyes darting between the shelves widening as they spot the couple that had been there all night, half mounting each other and his cheeks glow a bright pink as he turns back to the table, his eyes locking on yours and a smile spreading on his face.

“Hey, you must be the tutor?” He says quickly as he shuffles over to your table, dropping his bag on the table with a loud bang, startling the librarian at the front desk, who just shakes her head and goes back to reading the ’90s romance she had been nursing for the past few hours.

“I’m sorry?” You ask slowly, watching as he pulls his notebooks out of his bag, each book looking newer than the last one, also clearly unused despite being three-quarters of the way into the year. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The athlete pauses for a moment, staring down at you with confusion before letting out a soft laugh.

“Ha, ha, very funny - I’m Luke, the guy that called you the other day, because of the flyer in the student athlete building.” He shakes his head as he laughs again, thinking your ‘antics’ were the funniest thing he’d seen all day. You continue to just watch as he settles into the seat across from you, your brow furrowed and your head cocked to the side as it all seems to click in his head. “You’re not the tutor.” He says quietly, almost completely to himself, his cheeks flushing back to the burning pink colour they were before.

“I’m not.” You confirm, trying to stop the upturn of your lips as you watch him flounder for a second, his eyes looking over your work spread across the table, and the way he had thrown his books over the top.

“I am so sorry — I shouldn’t have just assumed…” He starts as he tries to gather his stuff, the flush spreading down his neck as he fumbles, a few of his pens falling to the floor as he scrambles after them, “come to think of it I’m pretty sure I spoke to a dude.” He mumbles to himself as he places his pens back on the table, looking awkward as he bends over to pick up the rest.

“Luke?” You say quietly, wanting to stop the chaos happening in front of you as quickly as possible. His head perks up at his name, his blue eyes wide, his curls bouncing as he turns to face you.

“You know my name?”

“You did say it like five minutes ago.” You correct, clearing your throat before leaning further over the table to grab hold of his textbook. “You’re in 102 ECON?” You question, flipping through the book that looks like it was pulled from its packet a total of twenty minutes ago - the book unmarred by any obvious study. He nods in response to your question, managing to gather his fallen pens before sliding back into the seat across from you, “I can probably help you with this — what do you need the most help with?”

“Everything?” He lets out a chuckle as he raises a hand to scrub at the back of his neck — you shoot him a smile in sympathy before flicking the textbook to chapter one.

“You know that the ‘student’ comes first in student athlete, right?” You tease, watching the blush rise on the tips of his ears, enjoying the way he seems to get so flustered so easily.

“Wait, so you’ll help me?” He asks for clarification, his brows pinched in confusion. “I can pay you, the other guy wanted two hundred per session.” He says reaching into his bag and pulling out his wallet, not noticing your agape mouth at the number he threw out.

“Well he was severely overcharging.” You say, straightening your posture, as you scoot your chair around the table, sliding the textbook between the two of you as you scoot by his side, “I will take a drink or snack every time you come here though.”

“I can do that.” He agrees quickly, focusing his attention quickly on the textbook as you try to do a crash course in each chapter to see where he’s up to. It takes three hours, and the librarian coming to shut down your session before you have a good idea of where to start on the rest, Luke is by no means dumb and picking up most things pretty quickly, but he only remembers the basics of chapter one and you only have three weeks till his exam to get him through the next five chapters.

“I really appreciate you doing this for me.” He says softly as the two of you exit the library, your books bundled in your arms, his back in his brand new backpack with notes on what to read through before the next time you meet up.

“It’s fine, I have a soft spot for people in need.” You say, glancing down at your phone as it rings the last name you want to see lighting up the screen.

“Are you going to answer that?” He asks quickly, as you shove your phone back into your pocket.

“No.” You respond, already getting annoyed by the constant buzzing of the phone in your pocket, you begin to walk down the stairs of the library, your dorm only five minutes from the large building. “Remember, I want a hot chocolate on Wednesday.” You remind him, watching as he types it in his phone, before you begin walking back to your dorm, not looking back to notice the way he walks slowly behind you, his attention completely on his phone hoping you wouldn’t turn around to ask him why he was following you - maybe you would think his dorm was this way too - he follows you until he’s sure you reach your dorm building before he starts his own way home in the opposite direction.

Despite not expecting to hear from Luke again - your phone had almost been set ablaze by how often it was lighting up with text messages from him over the weekend — though you weren’t able to contain your surprise that he was actually continuing on with the work you had asked him to do before your next meet up.

Luke (library guy): read through chapter two! I’ve written all my questions so we can go through them on Wednesday.

Luke (library guy): Is there anyway we can meet up on Monday as well? My questions are at least two pages long.😫

Luke (library guy): things are getting out of hand…send help. 🙃 I’ve never studied this much in my life.

Luke (library guy): I know you’re reading these — if you’re going to ignore me at least try a little harder, or turn off your read receipts ☹️

You leave another message on read, as you tuck your phone back into your pocket - your headphones over your ears and a stack of marked quizzes tucked closely to your chest as you wander through the campus, making your way to the 102 ECON class you assist with — hoping to god it’s not the session Luke is in. To be completely honest, you had assumed that the second you had entered your dorm room after the night in the librar,y you’d be receiving a text from Luke asking to rain check — he was an athlete after all, they weren’t really known to stick to a schedule outside of their sport.

You glance up at the looming building in front of you, letting out a long sigh at the thought of suffering thorough yet another lecture you had already heard, and then getting stuck with all the questions from the upperclassmen who clearly thought this class would be an easy pass when they signed up for it two years ago. The freshmen were usually fine, barely asking questions, still going about their college lives without the pressure of impending failure — it was the juniors and seniors who were still stuck in the same class for the third - or fourth-year - in a row that tended to give you the biggest headaches.

You walk through the open classroom door, shoving your headphones off the top of your head until they sit comfortably on your neck, adjusting the quizzes in your arm before plopping them on top of the small second desk towards the front of the room. The classroom is half full when you arrive, the room buzzing with conversation and the occasional squeaking of someone taking a seat, you keep your head down as you arrange the quizzes before moving them to the professors desk — preparing to mentally disappear before anyone can ask you questions about the lesson for the day, until you hear it - the soft calling of your name.

“Pst, over here.” The first whispers of your name, seem to quiet most of the crowd, your body tensing as you glance up from the professors desk, it’s hard to miss Luke in his - what you think is typical - u mich hoodie, his curls bouncing against his head, seeming longer then they were last week when you last saw him, his hand raised in an enthusiastic wave. All dreams and hopes of Luke not being in this session are quickly sucked out the still open door, maybe you have a chance to make an escape?

“I didn’t know you were in this class.” Luke calls out, and as he’s sitting in the fifth row back, he really does “call” out to you. You can’t help the way your mouth falls open a little, your eyes darting around the class and the sudden attention on you, your eyes moving back over to Luke as his friend sitting besides him elbows him in the ribs, Luke’s hand falling down to hold his side, his gaze turning a glare on the boy sitting next to him.

“Dude, she’s not in the class, she’s the TA.” His friend scolds him in a very loud whisper, the grimace spreading across your face as you try to ignore the two of them.

“Well, how was I meant to know that?” Luke hisses back, his friend rolling his eyes and leaning back against his chair.

“Maybe if you’d been in class more than once a week, you would have known that.” You let out a long sigh as you sink into your chair besides the professors desk, sending the older gentleman a smile as he enters the room, thanking you as he picks up the quizzes from last week, and beginning to pass them out to the class, the flash of a D+ on Luke’s quiz flashing through your memory.

Luke (library guy): My kind, thoughtful, handsome and very single friend Ethan, has very gently brought it to my attention that I may have made you uncomfortable - for that I apologise.

You glance up when your phone buzzes on your desk, reading the message before glancing up towards the fifth row, seeing the two boys gathered around Luke’s phone, the message clearly thought of by the objectively good-looking man beside Luke, who shoots you what looks to be a genuinely apologetic smile. “It makes you seem smart.” You only just catch Ethan whispering to Luke, neither of them having much volume control now that the room is quieting down.

“No, it just makes you look like an idiot,” Luke replies, tucking the phone back into his pocket with a shake of his head, his eyes catching yours once more, the smile dropping off his face, as you look away, focusing yourself on sliding into your chair and reorganising your already organised desk. You don’t look up again throughout the lecture - you try not to anyway - keeping your eyes trained on your laptop in front of you, just barely listening to the lecture, and maybe occasionally sneaking a glance up at the fifth row, pleasantly surprised to see Luke very intently taking notes in his notebook - the one he had sent you photos of, covered in an increasingly more chaotic chicken scratch throughout the weekend.

You're halfway through your own sports psychology assignment when you hear the professor start wrapping up his lecture, deciding now is a better time than any to pack up your stuff and hope to make a quick escape once the class is done. Your laptop is only just in your bag when the professor draws all the attention back to you, “Now remember everyone has my email and the email of my wonderful TA this semester in their inbox, please let us know if you have any more questions, have a good week, everyone.” You curse quietly under your breath as you give the professor a tight-lipped grin, the kind old man none the wiser to the frustration deep in your soul at the idea of being the centre of attention once again.

You shove the last of your stuff into your tote bag, taking a quick glance at the class, glad to see Luke busy packing up his own bag as you beeline for the door, your exit seamless as you thread between the flood of students, just making it to the building exit as you hear him call out for you again, “Hey— wait.” Luke seems breathless as he reaches you, just as you push open the heavy glass doors, joining you in the chilly winter air, your arms crossing over your chest as you frown at the cold. “Are you just pretending I don’t exist now or what?” He asks, his long legs making it easy for him to keep up with your fast walking, his hands gripping the straps of his backpack, his knuckles turning white as he tightens his hold.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you back there.” Luke starts, letting out another pant as his left hand releases its strap, grabbing hold of the shoulder of your coat, pulling you to a stop. “Give me a second, you walk really fast.” He says as he takes in a few big gulps of air. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you—” He starts again, another breath, “I was just excited to see you there, no wonder you knew so much about ECON.” He clarifies, his cheeks resuming their normal flush of pink, his gaze following yours to where his hand still holds onto your coat, his hand dropping like you burned him with a quick “oh, sorry.”

“You didn’t embarrass me, Luke.” You say softly, trying your hardest to shoot him a reassuring smile, as you straighten out the wrinkle in your coat. “I was just a little surprised that you were so eager to greet me.” You try to explain, Luke’s head nodding as he cringes, sucking in air between his teeth, before his face relaxes into its usual soft smile.

“I was a little loud wasn’t I?”

“I wouldn’t say discretion is a forte of yours.” You joke back, letting out a soft chuckle as he lifts his hand to rub the back of his neck, his teeth trapping his bottom lip as he seems to relax a little.

“So we’re still on for studying on Wednesday night?” He asks quickly, his hands returning to their place on the straps of his bag as you nod slowly.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Good, cause I didn’t understand anything the teacher said today.” You let out another soft laugh before promising him you’d go over it during your study session, Luke hovers for a moment not quite taking the hint that you’re conversation was over, you look up at him, an eyebrow raised as you wait for him to continue, seeing straight through him to the way his mind seemed to be running a hundred miles a minute.

“Ethan wrote that text.” He blurts, his face seeming almost shocked that the words came out, but your lips just tilt up in amusement.

“I figured. He was really selling himself there.”

“Well he’s not kind or thoughtful so don’t look too much into it.” Luke huffs, his body seeming to radiate frustration as he thinks back to the text message.

“Luke, don’t think so much, it’s not a good look on you.” You say quickly, reaching a hand out to gently squeeze his arm, watching as his frustration dissolves into shock, his eyes shooting down to where you had barely touched his hoodie. “I’ll see you on Wednesday.” He barely has a chance to react as you step away from him, tucking your tingling hand into your coat pocket before quickly rushing off to your next lecture, barely able to focus throughout your own lessons as your mind keeps floating back to the awkward athlete.

The library is quiet when you arrive — just how you like it — the cold from your walk here was seeping into your bones, the warmth of the library heater quickly fighting off your shivering as you shuck off your oversized jacket, and gloves slowly making your way back to your favourite table by the window - your feet pausing as you notice the mop of curly hair already taking residence at your table. He’s tucked behind a stack of textbooks, the pen in his hand messily scribbling against his paper as his tongue sticks out a little, his teeth biting into it.

Luke spots you quickly, his posture straightening straight away as he raises his hand to call out to you, but catches himself at the last minute, just giving you a soft wave and a quick smile, his long legs shoving out the chair opposite him in an offering. The sleeves of his - you guessed it - u-mich hoodie as shoved up to his elbows, you slide into the seat in front of him as you can’t help but blurt out, “Do you wear anything other than school merch?” You have to restrain yourself from slapping your hand across your mouth as you say it — the question coming out meaner than you intended, but Luke just laughs, a breathy chuckle as he shrugs.

“It’s comfortable.” He responds, watching closely as you pull out your laptop and worn down notebook from your tote bag — the same tote bag you used last time you were here, but not the same one you wore to class the other day — Luke notices, to be fair, Luke notices a lot about you.

He noticed the way you tried to make yourself unnoticeable — he notices the way you use a different tote bag for different things — he notices the way you always look angry around campus but whenever someone approaches you, your face breaks out into a soft smile — he notices the way you twirl your hair when you get nervous or stressed — Luke had always noticed you, not matter how hard you tried, but that was something he would ever want to admit out loud, that would mean he would have to admit to watching you, and that would be creepy.

“What have you been working on?” You ask as you slide his notebook towards you, glancing over his notes with an impressed smile, before frowning at his graph towards the bottom of the page.

“I reread chapters two and three and thought I was doing well until they suggested mapping out the whole supply and demand thing and… well, it didn’t turn out so well.” He explains, The graph makes a lot more sense to you as he explains, "To be honest, I think I blacked out halfway through so I’m not even sure what this is measuring.” He says sheepishly as he points to the far box on the graph.

“It’s messy—” You admit, sliding the book back towards him before flicking open your own notebook, “but you have the fundamentals down. This is from when I took 102 ECON in freshman year, use it as a guide, remember I’m marking your work so I’ll know if you cheated.” You say, pushing your own notebook towards him.

Luke’s eyes widen in surprise as he flicks through the note book, neat, colour coded, handwriting careful and in print - each point defined and highlighted with a precision he could only every dream of - not to mention it seems to hold to answer to every question he has ever had about ECON, “This is the shit those Pinterest aesthetic girls dream about.” Luke says in awe as he continues to flick through the pages.

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the small tingle down your spine at the praise, “Just be careful with it, it’s been through like four tutor students and has yet to succumb to one of them, and if you ruin it…” You trail off, hoping the threat would carry its own weight, but Luke seems entirely too distracted by what you said before.

“You’ve tutored other students?” He starts, a frown dropping on his face, his eyes glaring down at your notebook of perfection — good heavens, it even smells like you — “God, you think you're special and then she goes as says she’s done this with four other people.” Luke grumbles to himself, his hand harshly flicking the book back towards you as he crosses his arms over his chest — “and to think I got you extra marshmallows in your hot chocolate.” You glance down at the book and shrug, lifting your hands to reach for it, but Luke is faster, his hand slapping down on it and dragging it back to himself.

“On second thought, your apology can be letting me keep this for the rest of the semester.” He seems pleased by his decision as he pushes a take away cup closer to you, tucking your note book under his own before going back to what he was doing before your arrived, occasionally lifting his head to ask a question about his work, before deciding better of it and referring to your notebook — which does in fact have the answer, every time.

It’s three hours later, when the library closure announcement rings overhead - your head snapping up in surprise, Luke lets out a long yawn stretching his arms over his head, his hoodie riding up ever so slightly the peak of pale skin enough to make your cheeks flush a little, you had still yet to figure out what sport Luke plays, but the defined ridges of his abdomen was a clear sign you were right to assume he was an athlete.

“I suppose it’s time I walk you home then.” Luke lets out through another yawn, already shoving his books in his bag, carefully sliding your notebook into the laptop pocket in the back, safely tucking it behind the cool metal of his MacBook.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” You exclaim quickly, following his lead and tucking your own books away.

“Yes I do.” He affirms, “It’s cold and dark out there and you are tiny, it would be all too easy for someone to grab you on their way past.”

“I’m not tiny — I’m of average stature, thank you very much.” You hiss, shooting him a very half hearted glare as you zip up your tote bag, pulling on your coat, as you watch Luke peel his off the back of his chair, he pulls his backpack on, and hangs his letterman jacket over his arm — Football then — you assume, the stereotypical image of a jock racing through your head, but Luke didn’t quite fit that, he was too… awkward.

“Just let me walk you home.” He grunts, his hand lightly pushing yours out of the way as he pulls your tote bag off the chair, swinging it over his own shoulder before leading the way out. You both bid goodbye to the librarian who waits, annoyed by the front door, not being able to leave until you do. The cold winter air hits you like a slap in the face, your arms quickly curling around yourself as you tuck your face into the collar of your coat, your breath letting out hot puffs of air.

Luke shuffles next to you for a moment, barely in your peripherals before a heavy fabric is draped over your shoulders, the navy blue jacket practically swallowing you whole, as he makes sure its tucked tightly over your shoulders — the fabric smells like him and is so soft against your cheeks as you burrow into it a little before realising what you’re doing.

“Luke, it’s freezing out here; you should be wearing your jacket.” You quickly spit out, rushing to slip the jacket off your shoulders and hand it back to him, but he shakes his head, his hands readjusting the heavy coat until he’s pleased it won’t slip straight back off.

“I’m used to the cold,” He says quickly, though his pink cheeks and nose are telling a slightly different story, “Besides, it looks better on you anyway.” He steps away from you a little, clearing his throat as he leads the way to your building, the question already bubbling in your mind as the two of your reach your dorm entrance.

“You know where I live?” You ask quickly, your head tilted to the side, your eyes accusing as Luke sputters to think of an answer.

“Apparently.” Is the best he can think of, his face scrunching in a grimace at his own response, but you just let out a guff of laughter. “I may have wandered back this way on Friday night to make sure you got home safe.” He admits, and you can’t fight the way your stomach flutters a little, an unreasonable response to him admitting he essentially stalked you the night after you tutored him.

“Oh.” You say.

“Oh.” He mimics the two of you standing on the front steps in silence for a few moments, before Luke clears his throat again, “Um, the guys and I are throwing a little get-together this Friday, I was wondering if you wanted to come?” His eyebrows are pinched as he asks the question, almost like he’s waiting for you to flat out refuse as soon as it leaves his mouth, “You don’t have to, I just thought I’d offer—”

“I’ll come.” You say quickly, cutting off what you assume is going to be another ramble, another flutter in the pit of your stomach at the way his face immediately lights up.

“Oh, cool.” He says, slipping his hands into his pockets, trying to remain calm as he nods to himself a few times, “It’s just at the hockey house a few streets over, I’ll text you the address.” He says quickly, the start of his sentence sticking out to you — hockey? guess there’s no more need to wonder. You nod quickly, taking your offered tote back from Luke and reaching in to fish for your keys, glancing up as Luke takes a few backward steps away, his head nodding for you to go inside.

“Luke, wait, your jacket.” You call out as he takes a few more steps away, a pleased smile on his lips as he looks over his coat still draped over your shoulder, he just shrugs his shoulders, moving further down the pathway, not giving you the chance to bring it to him before he says,

“Guess you’re gonna have to give it back to me on Friday.”

That sneaky little shit, this is his guarantee you’ll show up to the “get together” he knows you’ll never be able to wait to give his jacket back.

Fuck, you’ve never been to a “get together” — especially at a hockey house.

You’ve changed your outfit three times in the last twenty minutes — first it was a sweater and jeans, cause it's cold out there and you want to try without looking like you’re trying, you know? But what if everyone else was trying, then you’d just look stupid — so next was the tight top and small skirt, cause as a Disney princess once said, the cold never bothered me anyway, but the cold does in fact bother you so it was a very quick veto — and here you are with your third outfit, the tight top from the second outfit and the flared jeans from the first all surrounded by the thick navy letterman jacket that to be completely honest you had barely taken off since Luke let you borrow it.

You spare yourself one more glance in the mirror as you tug you hair into a claw clip, the overstimulation from it brushing against the back of your neck already too much to bare, the top fits well and does wonders for your chest, the jeans make your legs look longer and Luke’s jacket swallows your whole in the best way possible — it’s comforting in a way and somehow gives you just enough courage to pull your purse over your shoulder and shuffle your way out of the dorm.

You phone buzzes softly in your hand, the message from Luke lighting up the screen.

Luke (library guy): The party is in full swing. 🙃

Luke (library guy): No rush though, let me know when you’re on your way, or close and I’ll come out and greet you like a good host. ☺️

Luke (library guy): or I can meet you on the corner?

Luke (library guy): or halfway?

Luke (library guy): just text me, please.

You can’t help the way your lips tilt upwards in a smile as you read the messages, at the way Luke seems to have no concern over double texts or his overuse of the same three emoji’s despite what the contents of the messages say, you’re about halfway to the hockey house when you decide to put him out of his misery and text him back.

Library Girl: I’m just about to reach the corner of your street.

Luke (library guy): okay, be there in a sec.

Luke (library guy) has changed your nickname to ‘bestie boo 👻’

bestie boo 👻 : oh we’re changing nicknames are we?

bestie boo 👻 has changed Luke (library guy) nickname to ‘tall and lanky’

tall and lanky has changed their nickname to ‘favourite student 📚’

favourite student 📚: don’t test me bestie boo, I can promise you I’ll win this one.

You let out a breath of laughter as you tuck your phone back into your pocket, the tall and lanky figure making a slow jog down the street, catching your attention, your mouth falling open a little in surprise at Luke actually making his way to meet you on the corner of his street.

“I thought you were joking.” You call out as you speed up your steps to reach him at the corner, his eyes dragging down your body as you stop in front of him, his eyebrows pulled up in surprise as his gaze catches on his jacket encompassing your torso.

“I never joke.” Luke says, his face as serious as he can manage, — though the small twitch at the corner of his lip is a good hint that he is in fact joking — as his hand reaches out to pinch the hem of his jacket, “you’re wearing it?”

“Am I not allowed to? It’s warm.” You respond, the street lamps the only thing illuminating either of you, the only thing showing the way. Luke’s expression melts at your words, his head nodding slowly, his lips moving, though no words come out.

“It really does look better on you.” He says softly, finally stepping away from the building suffocation between the two of you, moving his hands to gesture that the two of you continue the walk down the street to the lit-up hockey house in the centre, the loud bass of music already tickling your ears. You fall into step beside him, the two of you making your way down the pavement in almost silence, Luke seeming stuck in his own thoughts, his knuckles brushing against yours with every swing of his hand — a part of you wondering if maybe he’s doing it on purpose.

If a part of him wants to hold your hand as much as you want to hold his.

The two of you make it to the house without much said between the two of you, the music overwhelming as a cheer of Luke’s name choruses over the crowd on the front porch, his hand raising in a quick wave of greeting before dropping and finding the small of your back as he leans down towards you.

“It’s pretty loud, are you going to be okay?” His question and concern make you falter a little, your mouth gaping as you think of something to say, the question of how much he’s noticed about you rising to the surface; “I don’t want to assume, but you don’t seem like the type of person to enjoy chaos.” He whispers, his hand a firm pressure on the small of our back as he leads you up the front porch steps.

“I’ll be fine.” You manage to squeak out, the skin underneath the layers of clothes burning wherever his hand touches — more calls of his name chorus as he swings open the front door, sticking close beside you as he greets people in passing, leading you towards the makeshift bar in the kitchen. The warmth of the house makes you instantly sweat under the weight of Luke’s jacket, the house filled with boisterous and already drunk college students, furniture pushed out of the way to make a haphazard dance floor and people crowded around each other as the air is drenched in the smell of mingling cologne and perfume, but all you can smell is Luke.

“Do you drink?” Luke asks softly as you reach the kitchen, his hand pulling away from your back hesitantly as he pulls two red solo cups off the pile, waiting for your response before pouring in any liquids.

“Uh, not really.” You respond, watching as Luke nods, pulling a unopened bottle of coke from the ice box, filling both his and your cups with it before tucking it away again — you manage to shake off the jacket which is now making you overheat with the swell of warmth from the house, tucking it over your arm as you gratefully accept the drink Luke offers. “It’s really hot in here.” You explain, but Luke’s eyes are unfocused, darting over your body, landing on your collarbones before he shakes his head and moves them back up to meet yours.

“You look real—” Luke is interrupted by a cheering of his name over by the dining table, riddled with half-filled solo cups, his teammates begging him to come join them. You watch as he goes to deny them at first, pointing to you with an apologetic look, but they’re relentless as they keep waving for him to join.

“Go play.” You say quickly, cradling your red cup in both hands as you nod towards the table, “I’ll watch.” You say as you step towards the group of hockey players gathered around the table, Luke looks at them before back at you for reassurance, the soft nod of your head enough as he slowly joins his friends, who all let out hoots of excitement as he reaches the table.

Luke is different here - you watch him play beer pong for over an hour, he introduces you to people as he goes, but his demeanour has changed completely, he’s confident here, at home. He’s not the same Luke that you see slouched over his ECON textbook most afternoons, stressing over his graphs and blushing when you compliment his understanding of what he just read; this is him in his element. He knows everyone, and you mean everyone. He knows their names, their stories, and asks them about random things going on in their lives before moving on to the next person. Everyone here loves him, and you can’t help the pressure building in your chest at the joy of being able to see him like this.

Luke never strays far, only leaving your side for a moment to throw the ping pong ball before he’s back besides you, his arm rubbing against yours, he interacts with everyone, welcomes them with a hug or handshake but yet he never leaves you alone for long, occasionally bending down to your ear to make sure you don’t need anything before taking his next turn.

It’s almost too much, his attention, his focus on you constantly — you feel like you can’t breathe but it’s not a bad feeling.

You’re halfway through a conversation with Ethan, one of the defensemen who plays with Luke ,when a voice calls out across the room, a voice you hadn’t expected to hear, especially not today.

“Hey, never expected to see little Miss Perfect at a frat party.” The voice is so close now, enough that you can feel the shiver run down your spine - the breaking of goosebumps along your skin. Ethan seems to notice something is up, his gaze looking over your head before he moves to nudge Luke with his elbow, bringing his attention to the man now loitering against the wall beside you.

“Kyle?” You question slowly as you turn to face him, knowing the only way to get rid of his attention was to give him some of yours first. “What are you doing here?” You ask quickly, your grip tightening around your almost empty cup of Coke as you shift your weight on your feet.

“A friend invited me.” You ex says like you had asked the most ridiculous question he had every heard, the answer coming out with a soft scoff.

“No, I mean over here? Why’d you come over here?” You clarify, the music of the room fading away as your breathing becomes more shallow — you hadn’t seen Kyle since you walked in on him and roommate, together, in your bed, on valentines day last year — and his ‘it’s not me, its you’ had repeated on your mind for weeks after.

“I thought we should talk.” He says casually, taking a long gulp of his beer as he moves a little closer, his body almost sandwiching you against the wall besides you - his grin downright gross as he looks you up and down, “I’ve missed you, you know.”

“Well, I don’t really want to talk to you.” You say quickly, trying to force yourself a step away, not wanting to be stuck against the wall with no way out. Kyle had never been violent with you, but he had other ways of causing harm; his words tended to cut deeper than any knife.

“Why? You’re too good for me now?” He questions, his eyes catching on Luke’s jacket still hanging over your arm, his eyes lighting with a fire that usually meant bad things, “You think now that you’ve found yourself a stupid hockey boyfriend, you’re better than me? You can do better than me?” His body is closing in now, the air being sucked away from you as your chest tightens, your hands gripping onto the fabric of Luke’s jacket for dear life as you try again, to skirt around your ex boyfriend.

“She can do better than you.” Luke’s voice is gravely, his large hand gripping your hip as he pulls you back against him, his breaths coming out heavy as he keeps your body pressed against his, “She dropped her standards majorly to be with someone like you, you should be thanking her for giving you the time of day.” Luke huffs, his tone almost seeming bored, but you can almost feel the steam rolling off him as he stares down your ex-boyfriend, his thumbs rubbing softly against the harsh fabric of your jeans.

You can feel everything — too much of everything as Kyle rolls his eyes, giving Luke a long once over before draining his beer and throwing the empty cup towards you, Luke quickly batting it away as he motions to one of the boys at the other end of the table, who make quick work of “politely” escorting your ex boyfriend from the house.

“Hey, let’s go get some air.” His voice is soft as he whispers in your ear, both hands on your hips as he steers you towards the back door, both of ignoring the glances from his teammates — the backyard is almost completely empty as he slides open the back door, quickly grabbing the jacket from your arm as draping it over you before sliding the door closed behind the two of you, moving to lean against the balcony railing, waiting patiently for you to come join him.

“An ex, I assume?” He says as you join him against the railing, your head nodding as you lean forwards, letting his jacket swallow you up, the warm material helping your shoulders relax back down to their resting position. “Is he the one who was blowing up your phone the other day at the library?” Luke asks, and you just nod, not entirely sure what to say or how to say it.

Luke lets out a long groan, rubbing his hands down his face as he shakes the tension out of his body, a grin replacing the deep frown on his face, “He seems like a major dick, I’m sorry he made you uncomfortable.”

“You shouldn’t be the one apologising.” Luke just lets out a soft laugh, running his fingers through the curled ends of his hair, pushing them away from his face as he pushes away from the railing, moving to box you against it — the position so similar to the one you were stuck in before, but feels so, so different.

“I don’t like fighting…” Luke points out quietly, almost like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear what he just said, “But I’d fight someone for you, especially if they made you look the way you did back there.” Your breath catches a little as you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, the sparks between the two of you igniting against your skin.

“I don’t know if I made it clear enough earlier, but you look really pretty tonight.” He whispers, the instant panic running across his face as he realises what he said, “Not that you don’t always look pretty, but you look especi— you know what, forget I said anything.” There’s something about the way he says it, about the way that you can see your Luke coming back to the surface that makes you smile, taking a step into his body — a step that seems to confuse him, panic him almost.

“You’ve already said it, Luke, you can’t take it back now.” You mumble, your hands hanging by your sides as you wait for him to make the first move, but he’s stuck; he doesn’t move from his spot, just watching you. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Luke.”

“What am I thinking?” You nod at his question, tilting your head to the side as you wait patiently for his brain to catch up, “I’m think that I’ve wanted to kiss you since I saw you tonight, I’m thinking that I wish you never came here and we were bundled up in the library so I can have you all to myself.” You barely register the rise in your heart rate as you let out a shaky breath.

“Now ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me what I’m thinking.” Luke seems to freeze, his whole body tensing up as he keeps his eyes locked with yours.

“What are you thinking?” He finally manages to get out, his breathing shallow as he waits for you to respond, his eyes darting between your own, the red rising up the back of his neck as he waits.

“I’m thinking that I’ve wanted you to kiss me since you gave me your jacket the other day.” You watch Luke’s eyes widen, his eyebrows rising in surprise. Luke doesn’t waste time responding — he just moves.

One moment your looking up at him, your expression of surprise mirroring his — you can’t believe you just said that, just admitted you want him to kiss you — and the next his lips are on yours, his hands bunching in his own jacket still wrapped around you, pulling you tighter against him as his mouth finds yours, warm and certain, something about it so slow and gentle, the kiss just barely registering in your brain before your hands are smoothing up his chest, bundling in the collar of his hoodie.

This kiss is nothing like any other party kiss — it’s not rushed or messy, not worried about someone rounding the corner to find you — it’s slow, almost rehearsed as if Luke had been imagining this for as long as you had, as if he was taking his time with you. Luke kisses you with the attention he puts into everything else — his whole focus, everything he has, is going into this one moment, this one sensation.

His hands leave your jacket to softly cradle your jaw, his head tilting as he deepens the kiss, pulling a soft gasp from you as you raise on your tiptoes to push yourself closer to him. You can feel his lips break out into a grin as he pulls away, his eyes sparking with excitement as he rubs his thumbs against your cheeks.

“I should take you home.” He says softly, his pupils blown out a little as the sound of the music and chatter from the house come back into focus, the reality of where you are sinks back in, “I mean, I should walk you home.” He corrects himself again, his ability to try to put his foot in his mouth still shining even now.

“You should.” You agree, hesitantly detangling your hands from his hoodie, cleaning your throat as you lower yourself off your toes and straighten out the jacket over your shoulders. Luke just smiles as he watches you, waiting till you feel ready before reaching out his large hand towards you, his smile growing as you slide your palm against his.

Luke was meant to be here two hours ago — and before you go on about how no one should wait around for two hours when getting stood up, this was different—different how, you’re not entirely sure, but something felt off. It had been three weeks of tutoring Luke, and not once was he late without notice, and he never, ever was a no show, even that one time he had stacked it in the courtyard on the way over here, he still showed up with blood running down his knee.

This was weird, something was wrong.

You glance down at your phone again, expecting it to light up with a message of apology but nothing — Luke was many things, a terrible liar, easily flustered, a cocky little shit when he was winning at any game the two of you played, but flakey was not one of them. The panic starts to set in — what if he was hurt? What if something happened at practice and he was too injured to let you know? The panic takes quick hold, your belongings shoved haphazardly into your u-mich tote, which Luke had gifted you a week ago, claiming ‘you needed something to show school spirit’ and tug your coat on before dashing from the library — well as fast as you can in an almost blizzard.

There a mix of every emotion running through you, anger that he stood you up for two hours with no notice, concern that he stood you up for two hours with no notice and back to anger, you’re all but ready to give him a verbal lashing when you reach the front porch of the hockey house, slamming your fist into the door a few times before stepping back to cross your arms over your chest, needing the physical boundary to keep the anger inside of you.

You mouth opens to say something as the front door is pulled open — Ethan, one of Luke’s friends stands there looking confused before there’s a lightbulb moment and he’s calling out into the dark house, “Lukey, your girlfriend is here, and she looks pissed.”

There’s a soft shuffling behind the door as you start to say “I’m not his girl—” but the words die in your throat as Luke comes into view.

He looks like shit.

His sweat-drenched hair is pushed back on his head with a white sweat band, and his body is cloaked in a severely oversized tracksuit, his eyes a bloodshot red, skin pale and clammy, and his chest rattling with a wet cough. “Shit.” You mumble as you do a second once over before stepping forward and into the doorway, ushering him back before you slam the front door closed behind you.

“Fuck, I forgot about the study session.” Luke curses, his voice barely coming out as anything more than a croak as he winces. “I’m so sorry, I was only supposed to nap for like five minutes — that was four hours ago.” He says quickly, his eyes still droopy, probably only just having woken up from his ‘nap’.

“You look really bad, Luke.” You whisper as you step forwards reaching up to press your cold hand against his forehead, the heat radiating off him enough to boil a pot of water - Luke lets out an appreciative sigh as he leans further against your hand, a delirious smile on his face.

“Does this feel good to you, too? Or is it just me?” He whines when you pull your hand away, “Don’t leave, you just got here.” He continues to complain when you take your coat and bag off by the door, tugging your large bottle of water out of the bag before turning back to him.

“Have you had any water today? Or showered?” You question, your only response a soft shake of his head and a grimace.

“The doctor said it was just a chest infection, he gave me some antibiotics.” Luke explains and you nod, looking over to his friends perched on the couch, who confirm his answer and throw you the box of pills, which thankfully look like Luke has been taking the recommended doses.

“Where’s your room? We should get you cleaned up.” You ask, watching as Luke’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“I don’t think it’s an appropriate time to be inviting yourself to my room.” He starts, a cheeky grin spreading on his face as he leans down, swaying a little at the movement, “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not feeling very well.” You roll your eyes and slap at Luke’s chest as he stands back up, letting out a chesty laugh which immediately turns into a crackling cough.

“Don’t be delusional — lead the way.” You hiss, keeping your hands ready to catch him if he decides to tumble to his death as he makes the slow trek up the stairs to the second floor. “Oh, thank god you have a bathroom in here.” You say as he swings open his door, the ensuite bringing some relief as you walk around him to take in the large shower.

His room is a mess, clothes and books strewn on every surface, his bed looking like he’s been rotting in it for weeks, and the number of tissue boxes he’s been hoarding by his window is a tell-tale sign of how long he’s been feeling unwell. “Okay, do you think you can stand long enough for a quick shower?” You ask, and he immediately shakes his head.

“I tried two nights ago, and almost passed out.” He admits, leaning down to sniff his own armpit before pulling back with a wince, “I’ve been using baby wipes instead.” He continues, wishing to god you are just a figment of his imagination and not actually here, seeing the state he’s in.

“Would you sit in the shower while I clean up?” You ask quickly, “The steam will be good for your chest, and I promise I won’t look below your shoulders.” If Luke’s eyes were wide before, they are full-grown saucers now — if he tried to widen them anymore, they would pop out of his head.

“You want to see me naked?”

“No, I want you to get naked so we can get you clean, there's a difference.” You snort as you start to pile his used tissues into the waste bin in the corner — Luke still perched on the end of his bed, looking more confused than ever.

“So you don’t want to see me naked?”

“Maybe another day, now take your clothes off while I start the water.” You respond, leaving Luke whispering to himself on the bed.

“I’ve never been so confused in my life.” He grumbles as you walk back into the room, but he’s kindly stripping off his sweat-soaked clothes, and you fight to keep your eyes on his face, refusing to steal his dignity as you reach your hands out for him to take. The second he’s under the water, he lets out a sigh of relief, and you watch as he leans against the wall, slowly sliding down till he’s happily sitting on the floor under the warm stream of water.

“I’ll be right back.” You promise, as his head lulls a little to the side, the effort of making it all the way upstairs and into the shower is taking its toll. You quietly fuss around his room, making it somewhat presentable before stripping his bed, finding clean sheets in the walk-in closet off to the side of the bathroom, as well as some reasonably clean boxers and a well-worn t-shirt. There aren’t many towel options as you search the ones scattered along the floor, finally finding two that smell more of fabric softener then death — which will have to do — as you walk back into the bathroom and plop your findings on the counter before stripping off your jeans and making sure your hair is pulled away from your face, you pause at the sight of Luke, still on the bathroom floor, steam wrapping around him, his head tipped back against the cold tiles and water streaming over his reddening skin. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his mouth is slightly open in content; he looks almost peaceful.

“Scoot over, I want to wash your hair.” You say gently as you step into the shower, your t-shirt already getting wet as you grab his shampoo and conditioner off the shelf, before placing yourself next to him on the floor. His head shoots up as he looks over at you, but your expression must give no room for debate as he nods, pushing himself away from the wall, turning his back towards you as he scrunches his knees to his chest.

“I think I’m dreaming.” He mumbles as you squirt a little bit of shampoo onto your palm, rubbing it between your two hands before threading your fingers into his hair. Luke melts — there’s no other way to describe it — his body almost immediately relaxing against you, his whole body weight leaning back against you as you scrub the shampoo into his hair, taking the time to really detangle his mess of curls.

“Why do you think that?” You ask, as you grab the shower head and rinse out the soapy mixture before reaching for his conditioner, squeezing a generous amount on your hand before slowly running it through the ends of his hair, looping the softening curls around your fingers before letting them bounce back against his scalp.

“Because when else would I have a pretty girl sacrificing her clothes to wash my hair when I’m sick.” He explains, his eyes shutting again as you massage his scalp, his head leans further back, almost landing on your shoulder as he lets out another long sigh. “You smell so good, like you always smell amazing — like apples and home.” His words are getting sloppier, his body somehow getting heavier as you decide now is a good time to rinse out his hair and get him out of the shower.

“I’m gonna steal some of your clothes, do you think you can manage washing your body?” You ask as you stand handing him a loofa covered in soap as he nods in determination, watching longingly as you grab a towel off his counter before leaving the bathroom, digging through his cupboard for a T-shirt and some shorts to borrow.

Luke is out of the shower and pulling on his t-shirt when you walk back into the bathroom, a little of his colour already returning to his face as he pushes his wet hair back from his face. “You didn’t need to do all of this, you know.”

“Someone had to.” You say with a soft shrug, trying to keep your expression relaxed as you glance over to his fresh bed and hold your towel out to him, “Want me to dry your hair?” Luke is never one to turn down an offer to have you fuss over him; he thinks it’s becoming one of his new favourite things. You perch yourself against his headboard, patting the open space between your legs. Luke wasted no time in climbing onto the bed and lying himself between your legs, a shaky groan leaving him as you start to use the towel to dry his hair, your fingers continuing to work their magic on him.

“You know how you said you might want to see me naked another day?” The question is out of Luke’s mouth before he can second-guess it, maybe it’s the antibiotics, but a part of him has lost any and all filter he may have possessed before this moment. You let out a long groan as Luke continues, “I think I want there to be another day, like lots of another days — as many as you’ll give me, I can even keep pretending to understand ECON if it pleases you.”

“Luke, you don’t have to pretend to do anything to please me.” Your words a gentle, followed by a smile he can picture on your face, “You're pleasing me right now by being clean and mildly coherent.”

“Do you think we can have another days?” Luke’s question is so genuine and raw that it sucks all the air out of your lungs, your heart slamming so hard against your chest you’re sure he can hear it.

“We can have another days once you’re better.” You agree slowly, but you know before you check that he’s already asleep, his face pressed into your thigh, his arm wrapped around your calf, his body spent from the shower. His skin is still simmering with a fever as you continue to run your fingers through his hair, massaging the base of his neck as he lets out an annoyed whine anytime you try to slip out from under him.

“Just stay, please.” He whispers as he settles further into your lap — so you do. You stay until your legs are numb and you beg him, quietly, to let you lie down on his mattress next to him, he obliges, his arm wrapping over your waist and pulling your tightly against him, his fever keeping you warm despite the fan blowing the winter chill over the two of you.

You manage to sneak out the next morning as the sun shines through his half-opened curtains, Luke only waking momentarily to take his medicine before slumping back against his mattress.

“Get some more rest, I’ll text you later.” You whisper as you pull on your now dry clothes, briefly crouching beside the bed to push some hair off his forehead and check for his lightning fever. “I think we’re going to have lots of another days.” You whisper as his breathing slows, his body falling back to sleep, and you lean forward to press a soft kiss against his forehead before sneaking out of the hockey house and back to your own dorm.

Finals week hits the two of you like a freight train — the only time you and Luke actually get to see each other is during one of the rare study sessions you manage to slip into your schedule. You barely have time to eat or sleep, but you keep managing to find time to check on Luke’s progress and make sure you answer any questions he might have before his exam. You just can’t manage to stop thinking about the boy who only a few days ago was lulled into a feverish sleep in your lap, whom you promised “another days” to.

It’s in the middle of your final exam review with Luke that he seems to crumble any resolve you had left, his voice barely above a whisper as the clock ticks to ten pm, the two of you barely able to read your notes anymore, your third coffee of the night sitting next to you on the table.

“You really are something special.”

“What?” Your pen drops to your notebook as you raise your head to glance over at him.

“I just need to put it out there, everything you’ve done—” he pauses, “Everything you’ve done and are still doing for me, it takes a special person to be able to do all this.” He corrects himself, his eyes boring holes into yours as you feel everything inside you crumble — if you had any tears left in you from the hell that is finals week, you would have cried at the proclamation.

You really are something special.

It plays in your head on repeat for the rest of the week, his tone soft and sweet every time you hear it run through your head again. He was too sincere, too honest, too open — and now you’ll never be able to stop thinking about him, be able to shake the fact that you think a part of you thinks of Luke as more than just a friend, just a fellow student you’re helping pass his exams.

Everything is getting too real now.

It’s a week later when the message wakes you up.

favourite student 📚: can you meet me at the library? I have something for you.

It takes you a few times to read and comprehend the message, your brain no longer functioning well at eight in the morning since the semester ended, and you barely have enough brain power to figure out he means now. You roll out of your bed, tugging on the large hoodie you had stolen from Luke a few nights ago - not that he seemed to care - and slip your feet into shoes before your bursting out of your dorm room and to the front entrance, almost running straight into a broad shoulder, lanky hockey player.

He manages to hold out a hand to catch your arm as you skid to a stop in front of him, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “I thought you told me to meet you at the library?” You ask quickly, not second-guessing the hot chocolate he hands you, taking a long swig of it before he shrugs.

“I couldn’t wait for you to get there.” He says quickly, reaching out to pull your drink from your hand, placing it beside his on the ground before he reaches into his pocket and fishes out his phone, typing on it quickly before beaming down at the glowing screen and turning it to face you.

89%

102 ECON final exam - 89%

He passed.

Luke Hughes, finally passed 102 ECON.

“I told you, you were something special.” He says with a grin that could rival the gods, your body practically vibrating with excitement as you throw yourself forward and into his arms, your own looping around his neck as you let out a high pitched squeal.

“You did it, Luke.” You coo as his arms encompass you, a breathy laugh echoing in your ear as he sways you back and forth, his own excitement buzzing. “This was all you, Luke — I’m so proud of you.” Luke barely gives you a chance to pull your head back before his mouth is on yours - his fingers digging into your back as he holds you tight against him.

This kiss is different to the one at the party, it’s quick and heated and filled with every emotion Luke can think of pouring into it, your breaths coming out ragged as he pulls away from you a little, his forehead resting against yours as he lets out another laugh.

“I really couldn’t have done it without you.” He says softly, like this is a secret between only the two of you, like the world doesn’t deserve to know what’s happening in this moment. The whole world has gone quiet, waiting to see what will happen next, as you stretch your neck to press a gentle kiss against his cheek.

“I think I was just an excuse.” You say quietly, your smile rivalling his, “You had it in you the whole time, Luke, you just needed a little help brining it out.”

“Still, I really needed y—” He pauses for a moment, thinking his words through carefully before correcting himself, “I really needed and still need you, if you plan on hanging around?”

“I’m sure I can fit you into my schedule. I’m a pretty busy girl.” You can’t help the hammering of your heart as he slowly places you back on the ground, his smile — a smile you hope is only ever reserved for you—spreading across his face as he nods.

“I’ll take what I can get.”

#nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl x reader #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes smut #luke hughes fluff

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sttoru · 3 months ago

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older bf!gojo who knows how much you like it when he steps out of the shower with only a towel around his waist . . .

satoru can sense your heated gaze on him as his muscular yet lean form emerges from the bathroom. it’s obvious that you’re staring at him—undressing him with your eyes. except he’s already in a state of undress if you ignore the towel.

that damn towel. it covers up so little, teasing you with the promise of what lies underneath.

“… jeez, can y’ make it any more obvious?” satoru says with a roll of his eyes. he’s acting like he isn’t affected by the lustful gaze you’re giving him, but the slow bulge forming on the towel says otherwise.

it’s hard not to look down there. your eyes slowly follow the white hairs that disappear beneath the waistline of the towel and create a narrow path up to his belly button. his defined abs are a work of art as well, same for his chest. those pecs are like the perfect pillows and you can’t count the amount of times you’ve used them as such.

the drops of water clinging to his milky skin only turns you on more. the cherry on top is that lazy and handsome grin on his face as he approaches you on the couch.

“shut up,” you huff, trying to look away, but your gaze keeps going back to that one place the towel is covering. it’s difficult to ignore, especially now that your lover is right in front of you.

satoru places his hand right next to your head against the back of the couch. he leans in, the damp air lingering around his wet body warming you up.

“hot and irresistible i know. . .” the white-haired man chuckles before tapping your cheek lightly, following your eyes downwards. he’s so fucking hard it hurts at this point. the outline of his girthy cock on the soft fabric of the towel is as clear as day.

satoru turns his head back towards you with a smug smirk and finishes his taunting sentence, “y’ still can’t just ogle a guy’s dick without doing somethin’ about it.”

satoru’s fingers come to wrap around your wrist. he tugs your hand down before resting your palm on the bulge. his glossy lips are near your ear and his tongue swipes over your lobe.

“i know ya want to, princess. c’mon—touch me.”

. . . you didn’t need to be asked twice.

#sttoru writes.#sliiiight reference to something some other white haired guy said 🙂‍↕️#jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #female reader #jjk x you #gojo satoru smut #satoru smut #jjk x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n

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rafesfawn · 8 months ago

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🪽🧺 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋

𝜗ৎ⋆｡˚ when rafe sees a precious little doll on the side of the road with a broke-down car, how can he resist out of the kindness of his heart offering her a ride? just a ride home, that's all...

or how trailerpark!angel!reader and rafe met!

warnings: use of the nickname pet & little one, reader! is eighteen-nineteen! bit of perv!rafe, barely proofread!

a/n: first time writing a rafe fic/blurb! im so excited, also this is based on this ask and thank you so much for sending something I really appreciated it and I hope u like it mwah! I would say you two meet in like early season 2 (right before the cross storyline) also for the format slight ib to others on here esp @rafesangelita (sorry for the tag!)

this was based off of this ask! which tysm i literally love requests and rafe and trailerpark!angel!reader is my new obsession <3

a small, meaningless kick was made to the tire while you huffed and groaned, putting two hands over your frustrated features as all you wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.

“piece of shit,” you mumbled under your breath, kicking the tire once more, but immediately a whimper fell from your lips. the pain shot from your toe up to your spine. making you sniffle and tip-toe in pain. in your denim ruffle skirt, white socks, and pink converse, you sat down on the asphalt, on the side of the road, leaning against the side of your broken-down car.

she wasn’t the best car, but she surely got you around most of the time. most of the time. it was a little volkswagen beetle, light pink in color, covered in so many stickers some wondered if it was passing inspection. it wasn't.

sitting with your head against the car for what felt like hours (it was maybe ten minutes), but spending even that on the side of a main road in kildare island was torture. especially with the beating sun late august provided.

rafe was speeding down the road on the way to play golf and get drunk with topper and kelce. “ah shit, i don’t know, man.” he said into his phone, holding it up with one hand; his voice gruff and confident, topper on the other line. “you really think i won’t kick your ass today huh?” a smirk grew on his already smug expression.

letting out a short chuckle at toppers response, nothing anybody ever said meant more than a laugh to him. or that's what it used to be like anyway, his act wasn't together if anything, it was worse than it'd ever been. his father condemning him to disingenuous "discipline" to forget about the possible death of his golden daughter.

"the fuck?" he mutters into the mic, his voice laced with confusion. as he sees up ahead on the road, a pink car broken down, with the most precious thing sitting against it. a pout on the angels soft lips and the most defeated look in her eye. aw, you just fell right into my lap, didn't you? little angel.

your eyes glued on the pavement, your entertainment of watching a little ladybug try to make it to safety in the distance, was shortly interrupted.

a nice black truck coming into view it came to such a short stop it almost took your breath away, the breaks slightly screeching at the haste. a tire replaced the spot the ladybug once was.

you stood brushing the dirt and gravel off the backsides of your pale thighs, left bare by the short fabric of your skirt.

the man stepped out of the truck. he was tall, and the sleeves of his polo looked like they were about to burst at the seams, not able to contain the biceps beneath. his features strong and statue-like, his deep sea eyes hidden behind the curtain bangs that hung over his forehead. a grin that seemed too genuine, too good to be true.

you removed your heart-shaped sunglasses, placing them on top of your head to see him more clearly. your possible savior, but he was anything but.

he stepped a bit closer, seeing the state of her already pretty beaten car, "having some car trouble?" rafe asked as if he wasn't stating the obvious.

you pretended he wasn't either as you nodded, the frown only slight now but still on your lips as your eyes remained looking up into his.

"aw.. poor thing we can't have that, what happened?" his voice, a mockery of sympathy. as he inspected the piece of shit car she loved so much. his care coming from a place of ownership, of burning ache or want.

still, in slight shock, you hadn't answered him, following behind him as he reopened the hood like he owned the car. not even realizing you'd been rude and not replied till he spoke again. "little one, i can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong." a heady mix of gentle and firm that made your mouth go dry and your head dizzy.

"oh- it's been on her last limb for like ever, i guess she finally called it quits... right on my way home." you said with a little sad laugh that rafe wanted to bottle the sound of and listen to on repeat. "and I really need to get home," you added fiddling with your fingers in front of you.

a sweet girl all out of options, rafe was so glad he was here to provide her with his help. "tell you what, I'll take you home and come back and fix this thing up for you, huh?" he offered, there goes his saturday plans he presumed. it'd be worth it. he told himself he'd make it worth it, with those shy eyes and the expression you carried like a lost puppy. you'd owe him he'd make sure to get something in return.

just like he figured, you shook your head. never wanting to accept such a grand favor. "I can't ask you to do that, I mean, I don't even know your name." nerves, curiosity, and a glint of something else tinged in your voice, so many wonders in that head as soon as his truck came to a stop for you. why? the only question running through your mind.

"It's rafe, can I help you out now?" his genuine grin turned almost smug at his own remark, brushing that bangs out his face, the effort pointless as they immediately fell back again.

you paused. picking at the already chipped white nail polish on your sore fingertips, a larger-rougher hand covered your own, stopping your movements with that firm gentleness he carried around her. you looked up at him, he was so much closer. the scent of some cologne that probably could pay your rent, and a tinge of smokey wood filled your senses.

"pet?" he questioned with an expecting tilt of his head, calling you that like it was the most natural thing in the world.

your body and mouth responding before giving another second for your brain or anxiety to think it over, you nodded. "can you please give me a ride home?" you hesitantly asked, it felt weird. getting help, and even asking for it felt foreign, he offered it so graciously like it was nothing.

looking down upon her, his grin turned genuine once again, his eyes seemed almost proud it was a soothing balm to her nervous heart. a rosy hue to her cheeks as his palm covered the side of her neck, making a few pats to the flesh before leading her to his truck.

you'd owe him. something he was sure you were ready for.

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chiangyorange · 4 months ago

Text

my guy !! my specialest boy who says Dont Put Me In A Situation and then i do !!!!

an intro post for Age, his design for both in gear and out + his relationship to everyone in the chain as basic as i can get it

V additional thoughts under the cut V

i knew before anything else when i started The First Comic that i NEEDED a more visually distinct design for Age compared to Wild because

he needed to look distinct from Wild for obvious reasons. i didnt wanna just stick Age in the champions tunic, people are going to get even more confused than they already are

aoc puts Age in the soldiers set the majority of the game Anyway so his design just marries 3 different sets with the soldier's set (pauldrons (im not drawing the engravings man i barely do it for wars) chestplate), the champion's tunic (champion blues), and the royal guard set (the fabric cut specifically-- like middle cut of the gambeson reaching above the belt, white gloves, the incorporation of darker blues and reds)

regardless of the aftermath of what happened to Age after the events of aoc, whether he stayed as a knight or not doesnt really matter and im (AS OF RIGHT NOW) uninterested in exploring that. what really matters rn is that he needed what is basically a court outfit, especially with an audience of 8 heroes of myth. gotta make that good impression n all that.

it also means that some elements (especially the white gambeson and white gloves) are inherently impractical when theyre actually put to use. Age has a very difficult time keeping his gloves as pristine as they are. hes being dressed up by Not his own hands is what im saying

#dear fellow soldier au #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu age #my art #on a personal note i really love his red pants #its just something that is so silly to me idk how to explain it #shoutout to that 1 anon who clocked all 3 outfits before i put them in a blender #im very ill about scenarios that never happen

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222col · 4 months ago

Text

bimbo!reader x art donaldson

summary: art gets a private fashion show from his favourite girl, but he can't keep his hands to himself

cw .ᐟ nsfw, public setting

"mm, what'd ya think of this one?" art's in heaven. his pretty little thing giving him his own personal fashion show. he's half tempted to call up his first coach and thank him for work he did, 'cause there's no way he'd have you in your pretty pink dresses parading around for him if he never made it. fuck the tennis, art couldn't care for the slams, his babygirl is the best thing that ever came from his fame.

legs spread as he sits in the leather chair outside the dressing room. "so pretty, baby." he hums, you're a fucking vision, art can barely form any sentences that aren't compliments when you're in front of him. especially when you're in and out of a dressing room showing him all the dresses he gets to spend his money on. his perfect little doll, playing dress up with his prize winnings. he's living the fucking dream.

waltzing back behind the curtain, changing into more clothing for art to add to his credit card bills. sliding into the baby pink lingerie set, little bows darted over the fabric, smirking to yourself before you pull back the curtain, knowing full well art's about to combust at the sight.

"jesus christ," art breathes out, his throat feeling tight as his hands clutch the arms of the chair. his whole body feels hot, and he's sure if he looked down there'd be a damp spot starting to show on his slacks. "you're gonna kill me one of these days, princess."

your sweet giggle has art nearly pulling you into his lap, his knuckles white, still clutching the chair, as forces himself to resist. the sounds of rustling in the other dressing rooms pulling him back down to reality. crossing one leg over the other, in some lame attempt to cover up the obvious bulge in his pants. he's desperate to reach out and touch you, but art knows he wouldn't be able to stop if he did.

faux innocent smile on your face as you turn back into the dressing room, being sure to bend over for your own clothes on the floor before closing the curtain. "oh fuck me." art mutters, head falling back before he's pushing himself into the dressing room with you and closing the curtain behind him.

"you are so evil, babygirl." he purrs into your ear, big hands pulling you by the waist against his body. eyes darting all over figure through the mirror behind you, before spinning you around to face yourself in the reflection. one hand gripping where your throat meets your jaw, forcing your eyes to his through the mirror.

"didn't even do anythin', artie." you murmur, batting those long lashes at him.

"liar," art whispers into your ear, gently biting down on the lobe before trailing his lips across the side of your neck. the hand resting on your hip starts to move over your stomach, teasing the hem of the lace panties you were trying on for him. "gonna be nice and quiet for me, pretty girl?"

lip between your teeth as you nod your head, eyes glued to his through the mirror before darting down to watch his hand slip under the fabric of your underwear. art's mouth peppers your throat with wet kisses as his fingers slide up through your folds, spreading your wetness over your heat, humming against your skin as he does.

biting down gently on your shoulder as art slips his middle finger inside, his thumb circling against your clit. "oh, hmm— artie, oh—" you breathe out, before his hand on your jaw moves to clamp down over your mouth. "be quiet, baby." he orders gently, adding his ring finger inside you to move in time with his previous. your knees growing weak as art fucks his fingers in and out of you.

brows furrowed in pleasure, hot breath against his hand while his thumb matches the pace of his fingers inside you against your bundle of nerves. the sounds of those around you still present in your ear, too busy to pay any mind to the whispers of suspect to what you and art were doing. art's hips start to move against your ass, providing him some much needed friction, his own groans muffled into the side of your neck.

"art!" not even his hand can muffle the moan of his name leaving your lips, chuckling into your skin as his fingers keep fucking you. "shush, babygirl." he purrs, nipping the skin of your earlobe once more, pouting behind his hand over your face. the squelch of his fingers filling the empty noise of the dressing room, your knees starting to threaten to buckle as the band in your stomach grows tighter.

"god, look how fuckin' pretty you look, baby," art coos into your ear, watching every subtle reaction of your body through the mirror. his cock leaking through the fabric of his pants as he continues grinding against you.

"gonna cum on my fingers, pretty? be my good little girl?" the whispered words have you buckling onto him, barely holding back the moans as you fall apart under his touch. art's fingers don't halt, prolonging your orgasm as much as he can. only slowing sliding out of you as your body starts to shake, bringing his fingers up to his mouth, sucking the taste of you from them as he drops his hand from your face.

smiling around his fingers as he savours every bit of your wetness, still meeting your eyes through the reflection as his he holds you up against him still. spinning you around to him afterwards, big hands resting on your hips as he presses a kiss to your forehead. "so good for me, princess."

"art?" you hum, tilting your head as you try to bite back a giggle.

"yeah, babygirl?" he murmurs softly, bringing his hands up to your jaw, angling your face up to his eyes. "did you, um, did you just cum in your pants?" you manage to ask through soft giggles, lip between your teeth as you watch the pink blush spread across his cheeks.

"you're too damn sexy, baby, can't help it."

#bimbo!reader ౨ৎ #bimbo!reader x art donaldson #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donalson x reader #art donaldson x you #challengers #challengers x reader #dilf!art #mike faist #★ 222col's writing

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nanaslutt · 2 years ago

Note

entering zenin clan as toji's little trophy wife

contains: fem reader, established relationship, age gap (not specified), misogyny, naoya needs his own warning, voyeurism, masturbation, choking, rough sex, riding, dirty talk, cumming inside (toji has a vacectomy), Toji is a good husband, praise

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Your large husband Toji stood in front of you, fastening the fabric around the kimono he had bought you for the special occasion. He himself was adorned in a dark blue kimono, the white fabric of the jupan peeking out from underneath the neckline of his kimono. He was wearing a pair of traditional setta sandals, you had never seen him look so formal and old-fashioned in your life.

"People really still wear this stuff?" You asked, watching him tie the light pink fabric in a bow that would rest on your hipline. Toji kept his eyes on his hands, working carefully, "You're making it too obvious you're not from a sorcerer family." He said, looking up under his dark eyelashes at you once he finished prettying you up. He took a step back, keeping his hands on your waist as he smoothed his hands down the sides of your hips, admiring his handiwork. A whistle from his lips made you blush, smiling up at the older man.

"Beautiful." He said, stepping up to you once again he pressed you against his chest, gripping his hands on the small of your waist he leaned down and kissed you softly, humming against your lips before pulling away. "Thank you Toji." You said, making the scar on his lip bend as a smirk graced his handsome features. "The geezers you're about to meet don't take kindly to.. women, they're old fashioned so do your best to stay close to me, not that I plan to leave you alone with them." Toji shivered internally thinking about what they would do to a pretty thing like you if he let you alone, not that he didn't have full faith in your skills, he knew you were strong, but he also knew how strong his family was.

"I figured out the old-fashioned part by the clothes, I guess misogyny just comes with that territory." You said lightly, making him huff out a laugh. "Don't take their words too seriously, especially Naoya, he respects me so It's hard to know if he'll say anything, but he's notorious for having a big fucking mouth." You watched Toji's expression while he spoke, a vein popping out under the skin of his forehead. "Especially with the women. I don't know if there's a single maid he hasn't harassed in some way or another." He said, growing irritated at the thought of him trying something with his wife.

"I can take it." You said, the soft touch of your fingers tracing Toji's cheek snapping him out of his annoying daydream, bringing him back to reality, his eyes shutting as he sighed, leaning into your touch. "We're just there for me to introduce myself, then we never have to see them again, right?" You asked, smiling when he cracked open his eyes and nodded at you. "What's the worst that can happen in a couple hours?" You spoke reassuringly. "You don't know my family." He sighed, covering your hand with his, pressing it harder agaisnt his face. "I wish I didn't either." His animosity made you smirk, he was working himself up too much.

"How did they even find out we got married?" You asked, Toji's hand dropping from your own as he stepped away to grab his phone on the table behind him and call for a ride. "Who fucking knows, they're so creepy they probably know your blood type and the time you were born by now." He mumbled, holding his phone up to his ear as it rang, reaching one of the drivers for the Zenin clan. You came up behind him, running your hands up his back, relishing in the feeling of the soft fabric of his kimono, before reaching his shoulders and massaging his shoulder gently as he spoke curtly to the man on the other side of the phone.

—

The two of you stepped out of the car, Toji first, taking your hand in his as you slid out after him, thanking the driver before you interlaced your arm in his. You were greeted by a kind-looking maid, she looked to be about ten years older than Toji, she bowed when the two of you approached. "Right this way Zenin." She said, glancing at the two of you before she raised her tired body and started a trail into the main building of the Zenin house. Toji cringed at the use of his last name, you felt his bicep tense when she uttered the word. You looked up at him, watching the muscles in his jaw flex as he repeatedly clenched his teeth together.

"I should be the one nervous." You whispered, receiving a glance from your husband, the shadow of a smile gracing his lips before he averted his gaze back in front of him, his eyes darting around to the familiar walls of his miserable childhood. "Being here makes me feel sick is all." He said. You absorbed his words, nodding to yourself as you looked forward, watching the fabric of the older woman's kimono crinkle on her back as she walked.

Toji had told you about his childhood before, but only the once; it was a sore subject after all. You knew it was a very toxic and abusive environment to grow up in, especially for Toji, as he was one to form his own opinions and morals, not letting anyone other than himself influence that; which his family did not appreciate in the slightest. "Here you are, please enter at your own pace." The woman spoke, looking Toji directly in the eyes and squinting before she bowed and walked away, following the hallway back the way you had just come down, presumably to complete some mundane task.

"She knows you, huh?" You asked, squeezing your arm tightly against his as the two of you stood feet from the massive sliding wooden doors that separated you from the main room, where his family was currently residing; chatter and laughter could be heard muffled through the thick wood. "That old dinosaur." Toji laughed quietly. "She was in charge of my main academic classes, would smack my hands with a ruler when I got an answer wrong, shit hurt." He said, you watched him smile, recalling the memory.

"And you're smiling?" You said, tilting your head confused. "Old hag was the only one who actually looked out for me in this hell hole." He said, shaking away the memory before looking down at you. "You ready sweetheart?" Toji asked, staring into your eyes fondly. When you nodded he leaned forward, pressing his plush lips to the top of your head before pulling back and taking a step forward, slipping his fingers into the inverted door handle he slid the door open, the loud grating of the wood announcing your arrival.

Immediately all chatter in the room stopped and all eyes were on you, not Toji, you. The aura in the room was suffocating, only a couple seconds in the presence of these men, and you had understood why Toji was acting so uncomfortable. They were strong, incredibly so, you could feel it. A man with long dark shaggy hair leaned back on the couch, his legs spread as he caressed his chin looking you up and down. You felt shivers crawl down your spine from his perverted gaze alone; his aura wasn't as strong as the others.

Continuing your scan around the room, your eyes landed on a younger-looking man with blonde- almost green hair, a brown halo of hair around his head, he gave you an incredulous look, man spread on the couch much like the last man, he had his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze focused on your chest, thankfully covered by the Kimono; and yet you still felt so exposed under his gaze.

Some other unmemorable men were scattered in the room, an old man with a high ponytail, a teen with short spiky hair, and a handful of longer hair wrapped in bandages behind his neck. One man stood out from the rest though, in terms of the sheer cursed energy radiating off of him, making you shiver, every hair on your body standing at attention. A silver-haired man, twice Toji's age, sat on the floor on a fancy-looking pillow in the center of the room, a half-empty whiskey bottle in his hand, his lips dripping the liquid. The man burped vulgarly, making you suppress a wince at the shameless action.

As much as his face alone looked perfect for the bottom of your foot, you knew this was a man who was absolutely not to be messed with. You guessed this was Nobito, Toji's uncle. "Toji tightened his arm around yours, keeping his gaze in front of him as you looked up through your lashes at him; he could feel your anxiety and was trying to silently tell you he was right there. Nobito laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he raised to his feet, taking long strides toward you and your husband.

He stopped in front of you, ignoring Toji's presence completely. "Bagged a cute little woman, Toji." He laughed, looking at you when he spoke. You maintained composure, keeping eye contact with the wrinkled man in front of you, his breath reeked of alcohol. "Too bad she doesn't know her place." A voice interrupted. Toji's eyes looked to the voice, his face staying unexpressed, making eye contact with the source of the noise, Naoya. "Who does she think she is? Dumb woman doesn't know she should walk behind a man?" He said, scoffing, a look of disgust plastered on his face.

"When you get a wife, feel free to treat her however you like," Toji responded, deadpanning. "Insult my wife again, I'll cut out your tongue." Toji's deep asserting voice made you shiver, a heat creeping over your face at how he had defended you without a second thought. Naoya presented a toothy grin to Toji, a vein in his forehead popping out in annoyance. Suddenly it was too hard to breathe. "Now now, ten years of radio silence from you, and this is how you want our reunion to start?" Nobito tsked, keeping his face in front of yours but darting his eyes to meet Toji's.

"Nice to meet you, sir." You said, bowing respectfully, looking up at the old man under your lashes. He smiled, taking a couple steps back from you. "She's polite~" Another voice resounded through the room- the teen with the rat tail had spoken. "At least she can do something right," Naoya mumbled under his breath, the bitter words not being missed by Toji. You quickly reacted, squeezing your fingers into his arm to warn him not to do anything stupid. His nostrils flared on his otherwise blank face, his chest rising in a deep breath before leveling out again.

Nobito walked back to his seat and picked up the bottle of whiskey, grabbing a glass from the table in front of him he poured a generous amount before sitting and pushing the drink in your direction on the table. All their eyes were on the two of you, waiting for you to sit. Usually, you would sit down first, Toji making sure you were comfortable before sitting down next to you. In this setting, however, you weren't sure this was the best idea.

Unlacing your arm with his, you gestured towards the table with your hands before holding them in front of you, looking up at Toji. He paused, looking down at you before he started for the couch, you followed hot on his trail. Naoya smiled at this, not being able to shake the feeling that he had some influence on your actions. Toji held his hand out for you before you sat down. Placing your hand in his larger one, you sat next to him, your thighs touching with the proximity. He continued to hold your hand, placing tangled hands on your thigh as he gripped his over yours, enveloping it completely.

You pressed your knees together tightly, not wanting to reveal even a centimeter of your skin to the men around you if you could help it. Toji picked up the glass in front of him, bringing the caramel-colored liquid up to his lips before he was stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist. The shaggy-haired man had grabbed Toji, tsking, "Thats for your pretty little wife." He smiled maliciously, Nobito grinned, watching the interaction. "She doesn't drink." Toji was quick to retort, pushing though the grip on his wrist he tipped the glass into his lips, tasting the bitter liquid on his tongue before swallowing.

"You keepin' her pure?" Naoya's grating voice once again spoke. Toji was right, the man constantly had something to say, and none of it was good. "She even old enough to drink? Fuck, did you snatch up a young one?" He laughed, the sound making you cringe. "I can drink, I just choose not to." You responded, making the blonde-haired man's smile immediately flush off of his face as his gaze dropped to yours. "Why is your wife speaking right now?" He asked, the question directed at Toji, but his eyes were on yours.

"Only speak when you're being spoken to, and even then, make sure what you have to say is meaningful," Naoya instructed. You looked visibly taken aback. Oh he wanted to die huh?Toji thought, the vein in his forehead showing itself from under the skin. He swore he was going to come back here and strangle the man to death in his sleep, and he would enjoy every last second of it. Who the fuck was he to speak to you like that?

“I don’t tell her what to do, and you sure as hell won’t as long as I live either.” Toji growled, his grip tightening against your thigh. "Naoya." Another voice cut in before things could escalate. The man with the ponytail prevented Naoya from digging his grave deeper. Toji's eyes were glued to his younger cousins, his heartbeat racing in his chest as he tried to calm himself down.

You had no idea how much self-restraint Toji really had. Whenever a man even looked in your general direction you had to physically pull him back on his metaphorical leash so he didn't kill him on the street. He took a large gulp of the liquid once more, he couldn't tell if the bitterness was easing the angst he was feeling or increasing it. Naoya lost the glaring battle with Toji, scoffing as he looked away. "How old are you, Naoya?" Toji spoke, holding the glass of half-empty liquor on his thigh, spreading his legs. "Twenty-six." He replied.

Toji laughed curtly, raising his eyebrows before he released your hand and wrapped his arm around the back of the couch. "Don't you think It's time you find a wife? Or you been havin' some trouble findin' a woman who you don't have to beat to act like your dog?" Toji spat, making the younger man fume across the room. A snicker could be heard from the teenager to your left. You had to fight back your own smile, you're pretty sure you would get smacked upside the head by Naoya himself if you did.

“How did the two of you meet, dollface?” The man with the dark shaggy hair questioned you. Toji could obviously see you looked visibly uncomfortable at the nickname the man had used, squirming in your seat before your opened your mouth to speak, “Me and Dollface met through a mutual friend.” Toji interrupted, making the weight on your shoulders lift and dissipate into the air.

“Your friend know anymore cute young things like your wife here?” The man spoke again, directing his question to Toji but looking at the expanse of your covered body, they all did that and you hated it. “None that would be interested in an old pervert like you.” Toji responded, trying his best to laugh through the situation so his fist didn’t end up through someone’s stomach by the end of this.

"So, do you come from a sorcerer family?" Nobito interjected, taking a swig from the whiskey bottle. The questions never seemed to stop coming from every direction in the room. "No sir, I'm the only sorcerer in my family." You responded a couple chuckles could be heard throughout the room at your response. Naoya almost burst a blood vessel keeping what he really wanted to say at bay. Sure, you had a nice figure, and a pretty little face to match—but you were arrogant and had too much of your own personality. Naoya had an an inkling your relationship wasn’t as traditional as you were playing it out to be.

Toji deserved to be with someone who listened to him, who didn’t speak out of turn, who could actually walk behind a man. You must’ve been good in bed for Toji to have put a ring on your finger with all those flaws, he presumed.

"She's a first-grade sorcerer before you open your pathetic mouths again." Toji defended. You pressed your thighs together. He was so stoic and serious, it aroused you to no end, and the way he wasn't afraid to show you off, fuck it was doing things to you. Some “Ooh’s~” echoed through the room.

"Pretty and useful." The old man with the ponytail spoke. You averted your gaze to some corner of the room when you saw some nods throughout the room. "She cooks and cleans too?" Someone teased, creating more chuckles to emanate throughout the room. Toji clenched his jaw in annoyance. If his family knew that he did most of the cooking, he was sure at least 5 of them would have an aneurysm in this very room. At least he could be left alone without fear of starvation while he doubted these grown men knew how to cook something as simple as rice.

"When are you having a child? She doesn't look pregnant now." Naoya blurted out confused, his words indicating that the only thing a wife was good for was having children. You couldn't help but feel too aware of your own body at his words, realizing you could actually be perceived, and were actively being so in this moment. You kept quiet, looking up at Toji, waiting for his answer to come. Truthfully, you wanted kids with him at some point, but you were still so young. The two of you had talked about it briefly, at decided you would revisit the topic in a few years.

Toji brought his hand to wrap around the back of your shoulders, rubbing the skin there before he spoke. "She's too young to have kids now, maybe a few years," Toji answered curtly. Naoya looked flabbergasted, leaning forward on his elbows he spoke exasperatedly, "What? Nonsense, there's no such thing as too young to have kids-" barf. "Her eggs are going to be dried up in a couple years." His lackluster knowledge of a woman's body amused you, once again suppressing a laugh as you pretended to scratch the tip of your nose, hiding your mouth from view.

Toji picked up on your amusement, smiling before he spoke. "What would you know about a woman's body?" He challenged, sliding his hand across your shoulders to drop back down to your thigh, squeezing the fat through the fabric, making you feel a heat between your thighs. Naoya's lip curled up in annoyance, keeping his eyes on Toji's. "Let's take a break, yeah?" Nobito spoke, his voice coming out slurred. "We have a room for the two of you, dinner will be ready soon, we can catch and learn more about your little wife more then, hm?" he said, the words phrased as a suggestion but you knew it wasn't that.

"After you baby," Toji said, nodding his head at you. You smoothed your hands over your thighs as you stood, standing, you bowed before the men as Toji stood with you. "Nice to meet.. most of you." You said, licking your lips to conceal your grin as you started for the door. Toji smirked, making eye contact with Naoya's obviously irritated face before he wrapped his arm around your waist, his hand resting right above your ass as he let you out of the room, sliding the door shut behind the two of you.

"Well, that sure went!" you said, looking up at him and smiling through a cringe, making him laugh at your unfinished sentence, he knew exactly what you meant. "What you said at the end got me all worked up," Toji said, grabbing a handful of your ass as he started walking toward his old bedroom. "Huh?" You asked, confused. "No one talks back to that shitty guy, shoulda seen his face when you said that shit." Toji laughed. You caught on, realizing he was referring to your indirect jab at the blond-haired man before you left.

"Didn't realize bullying your family was one of your kinks." You teased, stopping in front of the doorway when Toji slid the door to his room open, holding his arm out atop the frame for you to go under. "You kiddin? Think it's higher up than my love for titty-fucking'" Toji teased, grabbing your hips as he followed you into the room. He shut the door with one hand behind him, before pulling you against his chest and pressing his lips to yours. "Sorry about those fuckin' assholes." Toji apologized, kissing the corner of your eye.

"It's not you who should be apologizing." You giggled, holding his face in your hands. "Plus, the way you were standing me up for me in there got me all wet." You leaned and whispered against his lips. "Yeah?" His deep voice whispered back, his breath tickling your lips as he hovered his mouth an arm hairs length away from yours. "Wanna see for yourself?" You asked, dropping one of your hands from his face to grab his wrist and bring it between the slit of your Kimono, under the jupan, so his large fingers were directly touching your damp panties. “Wanna hear how loud you can be for me, show these old fucks how good you take my dick.” Toji whispered, finally closing the distance and pressing your lips together.

—

In the other room, the men had not yet dispersed. Talking amongst themselves, they still collectively hung around in the main room. "She's a bold woman I'll give her that." The old man with the ponytail spoke with his arms crossed over his chest. Naoya fumed in his seat, his nose crinkling in disgust as he replayed your words over in his head. "Nice to meet... some of you." the fucking audacity. He was the heir to the Zenin clan, did you not know that? Talking to him like he's some trash, dumb woman.

"The only thing good about that noisy woman is her ass, what the hell does Toji see in her?" Naoya spoke, making Nobito laugh as he took another swig from the whiskey bottle, holding it by the neck. "She has a nice face, and she's undoubtedly strong if even Toji was willing to praise her like that in front of Nobito." The teen said, shrugging his shoulders. Naoya tsked, crossing his arms over one another, staring at some corner of the room angrily.

The locker room talk about your body and other discussions about you and Toji continued for a couple minutes before their talk was interrupted by a loud sound shrieking through the walls. The men raised their eyebrows, stopping all conversation as they waited to hear the sound again. "Agh!!" There it was again, the loud sound being muffled by the walls that separated them from the source. "The hell is that?" Naoya spoke first, his voice cutting into the otherwise silent room.

"Shh." Nobito hushed, setting the bottle down he scanned his eyes around the walls, waiting to see where the sound was coming from. "Ah-ah-ah!" He tilted his ear towards the direction of the sound when the moans came more steadily, his head tipping in the direction of where you and Toji were staying. Naoya was growing frustrated, already annoyed that his dad had hushed him in front of everyone. "Toji- Fuck-" That was all they needed to hear. Nobito let out a hearty laugh, as he raised to his feet, whiskey bottle in hand as he started for the sliding door that would take him to the garden.

Naoya's face was plastered with a blush, did you just-? "Fucking under Nobito's roof after being absent for a decade, heh~" The shaggy-haired man laughed. "He's marking his territory, bastard," Nobito spoke before sliding the door shut behind him, lounging on the edge of the deck. He thought you were eye candy, sure, but he didn't want to hear his nephew fucking his wife in front of him, he would rather be the one doing the fucking.

Toji's growls could be heard through the walls as he fucked into you, the sound of an old bed creaking through the walls was not missed by Naoya's ears. "Even her voice is cute." One of the men spoke. Naoya couldn't take this torture anymore, with his face completely flushed, he rose to his feet, walking quickly out of the room. "It's disgusting." Naoya spit, sliding the big wooden door loudly behind him.

Some maids were in the hallway gossiping when he exited. Giggling and covering their faces as they listened to Toji absolutely ruin your shit. His face burning hot as he leaned against the door, he glanced up at the women, "What the hell do you think you're doing? Get back to work." Naoya hissed, the woman immediately dispursing to finish their chores. He sighed when they were out of sight, finally looking down at his Kimono, he noticed a tent had formed at his crotch, he looked at it in disgust, scrunching his face up as he made quick work to his room, which coincidentally neighbored Toji's.

"You like that baby? Like when I fuck your tight little cunt like this? Toji groaned, gripping your hips as he brought your ass back to meet his thrusts, fucking his cock into your g-spot with pinpoint precision. "Y-yes Toji- Love it- love it so much!" You groaned. He had you face down, ass up, and his hips were being so fucking mean. Mercilessly he pulled his cock almost completely out, before bulling the entirety of his girth into your tight pussy, loud squelches filling the room at how wet you were.

"Yeah you do, take my cock-" thrust "so" thrust "fucking" thrust "well-!" He grit through his teeth, his hips colliding with your ass and making the fat ripple. He had only pushed your kimono up, revealing your pussy to him, he himself had only pulled his cock out through the slit, making it easier for him to get inside you faster after he briefly stretched you out on his fingers. "You're so pretty baby, fuck- such a good fucking wife-" He groaned, making a point to say that last part extra loud.

He didn't feel like he had anything to prove to his family, he knew how good you were to him, and how in love the two of you were. He just wanted to make them jealous, they were all old, ugly, and wifeless or had shells of women on their arms after all. He saw how they looked at you, how they tried to look through your Kimono and get even a sliver of skin to feast their eyes upon. He wanted them to know they would never, in a million years, get the chance, so here he was, fucking his lively young wife, bubbly and full of personality, in their prison of a home.

"Wanna ride me, baby? Let em' hear how good you fuck me?" He asked, not letting up his assault on your pussy. You drooled and whined into the sheets, gripping your nails into the expensive cloth as your body jerked and slid across the sheets from his manhandling. Riding Toji was a rare feat, it got him so worked up. The angle at which your pussy sucked in his cock, how deep he got, always made him relinquish control unconsciously, which is why it was so rare he let you ride him.

You nodded into the sheets, your words getting slurred together when you mumbled out "yesyesyes" while he fucked you. Toji laughed, pulling out his cock he continued to jerk it slowly, spreading your juiced all over him before he plopped on the bed next to you, holding your outer hip to pull you towards him as he got comfortable against the sheets. With shaky legs, you slung them over Toji's hips, watching him still jerk his cock in his large hand as you situated your pussy to hover right over his fat tip.

"Sit down baby, fuck me." He said the smile your husband had on his face being controlled by lust and love together. His eyes immediately rolled to the back of his head when you sat down on his cock, his abs clenching and legs twitching as you eased his length into you. "Fuuuuck, that's good~" He groned, tipping his head back into the pillows as your pussy swallowed up his cock to the hilt. He could feel every bump and ridge of your cock, your warmth, how fucking tight you were in this position--he already felt himself going dumb.

"Fuck me baby, bounce on my fucking cock-" Toji begged, his hands coming to grip your hips and aid you the best he could in lifting you off his cock and slamming you back down on it. "God~ Toji, you're f-filling me up!" You whined, starting a quick pace on him, pressing your hands against his pecs for stability as you gound your clit against his pelvis every time his cock bottomed out inside you. Toji had his eyebrows scrunched together, his jaw dropped open as he moaned freely into the room, his moans overshadowing yours.

"Y-yeah? Feel my b-big cock fuckin' up 'ur guts?" Toji laughed through a deep whine, trying to watch his length disappear into your pussy when you sat down on it, but he was having a hard time keeping his eyes forward in their sockets. "Yes, Toji- fuck!" You cried out when one of his hands came down to rub his thumb against your clit. The added stimulation made you ride him harder as you chased your orgasm. He loved touching your clit not only because it made you feel good and he loved seeing your reactions to it, but also because your pussy tightened up like it was trying to constrict his cock when he did so.

His body jerked forward every time his dick slid inside you, his deep voice laughing through his arousal when you stopped your bouncing and instead ground against him. The movements made his cock rub against your sweet spot deep inside you. He watched your head tip back as your nails dug into his chest at how good you were feeling. "Choke me baby, cmon~" Toji begged quietly into the air, needing to feel your smaller hand squeeze around his neck when you came.

One of your hands slid up the expanse of his chest, traveling over the fabric of the Kimono as you splayed your fingers out along his neck, giving him a squeeze. The smirk on his face grew tenfold, a dopey grin spreading across his features. "Yesyesyes baby- yesss-" His words were slurred, his eyes rolling back every time his cock was forced against your walls from your incessant humping along his pelvis.

"Baby I'm gonna cum-" You spoke breathlessly, squeezing your hand tighter around his throat as you were brought closer and closer to your high. Toji was getting dizzy, not just from you choking him out, but from watching you shut your eyes and hump yourself on his dick, getting yourself off on him like he was some sex toy--and he fucking loved it. "Yeah- use me baby, use me, cum all over my dick baby please~" He groaned, his jaw falling open and closed like a fish out of water, his eyebrows scrunching shut as he watched your orgasm crash over you.

Your hand around his neck loosened when you came, your orgasm wracking through your body as you jerked and twitched on top of him, your hips losing their rhythm. That was Toji's sign to take over. He abandoned his thumb on your clit and brought his hand back up to join the other in grabbing your waist. He planted his feet on the bed and started pistoning his hips against your ass like a madman. He fucked you through your orgasm and into overstimulation as he brought himself to his own high.

He watched you grit your teeth and squeeze your eyebrows together, pushing through the painful pleasure. "Almost there baby- doin' so good letting me use you like this- fuck-" He praised, shaking his head agaisnt the sheets as he watched your body bounce limply on top of him. Toji was too fucked out to announce before he came, but you knew. His hips lost their rhythm, his voice got higher and higher in pitch before he stilled his hips against your ass.

He groaned hard as he felt the first ropes of his cum shoot inside your pussy. He shot his body up and wrapped his arms around your torso, hiding his face in your neck as he bit down hard against the skin there, letting your cunt milk his balls as his hips stuttered agaisnt you, his cock releasing all of his seed as deep as he could into you. "Fuuuck-" He groaned against your skin when he started coming down from his high.

You pulled your head back, grabbing his face between your hands you pressed your lips to his, breathing heavily against his lips as the two of you kissed passionately. You pulled away, smiling at his flushed face, "Probably sounded like we just made a baby." you giggled, wiping the sweaty strands of his hair from his forehead. "If they ever find out I got a vasectomy, they might have a heart attack," Toji smirked, making you giggle as he peppered kisses on your face. "So maybe we should." He added, dropping his kisses to your neck as the two of you embraced each other, his softening cock still snug in your walls.

In the room over, a fuming Naoya sat on the edge of his bed, his jerking slowing over his softening cock, covered in his own cum as he tried to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Fucking... bitch.." He whispered into the room, covering his ashamed face with the back of his arm as he flopped back agaisnt his sheets.

—

The two of you spent another hour cleaning up and enjoying each other's company as you sat outside of Toji's room, your back against the wall of the sliding glass door, Toji sitting in front of you, your clothed feet in his hands as he massaged them softly, listening to you speak. "You ready to leave, princess?" He asked when the conversation died down. You sighed, "I wish your family weren't such assholes, food always tastes better when it's free." Your husband gigged as you retracted your legs, pulling on your sandals as the two of you stood to your feet.

"I'll take you out tonight, you look so pretty in this after all, it would be a waste to not enjoy you out like this," Toji said, walking up to you and holding your waist in his hands as he gave you a one-over. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips before the two of you made your way back inside to say your goodbyes to the men of the household.

Entering the same room you met them all in before, they were all in their respective places, even Naoya. They all looked over at the two of you as the doorway slid open, Toji's hand on your waist. "We won't be staying for dinner, it's been awful, as always," Toji smirked, looking around the room but spending a little extra time on Nobito and Naoya. You smiled in faux politeness, the bright red bite mark on your next standing out like a sore thumb when you tipped your head to the side. "You think you can just use my home as some sex hotel, and leave?" Nobito asked incredulously, raising en eyebrow at Toji before taking a large swig of the alcohol. You silently prayed he would die in this moment of alcohol poisoning.

Naoya's face was bright red as he stared at the pair of you in disgust, his observant eyes picking up the bruises across Toji's neck from you stranging him in bed. "Watch us." You replied, which made a proud Toji Zenin look down at you and smile. The two of you backed up and shut the door behind you, leaving quickly without another word.

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rafeyssugar · 4 months ago

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starving for you

rafe couldn’t help it. he told himself to stop—over and over again—but his brain never listened. his eyes had a mind of their own, locked onto you like you were some sort of divine temptation sent just to ruin him.

it was a problem. a serious one.

because you weren’t his. you weren’t his girl, weren’t his anything except a friend—one who had absolutely no clue what you were doing to him

the pool party

it was just a regular summer afternoon, nothing crazy. a few friends, a pool, music, drinks—typical pogue vs. kook nonsense.

except nothing was typical when it came to you.

you had shown up in the tiniest bikini rafe had ever seen, all soft curves and sun-kissed skin, laughing like you weren’t absolutely wrecking his ability to think straight.

he was trying—god, he was trying—to look anywhere but at your tits, but you weren’t making it easy. especially when you leaned over the edge of the pool, dripping wet, arms pressing against the concrete, giving him a perfect view.

“rafe,” kelce said, smirking, “you’re staring, bro.”

“shut the fuck up,” rafe muttered, dragging a hand down his face, but he still didn’t look away.

the bonfire

it was cold, but you didn’t care. you were curled up in a hoodie—his hoodie, not that you noticed—knees pulled up to your chest, laughing at something jj said.

rafe wasn’t listening to the conversation. he was too busy watching the way the fabric of his hoodie stretched over your chest, the way you absentmindedly played with the strings, twisting them around your fingers, totally unaware of how badly he wanted to be the one tugging at them.

“yo, you good?” topper asked, raising an eyebrow.

rafe clenched his jaw. “fine.”

the sleepover

it wasn’t supposed to be anything weird. you’d crashed at his place before—plenty of times.

but this time? this time, you had decided to wear that shirt.

the tiny white one, the one that clung to you in all the right places, barely covering anything. and with no bra underneath? yeah, rafe was done for.

he had to physically restrain himself from staring at the way your nipples pressed against the thin fabric, obvious—taunting himself—like they were just begging for his attention.

then you stretched, arms lifting over your head, the movement making the already short hem ride up even higher, exposing more of your stomach, teasing the soft skin underneath.

“jesus christ,” rafe muttered under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

you finally noticed.

“what’s wrong with you?” you asked, tilting your head, amused.

rafe exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “nothing.”

but then you shifted, crossing your arms over your chest, pushing up the fabric just slightly—

and rafe lost it.

“nah,” he groaned, rubbing his face. “you need to put something else on. now.”

you blinked. “huh?”

“i—fuck,” he muttered, standing up so fast the chair nearly tipped over. “just… forget it.”

but you didn’t forget. not when you saw the way his hands clenched into fists, the way his breathing was uneven, the way his jaw tightened like he was holding back something dangerous.

and that’s when you realized—

this whole time, rafe hadn’t just been looking. he’d been starving.

a/n: gon bless yall w a part 2 later dwww❣️❣️

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robolvrr · 7 months ago

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behind closed doors. ੈ♡˳

optimus prime x afab human reader warnings: nsfw.

he is fascinated.

it took a great deal of convincing. not him, but you - over mass displacement. you argued that with all the warnings from ratchet the purpose of such mechanisms should only be applied for tasks of importance.

optimus, as stoic as he can be now, could only hide his smile behind the battle-worn mask. "you are of importance", he said, such a simple reply. yet, he watched as you gaped like a goldfish, flustered beyond belief.

the prime had seen many a spectacle. overgrown forests bursting with life. deserts as dry as the sands of beachy hills and glacier cooled mountains under canopies of wind and snow. none could ever compare to humanity. so delicate and resilient, resourceful.

this adoration grips his spark in stride, especially when you finally get over nerves and slowly slip the velvet of your robe off a shoulder.

it's an intimate affair. skin and curve and softness, much closer than before. he's taller still, at least several feet. but now, he can gently grab your arms. squeeze his digits like scooping gold and watch entranced when the love indents form.

"optimus..."

a whine. he gingerly lets you go, still crowding your space. you show no actual discomfort and it's obvious by the time the puddle of fabric slips to your ankles, creating a halo around your feet. his optics, electric, take in the swell of your ass. your thighs, calves, biceps.

"the shower will get cold, my love."

now you are the one in a trance. so, you slide open the glass door, fingerprints leaving a kiss in the fog. your lover follows behind slowly, as if you might bound off like startled deer.

optimus wrangles his pondering by working the knots from your back instead.

the noises leaving your wet lips stir at his core. he feels perverted, watching your head tip back until the crown hits his chassis, spine arching beautiful as those modes of destruction and heroism glide down the front of your body.

droplets cling to your chest and drip down your chin. his fans, internal, click to a blast which is dampened by cascading shades from the shower-head.

"you look so small.. like this."

surprise takes your features by storm and his helm feels hot, not meaning to have said the thought aloud. however, when you part your legs to allow him to sponge lavender and honey suds with care, he can tell you find his sentiment charming.

he was so awkward with you at first.

now, the leader is wrapped tight around your fingers and you are wrapped tight around his. he can't help himself, thick silver of his middle digit pumping in and out. greedy where milky white coats and while his servos are still navigating, pleasing, you're practically drowning for him already.

you're cute. cute when you lift to the balls of your feet when he just can't take it anymore, array unlocking and spike rocking a steady pace that has you panting against porcelain.

when you aren't sounding dumb anymore, dribbling and babbling like you've lost your mind, you might laugh at the idea of the optimus prime being an ass-man.

it's a shameful vice when he switches positions. you're much bendier underneath warm drizzles, so you let him lift your leg just enough to hitch close to your hip so he can find that special angle that gets you singing. those "ah, ah, ah!"s when your flesh ripples, crushed ribbon beneath his grip.

and then you're crying, tangle of limbs while he sits. still full to the brim, strawberry pink coating your clit as he keeps close to you in a way you can't speak of beyond closed walls.

robolvrr 2024.

a/n: it has been so busy with holidays coming up! i am one tired gal. but i wanted to write a lil something (and i love this old tired man.)

#maccadam #transformers x reader #optimus prime x reader #/nsft #valveplug #/nsfw #optimus prime #transformers x human reader

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ohimsummer · 2 years ago

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COLD SHOULDER ft. BULLY! SATOSUGU

—minors dni, dubcon, oral [f. receiving], bully!satosugu x fem! reader, nipple play, groping, kissing, fingering, clit stimulation, one pussy slap, pet names (princess, pretty (girl), baby, sweetheart, puppy), implied penetration at the end

wc 2.2k

It’s obvious that someone like Gojo feeds off your reactions. He tugs at your hair so you yell at him, gets in your face until you’re forced to push him away, and he loves, loves, loves, the back and forth bickering for those truly vile insults you always sling his way. He’s just obsessed with little ol’ you. Barely at height with his chest, can’t move him an inch even with your sturdiest push, and yet you remain combative to Gojo’s every action. Until you’re not.

“You know she’s been giving me the silent treatment these past few days?” The warm feel of Gojo’s breath skims the shell of your ear, warmth pooling in your core while you shrivel deeper into Geto’s chest. Gojo runs a tongue over your earlobe, and pulls back just enough to catch your gaze, white brows upturned into a sad pout, before whining, “I mean really, what’s a guy gotta do for a pretty girl’s attention around here?”

Your eyesight darts to anything else in whoever’s bedroom this is, hoping to find some kind of distraction to take your mind off of these two. Gojo’s hot, heavy pants are loud over the stifled bump of music in the main area, piercing shrieks and cheers of drunk and crazed partygoers who are none the wiser to your current dilemma. Large, curious hands wander beneath your skirt, toying with the snug waistband of your panties. Geto’s firm hold keeps your wrists bound at the curve of your back, leaving you at the fiendish mercy of his white-haired friend.

“Just look at you, all pretty and dolled up.,” Gojo hums, lips lingering over your neck as he inhales your scent, before teeth sink in to add another purplish mark on your skin. “Can’t keep my hands off ya, princess.”

You want to lash out at him, bite back with the heinous album of comments that have been building on your tongue, hopefully enough to bruise his massive ego. Or tell him to get the hell off of you and keep his filthy hands out of your space. And he knows it, Gojo can recognize that familiar look of fury in your eyes, and he just adores how you so stubbornly keep biting your tongue. The stronger your efforts, the higher his yearning to hear just a single word from you.

“Still tryin’ to ignore us?,” Geto chuckles into the crown of your head. “Shame, I love the sound of that pretty voice.” He fidgets under you, grinding himself against your ass, an intoxicating, herbal smell of drugs wafting off of him. “C’mon, Satoru, make our little puppy bark.”

“Gladly”, Gojo remarks, eyebrows wiggling at you before two fingers skim dangerously close to your core. A shiver runs through you as Gojo mashes firm fingers to your cunt, prodding at your throbbing entrance through your panties, rubbing them over your pussy and coating your underwear in slick. Your lips quiver, legs desperately moving to close but they’re hooked over his friend’s knees, and Gojo licks his lips at your response. He casts a glance over your shoulder, likely at Geto, before moving up an inch to your aching clit.

“Ha, you’re fuckin’ soaked.,” he laughs teasingly, pulling at the crotch of your panties and watching the dripping strings of fluid connect back to your cunt, before letting the fabric snap back into place. “Actin’ all tough, pff, whatever.”

The words ‘shut up’ graze the tip of your tongue, just begging to be said, but you refuse to give in. That’s all they, especially Gojo, want. To get some kind of vehement reaction from you, and you won’t allow them the pleasure. Not when Geto eases a hand up your shirt to free your tits from your bra, and not even when Gojo begins sliding your underwear down your legs.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling on the plump flesh, eyes narrowing at the sight of your panties disappearing into Gojo’s pockets before he spreads your thighs even wider. Heat rushes to your face at the knowledge that your pussy is practically on display for him. His twinkling blue eyes flicker over your glistening cunt, playful as Gojo leans in to plant rough kisses and nips over the expanse of your thighs. He spreads the drenched lips of your pussy, taking in the way you tighten and squeeze in a plea to be filled, before poking an index finger at your hole. His finger sinks right in, swallowed by your wet, greedy cunt up to his knuckle before he wiggles it around inside you. Geto takes note of your hitched breathing, how your wrists defy his grip in an effort for freedom. You catch winks of flowing black next to you, almost blending in with the dark shadows of this room, before you hear his voice low in your ear:

“Feel good, darling?”, Geto studies the flutter of your lids as his friend drives shallow thrusts into you. A long, needy whine breaks free, and he huffs a small laugh. “Mm, I know.”

Gojo sighs,“Fuck…”, totally awestruck at the way his large digit just disappears amidst the gumminess of your drooling walls. He retreats from your entrance, and both you and Geto can clearly tell he’s in love with the way your slick coats and drips down his finger. A steady fire blooms across every inch of your skin as Gojo takes the messy finger in his mouth, moaning in satisfaction at the flavor of you on his tongue. He savors the taste, eyes never leaving your own, and you watch as Gojo thoroughly licks the finger clean.

“Wanna taste?,” he asks when he’s done, pink tongue darting over his lips. “Or is that gross?”

He laughs at the scowl that forms on your face. You hate how Gojo somehow reads you so well, knows you’d call him disgusting and a pervert for what he just did. Hate how, if he didn’t know before, he definitely knows now that this is turning you on, if the way you leak fluids all down your thighs and this wooden dresser is any indication.

Geto’s pinch of your nipple acts as a distraction, pulling your attention back to his feverish, one-handed assault of your breasts. His fist clenches around your wrists, and you feel the hardness of Geto’s erection on your ass when he rolls his hips against you again.

“Mph!,” you barely stifle a whimper when Gojo lands a slap on your pussy, wetness spraying onto his flushed face. The way these two keep yanking your focus in every direction has your head dizzy.

Gojo raises an eyebrow at you. “Oh, what was that? Wanna speak up, princess?”

You give a desperate shake of your head, struggling to control the heave of your breathes as he begins massaging your clit under his thumb. “You sure?” And when you glare down at him, he shrugs. “Alright, then!”

Your eyes widen as he leans in closer, tracing over you one last time, and takes your pulsating clit between his lips, a loud whine catching in your throat as Gojo gives you a harsh suck. Head falling back over Geto’s shoulder, you arch away from his body, toes curling as Gojo laps and suckles onto the aching bud. Your jaw clenches, whimpering noises bubbling up your throat as your eyes roll to the back of your head, but you can’t help the few moans and mewls that break free.

“Ah, there it is, those sweet sounds.,” Geto muses, squeezing your wrists again in warning before releasing his grip on you. He’s pleased when you make no effort to fight back, muttering a ‘good girl’ with a pinch to your ass and trails his newly free hand up the expanse of your throat. Giving it a light squeeze, he kisses the roundness of your cheek, faintly rubbing a thumb over the tensed skin of your neck, and pulls your lips towards him. Your lids flutter open a crack, blurry image of Geto’s defined features overrunning your vision, before the soft feel of his lips covers your mind in a thick fog. Without your hands or a bruising bite to stifle yourself, the noise of your high-pitched cries easily begin to flood the room, a satisfying melody for both their ears.

“Can’t keep it in anymore, pretty?,” Gojo’s muffled taunt reaches from between your thighs, vibrations of his voice on your clit sending a twitch throughout your legs.

You can’t see him, only the mess of white hairs from the corner of your vision, but you can feel the penetration of his tongue, how it traces the surface of your walls, determined to mark every inch within reach. He uses thick fingers to bully your clit with rough circles and sharp pinches, rolling the hardened nub in his mouth between laps and broad strokes of his tongue, all of which easily drive out loud, needy whines you couldn’t even hope to hold back anymore.

“Keep making those lovely sounds, darling.” Geto moans into your mouth, sucking on your tongue before biting at your bottom lip. “Show Satoru how good he’s making you feel.”

Hot pants brush over your pussy, but Gojo continues his abuse of your clit. “Yeah, baby, talk to me, hm?”

The words, whether they were praise or an insult, because at this point you don’t know, get stuck in your throat, leaving room for only a choked sob to fall out as your hips mindlessly rut against Satoru’s fingers. Geto tightens his fist around your throat, leaving you struggling for already difficult breathes, his fingers still pinching and tugging at the pebbled skin of your nipples. The warmth in your abdomen has blossomed into a raging fire, muscles spasming as you gasp against Geto’s face, curses of ‘f–fuck–!’ and ‘shit!’ leaving your kiss-swollen lips at the sensation of your rapidly approaching orgasm.

“Hey, princess…,” Gojo catches your half-lidded gaze, tears building at the corners of your eyes. “Better talk to me or you don’t get to cum, got it?”

You twist your lips in a scowl, mind too dizzy but you know he means what he says, and you think you’d pass out and die if he took your orgasm from you when you were so close. He’s such an asshole, of course he’d hold your orgasm ransom just to get a few half-baked remarks out of you. Gojo's eyes peer into your own, head slightly tilted as he watches you weigh the options in your mind.

“F–,” he raises a brow expectantly, azure eyes widening in anticipation, trained on your lips as you hesitate on your words. “Fuck you, Gojo.”

And you’d think someone had just offered him all the money in the world the way his eyes light up, gleaming cerulean blues that crease under the giant grin on his face.

“Ah!,” he teases, shortly relishing in the moan you let out as he stuffs a third finger into your cunt. “There it is! Been dyin’ to say that to me all day, haven’t ya?”

You try and focus on something else, anything else to drown out his incessant mockery. But all that’s on your mind is Geto’s tongue down your throat, and his strong hand restricting your airflow, and Gojo still talking as his fingers curl to press into that spongy spot inside you–

“S–Satoru!,” you cry out, legs quaking as the coil in your tummy snaps, and your pussy gushes around his fingers.

Gojo stares, thoroughly bewitched by the way his name fell off your lips, and the cum drooling from your pussy, remnants of it dripping down his face and embedding into his clothes. “Holy shit…”He absentmindedly runs his thumb over the mess of your still-spasming cunt, barely taking in when you jolt under his touch.

“Stop it, Gojo, ‘m sensitive.,” you murmur between Geto's softened, sporadic kisses.

Your voice draws his attention, and suddenly Gojo is extremely aware of the aching hardness between his legs. He reaches down to palm at himself, hissing at the press of his hand against the bulge, before standing up from his kneeled position.

“Just look what you did, got me stiff as shit down here.,” Gojo huffs, undoing his pants to allow his cock some much-needed air.

You watch, dumbstruck, as the large appendage springs free. Even in the dim light of this room, you can see the redness of his tip, dick bobbing, precum dribbling down the length of it as Gojo takes a step closer, lining himself up with your entrance before rubbing up and down your slit.

Your eyes widen in surprise and you wriggle, only accomplishing to rub your sensitive clit against the head of his cock and Gojo sighs out a breath. “I-I said–!”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard ya.,” he interjects, rubbing two hands over your thighs. Gojo takes the back of your knees, holding your legs up higher to essentially fold you in half, and presses his hips forward, watching your cunt threaten to swallow his tip. “Maybe it’s good that you’re all sensitive, now. Might get ya talking some more for us, no?”

You angrily narrow your eyes at him, whining at the burn of his fat tip stretching you out. “No.”

And Gojo’s smirk widens. “Yeah, baby, just like that.”

#satosugu x reader #bully!satosugu #bully satosugu #satoru gojo smut #geto suguru smut #suguru geto x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satosugu x reader smut #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader

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luiluvr · 4 months ago

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touch — luigi mangione

oh hii !! i saw @vershautece’s post and hadddd to write this, and deepest apologies i have NOT written smut before like my blog is losing its virginity </3 anywaysss hope u enjoy it!!

WARNINGS: f!reader, 18+, sex, dry humping/thigh riding, lu cumming in his pants, college!luigi loses his virginity, unprotected p in v i tried proofreading but when i wrote this i was half asleep so ☠

SUMMARY: Literally just sex (taking Lu's virginity :3) and dry humping him in his sweatpants gahhh

WC: 2.8k

Mess, mess, what a mess! Homecoming at UPenn was no joke. The frat boys painted their bodies the college’s colors, rowdy hallways and loud music. The campus buzzed with life; and the boys showed no shame — especially Luigi Mangione. He was new; a freshman. In contrast to the other male students, he was different. Had the smarts you know would take him many places, the charisma of a romcom boyfriend, everything you could want or need.

Lucky for you, he had his eyes drawn to your pretty figure, the way your skirt bounced, your thighs, and overall, your smile. He loved those rosy lips and kind flashes of teeth.

“Did I get my back?” Luigi asks his friend, Lane.

“Barely.” His friend chuckles, most of the paint on Luigi’s lanky figure was dried. He just needed assistance mapping out the ‘P’, since he and his friends were going to line up in the stands and spell out Penn.

“Can you help me then?”

“No, I gotta get help myself, I’m not gonna paint you, that’d be weird!” Lane laughs. Luigi’s thick, bushy brows furrow, “what do you suggest then, Dr. Know-it-all?”

“Get the girls to do it.”

“Oh come on,” Luigi sighs, “I don’t want them to be uncomfortable.” Lane sighs, “they’re not gonna be uncomfortable. If they like us, anyway… You could ask Y/N..” Lane teases him, smirking and bumping his shoulder.

“We still have an hour or two.” Luigi nods, plenty of time to get painted on by his crush. You.

So, with their heads held high, the boys walked the campus with their bodies painted blue and red to the dorms where you and your friends stayed. Your roommate was actually dating Lane — you never quite understood that. A knock at the door later, and the girl’s fun get ready for homecoming was crashed with body paint.

Unfortunately for Lane, he forgot the second bottle of white paint. Your roommate accompanied them back across campus.

The other girls had disappeared, including the last blue-painted boy; leaving you alone with Mangione. You side eye him a moment, he stood awkwardly, rubbing his cracked, painted palms together. He had smuggled the white paint bottle.

You looked so cute to him, your creamy thighs, carefully lined lips and the white skirt with a blue blouse. He could feel himself growing a bit hard. It was embarrassing, you were so pretty and perfect to him, but he was a virgin — contrary to popular belief. He just liked you. He wanted you.

Luigi finally breaks the silence, watching you pull the rollers from your shiny hair. He clears his throat, “uh, Y/N?” His voice was a bit shaky.

“Yes?” You reply, your voice as smooth as honey.

“When you’re done… Would you mind helping me paint my back and uhmm.. The P on my stomach?” Don’t blush, Luigi.

Oh he’s so cute, he’s so shy asking you, his bunched up curls and tall stance. You shiver at the thought of touching him.

“Sure.” You said simply, not wanting to seem too excited.

After a bit you finally tended to him. You coated your hands in the paint and slathered it over his boney back. He wasn’t exactly the most buff guy, but he had a normal body for this age. He was really attractive, he wore those slutty gray sweatpants every girl begs her boyfriend to wear.

In this case, you didn’t ask him, he came to you like that.

It wasn’t your fault it was so obvious, the gentle outline through the fabric, you avoided looking at it, so he wasn’t weirded out by you. You always knew this guy was packing. Literally. He had you paint down to his waist, his v-line was so prominent.

For Luigi, your hands on him was like being dropped in heaven rather than the gates. He tensed a little at first but your warm palms soothe his occasional aches. He stood with posture and hopeful confidence, he liked you way too much.

“Okay, red’s done.” You state, showing him in the bathroom mirror as you wash it off your palms. “Looks great.” He says, you ended up using a blow dryer to get it dry faster. He had to sit down on the couch for a few, you did too. All that work plus doing your hair prior was tiring.

He looks over at you, his freckles show overlaying blush and his beauty marks are so perfectly placed on each cheek.

“What is it?” You questioned, wanting to know why he was staring so hard. He freezes and stares more, like a deer in headlights. “Sorry, I…I think you’re really pretty.” His cheeky, little crooked smile. You wanted to kiss him so bad.

“Thank you, Luigi.”

“O-of course.”

You smile warmly and tip your head back, looking up at the ceiling a moment, then he speaks up, his voice cracks. “I like you.” God, he was nervous.

“You do?”

“I do.”

“I like you too.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

He silently cheered and ran a lap around, celebrating in his mind, but outside he nodded and looked at you as though you’re the only girl to ever exist in this world. “I really like that skirt of yours too.” He blurts.

“Yeah?” You chuckle.

“Yeah..” He bit his lip subconsciously and looks down at your thighs, pressed together and pressed to the cushion, he was almost jealous the couch could be sat on by you. He wanted to kiss up your legs and praise every part of your body, and let himself get lost in his sexual desires for you, he wanted-

“My eyes are up here, Lu.” You smile. His hazel irises dart up, his cheeks impossibly turn more pink, and he starts to get cocky.

“They are," he says quietly. “I wanna look down here though.” He continued. Something changed, like the quiet, nervous atmosphere had shifted into an undeniable need, longing and prayers that it would evolve into something soon before one of you lost it.

You stood to get the white paint from the table, but Lu grabbed your hand and stopped you abruptly. “Luigi?”

“C’mere.” He whispers, pulling you down on his lap, somehow, at some point there was a spurt of confidence in him that shone like a star now. “Lu-“

“Shhh.” He says, looking at your body in his hands, although clothed he can only imagine what lies beneath it. He blinks, then reaches for your breasts. He looks for reassurance, once you nod he’s practically a goner. His large, slender fingers are groping and squeezing your boobs, so gently yet possessively in a way you liked.

“You’re s-so..” Words are uncomprehending in his brain, all he thinks and sees is lust. He leans forward and kisses between your collarbones. Slowly up your throat, stopping at your jaw. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I need you so badly, Y/N.” He murmurs, looking at you greedily.

With a tug, he popped open the buttons on your lace blouse, you were never one to wear a bra underneath a top like this — so when he was met with bare breasts, he almost frothed at the mouth. It took a moment before he gazes between your face and boobs, you nod; and he’s gone. Again.

His kiss was tender and he only suckled for so long before nursing the other breast, kneading one softly, then switching off. It felt so intimate, yet so sweet coming from him. You could only moan, letting your fingers curl up in his hair.

Then he cupped your ass, squeezing the flesh and all he felt was the dampened fabric of your panties under the skirt. His eyes meet yours like a needy puppy’s. “You want me…?” He asks, in a state of disbelief that this was real.

“I do.”

He fidgets for a moment, he wanted to tell you, but you had an idea. To try something different but equally pleasurable for yourself, he had no clue what you were doing until you were doing it. Softly, you straddled one of his thighs and began moving your aching need against it. He watched in awe, his cock was getting harder from the warmth, the fabric friction and your sounds. The sounds…

He exhaled, holding you in place, he nudged his thigh forward, causing a gasp to escape you. Each second grew more needful for both of you, he was so turned on he couldn’t think straight. “Lu,” you moan, and moan. Gently dry humping his thigh, it was so tender. You were so wet you left a small stain on the thigh of his sweatpants.

He was desperate and being a virgin in this state, he needed something more. Luigi grabs your hips and moves you directly on his erection. He leans so he is almost laying back, with you on top, he encourages you to keep moving.

You do.

You humped him through the sweats, his hardness rubbing against you in all of the right ways, your eyes flutter and you can feel how desperate you’re getting to have him inside you. Luigi could barely handle it, he was whiny, enjoying the view of you rubbing against his tented pants. Every now and then he’d buck up against you…

It became too much, he was guiding your hips, making sure you felt him against your pussy and ass — he groaned, feeling the twitch in his pants become more consistent until you moved so much he panted, begging you. A warmth spread against your panties and you lifted up, glancing down to find Luigi came right there in his briefs and sweats. It was a little endearing to see the male’s cum in that place. He blushes profusely, looking at you with embarrassment. “S-sorry.”

“For what?” “I came too fast.” He whispered. “I don’t think so.” You laugh softly, gazing at the mess you made of him. You turn to face him and lean over, planting your first big kiss on his lips. He moans and cups your face, kissing you sloppily for a long moment. His tongue slipped in your mouth, mapping out, wanting to remember every detail of you.

“I want you.” Your voice rang in the air. “I want you too. Bad.” He pants, then debates — “But uhm… I’m a virgin.”

You grin, pinching his cheek softly. “Oh, Lu, you think that’ll stop me?” He gushes. You tug him up from the couch, then grab the paint bottle and head back to the bathroom, shutting the door behind the both of you.

One hour to gametime.

Your fingers moved across his abdomen and lower chest, tracing the letter P, he was so shaky and sensitive still from cumming in his pants — it didn’t help he couldn’t clean that up yet either. You took extra time and care to paint him right and once done, you teasingly wiped your paint-covered thumb over his dick in the sweats.

He whined, looking down at you, there was no hiding that! “Y-Y/N..” He cooed. Just that action made his member twitch with arousal and life again. “Yes?” Weak, Luigi was so weak to you. He kissed your neck as you cleaned the white paint from your fingertips, “p-please.”

“Please, what?” You ask, looking at him as he shifts on his feet.

“Please… I need you to fuck me.”

“You’re sure you want me to be your first?”

“Positive. That's all I want.. I want you, Y/N. Please.”

From confident to straight up begging to be inside you.

You finally cave in, and the poor thing was so inexperienced, but he wanted to do the work. He only wanted to please you. Following instructions, he shimmied your panties down from under your skirt and showed off your breasts again. All in the mirror. The counter was just the right height and he could bend you over it. You stayed there, letting him get himself ready, you told him, “do what feels right, don’t rush yourself.” He nodded and carefully went a step at a time, you arched a bit and he ran his large palms over your ass. Then he pushed down his sweats and briefs, his erection was almost worse than the one before.

Luigi gently stroked himself, shakily groaning as he stood straight, adjusted your hip and aligned himself, “there we go, don’t be shy.” You say calmly. He gently poked your entrance with his tip, rubbed a bit as you wanted. He was packing — just a lot more than you expected. His tip alone felt so big and he wasn’t even inside you.

“Slowly, now..” He makes sure he’s still aligned right and gently uses his hand to guide his dick’s head into you. He watched you in the mirror. You gasp, not expecting that at all.

“Holy shit… o-okay..” You mumble, “Like I said, do what feels right.. okay?” Luigi nodded, feeling that confident cockiness coming back as he slowly pushed his length inside you, officially and fully, no longer a virgin. His face contorted, brows furrowed, he looks at your ass from this angle, the way your breasts spill out of the blouse.

He let you adjust to his size – more or so, he had to adjust to your slick tightness — he really had to focus here. All he could think of right now was how your pussy felt like heaven.

A flicker of need, and he began pushing in, pulling out, repetitively. You moaned, he did too, enjoying the feel. He got the swing of it pretty quick and ol’ sweet, nerdy Luigi was a little addict after five minutes. His hips slapped into your rear, filling the bathroom with pleasure and his length completely stretched you.

Two desperate souls, desiring. Joined together in passionate lovemaking. Luigi loved how your breasts bounced back n’ forth when he thrusted into you — how you moaned, your eyes shut and rolled back, all of it in the reflection for him to take in. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna cum.” He growls into your ear, kissing your neck as he brushes your hair aside.

“Okay.” You hum, he glances at you in the mirror. “I can pull out-“

“Don’t you dare.” You smiled slyly, cutting him off. Luigi blushed, confused, but not stopping his thrusts. “Are you sure…?”

“Yes.”

He was hesitant but fuck, he loses his virginity to you and he gets to cum inside you? Double win for him.

His movements became sloppy and erratic, needy and quick. You were a squirming, writhing mess — especially when he curiously reached under you and began rubbing at your clit. For someone with zero experience he found it quick. It made you whine, it made him feel so empowered for that moment…

“Lu, I’m gonna..” You pant, your back arching against him. He leans you up and cups around your ribs, holding you steadily so he can just thrust faster, it was a change but it felt amazing.

He made you really cry out in pleasure, your walls clung to him like a last lifeline and he groaned deeply, using it to his advantage to get off. He moved faster, despite your overwhelming orgasm, overstimulating you by continuously rubbing at your nub and nipping your neck, “You’re so fucking sexy.” He whispers, you had no clue where his sudden spark came from to be dominant, but you loved it.

Not even a full minute later, you felt him cum inside you – something you both probably shouldn’t have done but gosh, it was so worth it watching him collapse on your back, heaving and planting soft kisses on your shoulder. “That was amazing, God, Y/N, I love you.” He paused, blushing more when he realizes what he’s admitted out loud; but your expression says it all.

“I love you too.”

The both of you cleaned up, you fixed his painted body (and had to change clothes yourself, since some bits that didn’t dry, got all over you.) Thankfully Luigi had a spare pair of sweatpants, stretchy, black fabric. “Hold on, I gotta redo it now,” you smile. Although it meant ruining your makeup, you got the paint on your lips and pressed a kiss against the sweatpants, just over his dick.

“Huh – oh.” Luigi moans as you do so, he flushes and watches you. His heartbeat was quick and he felt so giddy. Gosh, he loved your touch. Then Lane and your roommate returned, he had the ‘E’ painted on his stomach. Now everyone was ready to head out and enjoy homecoming.

It was fun, Luigi and his friends walked together, but of course Lane’s observant eyes glinted. “You have fun Luigi?” He smirks. “What are you talking about?” Luigi responds. “C’mon, I know you had sex with her.”

“What? How?”

Lane pointed at his sweatpants, which he quickly remembered that your lips marked. He rubs his neck nervously and smiles. “So, you finally lost it?” Lane bumps their elbows. Luigi gazed at you, at your smile – laughing with your girl friends. He felt a sense of pride when you look back at him, his stomach flutters.

It also didn't help you had a big red handprint from Luigi's palm-covered hands on your lower butt cheek, which if you walked a certain way, was completely visible in that skirt. Luigi smiled, because he did that.

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

TAGS: @vershautece @iinfinitelimits (lmk if u want to be added!)

#luigi mangione fanfiction #luiluvr #luigi mangione smut #luigi thoughts #luigi nicholas mangione #luigi fanfiction #luigi x reader #luigi mangione

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indecisivekatz · 25 days ago

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DAY 1 OF KPOP DEMON HUNTER ANALYSIS!: Analysing the Costume Designs in KPop Demon Hunters And Subtle Visual Storytelling Before it Releases

Oh yes, you heard me right-- I've only got this theory and another one in the works, but I might think of some other things to hyperanalyse eventually!!

(Contains potential spoilers for the movie!!)

And warning, as my inner analyst comes out, and I start speaking both formal and casual back and forth-- XD Andd-- I uhh, I'm sorta writing this in one go, so if I start repeating myself, I'm sorry lol XD

The Starting Stage Outfits:

Something I really loved about the HUNTR/X's design is how they balanced looking both uniform and unique! And you can REALLY see that with their outfits at what I'm pretty sure is the beginning of the movie.

I like how they establish Rumi as being different to Mira and Zoey (more on this soon), as they put all their yellow around their lower parts of their designs, whilst Rumi keeps it to her jacket.

I especially love how the designers chose purple for Rumi's hair as it's almost complimentary on the colour wheel against the yellows of her jacket, so there's a really high contrast of colours in her design which again, helps her stand out from the two. She seems to have a more rectangular shape in her design (the jacket, the short pants, the bulky platform boots), and rectangles have often been associated with 'sturdiness'. And judging what we've heard about Rumi, this matches her perfectionist personality.

It's interesting that her hair is the one thing that's not 'rectangular', but it still matches her perfectionist personality as it's super high up (which can at times be uncomfortable). Hair symbolism is a lot of fun- but I'm getting ahead of myself, I swear I'll come back to this later on in the post.

Zoey's outfit features very baggy trousers, which goes well with her round buns. Round shapes are often associated with 'good' characters and safety. In this case, I'm pretty sure it captures her fun goofy personality. She's also different from Rumi and Mira who both sport boots. She instead wears sneakers, which potentially indicates that she values comfort over what's aesthetically pleasing. This theory is further corroborated by how she's the only one of the two who hasn't dyed her hair (assuming she wasn't a brown haired aha).

Mira on the other hand has a "very sharp" (not super sharp honestly, but noticeable enough) design with the sharp half pigtails in her hair and sharp sidebangs in her fringe. Her skirt has a very triangular sharp which further exacerbates her sharp design, and whereas Rumi has much bulkier boots (which I assume would be easier to walk in, but don't quote me, sneakers all the way lol), she wears "pointed" boots (not the sharp ended kinda ones you see in high-heel pumps). I think this is indicative of her seemingly more harsh personality...? We haven't seen too much of these girls, so I can't be too sure about this note lol.

A little crumb of a much bigger theory I'm going to talk about, but I also like how Mira and Zoey have black in their tops, whereas Rumi wears white. Once again, making her stand out.

The HUNTR/X's Awards Outfits

So this one I can't really talk about without getting into my bigger theory but, the there's more shape language in this with the 'belts' for the girls! Zoey's got these half-round jewellery (??) stuff that connect her belt. Whereas Mira's got a long fabric knot thingy (I'm sorry I don't know the name 😭) which kindaaa calls to her triangular shape language.

Honestly, Rumi's is the most obvious one, with her rectangular belt.

(EDIT: These outfits are not to be confused with these ones

because if I acknowledge this version of their outfits, everything I'm about to say will be undone- LOL XD)

Pyjamas:

Nothing too much to note, but I love how Mira and Zoey both have purple in their pyjamas, indicating what might likely be a subconscious show of their love and respect for Rumi.

Okay, onto our favourite bad boy band:

The Saja Boys:

On Wednesdays, we wear pink yellow. Except if you're Jinu--

I'M SORRY- there's not much I can really analyse since we don't know too much about these boys. But I find it interesting how these guys copied the HUNTR/X by all of them (except Jinu) wear yellow + pink together what I assume to be their public debut.

Love that Jinu's the only one who didn't dye his hair. I like to think he tricked the other four into thinking he was going to dye it, but then backed out immediately after the others did it. "Actually, as the leader of this team, I don't need to dye my hair. It.... uhh- makes me stand out. Yeah!"

Saja Boys After Watching Mean Girls

Jinu finally got the memo that you need to MATCH your bandmates.

Nothing TOO much to say just that if you look carefully Jinu's shirt patterns have got a tiger stripe design! These guys aren't very subtle.

Notice how now suddenly, the boys are all wearing pink... they're starting to all look the same in terms of uniform. But hey, there's still some distinction in their outfit styles!

The Boys After Watching Wednesday ON Wednesday:

Nothing too much to say again (this one is likely gonna be saved for my next theory in a different post), but their tiger markings are starting to show off in their outfits!

"Okay, it looks like our fans don't we care if we're demon-looking, so long as we're hot and can sing enough, they'll love us regardless lol":

Notice how now these guys are completely uniform, and they now kinda lose their individuality (apart from their hair WHICH, mind you is mostly covered by their hats).

I really like how what I'm pretty sure is going to be their final outfits in the battle, they're all pretty much the same. Any of their personalities in their outfits are just gone. It's likely that it's not considered important to them anymore, since they think they're gonna win.

It's really noticeable in the trailer how when they're in their Jeoseung Saja fits, they're really unindistinguishable for each other, especially in the dark.

It could indicate the Saja Boys' way of thinking, a more 'collective mind' sorta thing. Maybe they put aside some of their own wants and desires in pursuit of pleasing whoever the Big Bad is. (assuming Jinu isn't. And let's be real, it likely isn't him). Isn't it suspicious how we don't have any of the other Saja Boys names but Jinu? Maybe they're all gonna go nameless until the very end of the film.

We all know that identity is going to be one of the main themes of Kpop Demon Hunters, so for the Saja Boys to slowly strip themselves of their identities in favour of unity is really interesting!

THEORY TERRITORY:

Okay now we're into the meat of this post. The part I was the most excited to write for and decided to make this entire post on a dime.

So there's this theory floating around that SPOILERSSS! LAST CHANCE!!

Rumi might possibly be a demon! Or half! And I'm not gonna go into all these specifics about that, since plenty of people have already done that buttt- It's been noted that Rumi tends to cover her arms and neck with her outfits, which is pretty visually obvious ^^

So you know how I mentioned hair symbolism? I think the fact that Rumi has her hair up in a high braided ponytail, it's supposed to symbolise how 'trapped' she is in trying to make herself look utterly perfect. The hairstyle is very likely painful (it looks kind of tight) but it stops her hair from running wild everywhere. Just like how Rumi might be trying to hold back on being her true self.

But you know what's not too visually obvious? The OTHER ways Rumi's character outfits are always just slightly different to the other girls. Let's bring back those outfits again!

This could be coughed up to how Rumi is the leader and therefore, she must always have her outfit be different to the other girls, but I find it very intriguing how it's around the upper area, which is where Rumi always hides her skin the most (potentially due to having demonic marks there), is where she always seems to differentiate from the other girls.

And in this set of outfits case, not only is Rumi the only one wearing white compared to the other girls who wear black on their shirts, but she's the only one wearing the yellow in that area too!

Although, we do see a hint of black on her jacket!

We see this again in their awards outfits:

Notice how Mira and Zoey both wear black shirts, whilst Rumi wears a white shirt?? And how she's the only one with a black jacket. Again, this could possibly just to help her stand out. But I'm wondering if it's symbolic of how she's got a 'good' heart deep inside, but her 'outside' nature as potentially being a demon distracts from that.

And I think there's something to be said about Mira and Zoey having white on the outside, but black on the inside too! Perhaps it's symbolic of how they too are struggling too with appearances, though in their case it's more metaphorical. They want to appear perfect on the outside, but deep down, they have all these 'imperfections' which they consider to be bad, so they do their best to hide them with the white (perfection).

Alternatively, the black could be symbolic of their lives as Hunters. Rumi believes her job as a hunter to be everything, hence why she has a black jacket, it's all consuming her, wrapping itself against her tightly. Whereas with the girls, it's more of their 'inner selfs' and they're a bit more comfortable with it....? If I'm making any sense.

Now this one is really interesting. (I know I've said interesting like a hundred times already) Notice how when the girls first see the Saja Boys, Rumi is all consumed in pink, which is what I'm pretty sure is the Saja Boy's theme colour. And this time, Rumi's covered in black alongside the pink. And she's once again, visually separated from Mira and Zoey who both wear white.

And hey, Rumi's not the only one who does this sorta stuff! Jinu, the leader of the Saja Boys (a fun foil in designs), whilst not as obviously, also differentiates himself from the group. He's the only one who doesn't initially match the Saja Boys in their supposed debut. And if not for Abs Saja (believe me, I'm going to get into that guy next time!!!) he'd be the only one wearing short sleeves, actively promoting his demonic marks in comparison to Rumi who distracts everyone with her big hair (vs Jinu's natural hair colour) and covers her upper body up (verse Jinu who doesn't wear long sleeves)

Anyway, there might be more I have to say, so I may end up editing this later on, but I hope y'all enjoyed the analysis XD AND- I may end up making a following post to this when the movie comes out!

Stay tuned next time for when I talk about why Abs Saja both hates and admires Jinu.... yes, that's actually the next theory coming.

#kpop demon hunters #k-pop demon hunters #kpopdemonhunters #theories #analysis #costume appreciation #costume analysis #kpdh

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neteyamsl0v3r · 1 month ago

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pairing: neteyam x fem!arctic!na'vi!reader

summary: desperate for a place to hide, neteyam and his family found themselves in a place with nothing but snow.

tags: x reader, arctic!na'vi!reader, fluff, eventual romance, denial of feelings is a river egypt, healthy rivalry, hanging out, neteyam head over heels but doesn't know it, (will add more in the future)

wc: 5.2k

masterlist

PART I.

NETEYAM tightened his hold on the fabric wrapped around his body as they flew over the snowy mountains of Eywa’eveng. No matter how thick they had dressed themselves, it cannot offset the coldness that is digging deep into their bones. Seeing how far they have traveled, Neteyam let himself feel a bit of relief, knowing that it would take the sky people a long, long time before they could find any hint of their traces.

It was actually his idea. At first, his father wanted them to go to the Metkayina clan, the reef people. But since Spider’s capture, Neteyam hasn't been sleeping alright knowing full well that the former knew they wanted to go to Metkayina a long time ago in case they needed to flee Omatikaya.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust Spider. But at the end of the day, it's better to be cautious and not take the risk. Especially when it comes to his family. So although unsure, he decided to share his idea to his father. One that his father immediately agreed to when he heard Neteyam’s reasons. Neytiri on the other hand, vehemently disagreed at first, as she knew how far it was. She only agreed when Jake had a one on one talk with her for a long time.

Licking his already dried and flaking lips, Neteyam thought about the place they are headed to. A clan situated so far away that had them traveling for weeks. Traveling traders say they keep to themselves, and are resilient against the harsh weather conditions they live in. They spent almost all their time inside of their ice kelkus, and the rest hunting for their main diet which are fish and other aquatic prey.

The Txuraniya Clan or also known as the cold-loving people. They live on the other side of Pandora, below the icy mountains near the cold ocean covered with nothing but white snow.

Neteyam himself had never seen a snow na’vi, neither his father nor mother. Not even Mo’at, the fallen Eytukan, and their ancestors. It’s a foreign clan that the Omatikaya or any neighbouring clans had never interacted with, even before the first song. Only the traveling na’vis had interacted with them from time to time, and even then, only the Olo-eyktan would show up to meet them.

Definitely a good place to hide and fade away. But the question is, will the Txunariya people accept their request for uturu? Given their nature of keeping to themselves, the chances are actually rather bleak. But, one wouldn’t know without actually trying right?

Neteyam tried his best to lift up his spirits, looking at the large expanse of whiteness below. He can feel his ikran getting tired bit by bit through their tsaheylu. It was definitely bad news, and looking at the area they are flying through, it's obvious that there’s no place they can land and rest on.

Eywa has been kind to them, because despite the weather, none of them actually fell ill as of the moment. Ignoring the numbness in his limbs, he looked at his family in silence.

Seeing Lo’ak and Kiri shivering too, Neteyam considered giving some of his clothing to Kiri, afraid that his sister would fall ill due to the weather. Among all his siblings, she’s the one who’s the most sensitive to climate change.

“Kiri, take this thick fabric.” He endured the biting chill as he removed the thick fabric and offered it to Kiri, but the latter simply shook her head.

“I’m fine, brother. Give it to Lo’ak,” Although in bad shape, Kiri refused without a second thought. She knew her body well, so if she says she can persevere, then she probably can.

Before Neteyam could offer it to Lo’ak, the latter waved his hand in dismissal. “I’m fine bro, just take care of yourself. You’re practically turning into an iceblock yourself.”

Neteyam shook his head and wrapped the thick blanket around his shoulder. Despite thick fabrics wrapped around his hands, he can feel his arms stiffening and cramping as he gripped tighter on the fabric.

“Ma jake, syulang is getting tired. We must find a place to land.” Neytiri looked at her loyal mount in distress, then turned to Jake.

Jake looked at his mate, before heaving a sigh and nodding. It's been almost a day since they last landed. Their ikrans are not only tired but also getting ill because of the weather. If they force these poor creatures to continue flying, they might find themselves suddenly falling from above as their ikran collapses.

They began looking down, trying to find some cave or space they could rest for a bit. Unfortunately, they couldn’t see anything but a wide expanse of blankness. As they were about to give up and just land on the snowy ground for a bit, they heard Kiri gasp in excitement.

“There! It looks like a cave opening!” Kiri pointed upfront, making everybody look at the direction she was pointing to. Sure enough, it was indeed a cave opening at the foot of the mountain. It was obscure due to being surrounded by snow. Only someone like Kiri can spot it, not even Neteyam, who’s dubbed as the greatest spotter in Omatikaya. The latter couldn’t help marveling at his sister’s luck. She’s always been the most beloved by Eywa, and for some reason the luckiest of them all.

“Good job, baby girl. Perhaps next time you should be a spotter,” Jake laughed as he joked, his frown easing when he saw the cave opening. He’s just as tired, exhausted, and frustrated as them. Being the father means being the leader and protector of his family. Seeing them in such a sorry state felt like a stab in the heart, a pain that never goes away. With a wave, he signaled for everyone to follow him as they descended.

Neteyam heaved a sigh of relief as they descended, already anticipating a short but fulfilling nap inside the cave. It’s been days since he had a proper sleep, and all he wants right now is a warm place to rest.

When they descended, Neteyam hissed at the feeling of numbness in his feet as it digs into the snow. Shivering, he hurriedly followed his family towards the cave opening.

Neytiri gave the sleeping Tuk to Neteyam before slinging her bow and arrow in her shoulder as Jake gave orders. “Let me and your mother check the cave first, in case there’s predators inside. Neteyam, look after your siblings.”

“Copy, sir.” Neteyam hugged Tuk in his arms, careful not to wake her up. Bundled in the thickest fabric they could find, Tuk was the least cold among them.

“Be careful, Mom, Dad.” Kiri said worriedly as their parents began walking inside the cave. Neteyam held her arm back as he watched them go inside. He wasn't worried at all, because he knew as long as their Mom and Dad are together, they always have each other’s back.

“They’ll be fine, bro. Let’s just wait here until they get back.” Lo’ak assured Kiri, patting her shoulder.

YOU watched as the family of six descended on the snowy ground at the foot of the mountain. Since the moment you have seen them flying from afar, you have been watching them behind thick snow. You are hiding behind a large rock covered with snow, and due to your skin color, it wasn’t easy for them to spot you.

You watched them in fascination, immediately recognizing their deep blue skin color and patterns. They must be some kind of na’vis that lives in the hotter places in Eywa’eveng. What are they doing here? Why are they here, of all places? Are they lost? You murmured to yourself, wide-eyed as you watched the parents enter the cave, leaving behind their children waiting outside in the mouth of the cave.

For a moment, you wonder why they wanted to enter the cave, but then realize they’re probably seeking shelter and want to spend the rest of the day inside the cave.

Cave…

Unil Käwä…that’s right!

I’m here for the Unil Käwä!

Only then you remember the actual reason why you’re in this area in the first place. Unil Käwä, the fiercest beast in the mountains, covered in white fur. It eats anything with meat, and some of your fellow people had lost their lives and body against this deadly ravenous beast. Once it sees the two visitors inside its home, it wouldn’t hesitate to shred them to pieces then eat them!

Your eyes widened in mortification. Suddenly, you’re faced with a problem. Should you go reveal yourself and tell these forest na’vis that there’s a powerful beast residing inside the cave, or watch them discover it themselves and potentiall lose their life?

Feeling undecided, you waited. Perhaps the beast wasn’t inside and is actively hunting for food in the ocean. You tried so hard to convince yourself that these people are fine on their own, when you suddenly heard a mighty roar coming from the inside of the cave. In an instant, you froze in fear. There’s no mistaking it. That roar belongs to none other than the Unil Kawa, and your greatest fear as of the moment had come true. Seeing the confused faces of the children left behind at the opening of the gate, you closed your eyes and groaned in frustration before bolting towards them with a scream.

“RUN! GET AWAY FROM THE ENTRANCE!” You shouted at the top of your lungs, hearing the mighty and agitated footsteps of the beast and the flurry of footsteps running towards the exit.

Everyone was surprised by your sudden appearance, but you have no time greet them when the two older na’vi came running out of the cave, with the male having a large bloody gash on his shoulder and back. Behind them was the massive Unil Käwä which was further agitated by the smell of blood coming from the injured man.

“RUN!” You screamed at the children again, drawing your bow and shooting the beast without hesitation. The arrow hit one of its eyes, but it didn’t die. Seeing the family running away, you also bolted away backwards, facing the beast with alert eyes.

“Kiri, take Tuk and run!” You heard the oldest son ordered as he tossed his little sister towards the older girl running farther upfront

ROOOAAARRR!!

In pain, the white beast roared in anger, now fully running after you and the family of six. On your side, the mother and the eldest son had drawn their bows too, shooting the beast nonstop. But due to its thick fur and skin, the arrows cannot penetrate deep enough to kill the beast. You can see confusion and fear in the mother and son’s eyes as they realized this fact.

“I’ve shot it with the sleeping essence on my arrow! We only need to defend until it loses its consciousness! Don’t use all of your arrows!” You shouted, wanting to console them, as you released another arrow coated with sleeping essence. The mother nodded at you, understanding your intent before she ran up front to catch up with the rest of their family, leaving you and her oldest son behind.

Although confused why he didn’t leave with his mother, you have no time to question him as the beast is catching up to the both of you. You grit your teeth and hissed, ready to use your trump card once the situation becomes worse.

“Do you have a plan aside from running?!” Asked the young man beside you. If not because of the situation you were in, you would’ve joked with him.

“Trust me, running is the only way to save yourself in this situation!”

You heard the young man grunt as you ran side by side. As time passes by, you notice the beast slowing down and relief washes over you. “It’s getting slow!”

With one last weak roar, the large beast fell on the snowy ground with a large thud, causing vibrations like an earthquake. Seeing that it has succumbed to the sleeping essence, you took the sharp spear you have in your back and quickly walked towards the beast.

“Be careful!” The young man stopped you by holding your arm but you shook your head and gently pulled your arms from his grip.

“It’s fine. My sleeping essence is ten times more potent than any poison. If it was any smaller beast, then it would’ve slept the moment the arrow penetrated its eyes.”

Walking towards the large beast, you saw its weak breathing as it slept. Feeling complicated, you sighed as you touched its stomach. “I see you, brother, and thank you. Your spirit goes to Eywa, and your body stays behind to become part of the people.”

Raising your bone spear, you did not hesitate stabbing its neck. With a weak gasp, the Unil Kawa breathed its last and finally joined Eywa’s embrace.

Suddenly, you’re overcome with joy. You have done it! You have slain an Unil Kawa!

Before you can even celebrate, you slapped yourself and thought rationally. It was too easy, after all.

Their arrows must be laced with very potent poison that can penetrate and kill someone through small wounds. But it doesn’t matter, you’re still the one that dealt the killing blow.

Using your bone blade, you began to hack the beast’s neck. It took you several minutes to decapitate the large beast, and grunted heavily when you slung its head back. You almost tripped face first into the snow when your knees buckled due to the heavy weight. You can feel its blood running along your back and dripping on the ground, dying the snow red.

When you look at the family in front, you froze when you saw their complicated gaze directed at you. They were silent and unmoving as they stared at you. The triumphant smile in your lips froze. Great. Now they must think I’m some cruel murderous na’vi, right?

Sighing, you walked up to them and asked. “Is his injury serious?”

The father looked at you silently for a bit, before he greeted you gratefully. “It is but a scratch. I can deal with this. Thank you for helping us, we owe you our lives.”

You wanted to say that they actually paid you already by poisoning the Unil Kawa, and even without you there’s a large chance that they would survive by themselves, since it's clear that they are skilled warriors. However, you sealed your mouth shut. Waving your free hand, you grinned. “Ah, no need for thanks. Just tell me who you are and why are you here.”`

The pair of mates exchanged looks before the female turned towards you. “Are you a member of the Txunariya Clan?”

Your eyes widened but you quickly schooled your expression. However, you knew they saw your reaction and got the answer they needed. “Who are you and what do you need for us?” You asked, voice stern and demanding.

The injured father walked closer, introducing himself. “I am Jake Sully, from Omatikaya Clan near Aryam Alusing. I have… something important to negotiate with the Olo-eyktan of Txunariya Clan. Please, let us meet your Olo-eyktan.”

Still filled with doubt, you observed the family and saw the youngest child now wide awake, staring at you with a mix of fascination and fear. Seeing this, your heart softened. You don’t want such a small child to freeze out here, for Eywa is kind, and so should you.

Sighing, you beckoned them to follow you. “You better not have any malicious intent against my clan and my Olo-eyktan, or else you might find yourself at the receiving end of my spear.” You warned, walking away in heavy but confident steps.

NETEYAM absent-mindedly watched as the blood of the decapitated beast head on your back drips on the snow each time you take a step, leaving behind a bloody trail in your wake. Now that his nerves had finally relaxed, he finally noticed a lot of things about you.

Your skin is paler blue, with thick white hair decorated with bioluminescent bead charms, and small bone charms. You have thicker hair on your kuru, probably to protect it from cold temperature. Your ears have furs on them, and you wear a thick grey cloak and hood with thick fur. On your waist, there’s a satchel tied around with rope, and on the rope are dangling antler, bones, and gems. You are shorter than forest na’vis, with wider webbed feet. Your nose is smaller too, while your eyes are pale grey. You have thick white lashes, with thin icy gray lips.

Neteyam stared at you for a long time, before he felt someone elbowing at his side.

“Bro, stare any harder and your eyes are going to fall.” Lo’ak whispered teasingly, wiggling his eyebrow at Neteyam. The latter blinked and looked away as he cleared his throat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lo’ak.”

Lo’ak snickered as he rolled his eyes, happy to find another way to make fun of his older brother. Neytiri, who’s closer to them, gave them a glance with raised eyebrows. Both of the boys took this as a warning and shut their mouths.

SEEING the large entrance of a cave system your clan lives in, you turned towards the group with a wide grin. “See that? That’s my clan. Come on,” Without waiting for their response, you began your loud call with raised hands, and soon enough you heard your people shout the same call. The horn was blown, the drums were being beaten, and people began to form a group in the entrance of the cave.

You cannot help the immense joy you are feeling when you see your father standing in front, with a proud expression on his face as he waited for you. The moment he saw the people behind you, his proud expression was replaced with alertness. All warriors tensed up, readying their weapons, watching the strangers behind you with apprehension.

Ignoring the expressions of your people, you gave a loud grunt before setting down the Unil Kawa’s head on the ground, in front of your father and your people. With a loud voice brimming with pride and joy, you shouted.

“Listen, my people! I, ____, have returned victorious! With Eywa’s great blessing and protection, I defeated the Unil Kawa and released its spirits back to the great mother.”

Your father looked at you, then at the family behind you. Understanding what you meant, he cleared his throat and focused on you.

“Very well. You have proven yourself to me as your Olo-eyktan, to your people as a Txunariya, and to the Great Mother as a na’vi. From this day forward, you have earned your place among the people. ”

Your people began circling you while singing, then collectively raising you up and began tossing you in the air gently. You crossed your arms on your chest and smiled to yourself, a sense of fulfillment washes over you. When the ritual was done, they set you back down.

“To celebrate another member of the clan passing her iknimaya, a communal feast will be held tonight.” Your father told your people, earning agreements from everybody. You can see that they really didn’t care about the feast, as they are preoccupied by the presence of strangers inside the clan.

Turning to you, your father asked. “Now, I think it is time for you to explain, my daughter. Who are these people, and why did you bring them here.”

You turned at the Sullys who’s now looking at you with that familiar complicated look, probably digesting the fact that you killing the Unil Kawa was your iknimaya, a sacred rite of passage. Giving them a comforting smile, you turned back to your father.

“I believe what must be talked about, needs to be talked about inside, father.”

You and your father exchanged looks, with you vouching for the visitors, your father soon relented. “Very well, then. Let them follow inside.”

You seem to hear Jake Sully sigh in relief, but you paid it no mind as you led them inside the cave. On each side of the path, your people are watching the Sullys’ every movement. They are wary and cautious, something you cannot blame them for.

Txuraniya Clan are people who rarely see outsiders, spending all their time hunting then hibernating. Meeting other na’vis are a foreign concept.

When you reached the central part of the cave system, your father led you and the Sullys inside one of the side rooms. This is where you and your father and his trusted subordinates meet for official businesses and important matters.

In the middle of the room is a huge bonfire, instantly warming up the room.

“Now that it is private and without prying eyes, tell me what is going on, ma’ite. Who are these people, and what do they want?” Your father was talking to you, but his eyes are looking straight at Jake Sully’s eyes.

Briefly meeting the eyes of the oldest Sully son, your eyes widened before you collected your composure and began narrating the events that transpired. “I met them while I was surveying the cave where the Unil Kawa lives. They wanted to take shelter inside the cave, but got attacked by the Unil Kawa. I had no choice but to intervene, seeing that they’re definitely from here or any neighboring clans. When they found out that I belong to the Txuraniya Clan, they said they want to negotiate with you about something important.”

“I see. Stand aside now, ma’ite.” Your father said after a while. You agreed and walked towards the bonfire, tossing more driftwood while ready to listen.

“I see you, Ar’ti, Olo-eyktan of Txunariya. I am Jake Sully, from the Omatikaya Clan of the forest.” Jake’s mate followed by introducing her name.

Neytiri, huh? It fits her.

What surprised you though wasn’t her name but your father’s reaction to Jake Sully’s name. You saw your father’s body tensed, lips trembling as he asked. “Jake Sully…are you Toruk Makto?”

Whipping your head towards Jake in shock, it didn’t escape you how Neytiri perked up with pride at the title. Just by that reaction, you knew your father was right. You exhaled a deep breath and muttered to yourself, “Oh my great mother…”

Gripping the driftwood in your hand tightly, you and your father exchanged glances.

“...Toruk Makto, what brings you here? What is your purpose?” Calming down, your father then asked once again.

Perhaps Jake expected a different reaction, as he was a bit confused by your father’s lukewarm reaction. Still, he composed himself and opened his arms wide. “We have come here to seek…uturu,”

“Uturu?!” You exclaimed in surprise, briefly forgetting that you weren’t supposed to speak at all. With a sharp glare from your father, you wilted and apologized slowly.

Your father looked equally surprised, not knowing what to say for a moment.

“Why are you asking for uturu? Who are fleeing from, and why us Txunariya?”

Jake then began explaining his reasons. Sky people. A concept so real but so foreign for you. The mere mention of these demons brings back all the pain you have suppressed since years ago. Your breathing began to get disordered, and was only able to regain a bit of clarity when your father walked towards you and patted your shoulder.

“I’m afraid, I must refuse you, Jake Sully.” Your father looked straight at Jake Sully and said calmly.

Neytiri didn’t take this too well, saying. “Uturu has been asked.”

“Years ago, while visiting her homeclan, my mate was killed by those demons. They riddled her body with those pieces of metal, instantly killing her while they left my daughter to die in the middle of the ocean, wounded and scared. Eywa is kind, for I was able to save my daughter, but not my wife...” Your father cupped your wet cheeks and wiped your tears. “You and your family being here is like a bone lodged in our throats, a painful reminder of my mate’s unjust fate.”

Jake looked down, pained and ashamed. Even his fiery mate Neytiri was silent. “We have nowhere to go. I’m done with war, and I just want to keep my family safe. Please,”

You hear your father click his tongue then begin circling Jake and his family. “Your chest is weak, your skin is thin. You are forest na’vis, we are arctic na’vis. Your skills will mean nothing here.”

“We can adapt! I promise! We’ll learn quick enough and will pull our weight, we will never burden the clan and will follow your rules and traditions.”

Sniffing, you held your father’s wrists and looked into his eyes. Despite everything, you cannot turn away someone who’s in need of help. Your eyes cannot help but look at the youngest child who looked confused and scared, still shivering despite the warmth coming from the bonfire. You were also a child once, confused and scared like this child, unsure of your future.

“The life of Txunariya is bleak, not comparable to the life you had in the forest. There will be times that you and your children won’t be able to eat and will starve. Think carefully, Jake Sully. Can you and your family really adapt to these living conditions after the life you have led in the forest?”

“We will adapt, no matter what.” Jake Sully looked determined as he looked at his family who looked back at him with the same determination.

Your father looked at you again, in which you answered him with a slow blink of your eyes. With a grunt, your father said.

“Well then. We will teach you our ways, so you do not suffer the shame of being useless. Me and the Tsahik will teach you and your mate. Your children will be taught by my daughter. Learn well, or else the cold will soon catch up to you and kill you.”

“Thank you,” Jake Sully smiled at your father, before shooting you a grateful look. You only responded with a smile.

NETEYAM looked at you in confusion as you led them to the freezing cold ocean. He didn’t know where you were taking him and his siblings, and what you would teach them about. He’s even more confused when you told his parents that Tuk cannot join.

Thankfully, Lo’ak was thinking the same thing as he asked. “Why did you not allow our little sister to join?”

Looking at the frozen ocean surface, you replied gently. “She’s too young. I’m afraid her body won’t be able to take it.”

“Take what?” Neteyam interjected. Sparing him a glance, you didn’t reply and ordered them to take off their thick coats and fur clothing.

“Why? It’s too cold, we’re going to freeze to death!” The second son groaned in annoyance.

None of the three heeded your words, making you sigh in defeat. Looking at the drum by your feet, you explained the principle of what you plan to teach them today.

“In the clan, the cold path consists of three phases. First, discipline and cold resistance training. Second, land and water hunting. Lastly, hunting Unil Kawa to develop bravery, skills, patience, and strategy. For today’s lesson, I will start teaching you the first phase.”

Pointing at the frozen ocean, you continued. “See the hole in the middle? You will need to submerge yourself in the freezing ocean water while I beat the drums as a way to count how long you are submerged in the water. We will do these everyday, until you are able to stay in water while I play all sections of our clan music on the drums.”

“We will die! Fuck! I will die!” Lo’ak immediately voiced his disagreement, while Neteyam cursed to himself. Even the usually silent Kiri looked mortified.

“You have no choice,” You calmly retorted. “...If you don’t learn to resist the cold, the cold will resist you, and by then it's too late for you. Y’know, my father’s words are not really just to scare you away. He’s telling the truth. You must learn, as quickly as possible, or else you won’t be able to live here.”

Seeing them still hesitant, you sighed. “Do not worry, you won’t die. Trust me, I will not allow anything to happen to you. Today, you just need to stay for as long as five drum beats.”

The three exchanged glances, then finally, Neteyam took the lead in removing his thick coat. His jaw visibly tightened when the extremely cold breeze hit him. He probably would’ve shivered already if not because of his willpower. You admired his determination, and gave him an approving look.

“I’ll go first.” Neteyam threw his thick coat and fur towards Kiri who took it into her arms for more warmth. Right now, the only thing he is wearing is his tewng. You were careful not to stare and looked on the icy ground instead.

“Alright, let’s go.” Neteyam walked slowly through the frozen water, and it probably appeared that it would suddenly crack under his feet. You led him to the hole created specifically for this purpose, and said. “It won’t crack. Look how thick it actually is,” You said as you pointed at the hole. Lo'ak and Kiri also followed you and Neteyam. Like their older brother, they were walking slowly and awkwardly on the icy ocean surface, always looking down at their feet.

The water was dark, but it was serene. You can sense Neteyam’s hesitation, so you held his arm and turned him towards you. Your gazes met, and you assured him. “You shouldn’t be afraid, for Eywa is within us. Trust me, Neteyam.”

Staring at you, Neteyam closed his eyes before heaving a deep breath. “Okay…Okay, I’ll do it.”

Humming, you sat down on the icy ground and stroked the stick in your hand. “The moment you go in, I’ll beat the drums.”

Before allowing him to start, you let him jump a few times to get his body warm. Once he got his blood flowing, you signaled him that he can start whenever he wants.

Looking conflicted, Neteyam clenched his fist, and sat on the edge of the hole. After one last deep breath, he slid into the water.

THUD.

“FUCK!” The moment he felt the extreme coldness enveloping his entire body, Neteyam scrambled to leave the water, but you shoved him back.

“The cold does not yield, Neteyam! Do not fight it!”

THUD.

“I-I can’t! I-I-It’s f-f-freezing!” Neteyam bobbed up and down in the water, body trembling and teeth chattering as he wrapped his arms on his body.

“Calm your breathing! It’s testing you, Neteyam. You can do it!”

THUD.

By this time, Neteyam can no longer speak at the intensity of his teeth chattering. You can hear his siblings’ worried concern, telling Neteyam to calm down his breathing and to stop panicking.

“Neteyam, listen to me! If your mind flees, your body will follow. Breath!”

THUD.

“One last beat! You’re almost there!”

THUD.

The moment the last beat resounded, Neteyam’s sibling came running to help him climb up. Neteyam was shivering so badly that he curled up on the icy ocean surface. Without hesitation, you took the coat on Kiri’s arms and wrapped Neteyam with it. You gently slapped his face to bring him back to reality, leaning down on him and smiling at him when he opened his eyes. He slowly smiled back.

“You okay, Neteyam? You actually did it, you’re good.” You generously praised.

Despite his condition, Neteyam chuckled at your words, looking smug at his achievement.

note: oh my god i hope anon who requested for snow na'vi reader likes these because im struggling while writing lmfao. i did my best, that's what matters the most. thank you anon for the wonderful prompt! FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED. Thanks guys mwa!

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targaryenfelikayt · 1 month ago

Text

Little wedding stories. |Boys from horror|

wc: 5, 049 summary: short one-shots about touching, chaotic and sometimes imperfect wedding moments, where love still wins. tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, established relationship, brideandgroom, soft, domestic fluff, lots of horror romance. Notes: ten days and nights was written especially for you💋

Bo Sinclair.

You were flipping through an old magazine with a hint of melancholy. Today was your last day as a free woman, not because Bo Sinclair had decided to lock you in the garage basement again, but because tomorrow, at the altar, you'd say the cherished "I do." Your friends and family had suggested throwing a bachelorette party with a stripper jumping out of a cake, but you had chosen to spend the night quietly, setting your mind on the right track.

The wedding dress stood in the corner on a mannequin from a nearby tailor's shop Bo had long planned to repurpose. Your shoes and jewelry lay on the vanity, and the lingerie, fit for a real princess (or her sinful version, as your best friend had said), peeked out from a paper bag. You checked everything again, as if physical objects could suddenly vanish, and then crawled back under the crumpled covers.

For obvious reasons, you couldn’t have the wedding in Ambrose with guests present, so New Orleans became the only viable option for both of you. The city was the place of your first date: romantic kisses with jazz music and alcohol in your veins. As you played the memories of your life together, the good and the bad, you almost didn’t hear the soft ping of your phone under the pillow.

“I thought you changed your mind about marrying me, gorgeous.” The familiar rough baritone made you smile like a fool as you rolled over to check the time.

“Bit late for backing out, don’t you think?” Laughter followed on the other end, mixed with the distant wail of a police siren.

“That’s not for you, is it?”

“Nah, babe...” he chuckled again, cursing someone in the background. “Wanna come downstairs for a minute?”

Ah, so that’s what this was about: Bo was afraid you’d vanish from his life, running off in a swirl of white fabric. He wasn’t afraid of the electric chair for what he’d done, but the idea that the one person he loved could leave him like everyone else in his life, except his family, that terrified him. Maybe that’s why he proposed so quickly, not wanting you to become part of the sad statistics.

“No, it’s time to sleep. I don’t want a single bruise or blemish on my skin tomorrow, and for that, I need rest. I’m sure my bed here is just as comfy as yours.”

He breathed heavily into the phone for a long moment, long enough to make you anxious. But just as you were about to say something, movement in the corner of your eye made you turn toward the window and there he was.

You almost screamed at the sight of your man at the window. Rushing over on trembling legs, your fingers fumbled with the old latch, trying to open it.

“What the hell are you doing? The last thing I need is for you to break something the night before the wedding!” you scolded him like a misbehaving child.

“I can’t sleep in a bed you’re not in. Check under my jacket.”

“Only after I pull you inside, you idiot.”

Taking in a deep breath of cool air, you started dragging Bo’s heavy form into the room. He wasn’t drunk enough to resist, but you couldn’t expect much help either. Eventually, you managed to get him onto the bed. Your attention was then drawn to his two brothers down below.

“Sorry, we couldn’t stop him. After his second beer, he just started whining about how miserable he was, and your relatives wouldn’t have let him in,” Lester said, waving up to you. Vincent only shrugged, silently apologizing for their brother's behavior.

“It’s fine, just get some rest, and promise me you’ll enjoy the wedding tomorrow.”

You turned back to your fiancé, torn between disappointment and pride that, even in his state, he’d climbed to the second floor like a lovesick hero. Bo pulled out a slightly crumpled bouquet from inside his jacket, offering it to you as a peace gesture.

“Sinclair… You’ll go to any lengths to sleep with a beautiful woman.”

“With the woman I love,” he corrected you. “The only one I love.”

Vincent Sinclair.

This morning, the house greeted you with acrid silence that wrapped the whole town. Crickets and dragonflies occasionally broke the strange atmosphere of detachment: you were still part of society, still watched the news, voted in elections, and occasionally went shopping. But as soon as you return to Ambrose, life froze.

The alarm clock on the nightstand reads 10:40. At this hour, you were usually already at work, having washed the breakfast dishes and cleaning somewhere in town. Many buildings lacked care: clean windows, cosmetic repairs, or vibrant flowers on the lawn. By contributing to the town’s upkeep, you could avoid thinking about the creepy wax figures, distance yourself from the feeling that through their sclera, Death itself was watching you (or worms slowly devouring flesh). One place that was unbearable to stay in was the cinema and the church. One visit had been enough to make you tremble for a week afterward.

Vincent noticed. He always noticed. After you break down crying in bed from another nightmare where all the figures decayed into rot, he banned you from going there. The longer you stayed here, the more your psyche changed, became flexible to everything happening around you. But it could still break you, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Maybe this and a hundred other situations made him consider holding the wedding somewhere else. Far from Ambrose and its surroundings. Closer to the ocean. Vincent thought about the honeymoon more often than the ceremony itself, if only because it was a valid excuse to get you out of here. After countless arguments with Bo, who kept saying his brother was signing his own death warrant by letting you roam free, you stopped even getting offended. Who in their right mind would choose to live here? Apparently, only you.

You rolled onto your other side, brushing your hand over the empty but still warm spot. So, he had gotten up recently and was probably downstairs already, maybe packing the last of the things or making breakfast.

An excited anticipation took over you, urging you to finally begin the first day of your trip. First stop: the bathroom. Toilet, quick shower, brushing your teeth, and makeup. The man had dug up an old Polaroid and tons of film, promising to collect every precious shot, ones where you’d want to look beautiful. Besides, when else would you feel like putting on makeup while living in an abandoned town?

When you packed the last bag with random little things and headed downstairs, the first thing you saw were the open doors, through which Bo's grumbling voice could be heard. Judging by the coherent conversation, Vincent was nearby, scribbling answers in his notebook with disappearing ink, one of the modern world’s novelties you had introduced, which stuck around, unlike the child’s magnetic drawing board.

Not wanting to interrupt the brothers, you went into the kitchen where their usual breakfast was already laid out: loads of bacon and eggs with fried bread. Breakfast passed in silence. Finally, you washed your plate and stepped outside, mentally saying goodbye to the shelter you were leaving for an indefinite time. You still hadn’t decided how long the trip would last: a week, a month, half a year. It didn’t matter, if you had each other.

Vincent saw you first, hurried to take your bag, and greeted you with a soft kiss on the cheek, before putting on his mask. Bo, on the other hand, looked grumpier than usual.

"Good morning. Looks like everything’s ready for departure." You addressed them both, but your chosen one couldn’t stop smiling, reaching for your hand again and again.

His older brother snorted at that, slamming the hood shut. To him, all this was nauseating romantic nonsense, likely to trigger either vomiting or rage.

"Be careful with the car. I spent a month fixing it while you two whispered sweet nothings in bed about romantic getaways." he said, tossing the keys straight into your hands and stepping aside.

"Is the only thing you care about is the car?"

Bo adjusted his cap, clenching his jaw. He wanted to say a lot more, but Vincent patted him on the shoulder. The two exchanged a look, an invisible bond between them that no one else could feel or understand.

"Grab the tool kit from the garage too, just in case."

Vincent nodded but first led you to the driver’s seat, patting your thigh. Bo clearly just needed an excuse to send him off. As soon as he was out of sight, Bo turned to you and said.

"If I find out you ran off or hurt him, don’t doubt I’ll find you before the cops even know you’re gone."

Your face twisted. Of course. Only he was allowed to hurt his brother.

"If I wanted to do that, I wouldn’t have waited this long. You need to accept the fact that I want to be with him. I want to try and be happy, however much that’s possible. Is that so hard?"

"You think I believe some city girl would trade a better life for this?" He gestured around. "No way in hell."

"Then you don’t have a choice."

You were silent the whole drive. Hands clenched on the wheel, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes on the window, on the gray fields and sparse trees stretching into the fog like they were disappearing. Vincent watched your profile from the corner of his eye, saw your cheeks still red from the recent fight, betraying more than you wanted to show.

When the car turned off the main road, you stopped at a small gas station, not for fuel, just… to breathe. To give you both space. Vincent circled the car and opened the door, not out of anger, just unsure what to say to keep it from getting worse. He reached out, a hesitant hand, as if afraid his love would push him away. But you didn’t. Finally, he pulled out the notebook.

"Forgive him. He doesn’t know how to be different. I… I didn’t want you to feel unwanted. Especially today."

"It’s not about him," you finally said. "It’s about us. I just… I don’t want you to have to choose between me and your family. It’s not supposed to be like this."

He stepped closer. Cautiously, like he was approaching a wild animal that might bolt. His arms wrapped around your waist, gently, uncertainly. His forehead pressed to your temple, when Vincent felt that if he didn’t hold you now, tears might fall from a face made for museum paintings, not for pain or disappointment. With one hand, he scribbled clumsily:

"I’m not choosing. You’re part of me. Just like he is."

You trembled but embraced him back, holding on tightly, as if only now letting yourself exhale.

"I just… don’t want to be a stranger."

And so, you remained on the roadside, in the dust and wind: two figures hiding in each other, at the beginning of a journey meant to become a new life.

Michael Myers.

The wind swayed the trees beyond the window, sending a colorful swirl of leaves right through the open pane. October had never been your favorite month; it marked the true arrival of cold and endless nights. As usual in the evening, you sat at the table on the first floor, writing a letter.

At first, it seemed like a silly suggestion from your therapist: if you couldn’t speak your thoughts out loud, let the paper do it for you. A small ritual with a strict sequence. Sit down, focus, write, and drop it into the old mailbox, long unused for its original purpose. Thankfully, your house was far enough from the neighbors that you didn’t have to deal with their curious stares.

For a couple of weeks, everything went as usual, the envelopes piled up in their designated spot, and every Sunday, you collected them and stored them in a box. Until they started disappearing the next day. It could have been a group of nosy kids passing by or the old woman on the corner who always peeked out her window when your car drove past. So, you decided to change the timing, hoping to catch the thief and give them a piece of your mind.

Days passed, but you never caught anyone.

One Sunday, while all the neighbors were at church, you threw on a knitted cardigan and walked to the mailbox. Instead of your usual white envelope, there was a new one, slightly yellow around the edges. It made you so nervous and excited that you had no choice but to open it on the spot, forgetting that the person who sent it might be watching from the trees. Inside, there was only a clipped article about national suicide rates. Hilarious.

You never intended to leave this world, you just wanted to let go of the emotional weight. Sitting down to respond, you addressed the stranger directly, explaining that reading someone’s personal diary, even in this form, was unethical at best, and demanded that they stop.

Of course, they didn’t listen. The newspaper clippings were replaced with sketches, cutouts of dresses from women’s magazines (eerily like what you wore that day), and even short letters made from torn-out words. The peak of your strange correspondence came in the form of a ticket to a late-night screening of some old horror movie.

There weren’t just many people that day, there was a huge crowd. It turned out the event was the closing night of a timeless horror film festival, and your seatmates were a college student and a couple of goths. No one approached you before or after the film. You came home disappointed, until the next morning, when you found a brief note in your mailbox thanking you… and a keychain shaped like a blood bag. Very original.

You thought about ending the strange communication, pretending none of it had happened, but… the stranger with the simple signature “M.” read every line you wrote multiple times, always responding with precise questions in return letters. He arranged dates, if they could even be called that, and increasingly sent you small gifts.

A stronger gust hit the window, pulling you from your pleasant memories. Exactly one year ago, on Halloween Eve, Michael revealed himself in the amusement park. Since then, the holiday became not just a symbol of monsters and masks, but the beginning of something far more beautiful.

You were just about to lock the front door when you saw Michael’s figure moving between the tree toward the house. He never made you wait, always arriving at the same time for dinner (one of the hardest human habits to teach him). You opened the door, and he slipped inside quickly, avoiding the attention of any potential passersby, especially since you had made it clear that no one in the neighborhood should be harmed because of him.

“Hi, Mikey, the spaghetti’s still boiling.”

Your lips brushed his cool cheek as you pulled him into the living room, guiding him toward the couch.

“Sorry, I ran out of envelopes. I’ll stop by the post office tomorrow and grab a few for later.”

He nodded, expressionless. After all, this was your personal little ritual, a tribute to the past.

“I wrote down some ideas for our anniversary. You know… a date, and all that. If you want, of course.”

He nodded again, but this time handed you a letter. You felt something inside — could it be that Michael had come up with a place you could go for such an important day? Excited, your fingers tore open at the bottom of the envelope, and everything fell onto the table: a gold ring and three cut-out words:

“Will you marry me?”

Thomas Hewitt.

"Lord Almighty, I look like an unshorn sheep!"

You stared at your reflection in the mirror in horror, as if it were nothing more than a terrible dream. The hairstyle that was supposed to be the epitome of softness and romance had turned into a nest and all because you decided not to waste the morning curling your hair with hot irons and went with countless braids instead.

You and Thomas slept separately the night before the wedding. He was in the basement, due to lack of space, and you were in the familiar double bed. In a place where no one could see the lengths you had to go to just to look beautiful on your own wedding day.

"This can all be fixed. Let's just take a deep breath and calm down."

Your friend, who had taken on the roles of bridesmaid, hairstylist, and makeup artist, received your heaviest glare, one that could either silence or send her fleeing.

"I mean it, honey. The volume will settle down, we’ll take the rest with hairspray, and we’ll pull a few strands back from the front..." She gently led you away from the mirror and settled you onto a wooden chair.

An event meant to be light and joyful was anything but relaxing. First, the thoughts about how to explain to your family the man whose looks and behavior were far from ordinary; then the venue and guest list, which made your eye twitch nervously; and now, the wedding day itself, where nothing was going right. The morning wind had knocked down the arch Thomas built, and Luda Mae decorated, and now your appearance made you question whether becoming a wife was even the right thing.

You were desperately trying not to cry. Where was Thomas? Why wasn't he here? His presence had become so familiar that without it now, you felt even more lost.

"You’re doing great. Want some water?"

Your friend glanced sideways at you as she continued working on your hair.

"I want Tommy."

All she could do was let out a soft sigh. She wasn’t sure how to break it to you gently that your future mother-in-law, despite allowing you two to sleep together under her roof (as she was very eager for grandchildren), had strict old-fashioned views and had forbidden him from seeing you before the ceremony.

"If... if I bring him to you, would that help?"

You nodded quickly, and she had no choice but to give in. She rushed out of the room, and no sooner had the tears begun to sneak back to your beautiful face than a tall, familiar figure appeared in the doorway.

"Tommy!"

Your legs carried you to him the second the door closed. Hewitt wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap, sitting awkwardly on a chair far too small for him. His hand gently stroked your wavy hair as he quietly listened to every doubt and anxious word pouring from your lips.

By the end, when you have run out of things to say, you simply hiccup from nerves while fiddling with a button on his black jacket. He reached over, grabbed a pen and a piece of paper from the table, and wrote:

"Just say the word and I’ll call off the wedding."

You frowned.

"But that means we wouldn’t be husband and wife. I’m not saying anything like that. Not in this life or the next."

He nodded and added a small line beneath the first:

"That’s my brave girl."

Even if the words were far from the truth, to him, you were always the best girl in the entire universe.

Jason Voorhees.

He did not want you to stay with him. Did not want you and yet craved you more than anything in the world. What could he give you, being a man… a revenant… a what?

He was not a fairytale monster. He breathed, walked, bled, and suffered like any man. Only silently. Only with a machete in hand. His heartbeat, but inside it, there was only his mother: her voice, will.

Until you came along. Originally, your mortal body was supposed to become fertilizer for the local forest. But something changed in him the moment he realized you were not afraid, you pitied him. And you did not break the sacred rules of Crystal Lake.

“Jason? You are so deep in thought again you missed my story.”

The man blinked, coming back to himself: there you sat in the clearing before him, weaving a flower crown and looking at him with loyal eyes.

“Sometimes I think that mask is just there so I will not know whether you’re listening. Are you bored?”

He quickly shook his head, wishing your voice would keep flowing endlessly. Talk about anything, the weather, the butterflies, maybe even the absurdities of the modern world. He had a lot of gaps to fill.

“Great, because I was just suggesting you get fake documents. A friend of mine’s connected to the whole system, so if you ever wanted to leave this place, or… I don’t know, try something new — a passport could come in handy.”

Voorhees tilted his head, still watching you through the slits of his mask.

“Oh, right. Sorry. It’s a… piece of paper. It proves that you are who you say you are. That you have a name, a photo, a place of birth. With a passport, you can travel the country. Or get married. Or just stop hiding.” You laughed softly, setting the half-finished crown aside. “Well, in your case, it’s more of a cover. Not real — fake. But with it, you could be someone.”

He turned his head. Not sharply, just a little, like an animal not entirely understanding what was being asked of it. Too much new information at once. You had already overwhelmed him with a flood of unfamiliar terms; Jason did not always grasp them.

You looked into his eyes or where they would be, and added, gently, as if afraid to scare him off:

“For example… my husband.”

Suddenly, the world fell quiet: birds scattered from distant branches, the wind stilled, the sun slipped behind a cloud.

And then Voorhees looked away, pulled a container of sandwiches from a woman’s backpack, opened it, and held one out to you. A silent cue to drop the topic, at least for a few minutes.

There was nothing left to do but press your lips together and nod in agreement.

If you were to become his wife, you’d forever bind yourself to this place. The last thing Jason wanted was to keep you here, in isolation, in danger. Crystal Lake was his hunting ground. He had always done his duty here. But people could be just as dangerous as he was. And if they found you… well, he knew too well how that story ended.

“We’ll sit down and figure it out,” you offered. “It’ll feel real, even if it’s… pretend. Only if you want it. If not, we’ll act like this conversation never happened.”

Your fingers clenched the bread, as if it was the only thing keeping you grounded. You lowered your head, not out of fear, but from the quiet anxiety that you might’ve broken the trust of the man you loved with a single phrase.

And then he reached out, and with the pad of his pinky finger, gently touched your bare knee for just a moment.

Maybe.

Voorhees, for the first time, didn’t feel like fleeing back into the shadows. He wanted to stay. Just a little longer. As long as he could.

Art the clown.

A quiet rustling pulls you out of sleep.

Rustle, rustle, rustle.

You crack one eye open, pushing the edge of the blanket off your face: white and black balloons, garlands made of old newspaper clippings with cut-out hearts, dark roses placed in coffins instead of vases. Somewhere, carousel music is playing, like from Silent Hill 3, before suddenly breaking into a screech.

It all feels like one of those strange, feverish dreams.

Art appears, as always, without warning. In a tuxedo, but with an enormous black bowtie… and bloodstains on the collar. Blood has become such a regular feature in your relationship that you’ve stopped asking where it comes from.

He jumps onto your bed, scattering confetti across the unmade sheets.

"Art, you really know how to surprise someone," you say, falling back onto the pillows and rubbing your face.

The temptation to sleep a little longer is strong, but Art is completely against that, he starts tickling you. You twist and turn, bumping your forehead against his chest: solid, cool, with a faint creak of fabric. He doesn’t breathe, but you know he’s far too lively for this early in the morning.

He’s watching you. As always. But this time, it’s not frightening.

"Alright, alright, I’m getting up. What’s the occasion?"

Art suddenly jumps up and points at one of the big balloons floating under the ceiling. Drawn with a black marker are two people: one with a tiny hat, the other in a long dress and veil, both have heart-shaped eyes with little Xs.

"So, it’s a date?" you chuckle quietly, his smile fades instantly.

The clown stares at you, frozen in place. The longer he does, the more unsettling it becomes.

"I was joking, Art, stop."

But he doesn’t move.

"You want to marry me, so you prepared a surprise."

Finally, the clown comes to life again, nodding like a bobblehead. He doesn’t need your consent, just like that day he decided to become a part of your life.

You couldn’t get rid of him, couldn’t say "no", couldn’t hide behind locks or even in a church. Only accept.

The ceremony takes place later in an abandoned amusement park. A clown arch with a sign reading "HAPPILY NEVER AFTER" glows in red neon, smeared —God, let it be ketchup. He leads you to a stage, where the priest is a doll dressed in a vicar’s suit, and the witnesses are mannequins in party hats and outfits made of guts.

It’s all absurd, but you can’t help smiling, he really did try. Maybe his idea of beauty exists in both murder and affection.

When you "exchange vows", he pulls out a notebook and flips through it, finally showing you a single phrase, scrawled in crooked, childlike letters:

"You're art now too."

Pennywise.

You stand in front of the circus tent, pulled straight out of dark literary novels. Robert Grey had a knack not only for dazzling children with his unusual tricks but also for charming women, showering them with so much attention and compliments that they lost their heads, providing the whole troupe with expensive backstage passes just for a few moments of conversation with the owner. You, on the other hand, had always tried to stay far away from this place and everything associated with it, until invitations arrived at your workplace bearing his name: a dark envelope, silky paper, and ink that smelled of caramel popcorn.

History repeats itself.

After that time, Robert unexpectedly slipped into your life, inviting you on numerous dates, lunches, or simple walks, anything to make you happy. The circus was supposed to leave by early autumn, but now it’s October, and he hasn’t even mentioned packing up. Today, there were no calls, only brief messages saying he was busy and would talk later. Then came the familiar letter.

And now, here you are, standing on dry grass, unsure why you're hesitating.

Pulling the fabric aside, you finally take a step into the dimness. The air inside contrasts sharply with what’s outside: dusty, sweet, and stuffy. The half-empty circus, as if pulled from your dreams, is lit by hundreds of candles. Their flames flicker, reflected in old mirrors, where you don't always see just yourself. On the stage stands Robert himself. His hair is slicked back, his black suit perfectly tailored. He stands among red velvet curtains and looks straight at you. There's a calm smile on his face, too wide to be truly human. It's unsettling.

You’ve seen him angry, happy, excited, but never wearing a smile like this.

"Welcome, my dear. Usually, the hall is full of thrilled spectators but tonight is an exception to every rule. Just for you, of course."

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice more members of the troupe emerging from the shadows, watching, perhaps even participating in their director's performance.

"I don't quite understand what's going on, Bob."

He jumps off the stage and approaches you.

"Shhh..." His finger gently presses against your lips, as if that’s completely normal. "Just an unusual date, my style. Now go. We can’t let the star of the evening appear without the right attire, can we?"

The gymnast sisters lead you to a distant dressing room, answering all your questions with a smile, saying that it might ruin the surprise their master had been planning for so long. They work quickly: applying makeup, curling your hair, and dressing you in a silk gown. It clings to your skin like a second layer—dark, with iridescent shades like the inside of a seashell; a sheer cape rests lightly on your shoulders. The moment the delicate fabric touches you, Robert appears behind you, dismissing the girls.

"Aren’t you a wonder?"

Man pins your hair himself, leaving a few strands loose, so he can twirl them around his finger when you're alone later. A ridiculous habit you could never get him to drop.

"I’d love to keep admiring you, but everyone’s waiting. It’s not proper to keep guests waiting too long."

His hand grips your waist slowly but firmly, guiding you out of the room.

"This is a very strange date, Bob. If you wanted to have dinner, you could’ve just said so. I feel like a fool or worse, like a doll that has no say in anything."

He chuckles softly, looking at you as though you’re the only important thing in the universe.

As the red curtain opens before you, you see an arch, the troupe standing with lit candles in hand, and a gentle melody played by a pianist.

This isn’t just a celebration — it’s a performance written just for you.

243 notes · View notes

hwaslayer · 2 years ago

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.”

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