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gyuswhore · 3 months

Text

Sit Down

anniversary event [closed]

kim mingyu x reader

prompt(s): getting aroused by the other's jealousy/obsession with them, "Could he/she/they do it like this?”, “you're sexy when you're angry”

word count: 5.1k

warnings: smut (MINORS DNI), fluff, potter!mingyu, they're married, reader discovers jealousy, oral (m.rec), penetration (unprotected!!!), kissing, breast play, clit stimulation, they're nasty as hell idk what to tell you

synopsis: It isn't your fault that you feel this way, especially as you watch her hands trace over your husband's own.

It isn't your fault that you can barely go on with your day with that cursed image replaying in your mind like a broken record.

And it certainly isn't your fault that you find yourself completely naked on your husband's lap while his clay-clad hands cannot touch you.

[a/n]: @highvern at the scene of the crime as always, we all have to thank her for her service as she betas for me and encourages my tomfoolery. enjoy this and let me know your thoughts in the rbs, comments or send me an ask!!!!!

masterlist

The grip you have on the file is proving to be detrimental to the cheap plastic covering. Not that you could blame yourself as you watch your husband through the window of his pottery studio, leaning over to help a student with her discombobulated salad bowl.

It was a beautiful morning, the beach across from the boardwalk sparingly occupied with delighted tanners and swimmers, the low buzz of waves reaching the shore sending a calming draft across the area. Envious as you were of Mingyu and his impeccable real estate choices, especially right now as your heel clad feet ache to take a dip in the waters, you couldn’t help but feel all the more irked that this was the background the image inside the studio was sitting against.

Through the large glass windows, Mingyu is pressing his foot over top of his very pretty student’s on the pedal to force the pottery wheel to spin, hands over her own as he guides her fingers to put pressure on the wet clay. A spiteful part of you pushes a thought in your mind, that your husband was attempting to fix a lost cause, especially when his student seemed quite insistent in her soft smiles and keeping her gaze on the fingers that cover her own, rather than actually fixing the abomination on the pottery wheel.

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing there by the time he’s done, straightening his back to turn his attention to the other students that make their attempts at their half done projects. Mingyu catches your figure through the window and immediately breaks into a big smile, clay covered hand coming to wave at you.

Taking it as your cue to walk into the studio, you return neither his gorgeous smile or his occupied wave as you strut through the glass doors. Your husband meets you on the other side of the open space, hands now washed clean as he leans over to place a kiss on your cheek.

“Hey, you,” he says in greeting, hands drying on a towel.

All you can think about is if that salad bowl girl can see you, and you thank goodness you wore your nice top today.

“Here.” You merely push the slightly crumpled file of documents to his chest, jaw set and lips tight.

“Oh, thanks,” he comments as he grabs the papers pushed towards him, smile dropping a little at your abrupt attitude. “Is everything alright?”

“Hm? ‘Course,” you answer, adjust the strap of your bag. “I have to get back to work. Be careful about your paperwork next time, I can’t keep making trips across town for this.”

You bite your tongue as soon as you say it, the words tumbling out before you can help it. Can’t keep making trips across town for this? Last time you checked, you were looking for passive excuses to make the trip to your husband’s studio just to see him during the day.

“Oh.” His brows are furrowed, the frown apparent on his face. “I–I didn’t think you’d be too busy today, you said you’d be done early so—I—nevermind. I’m sorry I pulled you out of work for this, I’ll be careful next time.”

There’s a pang in your heart as you hear him apologise, immediately mad at yourself for going on and ruining his mood. What were you annoyed at? That he was doing his job?

Your gaze lands behind him where most of his students are occupied with their projects, but just one whose eyes dart between you and Mingyu.

Taking a step back, you’re about to walk out before you feel him grab your wrist. “D’you wanna have dinner at the new restaurant down the pier after work? We can watch the sunset too, haven’t done that in a while.”

You want to scream yes. Of course you want to watch a beach sunset with your husband. Of course you want to eat at the restaurant you’ve been waiting eagerly for with your husband. And you aren’t entirely sure if this reaction is simply because you’ve been stressed lately, but the sticky feeling is pushing you to make your claim in some way, somehow.

Biting back another strangely snarky reply, you make an attempt to fix your stoic face and walk back to Mingyu. Leaning up, you kiss the corner of his mouth in what you hope is slightly reassuring.

“I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Kicking off your heels is the first thing you do once you make it back to your desk, taking no time to punch the power on button on your computer. You pull a file from the stack next to you, one that sits at the bottom, with a harder than necessary yank. Bad idea, because as you scramble to stop the pile from tipping over entirely, you can only think of other ways your day could get worse.

Before the worst of it can hit the floor, you find a second set of hands catching the strewing papers.

“Thanks, Han,” you say as you attempt to reorganise the documents, taking the extra ones off his hands.

“Have the laws of physics forsaken you? Or do you just like reorganising paperwork?” Hansol asks, sipping on something from the stupid horse mug Mingyu had made for him in light of his promotion.

Huffing, you only haphazardly stuff the files to the corner to be done with it, opening the file you need as your computer finally boots up. “Don’t you have manager stuff to do?”

“Being a manager means I can put off doing manager stuff,” he states. “Besides, I’m taking care of my peers, can you imagine the catastrophe that could’ve been if I didn’t swoop in to save you?”

“Papers on the floor? How catastrophic indeed,” you monotone as you click away at trying to find a particular excel sheet.

“How was Mingyu?”

Stiffening, you want to curse Hansol at reminding you of the very thing you did not want to think of right now.

“He was fine.”

“You were back earlier than usual, thought you would’ve had lunch with him.”

That was your plan, but clearly the universe had other ways for you to go about your day. Like thinking about an overly flirty student and her all too oblivious teacher.

“He…he had a workshop today,” you simply comment.

“Okay, Elsa, who shoved an ice cube up your ass?” You can hear the sneer in his voice, the judgmental stare.

Groaning loudly, you can only slam your forehead onto your desk in an all too dramatic fashion. “Can you drop it? Please?”

“Ah,” he drags. “Trouble in paradise. Understood. I will be at my desk if you want to complain about your husband like Margaret from Finance.”

Margaret from Finance. The woman who’s entire catalogue of marital issues would be solved if she and her husband simply spoke to each other once in a while. Perhaps even held hands on occasion.

You wince as you envision yourself becoming as stuck up and miserable as that, Hansol’s harmless comparison sending you into yet another spiral. It wasn’t that serious, this was all because your brain was stressed, horny and in love. The fact that your husband looked like how he did wasn’t really helping either.

With a little more aggression than you usually would’ve done with, you attempt to skim through the files as quickly as humanly possible, flicking through the useless filler pages to get to the ones that actually required your attention.

You send a passive aggressive email to Hansol entailing his job to keep things precise.

Shoving forkfuls of salad into your mouth, your mouse clicks louder than anyone else in the area, having gone back to change your cursor speed about thrice since you turned your computer on.

Your phone dings. Closing your eyes, you count to ten before turning to look at the illuminated screen beside you.

[Gyu <3]: did u have lunch?

[Gyu <3]: i wanted us to get sum together but u zoomed off : (((

[Gyu <3]: im done with my classes for the day. The students were asking ab you earlier when u came in heh

[Gyu <3]: cant wait to see u tonight i looooooveee u <333

God, he makes it hard to stay mad at him.

Snapping your head back to your monitor, you close your eyes once again as you question the war in your head and chest. Why were you mad at him? There was nothing to be mad about. Did you expect him to go about his day covered in plastic wrap and a neon ‘OFF LIMITS’ sign all day? The ring on his finger was supposed to do the job just fine.

You sigh as you force yourself to text him back something that wasn’t entirely passive aggressive. Typing and erasing, and typing again and erasing again. A smiley face to seal it into something you were not feeling, and send.

It’s late in the afternoon by the time you’re done, the sun less blaring as it pours through the office windows. You flick the last file shut, power off your computer and spring up to your feet, immediately gathering your things. Phone, ID, keys, and the last plastic file in your hands, you stalk towards Hansol’s desk and slam the papers next to his computer.

He nearly chokes on his pocky stick as you spit out your final notes in rapid fire, not caring if you were indecipherable in the slightest. Hansol’s eyebrows remain in the air by the time you’re done, spinning on your heels and walking straight towards the elevators.

“See you, Monday!” you finally hear him call out and you don’t turn to return his goodbye. Something that might have given you a strike but you could threaten him to take it off all the same.

Besides, you had somewhere to be, and the idea churning in your brain didn’t seem like it wanted to wait.

The sun is setting by the time you get to the beach boardwalk, climbing the steps to the line of establishments that overlook the significantly more occupied shore. Everything is perfect. Warm just the right amount, the sunlight forcing everything in its path into an incandescent glow.

What you would’ve given for a nice lie on one of the beach chairs to release an entire day’s worth of tense muscles. But alas, you trudge straight down the boardwalk and walk the way to Mingyu’s studio. When you’re nearly there, you see the glass door of the studio open from a distance, immediately recognising the part timer leaving for the day.

You cross paths as he walks towards you in the opposite direction, lighting up as he recognises you through your work attire.

“Oh, hi!” Chan chirps, arm raised in a half wave.

“Hi! Clocking out?” you ask as you stop to greet him.

“Uh—yeah, Mingyu let me go early.” He’s grinning.

“Good to hear. You enjoy the rest of your night, alright?”

“Yeah–uh, you too!” he stutters once again as he continues to smile wide. You think nothing of it and continue your short walk to where the studio doors were.

Coming round, you find the large glass door and walls have been blocked out with the blinds, the blaring CLOSED sign right at the entrance.

You stand there in front of the door like a fool, taking a deep breath, eyes closed as you gain your bearings. Grabbing the shiny handle, you push the unlocked glass open.

The bell at the top jingles, signalling a customer, and you watch your husband sitting at one of the turntables, clearly occupied. The studio is completely empty except for him, the whirr of the spinning table coming to a halt as he turns to tell whoever came in that they were closed for the day.

It’s revolting. He’s wearing his usual black tee, stained with months of splattered clay, his hair tousled like he’d run his hands through it before he started his project. The sun seeps in through the neglected edges of the top of the glass walls, past the blinds that cover most of them, casting him in an unbelievable light. It’s revolting, he’s done nothing and it’s making your head reel; revolting.

“We’re—oh, you’re early!” There it is, that stupid smile he can’t help but flash at every last person he sees, directed straight at you laced with nothing but love.

Reaching behind you, you push the metal lock on the door to click it shut, locking the both of you inside, and the rest of the beach and boardwalk out. Right after, you begin to kick off your heels.

“I already made the reservations for an hour from now, let me change and wash up so we can go to the beach till—”

“Sit down.”

He was halfway out of his seat as he was talking, ready to leave his half done work on the turntable to leave with you. Your words come out firm, a strange tone like you were giving him a command.

It works, and the shock has him immediately falling back into his chair. The force pushes the chair away from the turn tables, now half facing you.

Dropping your bag, you shuck your long coat off and leave it on the floor. Eyeing his hands, they’re covered in wet clay, suspended away from his body so as to not ruin his clothes more than they already are, speckled with dried clay and paint.

He recovers quickly, confused as he watches you fiddle with the buttons on your bottoms, rising out of his chair once again.

“What are you—”

“I said,'' you grunt as you finally push your bottoms down so they hit the floor. “Sit down.”

The shift in his face makes it obvious it has clicked in his head, staring at you as you walk towards him in just your blouse as the situation escalates faster than he can keep up with.

“Right now? Can you at least let me—”

Through his blabbering you’ve reached him and swung a leg over his lap, seating yourself on his clothed thighs as he moves his hands away, making sure not to get clay all over your blouse.

His hands may be occupied in a different sense, but you choose to busy yours in other ways. Taking his face in your hands, you lock your mouths in an open mouthed kiss, rendering him speechless.

Taking no time to think, nor to let him think, you push your hips down to meet his own in a deep grind, panty clad pussy making contact with the rough of his jeans right over his bulge. The feeling is so sudden, spiking throughout your system as you hear him take a sharp inhale still pressed into your mouth.

That was you. That was you getting that reaction out of him, no matter how small it was. The thought has you gripping the back of his head, fingers making home in the short strands of his hair as you let go from the kiss.

Wasting no time, you push his head back and stick your tongue out, licking a stripe from the base of his throat right up to his jaw. He shivers beneath you, and it only muddles your mind even more.

You can feel his bulge beneath you growing larger and larger by the second, pressing into your inner thigh as his breathing grows exponentially heavier in your ear. Locking eyes with him, you trail your other hand down to graze over the front of his shirt, pressing into the bumps and ridges that lie beneath.

Reaching his buckle, you hook your finger underneath the gap and pull at the metal. As you let go, it snaps back into place with a resounding cling! Keeping the eye contact, you drift even lower, your fingers find the growing tent in his jeans as you cup the bulge. Moving your hands in the way you know he likes it, you curb your speed to drag out the feeling for him.

“Fuck,” you hear him curse lowly.

It’s becoming impossible for him to keep his composure, especially to keep his hands away from your body that sits on him. He gets close, fingers brushing the white of your blouse in a moment of confusion, instant brown on the surface as his wet, clay hands ruin your shirt.

“If you really can’t keep your hands to yourself,” you say, halting your movements on his crotch. “I guess this’ll have to go too.”

Not bothering to undo all the buttons, you tug the first couple ones unfastened and pull your blouse over your head, throwing it somewhere behind his head. Quickly, you reach behind and unclasp your bra, flinging it away in the same general area. You’re now almost entirely naked while he remains clothed head to toe.

Your nipples harden as they meet the air in the studio, Mingyu’s eyes set on your mounds as he takes them in.

Before he has the opportunity to do anything, you slip off of your seat in his lap, knees slamming the floors in your haste as you kneel before him. Hands flying, you tug at the buckle of his belt, undoing it despite your hurried motions.

“You’ve been off today, are you sure everything’s alright?” Mingyu asks from, still wide eyed as he watches helplessly as you yank his jeans enough to reveal the final layer of his underwear. It doesn’t take you long to take his entire length out of there too, needing him in front of you.

“Do not ask me about my feelings when I’m trying to fuck you.”

“What on earth–shit!”

You’ve taken his now fully hard length into your hand, licking a strip from the base of his cock up to the bulbous head. The tip of your tongue teases the head ever so lightly, and Mingyu watches as his head and your tongue match in their reds. He watches the way your tongue dips into the pooling white of his precum, pushing into his slit as the tip of your tongue wiggles slightly.

The fact that he cannot touch only heightens the effects of your teasing, clayed hands balling into fists just to feel something on his fingertips.

Soon, your lips have wrapped around the head of cock as you let it rub against the beginnings of the inside of your soft mouth. Letting go, you take him in again, this time running your tongue over his slit, feeling his hips twitch beneath you as you continue to take him in and out, only to take him back in again.

In one motion, you sink your mouth lower onto his dick, feeling the head of his cock run against the roof of your mouth. Mingyu hisses audibly amidst his very loud and heavy breathing.

When you feel him hit the beginnings of your throat, you pull back, bringing your hand to curve around the base to cover what you couldn’t fit, pumping him up and down as you continue to pull his member in and out of your mouth.

He’s moaning loud, the echoes resonating off the walls as you hear your name slip from his mouth over, and over, and over again. It only encourages you as you move down deeper, his cock touching the back of your throat in more familiarity than before.

Everything is wet; the spit and precum turning into a shiny gleam on his cock and on the lower half of your face, the heat between your legs that makes you feel oh so empty. Clenching around nothing, you resist the urge to bring a hand down to relieve yourself.

“Are you ovulating or something, why are you suddenly…suddenly, fucking hell I don’t know.”

Releasing him from your mouth with a loud pop, you rear your head to look up at him, the lower half of your face covered in a wet glisten. Your hand continues to pump him as you watch his face remain contorted in pleasure.

In a daze, you don’t realise what you’re saying as you blab. “Could she do it like this?”

“What?”

“Could she do it like this?” you repeat like a mantra, needing to hear his answer. “Could she make you feel like this?”

“What are you talking about?” It’s taking Mingyu every bit of his soul to form coherent words.

In one swift motion, you’ve hoisted yourself back on your feet, nails digging into his thighs through his pants.

Hovering over his lap, you take his shaft once again, but this time you push your panties aside with your hand and bring it close to your heat, brushing the head of his cock over your wet folds, using him to feel the pleasure that builds.

“God, you’re so wet,” he blabs as he throws his head back at the feeling. “I wanna touch you, fuck I need to get this clay off, I need to touch you.”

He’s brought his mouth to latch onto your nipple, evoking a loud gasp from you as feel him circle your nub with his tongue before sucking. Letting go, he sticks his tongue out as his only weapon, flicking it repeatedly as you continue to rub his wet cock over your equally wet cunt.

Lining him up with your entrance, you sink onto his head as you let out a loud moan, feeling the tip stretch you out in the familiar way you’ve been craving all day. It’s like your brain is buffering as you recover from the bout of pleasure, barely registering that he’s continued to assault your other nipple now.

Your free hand comes to toy with your relieved tit, twisting your spit covered nipple between your fingers as his dick pushes further and further inside you.

Fully sheathed, you pull your husband’s face away from your breast as you bring his lips to your own, kissing him deep as you clench around his hard cock.

“Don’t. Do that,” he hisses against your lips, hands suddenly closing in your waist, so close before he realises he can’t. “‘M gonna fucking come, I’m so serious.”

The news is enlightening, especially as it encourages you to lift your hips ever so slightly, and curl back back down in an initial thrust. Again, and again, and again till you’re moving your hips at a swift pace, striking down on his length as you both moan into each other's mouths.

The feeling is electrifying, and the borderline pornographic noises your husband is making is only making it all the more easier to gush around his member, to move your hips faster as you feel the knot in your abdomen tighten and loosen.

“You feel amazing, so fucking good,” he grunts as he mouths the column of your throat. “My baby, my darling, my wife.”

And when the burn in your thighs becomes more than just a mental battle, your hips slowing despite the mind boggling feeling and the choked sobs that come out of you, you feel Mingyu’s hips lift from the chair he’d been trapped in, pushing into you instead.

His still dirty hands have taken hold of the top of the back legs of the chair, helping himself push off his seat to thrust into you rapidly.

“Touch yourself, baby,” he says. “Rub your clit for me.”

Who are you to deny him, one hand on one of his broad shoulders while the other flies down to the mess that’s becoming of your cunt. Rubbing two fingers over your clit, you throw your head back in a loud moan as you feel yourself beginning to close in.

Mingyu is watching the apex of your thighs; the way your fingers work against your swollen clit, the way his dick disappears inside you, a ring of sinful white foaming at the base of his cock. He twitches inside you, a clear indication that he was also close.

Your breasts are a sight to behold, and the scene before him is enough to make him bust entirely. Bouncing tits that he cannot touch, perfectly red, puffed pussy he cannot touch, the beautiful curves and dips of your waist and thigh, barely illuminated by the setting sun, that he cannot touch. He curses the wretched idea to make a last minute thing on the turntable before you arrived, curses the fact that he should be able to feel all of you.

He might lose his mind, and he does when your walls clamp down on him like a trap, your moans so loud he’s sure he’ll be hearing them in his ears for weeks.

“G–Gyu, I’m cumming,” you whimper through the pure brain fog.

Mingyu fucks you through your orgasm, finally letting himself release his own load into you when he simply can’t take it anymore, dick spasming as he shoots white hot cum into your hole. The added slick makes it easier to slip in and out faster as his orgasm holds out far longer than it usually does, both of your hips twitching like you’d been zapped as you come down from your highs.

It’s become near impossible to hold up your own weight, slumping against his large frame as you unclench every pinched muscle and joint. Forehead on his shoulder, you take pleasure in the afterglow, breathing in his scent with your nose pressed into the sliver of skin that reveals past his shirt. Sweat, the earthy odour of clay, and the calm familiarity of him.

“I don’t know what I did to have you acting like this,” he breathes into your ear. “But whatever it is, I need to do it more often.”

Sluggishly, you lift your head to look at him. His head is leaned back on the chair, face glowing as you stare into the eyes you fell in love with so long ago.

“You haven’t done anything,” you sigh. “It was…stupid.”

“That’s the worst thing you could say to me right now.”

You whine, rolling your neck. “What do you want me to tell you?”

He stares. “Who do I need to thank for creating this monster?”

It was a joke, clearly, but you couldn’t help but feel the little pool of pride swell within you anyway.

“Salad bowl girl.”

“And I’m supposed to know what that means? Do you want a salad bowl? I can make you one.”

“No. The girl in your class this morning with that god awful salad bowl,” you huff. “It looked offensive, she was too busy burning holes into you.”

“Oh no,” he whispers, eyes wide, mouth turning it the beginnings of a hysterical laugh. “My pretty little wife is jealous.”

“If you’re gonna rub it in, I'm getting off.” You try to remove yourself from his lap, slipping his now soft member out of you.

You’re stopped when you feel the two points of his elbows locking you at the waist, pushing you down. He’s grinning like a fool. “You’re sexy when you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry—”

“Your hello was my dick in your mouth.”

“So you didn’t like it?”

“I’d fire myself in the kiln before I ever say that.” He locks his elbows harder, pulling you closer. “Besides, I think this means I’ve won.”

“Won what?”

“Like you’ve never noticed Chan looking at you like…like he’s got some puppy dog crush on you. I’ve won the battle of composure.”

You guffaw, “What are you—stop it, he does not!”

He merely leans forward and kisses you, “I don’t blame him. My wife is the most gorgeous thing anyone could ever see.”

Grabbing him by the elbows, you break free of his hold and get off of his lap, attempting to gather the clothes you’ve scattered across the studio.

“Can you at least help me put my dick back inside my pants, these are my cleaner jeans!”

Snapping the elastic of your bra back on, pantied adjusted, you walk back to him. He’s looking at you with those stupid stars in his eyes and it makes it hard to focus on readjusting his jeans for him.

Leaning down, you take in your hands his still wet cock, smothered in your spit and arousal, complete with his own release. You can’t help it when you dip further to take his head into your mouth, the groan coming from above you near automatic.

“Oh, you’re evil.”

You grin as you wrap your mouth in a harsher suck, feeling him harden slowly, still quicker than you’d thought. Giving him a few more generous sucks, you run your tongue over his slit before moving back.

He’s breathing heavily, leaning close as you pull his waistband up. “You know, they say you should lay down afterwards if you want to be successful. I think we might have to go again later on a real bed to do the trick.”

“You can stay horny, I’m getting dressed for some real food.”

“I think we kinda need to be horny to do what we’re trying to do,” he lowtones, moving his face back and forth to meet your drifting eyes.

You sigh once again, “Why can’t just getting off birth control be enough?”

“Are you not having fun?”

“I’m literally buttoning your pants for you, it was fun until now.”

Mingyu raises his hands in both surrender and pointed regard, the clay now dried and cracking over his hands and forearms. “I digress.”

It annoys you that he’s right, so you lean in to give him a kiss as a distraction. It works.

“It’s alright,” he smiles into your kiss. “This is the one thing I won’t mind breaking my back for.”

The giggle escapes you before you can help it, and you feel him kiss at your cheeks, placing one last one on the tip of your nose.

“Now, if my lovely wife will let me wash my hands…?”

“Go,” you chuckle.

“We should name our baby Salad Bowl in this honour.” He’s way at the handwash station by now, water running as he scrubs off all the dried up clay.

“So sad our baby will have to grow up without a father.”

“I love you,” he yells.

“I’ll be sure to tell our child.”

“You’re insufferable,” he says, suddenly behind you as you pull on your blouse. Wet hands grasp your waist and you squeal at the feeling.

“Mingyu!”

“I love you,” he drags, spinning you around to face him.

“I thought I was insufferable.”

Your husband groans, simply pulling you into him with his own two hands to kiss you.

“I think we’re late for our reservation.”

“You’d better hurry then.” You eye his clay speckled shirt.

“Don’t miss me.” He turns around to find his cleaner shirt, all while you drift over to see the incomplete project still on his table.

A mug still clay-brown and half done, but one that looks suspiciously similar to your favourite one you broke last week.

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pucksandpower · 5 months

Text

A Crime Against Fashion

Charles Leclerc x fashion designer!Reader

Summary: you love Charles more than life itself, but everyone has a breaking point … and yours is those damn pants

You stride into the spacious open-concept living room of the luxury apartment you share with your boyfriend, tossing your leather tote onto the couch with a huff. Another long day of design meetings and fittings for your upcoming spring collection has left you completely drained.

But your frustration isn’t just from work stress this time. No, it’s those blasted pants again.

As if on cue, Charles emerges from the bedroom wearing the dreaded blue and white tie-dye atrocities that have been your nemesis for weeks now. You can’t hold back a small groan of exasperation.

“What’s wrong, mon cœur?” Charles asks with his trademark lopsided smile, those warm emerald-colored eyes crinkling at the corners.

You gesture helplessly at the offending garment. “Charles … those pants. They’re just … how can I put this delicately? A crime against fashion.”

He glances down at the loose-fitting psychedelic nightmares, seemingly oblivious to their ugliness. “What do you mean? I think they’re kind of funky.”

“Funky?” You echo incredulously. “That’s one word for them, I suppose. Hideously unstylish is another.”

Charles pouts, sticking out his full lower lip in that irresistible way he knows gets you flustered. “But chérie, I really like them. They’re so comfy and casual.”

You shake your head adamantly, trying not to get distracted by how criminally attractive he looks even in those ridiculous pants. “No, nope. As your girlfriend and a designer, I simply cannot allow you to go out in public wearing those any longer. It’s a matter of principle!”

He raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Oh? And just what do you plan to do about it, hmm?”

A mischievous grin tugs at the corners of your mouth. “Well, I do have a few ideas …” You lunge toward him playfully.

With a yelp of surprise, Charles dodges out of the way, those long legs carrying him across the living room as you give chase. You laugh breathlessly, finally managing to catch him and wrap your arms around his slender waist from behind.

“Quit running away from me, Leclerc!” You tease, nuzzling against the back of his neck. “You know this is for your own good.”

Charles twists around in your arms until you’re face to face. His expression is one of feigned indignation but you can see his warm green eyes are dancing with amusement. “I will not be bullied about my clothing choices by you, Y/N Y/L/N! These pants are staying and that’s final!”

You answer by promptly planting a line of teasing kisses along the sharp line of his jaw, making him shiver. “Is that so? We’ll see about that, pretty boy.”

That evening, you make a point to avoid looking at or even acknowledging the offensive pants for the rest of the night. At one point, Charles good-naturedly tries to get a rise out of you by draping the tie-dyed nightmares over the back of the couch right in your line of sight. But you simply turn your nose up with an overdramatic harrumph, refusing to take the bait.

“Very mature,” Charles chuckles from beside you on the couch, his knee brushing against yours in that casual yet intimate way.

You shoot him a pointed look from the corner of your eye. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m simply refusing to lend any credibility to those … those …” You wave a hand vaguely in the direction of the pants hanging over the couch.

“You mean my pants?” Charles supplies helpfully, that infuriatingly charming grin stretching across his full lips.

“Ugh, don’t even call them that! Actual pants deserve more respect.” You lean your head against the back of the couch in exasperation.

Charles scoots closer until his side is flush against yours. He cups your jaw in one of those large, calloused racing hands and gently turns your face until you’re meeting his molten gaze. “You’re just jealous that I look better in them than you ever could, mon amour.”

His teasing words further ignite the spark of competitive spirit smoldering in your chest. With a surge of determination, you press a slow kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Challenge accepted, Leclerc.”

Two nights later, as Charles arrives back at the apartment after a grueling day of training, he immediately notices that something is … off.

He pads through the living room toward the bedroom, brow furrowed in confusion at the odd scattering of fabric scraps and loose threads on the floor. Your sewing machine is set up on the dining table, various rattles and clanks echoing from the bedroom.

“Y/N?” He calls out hesitantly. “Everything okay in there?”

You poke your head out from around the bedroom doorway, cheeks flushed and hair slightly askew. But your eyes are bright with mischief. “Charles! You’re home, perfect. Come in here for a second?”

With a shrug, he follows you into the bedroom. Only to stop dead in his tracks, jaw dropping almost comically. There on the floor in a tattered, unrecognizable heap of fabric are … his beloved tie-dye pants. The ones you had so vehemently loathed.

“Y/N, what … how … why …” he splutters, seemingly at a loss for words as he crouches down and gingerly runs a finger over the ragged remnants.

Resting your hands on your hips, you try not to look too triumphant. “What can I say? The cat got to them.”

Charles’ brows knit together in confusion. “We don’t have a cat, mon ange.”

Oops. Think fast.

“Well, uh, I was actually cat-sitting for Max today! You know how crazy Jimmy and Sassy can be. Those little balls of fluff must have gotten a hold of your pants and just went to town on them.”

You shrug innocently, the very picture of wide-eyed virtue. “Who can blame them, really? I warned you those pants were a crime against nature itself.”

For a long beat, Charles simply stares at the remains of his pants, then at you, eyes narrowed. You can practically see the realization dawning on his stupidly handsome face. Before he can call you out, you pivot on your heel.

“Anyway!” You clear your throat. “Since those pants were so adamantly beloved by you, I decided to give the fabric a little … redesign. Just to prove my point.” You turn back toward him, dropping the robe you had wrapped around yourself, to reveal your new creation. “What do you think?”

Charles’ breath seems to catch in his throat as you reveal the vibrant blue and white tie-dye fabric, repurposed into a sleek mini-skirt that hugs your curves in all the right ways. You punctuate the look by posing with one hand on your cocked hip, letting the skirt’s flirty hem swish teasingly.

“Well?” You raise an eyebrow challengingly, unable to keep the triumphant smirk from tugging at the corners of your mouth. “I believe you said something about looking better in those pants than me?”

To Charles’ credit, he recovers his powers of speech relatively quickly, running one hand through those tousled chestnut curls. “Y/N, you … you look …” He seems to struggle to find the words, green eyes raking over your figure appreciatively. "Incroyable. Magnifique."

You feel your cheeks warming at his praise, suddenly grateful for your impromptu redesign. “So I’ll take that as a point proven then?” You prod teasingly.

Charles finally tears his heated gaze from your body to meet your eyes, crossing the room in a few long strides until he’s crowding into your personal space. You catch your breath as his calloused hands settle on the curve of your waist, fingers brushing tantalizingly over the tie-dye fabric.

“More than proven, mon amour,” he rumbles in that low, gravelly tone that never fails to make your pulse kick up a notch. “I stand corrected — this fabric was absolutely meant for you and you alone.”

Before you can react with more than a breathless giggle, he dips his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you dizzy and melting against the hard planes of his chest.

As you slowly break away trying to catch your breath, a wicked grin curves your lips. Placing your palms flat against Charles’ chest, you lean back just enough to meet his lidded, lust-blown gaze.

“You know …” you murmur, trailing a fingertip down the taut line of his throat and relishing the way his eyes darken further. “Now that I’ve refashioned those pants into this skirt, I believe that means they’re officially off-limits for you to wear. Unless …”

You bite your lower lip coyly, letting the implication hang in the air. Charles cocks an eyebrow, a rakish smirk of his own playing about those full lips as he catches your meaning.

“Unless what, ma belle?” His voice is thick with undisguised longing as he pulls you flush against him once more.

Stretching up on your tiptoes, you brush a feather-light kiss to that sharp, stubbly jawline. “Unless you’d fancy giving this skirt a spin for me sometime, Mr. Leclerc,” you practically purr into the heated space between your bodies. “Because I can absolutely get behind that look on you.”

Charles throws back his head with a rich peal of laughter, the sound reverberating through you. As his hands roam possessively over the tie-dye fabric now molded to your curves, you decide you’ll have to put in a request to see that particular fashion show very soon.

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everybody-hit-the-pyro-cue · 5 months

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Sometimes it feels like you're my cute cousin whenever I see you on my dash, because idk how old you are but we have lots of similar interests and your art is excellent and you seem like a lot of fun. It's always a delight when you show up. Keep on being awesome.

anon oh my god that's so sweet ,,, actually covering my face rn I do not take compliments well thank you so much for the art compliment that really means a lot 🫶🫶🫶

#cue asks n answers #made my night ty anon!!!#hrgh I get insecure about posting my art a lot bc its mostly messy and traditional and most of the art on this site. is not.#but I am working on trying to be more proud of the things I am doing!!#and you are definitely giving cool queer cousin rn so there's your vibe check lmao

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draconic-desire · 5 months

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hiiiii ive been brainrotting abt sunday and his triple face god thing abababah thinking abt him handcuffing reader and interrogating them with the truth thing he does to aventurine ARGHH omg questioning abt who they were with cos hes jealousssss AUGH you dont have to write anything off of this i just hope this inspires you ily

oh you have read my MIND. I’m currently in the middle of writing a fic with dr ratio interrogating reader like he did with mx. stellaron…but now imagining that with sunday?? wow.

i’m totally normal about this man. i swear.

Yan!Sunday x Gn!Reader

Fingers drum on the table, the only break in the suffocating silence engulfing the room.

“I’ll ask you one. Last. Time.” Sunday punctuates each word with another tap of his finger, and you gasp as you feel the Harmony sink its influence another inch further into your skull.

Despite the futility, despite knowing you’ve been trying the same thing over and over again for the past half an hour, you pull at your restraints. The metal chain of the handcuffs skitters along the table, the sound like nails on a chalkboard, but it does not budge from its steel attachment. You’re firmly and inescapably chained to the table in Sunday’s office, with said perpetrator sitting opposite.

He appears calm, but you’ve learned to notice the slight twitch of his eye, the falter in his normal smirk. His patience is one wrong answer away from shattering.

At your silence, he leans back in his chair, shaking his head. His golden gaze is chastising, almost disappointed. “Angel, you know I don’t want to hurt you. Just tell me who you were with.”

You only glare at him in response. Bullshit. You’ve lost count of the amount of times he’s forced truths out of you or affections upon you through the Harmony. The psychedelic pest in your brain is almost the norm by now, a poison he has slowly been feeding you.

Oh, Triple Faced-Soul, please sear their tongue and palms with a hot iron, so that they will not be able to fabricate lies and make false vows.

Those words are branded into the flesh of your brain, your soul. And tonight, if you tell him what he wants, even more blood will be spilled.

Sunday’s jealously is as calculating as he is. It’s a knife poised at the right angle to spear you, to pin you with accusations that you can’t talk your way out of.

Like in this instance, where he has deluded himself into thinking you are trying to leave him. He’s finally let you out of Dewlight Pavilion (you’ve learned that trying to escape the dreamscape is pointless, so you’ll take your freedoms when you can), and this is the first reaction you’re met with? Being dragged to his office as soon as you returned and invaded, prodded, and violated by the Harmony?

The pressure around your temples tightens another fraction, and you cannot stop the pained cry that escapes you. Rainbow streaks cloud your vision and practically pull the words from your mouth. “I was with friends! We were at the Dreamjolt Hosterly for a couple drinks, that’s it!”

Sunday merely hums as he stands and pads towards you, taking a position at your back. You’re unable to turn around to face him, but you can feel the weight of his presence, the promise of his power, as he wraps a hand around the back of your neck.

His breath tickles the shell of your ear as he leans in and whispers, “Liar.”

One word chills your blood to ice. “I’m not!”

The grip around your neck tightens in tandem with the pressure in your head. “Do you really think you can evade me, (Y/n)? My gales are perched in every region of Penacony, and THEY are by my side. THEY see all, hear all, know all.”

As if on cue, the Harmony rips through your consciousness, and it takes all your willpower not to pass out. Exhausted, you involuntarily lean back into Sunday’s hand, which seems to please him. “Now, tell me the name of the man who dared to touch what is mine.”

Clenching your eyes shut, you shake your head. You’re out of breath and stumbling along your words. “He was just being friendly, and he was drunk, we all were, and all he did was kiss my cheek; it was a dare, and I swear to you, Sunday, we’re just friends—”

“(Y/n),” Sunday interrupts. “His name.”

The finality in the Family head’s words sends your heart plummeting. You feel your resolve slip as the Harmony tightens its grip and goes in for the kill. You speak the name aloud, barely a whisper, and know that you’ve just delivered the man’s fate.

In your half-conscious state, you barely register Sunday removing your cuffs and scooping you into his arms. He tucks you into his chest bridal-style, his wings fluttering across your face. “You did well, my angel.”

“Please,” you breathe, your voice wobbly with tears, even as you feel the Harmony retreat from your senses—for now. “Don’t hurt him.”

Sunday merely leans his head down to place a kiss along your temple. “Enough of that,” he scolds. “The only man you should be thinking about is me. After all, it is an angel’s duty to obey their god without question.”

And Sunday is, if anything, a vengeful god.

For that night was the last that you ever saw your friend. Death in dreams was your only reality.

#yandere sunday #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere #yandere headcanons #yanderecore #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere male #sunday hsr #hsr sunday #sunday #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai sr #hsr

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nana-gumi · 6 months

Note

I LOVE LOVE LOVE YOUR ANGST SM, WELL WRITTEN ISTG!! as one of my favorite angst writer, i had this idea in my mind for a long time. imagine you found out that you're 12 weeks pregnant and you were too excited to surprise satoru about it but when he came home, he broke the news that he got his ex pregnant. he was cheating and the surprise slipped out of your mind and you got angry at him and led into an argument... YOU CAN CONTINUE IF YOU WANT. I REALLY WANT TO SEE HOW OR WHAT ENDING YOU'LL WRITE. and also, make it a very very angst 😋

anyway, don't be a stranger g.satoru

pairings: gojo satoru x fem! reader

cw: heavy angst, infidelity, pregnancy, illness, mentions of death, cremation, as usual not proofread hehe

a/n: YOU ASKED FOR THIS OKAY?? anyways, happy reading :p

it was positive.

the moment you saw two red lines from the pregnancy test you bought, you didn't know what to feel at first, you were in disbelief so you tried it for the second, and third time, but the results did not change at all so you took this as a cue to visit a doctor, and there was no doubt in it, it was revealed that you were 12 weeks pregnant.

how should you tell your husband? satoru was barely home from his work after all. you knew how hard it is to be a new company's head so you understand him.

and so you dialed satoru's number as you nervously bit your bottom lip. he answered at the fifth ring.

"hello?"

"satoru–" you paused, and a small smile made its way on your lips. "can you come home, tonight? are you busy?"

"uh, not really." he sounded unsure but you didn't even noticed it on how excited you were.

"can you come home tonight, please?" you repeated.

"alright." he said as you heard him sigh from the other line "i– wanted to tell you something." he said and satoru's tone was unrecognizable, it was like his voice was slightly shaking.

"okay?" you worriedly said. "see you later, satoru. i love youuu."

"mhm, i love you too."

if someone would see you right now, they would, in an instant, notice that you were celebrating something special. you sure were prepared for satoru's return, you even wore nice dress and a cardigan as you await for his arrival.

and here he comes.

satoru enters the door and saw you approaching him.

"welcome home." you said as you leaned your face his chest followed by a kiss on his cheek. it was unusual on how he didn't return your advances as he walked past you.

his gloomy approach was affecting you as you placed a concerning hand on his shoulder, the surprise you prepared for him suddenly slipping out of your mind.

"what's wrong, honey?" you asked as you felt him tense up.

"you know i love you, right?" he said, and you thought you've read those words from a book before. you just hoped that the words he would say next wouldn't hurt you as much as the words on the book did.

you hummed in response as satoru turned to face you.

"i'm really sorry, my love. please forgive me."

"satoru, what's wrong? why are you– i'm scared." you said as satoru face palmed, his own body giving up as he was forced to sit down on the couch as he opened his mouth to speak and..

what was he saying? you sure you've heard it but, it sounds muffled when it entered your ears.

"i'm so sorry." he said as he stood up, embracing you as tight as he could so you wouldn't have a chance to step away from him.

"how long?" you muttered and satoru wasn't familiar with the tone of your voice. he didn't respond and it made your blood boil as you pushed him. "i asked how long!" you yelled.

"4 months."

"4 months?! 4 fucking months and you're just informing me about it right now? is that why you're not always home?!" you were screaming at this point and satoru tried to reach for your hand but you were quick to draw back.

"i already cut off ties with her! please believe me."

"satoru, you got someone pregnant! do you want the child to grow up without a father?" you exclaimed as you released a heavy sigh.

"it was just a mistake, we were drunk." satoru said as he embraced you.

"are you sure you'd let me attend the reunion?"

"yup, why? don't you want to?" you said as you fixed his tie.

"my ex is going to be there, though." he said and out of all the reactions he could get from you, he didn't expect you to smile at him as you pinch his nose.

"i trust you, satoru. i already did the moment we exchanged vows."

satoru was sure that the trust you had for him was already gone by now.

"take responsibility, satoru." you said as you push him by his chest.

"i love you so so so much, (name). please, i can't live without you."

"satoru, you can't just have me around while raising a child with another woman! what would people say?"

"like i told you, i already cut off ties with her."

"i know how it feels to grow up without a father, satoru." you mumbled as you look down on the ground. "it'll be fine. i'll manage, somehow."

"no–"

"why are you being stubborn!"

"you're being selfish!" he exclaimed as you gasp in surprise. selfish? you? how could he say that.

"you'll thank me someday, satoru." you mumbled.

"(name), please.."

"satoru. understand the situation." you weren't screaming anymore and.. why was he crying?

satoru took your hand on his as he placed it on his cheek and leaned on it, his tears stopping on your fingers and, you couldn't help but tear up as well.

"it'll be fine." you mumbled, voice breaking as you closed your eyes.

"i swear with all of my heart, that i love love love you. i'm sorry, forgive me. i didn't have enough courage to tell you sooner, because i was scared that it'll end up, like how it is now."

"it'll eventually come, you can't hide it from me forever, y'know." the storm was starting to calm as both of you spoke with hushed tones. "now go."

"let's talk about this one more time, please?" he mumbled as you slowly removed his hand on yours.

"then tell me, 'toru. what's there left for us to talk about?" you asked and satoru was, unfortunately quiet. "there's nothing, right?"

"love, please. i'm so sorry."

"what's done is done, satoru. we couldn't possibly go back in time and fix everything, right?"

"please." he whispered, hoping for something that he, himself doesn't even know what.

"i won't hate you for this, satoru. it's just– i hope you told me sooner."

"i'm so sorry. i'm grateful to have you as my wife, i'm sorry if i couldn't treat you like how you deserve it."

he really didn't deserve you. you were so understanding that satoru couldn't even look at you in the eyes.

"i'll say it as many times as i could. i love you. i didn't regret marrying you." he said as he cupped your tear stained cheeks and leaned his forehead on yours. "i don't really deserve you." satoru leaned in, kissing you and kissed back because both of you knew that, it was for the last time.

satoru left your apartment after settling things out. you fell on the couch as you felt something on the pocket of your cardigan.

"fuck." you muttered as you laughed bitterly, clutching the results in your hand, placing it close to your chest. you forgot the surprise and now that satoru have made up his mind, you knew there was no point on telling him anymore. grow up without a father, huh? now you're the one to talk.

a week has passed.

"hey." he acknowledged as he sat beside you inside the court.

"hey." you responded as you fiddle with your fingers. a gesture satoru noticed when you're uncomfortable. were you uncomfortable around him?

"how have you been?"

"i don't know." you said as satoru went silent.

"are you okay? let's stop this divorce if you–?"

"no, i just don't feel well."

"you can still change minds, y'know." satoru mumbled, anxiously tapping his feet on the floor.

should you tell him? it was a chance, the only chance left before you and satoru have to separate ways. but as you recalled it, he mentioned that his supposed to be ex was 4 months pregnant and you were just on you were just on 12 weeks, equivalent to more or less than 2 months. it was her advantage.

"it'll be fine." you said as you sighed.

"you always say that."

"so, this is it?" you said as you stand across each other and satoru looked to his side and he was caught off guard when he felt you hold his hand, he took note of your cold hands.

you placed the wedding ring on his palms as you forced to close it.

"no." he said as he placed it back on you after removing his own ring. "i want you to keep it. for us." he said.

"okay." you said, turning around as you placed his ring and yours inside your bag.

"(name)." he called as you looked back. "i'm sorry i broke my promise, to have a happy family with you." he said and you wanted to tear up but you reminded yourself that it's not the right time to as you smiled at him.

"find me in another life then we can have a happy family there." you joked as both of you laughed.

is it normal to be like this with each other as if satoru hadn't just got his ex pregnant? as if both of you just haven't came out of the court after signing the divorce papers?

"i'll come and visit when i can." he said, and you hoped he would keep his words this time.

"okay."

"for the last time. i love you." you do too, but this time, you didn't say it back anymore.

"don't you think sanyu is a good name for our child?" satoru said as you look up at him.

"do you want to have one?"

"i'd love to have a happy family with you."

"is that so? but why sanyu?"

"sanyu means happiness. it means we are happy that we have him." he said as you chuckled in response.

"and how are you so sure that it would be a boy?"

"instincts."

his instincts was right. you had a son with him and you named him sanyu.

unfortunately, when sanyu turned a year of age, it was found that he had a very weak heart. there wasn't a day where you and your son doesn't visit a hospital. he was just a kid but they already wanted to take him away from you.

"mama." sanyu called. there were a lot of tubes that was connecting his body and it hurts to see your son suffer like this. you always hoped that it was you suffering instead of sanyu.

"yes?" you responded as you sat on the nearby chair.

"papa? where?" he curiously asked and your heart couldn't hurt more. you were lying to your child all this time, that his father was not around because of his job. you'll have to explain it to him when he grows up though.

you held sanyu's hand on yours as you softly caress it.

"papa's not here. he's very very busy!" you said as sanyu frowned. "don't worry, papa will see you soon, okay?"

"okay. love love mama, papa."

you bit your bottom lip as you stared at your contacts. your eyes switching from the phone to the surroundings as you slowly became anxious.

his contact was still in your emergency. you took a deep breath but in the end, you just couldn't dial his number, proceeding to call the person below his contact as you place the speaker close to your ear.

"hello?" you said as you heard a small gasp from the other side of the phone.

"hey, how are you? we haven't seen you since."

"i'm doing fine, thank you for asking, geto."

"what's the matter? why'd you call all of the sudden?"

"satoru." you said as you paused, gathering some courage left in you. "um, how is he?"

"well– he's doing good."

"he is, huh?" you mumbled. "can i ask you a favor, please?"

"of course. is it about satoru?"

"kind of?"

"alright, but satoru's a very busy man now, that's why it's gonna be hard to contact him these days."

oh.

"don't worry, it's not about that. can you– can you come here at the hospital? i'll send you the address and explain it to you later."

suguru arrived earlier than you expected it to.

"i'm sorry for calling out of the blue." you said as you approached him on the front desk.

"it's fine." suguru said as he shrugged. "why here at the hospital? are you sick?"

"i'm not. come, follow me." you said and suguru silently obliged as you finally stopped at a certain door. suguru noticed your discomfort as you slowly opened the door.

"mama!"

"hi baby. i brought someone." you said as you approached your son.

"what?" suguru mumbled in disbelief and he was left frozen on the door, his eyes widening. it was like a child version of satoru was infront of him.

"papa?" sanyu asked as he tilted his head to the side.

"i'm sorry, sanyu. i can only bring papa's friend." you said, your heart aching as your son frowned.

"sanyu?" suguru asked as he approached the two of you.

"i'm sanyu!" your son exclaimed and once again, suguru could only sigh in disbelief.

"how old is sanyu?" suguru asked when both of you left the room to grab a drink outside.

"he's 4 years old."

"does satoru know?"

"no."

"then tell him." easier said than done.

"you know i can't." you mumbled. "the favor–" you said as you faced suguru. "can you tell sanyu about his father? i just couldn't.." you mumbled as you played the can of the drink with your thumb.

"alright." suguru said and you smiled at him in return.

"thank you so much. it's just.. the doctors said he doesn't have enough time to–" you paused as you wiped your tears with your sleeves. "sorry for asking you this, geto. you are the closest to satoru, that's why."

"i understand, don't worry about it too much."

"i just couldn't tell satoru. i want sanyu to know what he wants to know. i couldn't tell him because i'm scared that i'll tear up once i mention his father to him. they said sanyu's running out of time.. i don't know– i'll just have to accept it nonetheless." suguru looked at you in pity as he embraced you.

"don't think about it, okay? sanyu will live and so satoru will know about it. i'll help you with it, 'kay?"

"okay, thank you.."

"you look like your papa."

"really?!" sanyu exclaimed happily as suguru hummed in response. "mama said papa is busy.."

"it's true, that's why i am here to tell you about your papa." sanyu looked at suguru hesitantly as he proceeded to ask a question.

"hmm.. is my papa good?" sanyu asked as suguru looked at you.

"he is. and he loves your mama so much."

"then why is he always busy?"

"sanyu." you called him, indicating to not ask those type of questions as he frowned.

and so sanyu asked a lot of things about his papa like what's his favorite color, favorite food, what he hates the most and many more, and you were thankful that suguru was there to answer it all when you couldn't.

"thank you, geto. i somehow feel at ease now."

"why don't you tell satoru about this?" suguru said as you started to zone out. should you? or should you not?

part of you believes that satoru has the right to know but part of you doubts it. satoru have a family now, a family without you. how would people think if they found out the owner of the famous company has a son from another woman?

you were once married to satoru, it was a mistake to let him take responsibility of his ex' pregnancy but, she was already at her 4 months of pregnancy while you're on your 12 weeks, she's clearly at the advantage.

"i'll try." you said as you embraced yourself for warmth.

"he's free around this time every thursdays." suguru said and you only nodded at his words.

satoru was on his way to his office and he thought he caught a glimpse of you and, he wasn't wrong, it was really you.

"(name)?" you were startled at the voice as you placed your phone behind you.

"gojo–"

"i hate it when you call me that. call me satoru." he said, frowning at you as you laughed nervously. "you look tired. what's–"

get straight to the point.

"are you busy?" you asked, cutting him off.

"well.." he placed his palm on his nape as he looked behind your shoulders.

"dad!" a voice called as a kid you haven't saw in your life appeared beside him. "what's taking you so long? mom's waiting."

"i'm sorry (name)."

"no, it's fine." you said, smiling at him and satoru knew better than anyone that your smile was forced.

"who's she, dad?" the kid asked. this must be satoru's child.

"an old friend, sanyu." satoru said as he looked at you and he wonders what made you look surprised. "go ahead first, i'll follow after you." he said as his son started to walk away.

"sanyu, huh?" you said as you looked behind his son's retreating figure.

"yeah. sorry about that." satoru said.

"why?"

"i don't know. but it was supposed to be our son's name."

"that's all in the past now." you didn't mean to sound harsh but something just hurts.

"right."

"i'll take my leave then." you said, every step you take makes your heart ache as an apology for you son slipped out of your mind.

"(name)." he called once again as you stopped in your tracks but you didn't face him.

"you were right when you said i'll thank you someday." he mumbled and you knew very well that he was smiling as you gulped the lump in your throat. "so thank you. i am the happiest father, ever. even if–" he paused and you didn't respond. it was like he was rubbing a salt in your wound as you heard him sigh. "see you then." he said as you felt his hand on your shoulder for a moment before his footsteps disappeared, and then you took your leave after, going back to your son, who was waiting for your arrival.

but, why was this happening to you? of all people?

"hold onto mama's hand, mhm?"

"mama, sorry."

"mama's sorry too, i promised that you'll see papa but–" sanyu shake his head, something like disagreeing to your apologies.

"it's okay, mama." sanyu mumbled, the sound of the monitor beeping slowing down as you hold onto his hand tight. this happened before already, he will get back to normal soon, you were sure.

"mama loves sanyu, papa too. always remember that, okay?"

"hey (name)!" suguru called from the distance as he approached you. "what are you doing outside? oh by the way, i was wondering if i can bring shoko too? she would be delighted to see a carbon copy of satoru." suguru chuckled but he noticed that you were quiet, your hand was between your thighs as you stare at the ground.

the door opening caught your attention as the doctor came out after what it seemed like a year as he slowly shake his head left to right.

"i'm sorry ms. (name) but your son didn't make it."

"but you said he'll be fine! i am paying enough why couldn't you–!"

"i'm very sorry. we already did what we can." you were about to start an argument when you felt a hand on your shoulders and the doctor bowed at you before leaving.

and it all came crashing down as your body lost its strength, unintentionally leaning on someone, which was suguru.

"what am i supposed to do now?" you asked, the emotions you've been keeping all this time was starting to go out, all at once. "sanyu's all i have." you didn't even care if people watch as they walk pass by. "what should i do now, satoru?" you mumbled, voice breaking as you call the name of the person that wasn't even around.

"my condolences, (name)." suguru had managed to calm you down as he handed you a bottled water and sat beside you.

"i've decided to cremate sanyu. it hurts but it'll be for the best so.. so i could keep him near me." you said.

"i'll support your decision but i think you should tell satoru about it."

"no." you said, your tone was strict but it was quick to dissipate as you clutched the bottle in your hand. "i went to his workplace yesterday."

"what happened?" suguru asked.

"his son's name is sanyu too. i'm guessing you know it?" you asked as his breath hitched silenty.

"yeah." he mumbled.

"well, it was the name he wanted when we were still planning." you mumbled as you smiled at the memory. "geto, i trust you not to tell anyone about this. it's just you and me who know this, okay?"

"i'm sorry but–" suguru paused. "i told shoko about it." you were surprised at first as you sighed at him.

"it's fine. i trust shoko too."

"yeah, sorry about that but– i was really hoping that you tell satoru about it because–"

"there's no need. thank you for telling my child everything he wanted to know, geto. i owe you."

"listen–"

"geto, as much as i am thankful for you, please understand that i don't want to hear things regarding satoru anymore." you said as suguru nods in response, feeling bad for pushing you when your still mourning for your lost and now that you had lost your only strength to continue living, what should you do now?

#nana.gumi #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk angst #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru angst #gojo angst #satoru angst #satoru x reader

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gay-dorito-dust · 6 months

Note

Hello! Can I request smt with Luocha, Dan Heng, Argenti and Boothill? (Separate, and dw if u don’t write for boothill ^^)

You’re dating them and randomly call them husband just to see their reaction. You just say it so casually too during a convo with maybe a friend or a family member

Argenti: ‘Argenti might as well be my husband at this point.’ You said to your friend after retelling a story regarding yourself and Argenti.

‘Awww! I wish Royland was more like Argenti.’ Your friend groaned, glaring daggers at the back of their boyfriend’s head.

Argenti visibly perked up at this, his eyes and smile were practically glowing. Did he hear you right, you consider him as a potential Husband? The gods have answered his prayers and quelled any worries that he might’ve had beforehand. For Argenti fully intends to be your husband one day and until then will commit himself to proving to you why he would make an excellent husband.

The moment he met you, to the moment you begun dating, all Argenti could think of was what it would be like being your devoted husband, your soul partner for the rest of your lives. No one else will do for Argenti but you, and he’s so loyal and extremely devoted to being your partner that the thought of looking at anyone else was so blasphemous; so much so that he’d rather hand you his eyes on a gold platter then ever be tempted by any other.

Argenti has had many dreams about your domestic life as a happily married couple, a happily married couple who were very much still in their honeymoon phase, but when he’s your husband that honeymoon phase would never fade away and die. He would make every day feel just as unique and special as the last few.

He might as well have ‘y/n’s husband’ as his name instead of Argenti because of how much he would use it when introducing himself to anyone new.

Needless to say by the end of the month to the day you and Argenti were officially married and more happy than ever.

Luocha: ‘Luocha would make an amazing husband, don’t you agree?’ You asked your friend, eyeing your boyfriend across the room for his reaction.

‘I thought Luocha was already your husband.’ Your friend asked, genuinely confused.

the moment Luocha hears his name being spoken he doesn’t think much of it, but when it was in the same sentence of as the word husband, that well and truly caught his attention. However it doesn’t take him long to realise what you were doing, but once he realised what was going on it was already too late, as the reaction you pulled out of him was very much a genuine one.

Neither of you had talked about it but according to your friend, you must’ve came across as to others a married couple anyways. So much so that even if you were to ever make it a reality nothing much would change at all for anyone other then himself and you; Yet that didn’t change the fact that the seed was planted and has taken ahold inside of Luocha’s mind as he walked towards you and your friend, placing a hand to the small of your back as he politely greeted your friend, acting none the wiser.

Well your friend might not pick up the hidden cues that told you that he knew, but you did, you could pick up his cues as easily as breathing which makes attempts at teasing one another all the more fun and interesting; Luocha could read you like the back of his hand and you were only starting to get the hang of reading him.

So the look he gives you may not seem like much to other people but to you, it was him telling you that he knew what you were doing, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him in victory because he took the bait you had put in place for him. You didn’t need to hear him to know that the first thing he’d ask once you took your leave would be:

‘I don’t think it’s wise of you to tease your husband. Do you?’

Boothill: ‘you and Boothill? Now that I didn’t see coming.’ Your friend joked as if you hadn’t openly said the most outrageous, thirsty shit about your now boyfriend.

‘Watch it because sooner or later he’ll become my husband.’ You joked back as you and your fiend shared a laugh.

Boothill flashes his sharp teeth in a wicked smirk upon hearing you call him your husband.

Oh now you’ve done it. He’s not going to let you live down the fact that you had called him your husband. He refuses to because he wants to see how you’d react to it. So he’ll make his presence know by confidently striding up to you and resting his hand on your waist, squeezing it, before smashing his sharp teeth once more but this time in a Cheshire grin.

‘Husband?’ He’d ask. ‘Have I secretly been promoted from being your boyfriend without my knowledge? I’m honoured sweetheart, but warn a fella next time before you go and pull this sort of stunt off. Oh wait,’ he pauses before continuing. ‘There’s not going to be a next time because you ain’t gonna be getting rid of me anytime soon. You’re stuck with me forever sugar.’ He cackles as he shamelessly swats you on the ass -hard- for good measure.

Yeah your plan kind of back fired on you because now your the one with the extremely flustered face, and now an sore ass that’ll become a bruise on top of that.

Boothill loved the idea of you belonging to him and only him and vice versa. He’s a possessive prick who’ll gladly put a bullet of two between the eyes of any bastard stupid enough to look at you for longer than a second.

He’s not one to share his treasure and never will be. You’re his now unto forever. Also he’d probably jokingly call himself your husband whenever you meet new people along your journey, and or scaring suitors off by screaming that you/him were married. (You very much weren’t but it works in keeping creeps away, so that’s a bonus.)

He plays on it so much that it’s an inside joke between the two of you and the two of you alone.

Dan Heng: ‘my husband Dan Heng, is just outside getting fresh air, he’s not fond of overcrowded social gatherings.’ You explained to your parents who shared a look of understanding.

Dan Heng, who had finally came back into the house, overheard this conversation and immediately his face burst into flames as his palms became sweaty all of a sudden and his breath hitched in his throat.

Husband?

Him?

Is that why he’s been invited for your family vacations with your parents, grandparents and relatives with their spouses of their own? All because they thought he was your husband? Dan Heng thought he was going to faint then and there from how many times he’s mentioned himself as your husband.

You’ve been together for a while now, but the fact that you were calling him your husband had him feeling some type of way that went beyond comprehension. He likes the idea of being your husband and has had a couple of shameless dreams where you very much were married and had a small family of your own, living a peaceful and loving life together and growing old together, still very much in love. However he always seemed to be at a loss for words when wondering whether in an alternate reality his dreams were your lived reality.

Dan Heng has so many thoughts on being your husband, one of them being that he’d be grateful in being chosen to be your life partner, while the other had still yet to find the words to voice his desire in being your husband aloud without being overcome by his own emotions. So until then he’ll have to suffer you freely calling him your husband in the presence of your parents, not that he’s complaining but he’d rather not be asked why his face still went so red when being called your husband, especially after so long of being assumedly married by your parents.

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angelfic · 1 year

Note

Howdy! Could I request a Theodore Nott, secret relationship, “don’t leave me… please”. ❤️

here u go!! i actually really like this idea and kind of wanna recycle it for a longer fic maybe.. 🤔 thank u for the request! 💌

theodore nott x reader + secret relationship + “don’t leave me… please”

➺ part of my 2k milestone writing game

You’re stressfully stirring sugar into your tea in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place when Mattheo and Theodore turn up, bruised and bloody in the hands of Alastor Moody.

The Auror had sent a message in advance through his Patronus, alerting members of the Order that he was heading to headquarters with two death eater defectors. An hour of hoping it’s who you think, and three cups of tea later, you breathe a sigh of relief when you realise Mattheo and Theo are alive.

The way Theo is leaning his weight on Mattheo doesn’t slip past you, and as soon as he finds you among the others, you rush forward.

“Hi,” Theo whispers, the greeting reserved only for you despite the numerous others in the dining room. His eyes are drooping slightly as he sways on his feet. Nonetheless, he gives you a weak smile. “I’m okay. I promise.”

You nod slowly, brows furrowed in concern despite his reassurance. Ignoring Moody’s confused stares, along with the whispering happening behind you, you do a quick scan of Mattheo and find that he’s definitely had worse injuries from spontaneous fist fights during your years at Hogwarts.

“Are you okay?” you mouth at him, just in case. He winks at you in answer.

Moody, seemingly snapping out of his confusion, turns to you and raises a brow. “You know these two, then?” he asks gruffly, a hint of suspicion creeping into his voice.

“We all went to school together,” Dean Thomas pipes up, saving you from having to stumble over your words in an attempt to explain your relationship with Theo.

There’s no doubt in your mind that everyone in the room suspects you and Theo are more than just schoolmates, but you don’t move to address anything. The implications of you being in love with an ex-death eater aside, it’s none of their business. Moody doesn’t quite seem to accept this immediately.

”School,” he mutters, nodding begrudgingly. “And how well do you-”

“Alastor,” McGonagall cuts him off sharply. Peering at him over her spectacles, she purses her lips. “You can get to interrogating them about being Transfiguration partners after they’ve recovered. These boys need a healer. Now.”

“Yes, yes,” Moody replies grumpily, reluctantly letting them go to open the door to the hall. “We’ve got Poppy in the living room. She’ll fix them up, nice and quick.”

You step back to give the two boys space to make their way to the Healer, but Theo catches your hand and grips it tightly. “No. No, Y/N can do it. Just give her some of the medicine, I’m not seeing anyone else.”

You open your mouth to object, wanting Madame Pomfrey to assess him properly, but the pleading in his eyes has you hesitating.

“Don’t leave me…” Theo’s voice becomes lower, quieter and earnest. “Please.”

“Okay,” you exhale, cupping his face with your hand and stroking your thumb over his cheekbone. You look over at Professor McGonagall for confirmation and when she sighs and nods, you respond with a grateful smile before turning back to Theo. “I won’t leave you.”

Mattheo clears his throat, popping the little bubble you and Theo have found yourself in and making you look away, cheeks warm. Walking over to where Moody holds the door open, Mattheo gives you both a knowing look before speaking to the rest of the room. “I guess I‘ll be seeing dear, old Poppy alone then. Nothing she hasn’t fixed before.”

Taking this as your cue to leave, you wrap an arm around Theo’s waist to support him as you make your way out of the room and up the stairs to an empty room. You help him to sit on the bed and disentangle your hand from his, dropping a kiss to the inside of his palm. “I need to go get the stuff from Madame Promfrey, I won’t be a minute-”

“Not yet,” Theo pleads, hooking pinky finger around your own and tugging lightly. “I’m not that injured, just… come here for a second.”

Your resolve crumbles immediately due to not having seen Theo since school ended a month ago, during which he was trying to leave the other side of the war without getting himself killed. You sit next to him on the bed, but he immediately reaches over to manoeuvre you by the waist until your legs are wrapped around him in a straddling position. Theo presses a soft kiss to your lips and the pure love radiating from him makes your heart jump to your throat. When he pulls away, he looks more relaxed and content than he has in months.

“Hi,” he says, a gentle smile playing about his lips while he fingers the hem of your shirt where it sits at your back. Tingles run down your spine where his cold fingers brush against your skin and you end up leaning into his chest even more, causing his smile to deepen. “I missed you, darling.”

“What, Crabbe and Goyle weren’t good company?” you tease, tilting your head. Theo scoffs in disgust, lightly tugging on a lock of your hair and looking at you expectantly. “I missed you too, Theo. So, so much. I’m glad you got out.”

“Me too,” he sighs, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder. You both stay in silence for a few minutes and you bask in the warmth of Theo’s breaths fanning over your collarbone. He nestles his face into your neck and seems perfectly happy just to stay there when he speaks. “It was torture staying away, you know. I’m never leaving your side again.”

You run your fingers through Theo’s hair, lightly scratching at his scalp and biting back a smile when he lets out a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan. “You being glued to me is probably going to make it clear that we’re more than ex-Transfiguration partners, by the way.”

“I bet you anything they all already know,” Theo murmurs distractedly. You frown and sit up straighter to look at him, raising a curious brow in questioning. He looks at you like it’s obvious. “Mattheo is downstairs, unsupervised. If he hasn’t told everyone by now…”

You shake your head, shifting to move off Theo’s lap. A pout forms on his lips, but he reluctantly lets you stand. “I better go do some damage control while I go get the stuff from Pomfrey. Merlin knows what embarrassing things Mattheo is telling them right now.”

“I can think of a few things,” Theo says, his innocent voice contrasting with the devious smirk on his face. “Like the time we were in the Astronomy Tower and you were too loud, so-”

“Right, okay!” you interrupt loudly, screwing your eyes shut in embarrassment as you try your best not to relive that particular memory. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the way Theo is cracking up, you smile sweetly at him. “You haven’t had any injuries to the head, have you?”

“No, love,” he replies, grinning. “Why?”

You grab a pillow and swing it into Theo’s face, knocking him backwards on the bed. Crossing your arms in satisfaction, you falter when he stays laying down and moans in pain.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” you rush out, panicked as you move the pillow out of the way to climb onto the bed and hover over him. Theo cracks his eyes open slightly, his face scrunched up in discomfort and your stomach drops. “Theo, where does it hurt?”

“Here, come closer,” Theo winces, gesturing you forward, closer and closer and you furrow your brows in confusion. When you’re close enough, he snakes his hand around to the nape of your neck and pulls you into a deep kiss, burying his fingers in your hair. You don’t bother admonishing him, your head getting dizzy from the feel of his lips moving against your own. You only pull away when you hear sudden laughter coming from downstairs. Theo doesn’t look ashamed in the slightest when you do. “All better.”

“Not yet, you’re not,” you say, rolling your eyes and sitting up again. You make sure you put all of your weight on the mattress to do so, just in case you actually do end up hurting him. “I’m actually going downstairs now, okay? The idea of Mattheo talking to McGonagall is driving me crazier by the minute.”

“Come back quickly?” he asks lightly, but there’s a hint of pleading in the way his hand circles your wrist. You give him a reassuring smile and another quick peck on the lips.

“Always.”

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x you #Theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott x y/n #Theodore nott fluff #theodore nott smut #theo nott #Theodore nott imagines

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igbylicious · 1 month

Text

whichever way [woosan x reader] pt 12

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, neighbours au, FWB to QPR

ch. summary: Wooyoung assures you that you don’t have to worry about San after his drop. San proves him right.

wc: 10.6k

ch. warnings: bratty duo Wooyoung & reader, brat tamer San, threesome, phone sex (kindof???), nudes, overstimulation, edging, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, pussy slap, cumming in pants, degradation (@ Wooyoung), dumbification (@ reader), rough sex, spanking, choking, panties as a makeshift gag & light bondage (@ Wooyoung), condomless sex w/ an IUD, voyeurism/exhibitionism-ish, anal fingering / sex between Woosan, safe word checks; ‘green’ & ‘yellow’ are used, aftercare, mention of jerking off in a public bathroom, nicknames for reader (‘baby’, ‘good girl’, ‘sweetheart’)

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

You didn’t expect many things to change now that Wooyoung has moved in with San and ‘officially’ is your next-door neighbour. He’d been over all the time anyway, spending more nights at San’s than in his own bed. Really, what difference could it make?

Quite a difference, apparently.

Before, Wooyoung felt perfectly comfortable to treat San’s place like his own. But now that San’s apartment is Wooyoung’s apartment too, his habit of ‘treating places like his own’ has transferred over to yours.

You’d blinked in surprise the first time Wooyoung just let himself inside and plopped down on your couch to play games on his phone. (Your couch is more comfortable, had been his explanation. You really can’t dispute that claim. It is.) But you hadn’t kicked him out, and Wooyoung correctly interpreted that as permission to invite himself back in any time.

Sometimes he shows up because San isn’t home. Sometimes San comes along. And sometimes, San just chills back at his own apartment while Wooyoung hangs out with you.

(San doesn’t seem to mind this, though one time he did suspiciously start bombing the groupchat with selfies and messages right after Wooyoung stepped through your doorway. Wooyoung had just rolled his eyes and ignored it; apparently San had been playing video games and literally groused at Wooyoung to ‘not distract him when he’s busy’.

“Serves him right,” Wooyoung had declared, and cackled a laugh when you asked him if they were actually bickering or if this was just foreplay again. “Probably foreplay,” he’d admitted, and you got a definitive answer later, when faint whines drifted through the shared wall after Wooyoung had gone back to San. Good for him!)

Wooyoung doesn’t crash your place constantly or anything like that; but the realisation does quickly sink in that by moving in with San, Wooyoung also moved in closer to you, almost treating the two apartments like one singular unit.

Damn, no wonder he’d made a point of asking if you were alright with it all!

Most of the time, Wooyoung is more than welcome — but one unannounced visit did prompt a conversation about the concept of ‘alone time’, and your occasional need for it. The timing had just been bad on both sides; you and Wooyoung were each worn out from exhaustion, a perfect breeding ground to spark tension. Wooyoung had taken your need for distance as a personal rejection and, to be fair, your tiredness had made you a little short with him.

However, this time you’d worked through it together, not needing San’s intervention to talk and hug it out.

Together you’d agreed on a better communication cue for Wooyoung to turn his ass around and go back home when necessary, and you’d reassured him he was more than welcome on most days; it wasn’t a reflection on him personally. With that, you could happily go back to enjoying this big shift in your life.

And a big shift it definitely is. Sure, San also dropped by unannounced sometimes, but not as often as Wooyoung.

Not because San is distant with you; far from it. His apartment had simply turned into the usual meeting point to hang out — plus, he’s more of a homebody at heart. Unlike Wooyoung, San doesn’t often feel the urge to leave his natural habitat unless outside forces persuade him to. He’s not pressed about the time Wooyoung spends over at your place; maybe even enjoys having an occasional quiet moment to himself.

…However, San did get pressed about something else; your regular grocery runs together.

After Wooyoung moved in, San got lowkey possessive of this chore you’ve always done together. He even went into a jealous sulk when you and Wooyoung went to the store one time without telling him. You’d felt a combination of surprised, flattered and slightly annoyed at his moody reaction, which seemed a little overblown to you.

It had prompted another conversation about the new living situation; and you were embarrassed to realise how badly you’d underestimated San’s attachment to sharing the simple, domestic chore with you. A swift reconciliation followed, along with more hugs.

Yes, there have been a few bumped heads, also between San and Wooyoung, but the sting always fades quickly. They’re nothing but small growing pains while you settle into this new normal. Growing pains just means there’s growth, San pointed out, and though Wooyoung teased him for his simplistic conclusion, you agree with San.

But on this particular evening, there are no growing pains.

Just you enjoying the new normal of Wooyoung lounging on your couch, while San is out with some old schoolmates. Wooyoung is on his phone, keeping you company while you catch up on one of your shows — to which he only half-pays attention and then gets miffed when he doesn’t understand the plot.

“I’m just saying, I don’t get why they’re suddenly all buddy-buddy! It doesn’t make sense!”

“Oh my god, Woo, you don’t get to complain if you don’t actually bother to watch!” you groan, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “Seriously, you’re lucky you’re cute or I’d kick you out of the house. Let me watch in peace, alright?”

“I wasn’t complaining,” Wooyoung complains. “I was just asking. They were at each others’ throats like two seconds ago!”

“You’re hopeless,” you sigh with a shake of your head, then pause the episode so you can take a bathroom break. It’s not like you can focus when Wooyoung pelts you with questions every five minutes anyway.

By the time you get back, Wooyoung has thrown his phone aside and is dramatically slouched across the couch. He lets out a huge, bored sigh when you return, looking up at you with a long-suffering gaze.

“Hey,” he says when he catches your eye, “can I eat you out?”

“What? Now??” You splutter out a laugh at the utterly serious expression on his face. “Is this because I said you’re cute? Positive enforcement to trick me into giving you more compliments?”

“Come ooonnnnn,” Wooyoung groans, letting his head fall back against the cushions. “It’s been ages since I last got to do it, and I’m so fucking bored.”

“Oh, so the pleasure of my company is not enough to keep you entertained?”

“Eh. Would be more entertained by the pleasure of your pu—”

“Alright, alright!” you laugh. Fair enough; you stepped right into that one.

You plop down on the couch, in a corner spot not taken up by Wooyoung’s sprawled limbs, then shoot him another look.

“…Seriously? You want to? Without San?”

It’s not without precedent for you to fool around with one of the guys without the other, but still extremely rare; and usually it’s just a little foreplay or prep while waiting for the other to join. (Plus that one time when San put Wooyoung on a sex ban after bratting too close to the sun. That’d been a fun week.)

“Without San, yeah. Or…” Wooyoung says, “we could call him, give him that excuse he wanted to come home early.”

You snort. “Don’t think this is what he had in mind.”

(San hadn’t been all that excited about going out with his old mates from school, an invitation accepted out of politeness — but he’d declined the offer from you and Wooyoung to come with. “Might need you to create an excuse for me to leave early. Phone in an emergency or something,” he’d said. Though you suppose that ‘Wooyoung was hungry for pussy’ could count as an emergency, at least in Wooyoung’s eyes.)

“That’s what makes it fun, right?” Wooyoung says, grinning widely at you. “We can get Sannie all nice and riled up. Might even get him to punish us for starting without him, if we play our cards right.”

That’s where you hesitate. Goad San into punishing you?

Wooyoung notices, and sits up next to give you a thoughtful look-over. You roll your eyes at his scrutiny, suddenly self-conscious.

“So…” he says slowly, “can’t help but notice you’ve been on your best behaviour for San ever since I moved in.” He leaves room for a meaningful pause. “Ever since he dropped.”

“I’m always on my best behaviour,” you huff defensively. “You’re the brat around here, not me.”

Wooyoung snorts. “You aren’t always. Don’t pretend you don’t ever get up to trouble.”

…Fair point. You usually lean towards the ‘good girl’ end of the submissive spectrum, but there have been plenty occasions where you were a happy accomplice to Wooyoung’s mischief, or even initiated some of your own.

“Okay, so what’s going on?” Wooyoung asks. “You nervous about pushing San too far?”

A ‘no’ bubbles up instinctively, but you manage to swallow it down and give the question some honest thought. Are you nervous?

“There just hasn’t been an opportunity,” your surface thoughts argue.

That is true, sort of. Between the chaos of Wooyoung’s move into San’s apartment and you having a busy time at work, your sex life isn’t exactly super active. Not non-existent either, but you’ve focused more on the casual hang-outs, just spending time together while everything around you settles down.

Yes, your surface thoughts have a point — but it only takes one cursory glance underneath them to find the vivid memory of holding a trembling San in your arms.

“Okay, you’re right, I’m a bit worried about that,” you admit quietly. “He… San looked so small, Wooyoung. I don’t want him ever feeling like that again.”

Wooyoung puts his hand on your thigh, gently scritching his fingertips over your jeans. “I don’t want him to, either,” he says with a wan smile. “But—”

“Yeah yeah, listen I know it’s stupid,” you interrupt him, sighing in frustration. “I know I’d be pissed off if San suddenly stopped spanking me or whatever just because my brain bullied me about it one time.” You know Wooyoung has been bratty at San since then and San has happily tamed him down, so why the hell do you feel this resistance?

Wooyoung fights down a laugh at your rant, balling his fist in front of his mouth. “It’s a little stupid, yeah!”

You whap a hand against his shoulder, though you can’t help but laugh with him. “Hey, you aren’t supposed to agree with me!”

“What am I supposed to say then!?”

“You are supposed to tell me, ‘no, it’s not stupid, but San is a grown-ass man and he is fully capable of telling us himself if he can’t or doesn’t want to go that hard with domming us anymore’!”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s pretend I said that.”

You give Wooyoung a heavy side-eye; he grins back at you — and after a long beat of silence, together you burst out in a light bout of giggles.

“Sorry I’m making this way more difficult than it needs to be,” you apologise, still laughing a little. “I’m into the idea, I really am, it’s just…”

“Just gotta get past the hurdle. I get it,” Wooyoung says, and from the soft furrow between his eyes you know he really does get it. His hand squeezes your knee. “Listen, if I know San at all,” he says (and he does know San pretty damn well), “the two of us will have some fun getting him worked up, which means he gets to have fun punishing us for it, which means we all end up having fun together. How’s that sound to you?”

“Sounds… fun,” you say, relaxing into a grin. There isn’t much room to argue with the way Wooyoung has laid it out to you.

He bites his lip, a dark shine in his eyes. “Then sit back and let me get my mouth on that sweet pussy already.”

Again, he leaves no room to argue.

So before you know it, you are sitting back on the couch and Wooyoung is well underway to getting his mouth exactly where he wants it.

You draw shallow breaths as you look down on Wooyoung, who sits on a pillow between your legs. You’d braced for him to descend on you in a frenzy — but Wooyoung has a quiet focus on his face as he slowly rubs over your inner thighs through your joggers, like he is matching up reality to his memories.

He squeezes firmly, molding the soft meat to the shape of his hands, and you let out a soft whine as Wooyoung’s patience quickly wears down yours. You tilt your hips up in an unsubtle demand, causing Wooyoung’s concentration to break with a grin.

“Oh? Look who’s in a rush to get eaten out now,” he rasps. His thumbs brush just shy of your cunt, which is stirring to life rapidly. “After all that grief you gave me about it too, ch.”

Wooyoung playfully tsks his tongue at you, the crooked curve of his lips only working you up more. It doesn’t help either that he’s half naked, wearing just his baggy shorts; Wooyoung had nobly sacrificed his hoodie for you to sit on when you made a half-hearted point about ruining your couch. Honestly, you don’t know if it’ll do much good; already you can feel a sticky wetness between your legs and he hasn’t even fucking touched you. Like Wooyoung said; it’s been a while, and your vagina is being very dramatic about how lonely she’s been without the company of his mouth.

“Just fucking get on with it,” you say, the power of your demand nullified by the breathlessness in your voice. “We gotta rescue San from his social obligations, don’t we?”

“Ahh yes, that’s why we’re doing this,” Wooyoung giggles, but he still obliges and tugs down your sweats.

You’re about to protest again when he leaves your underwear on, just basic cotton panties with no sex appeal whatsoever — but they do something for Wooyoung all the same, and your complaint melts away under the heated, hungry look in his eyes.

Wooyoung’s torturously slow pace has been driving you up the wall, yet you let out a startled squeak when suddenly he dives in, his face pressed against your clothed cunt.

“Fuck, but I missed this pussy,” he grunts lowly, then laps a thick stripe over the damp spot already forming in your panties before suctioning his mouth over the fabric, eerily close to your clit.

You suck in a sharp breath, hands flying into Wooyoung’s hair to tug him a little higher. He lets himself be guided without resistance, apparently no longer in the mood to tease. You’ve been with a few avid puss appreciators in the past, but none of them hold a candle to Wooyoung, who truly gets as much out of this as you do.

Through the barrier of your panties, his teeth graze over your clit. Sharp sucks and indirect bites soon have your thighs trembling, your underwear soggy with arousal and Wooyoung’s saliva.

“Missed this pussy,” he groans again, thumbing at the drenched strip of cotton — and completely knocking you off balance with what he says next. “Missed making you feel good…”

“Hm— hmh, Woo—”

You know it’s not that deep, that it’s just rambles from Wooyoung already getting tipsy on your clothed cunt; still the urge bubbles up to say something, to tell Wooyoung how good he makes you feel every damn single day. Just by being in the same room as you, by hanging out on your couch or sending you photos he’s proud of, by texting to ask if you’ve eaten yet. But you can’t get a single word out, all coherency stolen from your lips as Wooyoung pulls your panties aside and latches directly onto your clit.

Making up for lost time, Wooyoung aggressively reacquaints himself with your leaking pussy. You whine as his lips suction around your clit, giving the already swollen nub a quick nibble before his tongue swirls and flicks. He slurps noisily against your cunt until your hips start to jerk, and you realise with alarm that you’re about to cum, just like that.

“Fuck, Wooyoung…” You swear under your breath, arching into his mouth — only for Wooyoung to pull back for soft swipes at your folds.

You groan as the build-up fizzles out into a light burn, and slump into the couch.

“Seriously?” you grumble, giving Wooyoung’s hair a firm tug to make your dissatisfaction known. He just lets out a muffled chuckle, filling your apartment with lewd wet noises as he kisses and suckles at your sodden folds, gentle but thorough.

However, his abrupt slowdown does give your head a chance to clear up, and something occurs to you.

“H-hey, Wooyoung?”

“Hm?”

“Not that this isn’t great, but weren’t we supposed to rile San up?” You’d expected Wooyoung to be on his phone already to let San know what he’s missing out on. But instead, the phone lies right next to you on the couch, ignored in favour of feasting on your cunt.

“Hm.” Wooyoung lifts his head, grinning up at you with glazed lips. “Then we gotta give him something to get riled up about, don’t we?”

“Starting to think I’m the one you’re trying to get— f-fuck, ah Woo—!”

Wooyoung’s nose bumps right into your clit as his tongue thrusts inside your drenched hole, plunging as deep as he can reach. You feel his lips stretch into a grin when you immediately rock into him, his breathy laugh falling coolly against your wet heat. You pull harder at Wooyoung’s hair and a whine shudders through him, freely letting you dictate his pace as you grind on his nose.

You find yourself back on the edge within a flash, whimpering and squirming now that Wooyoung has stopped his teasing. He is fully dedicated to tipping you over, groaning against your cunt as he tongue-fucks you with unruly abandon; less about technique, and more about pure, uncontrolled voracity.

Your breath comes in sharp hitches as Wooyoung somehow pushes even harder into you, the beautiful hook of his nose sparking electricity through your core. He moans eagerly as you start to clench around his tongue, his shoulders preventing your thighs from clamping shut as tendrils of heat coil in your abdomen.

You can tell it’s going to be an intense one even before it hits you. “F-fuck, Wooyoung,” you whimper, rocking into his face, “Woo, don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop, ahh fuck fuck fuck—”

He does not stop.

Wooyoung’s eyebrows knit in pleasure as you coat his tongue and chin with your slick. He pulls back from fucking your cunt to suck on your clit, firm pressure that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your toes curl, body seizing up with every long, hard aftershock; one so intense that you’re not entirely sure if you just came twice.

Reluctantly, Wooyoung parts from your cunt when you push him away with a weak whimper. He grins at you, dark eyes sparkling and his face covered by a glossy shine from the nose down.

He ignores your whine when finally tugs off your ruined panties, then uses two fingers to spread your lower lips wide open. His grin sharpens at the sight.

“Now there is a view that’ll get San going,” Wooyoung says, decadently licking his lips. “All pretty and puffed up, and all for me.”

(The possessive streak sends a weak jolt through your hypersensitive pussy.)

Finally he grabs his phone, and raises it up to you in silent question. You nod quietly; no further words are needed to understand his intentions.

You’re still catching your breath; a challenge when Wooyoung is lining up a shot with his cameraphone. It’s hardly the first time he has taken nudes of you, but there’s just always a look of intense focus in Wooyoung’s eyes whenever he handles a camera — especially when it’s pointed straight at your glistening cunt.

(“She’s just so photogenic!” Wooyoung once claimed, fondly patting his beloved model before he took another shot.)

“You’re such a fucking dork,” you giggle when, even now, Wooyoung takes a moment to consider the angle.

“Artist! I’m an artist!” Wooyoung objects loudly, flicking your clit in retaliation. “Gotta do justice to this masterpiece, don’t I?”

With that, Wooyoung snaps his photo — but he does not send it to San right away. Instead he starts texting, mumbling out the words as he’s typing. “Dining… out… at our neighbour’s………… oyster bar.”

You bite down a laugh at his phrasing. “Pretty sad excuse for a bar if they only have one oyster!” you tease, but can’t fight down the giggle when Wooyoung shows you the text; a cheeky 🦪💦👅 added at the end.

“Quality over quantity any day, sweetheart,” Wooyoung winks, then sends the text.

Now there is nothing you can do except wait.

Well. Not nothing. Wooyoung wipes his face and gets up from his knees, then unceremoniously presses your legs together so he can make himself comfortable on your lap. Your various states of undress are like mismatching puzzle pieces; lined up all wrong with Wooyoung’s bare chest and you naked from the waist down — but you don’t get a chance to fix this discrepancy before his phone starts buzzing.

“You aren’t gonna answer that?” you ask, a little breathy as Wooyoung slowly leans in for a kiss.

He makes a noise that seems to mean ‘not yet’, focused on first giving you a faint taste of yourself with lazy swipes of his tongue. You clutch onto his waist with a moan, parting your lips for him while San is forced to wait. Wooyoung grinds into your lap, his already hard dick pressed against your stomach as his tongue flicks against the roof of your mouth, then tangles with yours.

It can’t have been too long before he pulls away — the phone is still buzzing — but it feels like eons, leaving you in a slight daze when Wooyoung finally answers San’s call and puts him on speaker.

“What the hell guys,” San mopes, his pout audible through the phone. There’s muted music in the background; mostly bass-tones, like it’s coming through a wall. “Without me?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung says simply — and hangs up.

“Wha—” You blink at Wooyoung in surprise but he just shrugs, an undertone of sass to the casual gesture. Using his free hand, he slides down between your bodies, pressing two fingers solidly against your clit. You hiss at the sudden stimulation, though you’ve recovered enough to be able to take it. “You — hmnm — you think he’s gonna call back?”

Wooyoung’s lips curve up into a fiendish grin. “He will, if he wants to.”

San does want to.

Almost immediately, Wooyoung’s phone buzzes again. This time, Wooyoung doesn’t make him wait as long. “Where are you?” he asks before San has a chance to speak up.

“Bathroom stall,” San says. “You really couldn’t wait until—?”

“Great! Just jerk off in there if you wanna join in so bad,” Wooyoung says cheerfully, pinching your clit just hard enough to draw a loud whine from you.

San groans at the sound. “Seriously? Someone could walk in here, I don’t—” but he can’t finish. Wooyoung has hung up on San again; and now sends him the picture of your swollen pussy, lewdly dripping with slick and saliva.

The wait is slightly longer this time.

For a second you wonder if your plan has gone awry; San might have taken Wooyoung’s suggestion to just get it on with Rosie Palms out there. Still, your moans lilt a little higher at the thought of San getting himself off on nothing but a picture of your cunt; maybe he’d take a nude of his own, hand wrapped around his flushed cock in a dirty bathroom stall. (A video even, if you would be so lucky.)

However, the plan proves to still be on track when a phone buzzes again; yours.

You pick it up with a shaky hand, shamelessly moaning as Wooyoung toys with your sensitive cunt. You barely have to play up your reactions; sure, the goal of all this is to provoke San, but it definitely works out for you too.

San lets out an exasperated sigh at the pornographic noises that greet him, though there is an obvious tightness to his voice. “You two are unbelievable,” he groans. “Are you trying to piss me off?”

Well. Duh.

“J-just, hmn, just get your ass over here if you — ahh Woo… — if you’re that upset about missing out,” you manage to gasp out between moans.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung agrees, playfully smacking your clit, “we can’t always wait around for you, you know.”

You hang up on San mid-whine, and drop your phone onto the couch.

Wooyoung grins proudly at how easily you slid into the role of his bratty partner-in-crime. “Now,” he says, “don’t tell me that wasn’t fun.”

“Yeah,” you happily admit. “Definitely fun.”

You and Wooyoung ignore San’s next call completely, too distracted by making out again; and then you leave San on read when he sends “heading back now” to the groupchat.

“Come, bedroom,” Wooyoung mumbles against your mouth, barely breaking away from the kiss as he gets up on his feet and pulls you with him. “Don’t wanna ruin my knees before San gets back, and I plan to spend every second until then between your thighs. Let’s get comfortable, alright?”

“A-alright,” you gasp, letting yourself get pulled along. “Um… how long should it take him?”

Wooyoung shrugs. “Eh, like fifteen or sixty minutes? Something like that. He wasn’t sure where they’d go.”

Alarm shoots through you. “Wooyoung?! That’s a wide range of time!” Your body is still on edge — could you handle him for a whole fucking hour, while San can come in at any moment? An aggravated San, who has all that time to plan how he will punish you and Wooyoung.

But Wooyoung just ushers you onto the bed, yanking off your shirt and hurriedly disposing of your bra.

“You don’t want to? I’ll be nice, promise,” he purrs, a deep hungry rasp in his voice. His face is partially shadowed as he hovers over you, but his gleaming eyes are unmistakably pinned on yours. “Just want to get another taste before Sannie gets here… Might be our last chance for a while, if we got him real worked up.”

You swallow thickly at the thought; you’ve successfully appealed to San’s soft side as a dom in the past — but after you and Wooyoung hung up on him three times? You wouldn’t put it past him to take oral off the table for a while, maybe sex entirely.

“Y-yeah no, okay. Yeah, let’s do it,” you say, nodding shakily. Might as well take what you can still get.

Wooyoung bites his lip, pleased with your quick response. “Good,” he murmurs, slowly shifting down the bed with a wicked smile like he’s already forgotten his promise to be nice.

While by no means small, your bed is not quite as large as San’s, so it takes slightly more manoeuvring to get the both of you comfortable. But soon enough Wooyoung has his arms wrapped around your thighs, spreading you open once again for your pleasure and his own.

Sometime over the next ten to fifty-five minutes, the world melts into a blurry haze.

True to his concerns, Wooyoung feasts on you with the frantic urgency of a man who might never get to taste his favourite meal ever again. You writhe under his plump lips and sloppy tongue, gasping at his unrelenting enthusiasm. Wooyoung only slows down when he has to catch his breath, but even then he leaves sweet pecks and nibbles on your plush thighs and the fold of your stomach.

And then he is back, laving your twitching cunt with undivided attention like he’s forgotten about all San entirely, not a care in the world as he laps and strokes and nips at you until your back arches and your moans grow higher and louder until no more sound escapes your throat at all.

You’re on fire, lava pouring through your veins and liquefying your bones from the inside out. You lost count of all the times Wooyoung teased you right up against that edge only to pull back, and you can do nothing but lay there and take his endless edging when he curls three fingers deep inside your aching cunt, moaning around your clit.

Wooyoung ruts against the mattress, harder and faster when he feels you tighten again, until he suddenly groans and shudders, slowing down to a lazy grind — and you realise with a start that Wooyoung has cum in his shorts, just from grinding and eating you out.

Now he’s gotten his own release, Wooyoung is finally gracious enough to stop withholding yours. He babbles against your slit but the words are too muffled to hear, letting you only catch a hoarse “so good” and “fucking drown”. His wrist snaps harshly as he finger-fucks you, lips smacking as he goes back to sucking on your clit, obscenely wet noises filling your bedroom. You can’t fight it. You can’t do anything. Only surrender to the maelstrom that pulls you under, dragging you down to the depths of another forceful climax, pleasure cresting slowly, inescapable, until you bite down sobs and whimpers from its intensity washing over you.

Your body trembles, trying to escape and pull back up for air — but Wooyoung holds you down, and you mewl as you get overwhelmed again. The needling overstimulation is too much this time, refusing to recede. Weakly you try to squirm away from Wooyoung’s mouth, pushing at his head.

“N-nno wait, stop, Woo, too much— Y-yel—”

Before the colour can fully pass your lips, Wooyoung already peeks up from your abused cunt. “Stop? You need a timeout?”

You nod shakily, gasping for air. “Y-yeah. Timeout.”

Wooyoung hums in acknowledgement, slowly crawling up your body. He leaves sticky, open-mouthed kisses on your skin, just a soft brush of his lips. Hips, stomach, the underside of your breast, until he can’t help but linger at a stiff nipple.

“How about this?” he mumbles, gently sucking at the pert nub. “This alright?”

“Hm,” you moan out, weakly slinging an arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders.

He chuckles at your fucked-out state, nuzzling into the valley between your breasts. “I’m too much for you too handle, huh?” he teases before lightly mouthing at your nipple again.

The gentle stimulation feels good, giving you a chance to come down at your leisure without tumbling into freefall. Slowly, you relax under Wooyoung’s soft attentions.

“Ohh, I’m gonna be in trouble once San gets here,” you sigh, though you don’t regret a moment of it. “Fuck, that was a lot.”

“Sorry,” Wooyoung chuckles — and though his grin is not the least apologetic, the soothing brush of his fingers over your waist is. “I’ll try to draw most of his ire, alright?”

“Pff, how selfless of you,” you drawl, rolling your eyes. Like Wooyoung wouldn’t happily take most of San’s ire any day.

“Hey, anything for my best girl,” Wooyoung says with a cheeky wink. “Soooo,” he continues, eyeing your calmed state, “can I finish my meal? I’m still hungry, you know.”

“Oh my god!” you laugh, whapping him on the shoulder. “You’re messing with me, right? You have to be messing with me.”

“Only if your answer is no.” Wooyoung shifts just enough that you can feel him pressed against your thigh, already half-hard again.

You groan, head falling back. “You’re fucking insatiable, you monster.”

“Isn’t it great! Also, not hearing a ‘no’ in there.”

“No,” a new voice suddenly interrupts. “You don’t get to finish your meal, Wooyoung.”

Startled, you fling upright so quick that your chin almost knocks against Wooyoung’s forehead. Even though you knew he was coming, somehow the figure at the open doorway still surprises you.

San.

Leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed and a dark, displeased expression on his face that is completely at odds with the friendly knitted brown sweater he’s wearing. How the hell had you not heard him come in? His eyes are narrow and sharp, thunder crackling behind them.

“Get off her, Wooyoung,” San says in a near growl, sharply jutting his chin to the side. “Let me see what you’ve been doing.”

Wooyoung scrambles off you at once, just as caught off guard by San’s sudden appearance as you.

San saunters over to the bed, his pace unhurried. There’s something in his hand, you realise, but you can’t make out what it is before he grabs one of your legs and yanks you closer to the edge of the bed, making you fall back onto the mattress with a startled yelp.

Your breath catches as San coolly inspects your cunt, his tongue pressing into his cheek in agitation. “Hm, Wooyoung sure had his fill of you, didn’t he?”

“S-sensitive,” you whine as two rough fingers delve through the slick mess between your folds.

San rolls his eyes — and slaps you right on the clit. Not at full strength but enough to make you jolt against his hand, mewling at the sharp impact. He continues his inspection, but then his eyebrow raises in mild surprise at a realisation. “He didn’t fuck you?” San asks, giving you a piercing look.

“No, I—”

“Shut up, Woo. Not talking to you,” San says, his voice stony.

Wooyoung just scoffs, unintimidated. (Couldn’t be you.) “Don’t ask questions if you don’t want answers, Sannie.”

San’s eyes snap to him, now full-on blazing with impending retribution. He gives Wooyoung the same examining look as you; and takes notice of the crusted stain in the crotch of Wooyoung’s baggy shorts. San’s lips curl into a mocking imitation of a smile. “Ahhh… So that’s why you didn’t fuck her. Couldn’t make it that far. Not surprised, you always are a quick climber.”

“That’s not what happen—” Wooyoung bristles, but San is on him within the blink of an eye. He grabs Wooyoung harshly by the jaw, thumb and forefinger digging into his cheeks.

Now that the harsh intensity of his attention is not directly on you, it’s easier to take full stock of San’s appearance. There’s that stormy look in his eyes, the tightness in his jaw — but his shoulders are relaxed, his posture brimming with confidence.

San is thriving, right in his element; he enjoys this.

“Yeah, didn’t expect you to follow any orders today,” he says, his voice a low growl. “Good thing I can just shut you up myself.” He lifts up his other hand, and you finally realise what he’s holding onto.

Your dirty panties.

Carelessly left behind on your couch, now bunched into a tight ball in San’s fist.

San gives them a contemplative look, never relaxing his grip on Wooyoung’s face. He takes a slow, deep sniff of the stained cotton, then holds up the ball in front of Wooyoung, waiting one deliberate beat to give him a chance to object. But Wooyoung stubbornly holds San’s gaze, only groaning when the soiled ball of underwear is forced past his lips as a makeshift gag, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Wooyoung’s jaw shifts as he lets out a muffled noise, already saliva pooling around the fabric as he struggles to take the gag. San just watches in heated silence, a satisfied glint in his eyes.

“I have to assume you won’t listen either if I tell you not to touch yourself,” he scoffs, and yanks Wooyoung’s hands behind his back. San grabs for your discarded shirt, an improvised but effective tool to tie Wooyoung’s wrists together.

Wooyoung moans around the gag, squirming against his bindings as he looks up at San with big, gleaming eyes.

San tuts at the desperation on display, running a condescendingly sweet hand through Wooyoung’s hair. “Show me the signal,” he orders, and pats Wooyoung’s cheek in approval when he lets out three sharp grunts in a rhythmic interval. “Good. Now just sit and watch until I feel like dealing with you.”

Tied up and gagged, Wooyoung now has no choice but to obey.

You might as well be tied up too, the way you’re frozen in place as you watch, wide-eyed. Your breath hitches when San sharply turns his head to look at you, heat crackling through him.

“Hands and knees. Now.”

Whatever held you in place before is shattered by San’s order, your body already moving before your mind gets a say in the matter.

You scramble onto your hands and knees as told, anticipation shivering through you. You can see Wooyoung from the corner of your eyes — but San is fully hidden from view as you wait with baited breath.

You whine lightly when a warm hand rubs over the curve of your rear, perched in the air, and you instinctively push back into the touch.

San tsks at your body’s eagerness, equal parts amusement and derision, and he squeezes at the soft meat of your ass. You shudder, bracing for the flat of his hand to strike, to have its impact leave a divine searing ache behind.

The expected hit does not come. Instead, San gropes your thighs and forces them further apart — and buries his face right in your leaking cunt. He groans as he breathes in deep, just like he’d smelled your panties earlier, this time straight from the source.

You gasp at the sudden press of his mouth against your puffy, tender clit, your elbows buckling as you fall onto your forearms; inadvertently arching your back to provide San with even better access. He makes good use of it, his hot tongue sweeping greedily at your slick.

“Hngh, San— wait—” you moan, unprepared for the assault on your sore cunt.

“‘Wait’?” he growls, a muffled vibration through your core. “You two could hardly wait for me, could you? You let Wooyoung eat that pussy all day but not a drop for me? I didn’t fucking think so. No, baby, you’ll take it.”

He sucks harshly at your clit, moaning as more arousal gushes forth. His nose presses at your weeping hole, his fingers digging mercilessly into your ass.

“You’ll take it all,” San groans again. “How many times did he make you cum, baby? You owe me that many at least.”

“N-no— Can’t, Sannie— Hmm—” You whine, trying to pull away from his ravenous mouth. “’S too much, I can’t—”

San yanks at your hips, his fingers like steel bindings as he keeps you in place, giving you no chance of escape. Sharp teeth nip at your clit in warning.

“What did I fucking say?” he snaps. “Too much? Not my problem. I’m not settling for Woo’s leftovers, so you’ll give me a nice, fresh taste of that sweet slick. We’ll work out the number later. For now, I don’t want to hear another damn sound from that bratty mouth unless it’s a safeword, understood?”

You whine in confirmation — but now San does smack your ass, his lingering handprint throbbing warmly in your skin.

“Not. Another. Sound. Are we clear?”

Fuck. You bury your face in the sheets, desperately stifling another moan.

“That’s right,” San says coldly, kneading at the struck cheek. Then he is back on you, grabbing at your ass as he reintroduces your clit to his lips.

You cry out; immediately earning yourself another spank. Your fingers tear at the bed, scrambling for something to hold onto until you manage to clutch onto a pillow and press it to your face. It’s easier to muffle yourself this way, and you need all the help you can get.

Where Wooyoung had been teasing and edging you endlessly, San has no patience for that. He’s pushing hard and fast, smacking your ass every time you get a little too loud to his liking — which happens more and more as he forcibly drags you closer to his desired orgasm, leaving your skin beautifully sore and glowing with heat. The ruthless intensity of San in a mood like this is impossible to withstand, your vocal cords helpless before the punishment of his lips and tongue and hands.

Soon you are openly grinding back on San’s face, sobbing into the pillow and teething at the corner as drool saturates the cover. You can just barely see Wooyoung through blurred vision, squirming and whining against his gag and bound wrists.

Your jaw goes slack as San mouths sloppily at your clit, his nose rubbing against your fluttering entrance, clenching around nothing. You can’t keep your mouth closed, feeble moans spilling out no matter how you try.

“Hmph, look at you,” San sneers when you cry out at another spank. “What a needy thing you are, just as bad at following orders as Wooyoung. Usually it’s my cock that fucks you dumb, but apparently you don’t even need that much to wipe that pretty head of yours empty.”

“Ngh, hmm, n-no… ‘s too good, San,” you whimper, “gonna cum…”

“‘Good’?” San lets out a harsh, low chuckle. “Baby, this is supposed to be a punishment.”

“No! No no please, Sannie, please—” The thought of being denied again at this point sends your clouded thoughts into a desperate tailspin, and you forget all about San’s instruction for silence. “S-sorry for playing without you,” you babble mindlessly, pathetically, “shouldn’t have teased you. Need you — hm, ahh! — please, feels so good… need you Sannie, please please please—”

“Aw poor thing, need me to make you feel good, do you?” San hums, a pleased undercurrent rumbling in his low voice. “You need Sannie’s cock so bad, baby?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Tell me, baby. Tell me you want my cock.”

“Want Sannie’s cock,” you sob, sniffling against the pillowcase. “Want you inside me, always fucking me so well…”

“Then cum on my tongue first.”

Finally, an order that is easy to follow.

It only takes a few more greedy sucks at your clit, and San groans deeply as you gush on his tongue with a strangled cry. His grip on your hips is unyielding as you convulse, your legs instinctively trying to kick out at the force of your release. Your upper body is nothing but a crumpled mess on the bed, knees shaking as San eats you out through every pulse that rocks through you. He moans contently every time you clench around his tongue, pleased at your quick obedience, until he relaxes his hold and lets you slide down onto the bed.

You pant hard, still clutching onto your pillow and blinking away tears. By now the pillowcase is uncomfortably cold where you drooled and sobbed into it, and you push it away with a weak whine.

Faintly, you hear the rustle of clothes and the sound of a zipper behind you, but your attention is drawn back to Wooyoung, still bound and on his knees.

The sight of him is mesmerising; his face is flushed, chin covered with wet, shiny streaks from gagged mouth. There’s an obvious tent in his crusted baggy shorts, and he grows more fidgety as you watch him, jaw shifting around your dirty panties in his mouth, struggling against your tied up shirt.

Every cell in your body yearns to reach out and touch Wooyoung, to bring relief to his aching cock — but San pats your ass before you can do anything unwise.

“Up,” is his simple order; though he does most of the work himself, lifting you back on your knees with a firm grip on your waist. You tiredly fold your forearms to rest your head on them, keeping your eyes on Wooyoung as San’s pelvis presses against your ass.

You shudder when San’s cock glides through your sticky folds, your lower lips clinging onto his hard length.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, baby,” he groans, rocking his hips against you. “I bet I can just slide right in there, no problem.” His tip presses at your entrance, walls stretching pliantly for him after all this foreplay.

You moan weakly, wiggling your ass. He’s a snug fit in this position, but you’re ready, so fucking ready for San to fill you up. You can’t help but move on your own accord, and San’s breath shallows as you push back into him, his thumbs rubbing encouraging circles on your waist as you sink yourself down on his thick cock.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” he murmurs, his dick twitching inside you. “You know who treats this pussy best. All mine now.”

Heat licks through you at his possessiveness, at Wooyoung’s pitiful moan in response. Your head feels fuzzy, too mindless to agree or protest, but San does not seem to be waiting for a reaction, only for you to completely bury his cock in your wet cunt. Already you’re panting; just the feel of him stretching your walls is enough to make you dizzy, solid pressure resting right against that spongy bundle of nerves.

Then San starts moving.

You already knew you were in real trouble all the way back when he first put you on your hands and knees. That’s how San likes you when he intends to use every ounce of strength in his body, inflicting the full force of his gym-rat lifestyle on you. Hitting deep and hard until you’re nothing but a ragdoll for him to pound into, his hands squeezing tight enough on your waist to leave bruises, your ass sore from the slam of his hips.

Thank god he no longer makes you keep quiet. Your cunt is fucking wired from all the edging and overstimulation and you can feel yourself leaking around San’s cock, arousal streaking down your thighs and dripping onto the bed. San grunts hoarsely with every thrust as he fucks an electrified heat into your abdomen, fuelled by the noisy squelch of his cock being swallowed up by your sopping hole.

You moan out pathetic, hiccuped whines in time with his thrusts, gnawing your bottom lip raw. Wooyoung swims in your vision as tears well up again, your fingers clawing at the sheets for purchase. Your untouched clit throbs, so overwhelmed yet your orgasm feels so far away, even with San hitting right against your sweet spot.

“Gonna cum for me again?” San asks, demands, though a familiar whiny lilt is creeping into his voice. San is close.

“I— I don’t know— dunno if I can—” you mewl, and San seems to realise your genuine distress.

Suddenly you’re hoisted upright against him, one arm locked around your middle; his hand splayed over your stomach, the other pressed on your sternum, just underneath your throat. San’s rhythm barely breaks at the change in position and he continues to fuck up into you, unforgiving.

“Fuck, so tight,” he hisses, the fit of him inside you even more snug like this.

He mouths at your neck when you let your head fall back against his shoulder, your hand flying into his hair to anchor yourself. San groans when you yank at the sweaty strands, his hips stuttering for just a moment before he regains himself and falls back into his rough pace. His thumb inches upward, brushing over the base of your throat, and you moan in encouragement for him to reach a little higher.

“Not yet, baby,” San rasps. “Gonna take care of you, just need you to touch your clit first. Then I’ll get you there.”

Obediently you reach down with a shaky hand, unable to do more than just a clumsy rub with two fingers; but San holds true to his promise. His rough pace slows into deliberate thrusts, smooth and so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat, where his hand ghosts across your skin. Suddenly the orgasm that felt miles out of reach, is right on you.

San’s breaths fall hard and hot against your ear, his fingers teasing at your neck. Barely squeezing, just making you unable to forget they’re there.

“That’s it, let go now,” he encourages. “Give it to me, hmn, wanna feel you cum on my cock. Fuck, you feel so good, baby, just a little more for me.”

There’s a budding heat stirring in your cunt, sharp enough to pierce through the cloudy overstimulation that fogs up your brain. Your entire body trembles against San’s hold, moans growing in pitch. You whine when your fingers falter, just as you dangle over the edge — but then San is there, taking over.

The pads of his fingers are rougher than yours, their firm pressure on your clit exactly what you need. Your hand in his hair tangles deeper, the other clinging onto his arm to stay upright. San groans as your nails dig into his wrist, but he keeps going, an unstoppable force driving you over that edge.

You glance to the side, and it’s when you meet Wooyoung’s watery eyes that you know you’re done for.

“F-fuck, San, San, I— I’m gonna—”

San can only whine in answer, bucking his hips a few more times before he stills inside you with a loud, strangled moan, coating your walls with ropes of white. He stays buried deep inside you, panting for breath as he takes away yours; tightening his grip around the sides of your throat. You gasp — or you try to — inhaling raggedly through the partial restriction of your airflow. San still rubs at your swollen clit, and white heat floods your brain as you dissolve in his arms, reduced to a delirious, light-headed haze.

After a few brief, endless seconds, San’s hand relaxes. He murmurs soft encouragements, guiding you through it as you whimper against him through the lingering waves of pleasure that lick at your worn-out cunt.

Again San lets you slump down onto the bed; but this time he moves with you, pressing light kisses against the side of your face. He gently shushes your whine when his cock slips out and leaves you empty, cum trickling down your thighs. “Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Did so well for me.”

“Hmn,” you moan hoarsely, instinctively trying to pull San in for a cuddle. You make a weak noise of complaint when he doesn’t budge — but you instantly release him when you remember why. Wooyoung.

San chuckles at your neediness, brushing a tender thumb over your cheek. “Wooyoungie needs taking care of now, baby. Gotta see if he’s learned his lesson yet. You alright? Give me a colour.”

You nod, a tired smile making its way onto your face. “Green,” you sigh contently. “Wanna watch…”

“Of course you do,” San says, breathing a fond laugh. “Have fun, hm? Need anything first? Blanket?”

San lingers just a moment longer with you, ignoring Wooyoung’s small noises as he helps you into a robe to make sure you don’t get cold, and hands you a pillow that hasn’t been drooled on.

Then San finally turns back to Wooyoung — and his entire demeanour shifts, his shoulders seeming to grow wider as he sinks back into the cool, hardened dom with a brat to punish.

Wooyoung lets out a garbled whimper around the gag when San’s fingers ghost over the cum-stained crotch of his shorts, but San moves past it, tugging at the waistband instead.

“I assume this means you didn’t play with his ass and open him up for me, did you?” he asks you, a mocking grin on his lips. “No? That’s fine, lube is in the drawer, right?”

San rummages through your nightstand, ignoring your toys in favour of a bottle of lube. You curl up on the bed to make yourself comfortable as you watch how San puts the bottle down next to him, first sitting on his knees in front of Wooyoung.

“Hm, what to do with you,” San ponders, holding Wooyoung’s jaw with a less than gentle touch.

Wooyoung moans, arching his hips forward, but the unspoken suggestion goes ignored.

“Did you get a good look at how I had to punish our sweet girl? Bet you dragged her into this,” San says with cold derision — and completely correct in his assumption. “You’re a bad influence, Woo. Getting my good girl into trouble just because you were hungry for some pussy.”

(Even as a spectator, something flutters in your chest at the petname — though you don’t think it’s wholly deserved here. Wooyoung might have been the brains behind this scheme, but you weren’t exactly a reluctant co-conspirator. Still, you stay quiet, too eager to see how this plays out.)

Wooyoung makes another unintelligible noise, drool leaking past his gag onto San’s fingers. He juts his head insistently against San’s hold, his eyes shimmering with the silent plea to remove your panties from his mouth.

San scoffs, pushing Wooyoung’s face away.

“What, are you hungry for cock too? Is that what you want, to gag on something other than those panties you ruined?” San shakes his head, sitting next to Wooyoung so he can slide a heavy arm around his shoulders, almost ominous in the way he pulls Wooyoung close. “No Woo, I don’t think you deserve that after what you pulled today.”

That’s all the warning Wooyoung gets before San pushes him down, manhandling him onto his stomach, his cheek pressed into the sheets. Wooyoung groans through the gag, starting to squirm but San pins him with an unyielding hand between his shoulder blades, not letting him escape.

Your breath hitches when Wooyoung meets your eyes, his face contorted with desperation as he wiggles against San’s hold, tears brimming on his lashes. His eyes squeeze shut when San smacks his still-clothed ass, a choked moan escaping his stretched-open lips.

“Hold still while I take these off, understood?” San tells Wooyoung, who shudders and shows his first sign of voluntary obedience today as San slightly raises his hips to unbutton his baggy shorts and yank them down along with his underwear. San doesn’t take them off all the way, leaving the clothes bunched around Wooyoung’s ankles — and somehow that makes it all the more undignified. Like San doesn’t find it worth the effort to properly unclothe Wooyoung, his crusted shorts staying there as a mocking reminder of how he’d humped himself into an orgasm earlier.

You find yourself fading into a foggy dreamscape as you watch San and Wooyoung; their combined efforts have wiped you out completely, a wonderful exhaustion sunk deep into your mind, muscles and bones. San’s punishment of Wooyoung melts into a blurry series of moments, each deeply imprinted on your brain;

San spreading Wooyoung’s asscheeks, fingering him open while deliberately avoiding his prostate; just a cocksleeve to be used with no right to his own pleasure. Wooyoung moaning in desperation, trying to rock back into San, only for San’s hand to wrap around the nape of Wooyoung’s neck, pressing his face harder into the mattress until he obediently holds still again.

How the bindings around Wooyoung’s wrists start to loosen when San finally fucks into him with hard snaps of his hips, but still Wooyoung can’t do anything but scramble for something to grab onto — he is so far gone it does not even cross his mind to take out the gag from his mouth. San, bent over Wooyoung’s prone body, his chest heaving from exertion, skin glistening from sweat. Wooyoung’s cries as his dick rubs against the sheets underneath with every brutal thrust.

You watch it all, heat prickling through your veins as San and Wooyoung envelop nearly all your senses just by letting you be their quiet witness again.

The sight of San using Wooyoung for his own pleasure. Their moans and whines filling your ears, the heady smell of sex saturating the air; even the mattress bouncing underneath you in time with San’s pace. You reach down between your legs for a swipe of San’s cum, just to get a taste as well, but you’re met with the soft pang of disappointment to find it has already dried and crusted on your thighs.

But the disappointment can’t last, not when San takes mercy on Wooyoung and slams into his prostate with every thrust, Wooyoung’s muffled yet loud cries echoing through your bedroom.

“Come on, that’s what you wanted, right?” San goads him, a thick vein protruding in his neck. His voice is shaky from the strain, low and rough. “I know you got jealous, watching me fuck her. You couldn’t wait to get fucked like that yourself. That tight hole filled up with my cock, my hand on your neck. Well, now you got it,” he spits, tightening his grip, pressing the side of Wooyoung’s face into the mattress again. “Show some fucking gratitude and cum for me.”

Gratitude comes with a choked keen, with struggled bucks of Wooyoung’s hips; his cock still trapped between his stomach and your bed as he falls apart under San’s command. His knuckles are white from how hard he clutches at the sheets, eyes squeezed shut and face streaked with sweat, saliva and tears.

Slowly Wooyoung’s stifled moans die down into weak whimpers, his limp body feebly rocked up-and-down as San chases his own high.

“Haa, fuck fuck—” San folds over, burying his face between Wooyoung’s shoulder blades as he finds his release, spilling with stuttered thrusts until finally he collapses completely. He only barely manages to catch himself, sliding next to Wooyoung instead of crushing him under his weight.

You release a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, still drinking in every detail of the two men entangled. San tries to catch his breath, running a soothing hand over Wooyoung’s back. Carefully he turns Wooyoung onto his back, who moans but lets himself be moved around by San’s strong hands. San props himself up on an elbow as he leans over Wooyoung to peel your underwear from his mouth and toss it aside, then plant a tender kiss on Wooyoung’s puffy lips.

“You okay?” San asks quietly, brushing sweaty strands of hair out of Wooyoung’s face.

Wooyoung only nods at first, like he’s still a little stunned, but then he manages to find his voice. “Fuck yeah, I’m okay. That was… fuck,” he groans, hoarse but emphatic. “I love you so fucking much, you know that?”

San lets out a breathless laugh at the sudden declaration. “So much that you hung up on me before I could even get my hand down my pants!”

“You know me, that’s how I express my affection,” Wooyoung mumbles tiredly, while he reaches out a hand at you, beckoning you to come cuddle.

You do exactly that while San gets you all some water, grabbing an energy bar for himself. (You don’t even eat those, but somehow San’s favourite snacks have sneaked their way into your home anyway.) Then he comes to join you and Wooyoung in the middle of your cuddle, where you both get to use San’s chest for its rightful purpose; a comfy pillow to rest your weary head.

Still, in the peaceful quiet of the aftermath, you can’t help but take a moment to observe San, take stock of his condition.

What you see is reassuring; San is tired, but the right kind of tired. His eyes are clear and shining, a slow smile playing on his face as he leisurely plays with Wooyoung’s hair and brushes his fingers over your arm in small, soothing patterns.

San raises an eyebrow in question when he notices you looking. “Hey, got something on your mind?”

You huff a small laugh, not sure where to even begin answering that.

“That was amazing,” you smile at him, “but… you were wrong about Wooyoung.”

“Hm? Wrong how?” San asks, confused, while Wooyoung perks up in curiosity.

“You said he was a bad influence,” you explain. “Not true. He was a good one. A really good one.”

San raises a playful eyebrow. “You’re gonna have to explain that one to me, baby.”

So you do. You explain how you’d been nervous about pushing San too hard, how Wooyoung reminded you to trust San, trust him to know and guard his own limits. Helping you past that mental block, reviving the knowledge that San enjoys this type of play as much as you do.

San listens intently, his fingers idly combing through Wooyoung’s hair and squeezing at the nape of his neck — affectionately, this time. Wooyoung listens too, his eyes shimmering at you. You’d half-expected him to preen and giggle at your praise, or to badger San for being too tough on him, but instead he is quiet; touched by your recognition that his encouragement was about more than just being bratty for a bit of fun.

Wooyoung lightly pinches your side as you finish speaking; a gesture you’ve come to recognise as a substitution for when he wants to kiss you outside of sex, just like how San likes to rub his cheek against your shoulder or the side of your head. Small ways they’ve found to meet you halfway while staying within your comfort zone; enabling them to show their physical affection without crossing any hard boundaries. Something warm flourishes in your chest at the gesture, feeling safe and cherished.

“Yeah, let’s be very clear,” San says when you finish talking. “Really, I don’t put up with being a hard dom just to make you and Wooyoung happy. I mean, obviously I wouldn’t go there if you weren’t into it,” he adds quickly, like you didn’t literally witness him breaking down at the mere thought of hurting you or Wooyoung, “but yeah, I like doing this too.”

“Oh, I know, that was more than obvious today!” you grin. “I just needed reminding. This was a great reminder.” In more ways than one.

San chuckles, shaking his head — but then a mischievous gleam sneaks into his eyes. “Well… I might have a little something then. In case you ever need to refresh your memory in the future.”

Your brow furrows in confusion, and you exchange a look with Wooyoung while San reaches to grab for his phone, then settles back down. He holds his phone so you and Wooyoung can see the screen, and your eyes widen when he pulls up the most recently made video.

On it, you can just barely see enough of San’s surroundings to know he is standing in a public bathroom stall — but more importantly, you can perfectly see how his jeans are undone, pulled down just enough to release his cock. He is hard and aching, jerking himself off with quiet moans, desperately trying to keep the noise down.

“Fuck, Sannie, I didn’t know you had it in you,” Wooyoung says breathlessly, sounding almost proud.

“What else was I supposed to do, walk out with a massive boner just like that?” he sighs, shaking his head.

Your cheeks are on fire as you watch how the San on the screen groans tightly when he spills into some tissue-paper, almost doubling over. Instant heat pools between your thighs, and you press your face into San’s chest with a moan, suddenly so turned on again that you don’t know what to do with yourself.

San chuckles, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. “So you like that, huh?”

“San,” you groan against his chest, “you have no fucking idea how badly I want to go down on you in a public bathroom. Like. Right now.”

“Hm. Cute,” he has the audacity to say, while Wooyoung’s laugh cackles to life next to you.

Lesson learned. No need to worry about teasing San too much.

#ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #san smut #wooyoung smut #ateez imagines #ateez fic #woosan x reader #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #ateez hard hours #kpop smut #ateez #san #wooyoung #ateez scenarios #ateez san #ateez wooyoung #igby’s writing

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clonecaptains · 1 month

Text

too good to be true

a jake ‘hangman’ seresin x shy!reader fic

warnings: alcohol mention; self confidence issue mention; slight innuendo if you squint; she/her pronouns used; no use of y/n

word count: 2.6k

summary: a handsome pilot has been making eyes at you all night - and you can't even begin to wrap your head around it. you wouldn't know what to say - but you better make it quick - he's on his way over!

a/n: thank you for the love on my previous fic! hope yall enjoy this one! jake's been living rent free in my head!

You didn’t want to go, but you couldn’t say no to your friend. She needed your support on this one. It’s her cousins’ birthday. Her cousin that she has a very strained relationship with. She hopes coming to this party at the Hard Deck might be a sign of good faith. You weren’t holding your breath; you didn’t exactly care for her cousin either. Another reason you didn’t want to go.

The good thing about this though – besides getting to spend time with a good friend – was admiring the view. The Hard Deck is a Navy bar. It’s full of naval officers and aviators, especially on the weekends.

80’s classic rock plays overhead and as the night goes on you decide you’re glad you came after all. The dimly lit atmosphere is comfortable, full of earth tones and Navy memorabilia. You and your friend quietly watch, from a distance, a handful of pilots playing pool. There’s one in particular that catches your attention. All the pilots in the place look handsome – you think that must be a requirement for joining the Navy. But this one – the tall blond one – stands out.

You made eye contact once, and quickly shifted your gaze. You saw him smirk a little and that sent butterflies into your tummy. You meekly sip your drink and dare to look back at him. You watch him walk around the pool table, looking for his next shot to take. He’s deliberate in all his actions. Confidence is in his movements as he lines up his shot. His gaze flicks up to you and gives you a little wink – making his shot without looking at the table.

Your friend elbows you in the side giggling, “He’s totally into you!”

“You think so?” you feel your face warm and take another drink to diffuse the tension. “He can’t be,” you shrug her off.

“No, I really think he is,” she squeals. “He’s coming over here.”

Your heart stops when you look over at him again. His eyes are on you as he hands his pool cue to his friend. The motion is swift and precise. Something about him not looking to pass it over while he looked at you sent electricity down to your toes.

“What do I do?” you hiss to your friend, watching him walk towards you. His smile grows and you couldn’t help but match it.

“Hi ladies,” that perfect smile is thick on his voice when he reaches your group. The birthday girl makes her way over to him. She’s quick to make her presence known. It burns you inside watching her. You admit you’re jealous of her boldness, and how she makes heads turn. That’s never been you.

“What can we do for you sir? Did you come over to wish me Happy Birthday?” she asks him, batting her eyelashes and touching his bicep.

You can’t watch her flirt with him, knowing that she can have whoever she wants in this place. You were silly to think he was interested in you. Makes the quick moment of butterflies turn into a pang of disappointment in your stomach. You take another sip of your drink and try to tune her out. Staring at the damp ring left on the table from your drink doesn’t help quite like you wish it would. You look up to see him give her a good-natured smile.

Then his eyes cut over to you while he answers her question. “Actually, I came to talk to that one-“ and he points to you.

“Me?” you look around as if he were somehow pointing to someone else.

“Yes ma’am,” he smiles and walks closer to where you’re sitting. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Your friend all but pushes you out of your seat to go towards him. And when you step forward, you get a good strong whiff of his cologne.

“Hi,” he smiles. You smile sheepishly at him. You know the other girls are watching every moment of this, but you don’t notice them at all. The room could be on fire, and you wouldn’t know. Though the heat from his gaze is so hot you think the room might actually be on fire. “Can I buy you a drink?” he asks again when you don’t answer.

You’re gawking. You didn’t mean to but he’s so handsome, especially up close. The “yeah!” that comes out of your mouth is very eager and you want to bury your head in the sand outside the bar. But he seems to love watching you get flustered.

He offers you his arm and your face warms putting your hand in the crook of his elbow. Your fingers touch the warm, taut skin over his bicep, and you can’t believe this is happening right now.

“Happy Birthday,” he tells the birthday girl again brushing past her. You wanted to turn around so badly to see the look on her face, but you were focusing too hard on not tripping over your own feet.

The handsome pilot guides you towards the bar asking, “what are you drinking?” His eyes flick down to your hand still clinging to his bicep. Maybe it’s just your imagination that he flexes it for you before you shyly let go. Your cheeks warm telling him your drink order. His face is so close, and you’re hypnotized. His eyes on you sends a thrill to your heart and anxiety to your stomach. His mouth is so sexy you can’t help but linger on it. You panic knowing you aren’t subtle, and he can see you looking at his mouth.

Doesn’t seem to stop his smile from growing.

He knows.

He repeats your drink order to the bartender, and you feel a lurch in your stomach. The bar seems louder than before, and you feel a little clammy. He turns from ordering and puts his hand on your lower back.

“What’s your name darlin’?” he asks with a gentle smile. You barely hear or register his question because you tell him at the same time you need to use the ladies room. His smile is easy, despite the look of concern in his eyes. Do you really look that nervous?

Your dash to the bathroom is a blur. Passing rowdy patrons and feeling like you might lose the contents of your stomach right there on the bar floor.

Making a beeline for the sink once you’re in the bathroom, you grab some paper towels. Wetting them you pat your face and the back of your neck. You feel silly, but this has never happened to you before. No one like him has given you the looks he’s giving you. You know you could tell him you’re a little nervous, but what if he only likes really confident women? What if that’s a turn off? What if he expects you to put out? That makes you panic even more. How do you tell him you don’t do this kind of thing? Even the thought of kissing him makes your head spin.

Then you look in the mirror. You notice every flaw and your self confidence that was pretty high a minute ago plummets. You can’t go back out there to him.

So, you don’t. Tears stain your cheeks as you duck out of the bar without a word to him. Your heart is pounding as you leave, and you already feel regret. But your anxiety is winning. You can’t go back in there NOW after it’s been so long and you’re crying.

You don’t even tell your friend that you leave until you are at home. You know she would make you go back in there and talk to the hottest guy in there. The one who wanted to buy you a drink.

The one that you don’t even know his name.

You start to cry harder. What if you never see him again? Maybe that would be better? You feel bad for leaving so quickly without telling him. And you don’t know if you could face him again.

So, you text your friend through your very conflicted emotional tears. Her answer is full of typos and doesn’t make much sense. She’s drunk. You’ll talk to her about this tomorrow.

You get ready for bed, and you don’t even know what you’re doing. You’re on autopilot. Pilot. Oh yeah. Pilot. You scream into your pillow and cry until you give yourself a headache. Maybe you’re being ridiculous. Maybe you should have just accepted that he did want to talk to you instead of letting your own self doubt get in the way. And then you ruined it. You left that no name handsome pilot standing there with your drink wondering where you went. Thinking he did something wrong.

That’s when you decide you’ll go to the bar again tomorrow night. He’s got to be in there on a Saturday, right?

You barely sleep, and the whole rest of the day your stomach is in knots. The only question on your mind is what if he’s not there? What if he’s not there and you ruined your chance. You’re not sure if he’s looking for a relationship or a hook-up. But you’d like to find out! What if he is someone you start to date? That’s how people meet right?

You think about his mouth again. His handsome smile. The shape of his mouth. How badly you wonder what it’s like to kiss those lips. He’s gotta be a good kisser.

Most of your day is spent agonizing over these questions. You talk to your friend a LOT about this. She comes over and helps you pick out an outfit and she agrees to go with you tonight. That way you won’t have to go alone, and she can hype you up.

Thrill and panic are fighting a war in your belly. Your heart has been racing. Ice is pumping into your veins while you get ready. You’re wearing a simple black dress – it’s the most flattering to your figure. And you spend longer than you think you ever have on your makeup and hair.

“You’re gonna knock him off his feet when you show up looking like that to apologize,” your friend smiles looking at you over your shoulder in the mirror. It’s only right then before you’re about to head out the door that you don’t even know what you’re going to say to him.

You don’t live far from the bar, and you’d rather just go on ahead than sit at home to wait even more.

Music and the sound of patrons talking and laughing inside spills outside. There’s a breeze blowing on you before you walk in and you’re grateful for the fresh air before stepping through the entrance.

The place is busy tonight as you expected, but it doesn’t take you long to spot him. He’s by his buddies at the dartboard. He must have scored because he gives his buddy a high five and a couple other guys cheer.

“There he is come on,” your friend grabs your elbow and tugs you in his direction. Your knees shake and your heart is pounding. What are you going to say? You have about 30 seconds to figure it out.

With your heart in your throat, you step closer, he still hasn’t seen you. But one of his buddies does.

“Hangman,” one of them hits your handsome stranger on the arm and nods in your direction. He turns to look over his shoulder and when he realizes it’s you – that big grin splits his face. He turns further and steps closer into your space.

“Left me hangin’ last night,” he comments taking a sip of his beer. Someone behind him chuckles at the pun from his callsign.

“I’m sorry about that. I panicked. You make me so nervous,” you’re saying all this before your brain can catch up. You faintly heard one of the guys make a little “oooOOooOO” noise, and Hangman smacks his friend on the chest with the back of his hand. You don’t miss the look of pride in Hangman’s eyes at your comment despite him not wanting his friends to tease you.

“Me?” he teases playfully and gets even closer. You can smell the mint on his breath from the gum in his mouth. “Come on,” he clicks his tongue a little and nods his head in a direction away from the guys.

He puts his hand on your lower back – last night it sent you into a panic – but this time you let him. You like how it feels. His touch is very light, and he gently guides you to a quieter corner of the bar.

“I really am sorry,” you start back up again. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me before, and-“

His eyebrows raise, he wants you to finish what you were going to say. He enjoys the flustered look on your face and the way your pupils dilate before he gives you relief.

“I know, your friend told me. Showed me your texts. Particularly liked the one about how I was the ‘most handsome man you’d ever seen.’” He gives you a little wink.

You weren’t sure if you were going to kill your friend or if you owed her your life now.

Then he said your name, you can only assume he saw on the text messages from last night. “I didn’t mean to make you nervous, even though it’s cute as hell.”

“I was just surprised that you came up to me. You could have anyone you want in here.” You motion with your hand around the place.

“Maybe I don’t just want anyone. I wanted the adorable girl who checked me out all night and was too shy to come say anything. Got in my head, made me damn crazy.”

“Really?” you whisper smiling up at him.

“Adorable,” he smiles.

“I thought about you all night when I left. I was so mad at myself, but I didn’t know what to say.”

“All night?” he smirks and your face warms. You might be embarrassed as his insinuations if you didn’t love how much he was looking at you. “I thought about you too.” He takes a swig of his beer, and now you really feel your skin get hot wondering if he means what you think he does.

“I was worried I startled you. Then your friend showed me what you said. I don’t think she was fully aware of what she was doing,” he laughs, “she told me all of it before I could say a word. But I’m glad she told me to come back tonight.”

“I’m glad too,” you smile reach up to fiddle with his uniform shirt sleeve. “Did she really show you all of them though?” you whine a little. “Even the kiss one?”

“Even the kiss one,” he confirms with another dangerous smirk. He puts his hand on the wall behind you, effectively trapping you between the wall behind you and the wall of muscle in front of you.

“Something about wanting to kiss this sexy mouth?” he teases. You hang your head with an exasperated groan. “Hey,” he lifts your chin with his finger. “I’ll kiss you,” he’s whispering now. His lips are so close to yours and you couldn’t form a coherent thought if you tried. All you know is how good he smells and how loud your heart is pounding in your ears.

“If?” you whisper back – your mouths almost touching.

“If you agree to go out on a date with me tomorrow,” His grin is so sly, and you are enjoying every moment.

“Yes,” your whisper is barely audible, but it’s enough.

Enough for him to close the very small gap between your lips. His hand cradling the back of your head now holding you to him. You whimper in his mouth and when he pulls back you gasp softly.

“I don’t even know your name,” you smile up at him.

“Jake,” he whispers against your lips before kissing you again.

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x shy reader #top gun maverick fic #my writing

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