#fools the pair of them lmao

[monty-glasses-roxy]

https://www.tumblr.com/emirrart/619196026536001536/thank-u-discord?source=share but with Roxy. That's it that's the thought.

Roxy and her fun gender in scribbly comic form for you

Bonus: Freddy doesn't get it at all lmao

[sylphwing]

hm. i do not like chilshi 🤔

[daycourtofficial]

Azriel’s Girls

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 2.6k | warnings: none

Summary: you overhear a conversation between Azriel and his brothers that has you second guessing your boyfriend’s faithfulness. What will you find when you follow him out one night?

Author’s note: two fics one day! This is crack lmao I wrote this in a blur this afternoon from a silly convo with @milswrites @prythianpages and @ninthcircleofprythian lmao

You and Feyre came into the River House giggling over the amount of paint that covered the both of you. The two of you stop laughing long enough to look at each other, before devolving into fits of giggles once more. One of the boys in the studio had insisted on today’s topic being finger painting, which led to the children essentially dipping their hands into paint before smearing it over all of your clothes.

“Are you sure you don’t want to shower here?” Her voice is soft and kind, a slight rasp to it from talking to the kids all afternoon.

“Thanks Fey, but I’d rather shower at home so I can slip into my pajamas and go to sleep.” You look away from her, as if you could see him through the walls. “Maybe I can even convince Azriel to rub my back. I shouldn't have given some piggy back rides.”

Feyre hums, a soft ‘told you so’ on her tongue, but you give her a pointed look and she keeps it to herself.

“Well, I’m going to go wash up. Good luck finding the boys.”

Her voice floats down the hallway she takes, and you start thinking about where to look - the most obvious place being Rhys’s study. Your feet pad through the halls until you start to hear three loud laughs coming from the cracked study door.

You keep moving towards the source, ready to make your presence known, when you hear Cassian say, “when will you see them again?”

Your boyfriend responds with a soft, “tonight”, eliciting raucous laughter from his brothers. You still, pressing yourself towards the wall, tilting your head in contemplation.

Azriel had told you he had plans tonight, that he was doing something important for Rhys. Had he lied to you?

Cassian’s voice cuts through your train of thoughts, “I’m sure the girls at Rosehall have been missing you.”

Rosehall?

You scrunch your eyebrows, trying to remember if you had ever heard of Rosehall. Was it somewhere in Velaris? Was it a pleasure hall? Who were these girls Cassian spoke of?

Had your sweet Azriel been sneaking around, and his brothers were aware of it? Had they been condoning it?

“I haven’t been able to see them in a while, they’ll be glad for the company.”

“I’m sure they’ll be crawling all over you, brother.”

Their laughs were knives in your heart. Did everyone know? Were you nothing more than a fool to them? Nothing more than a mere joke to these males? Your mind was racing, not paying any mind to the rest of the conversation as you ran down the hall into the kitchens, getting yourself a glass of water. You chugged it, the cool liquid giving your racing thoughts something else to focus on. Like a plan to figure out the truth.

After a few minutes of allowing yourself to seethe and panic, you retraced your steps towards Rhys’s study with your plan in tow: get to Rosehall, find out who these girls are, and yell and scream at Azriel and his brothers for playing you for a fool. As you approach, the males within were now speaking of some sporting event you were not the slightest bit interested in. Azriel’s face brightens as you knock and enter, pushing the door that was slightly ajar. You hate the way your heart picks up a bit at seeing him, at seeing how his face lights up at your presence, your cheeks heating at his attention.

He’s a lying, backstabbing, good for nothing-

“How was painting with Feyre?”

The attention from all three of them pulls you from your thought spiral and you choke on your own spit, coughing a bit. Azriel’s smile turns into a look of concern as he watches you, but Cassian chuckles. “Did you eat the paint by accident?”

Rhysand’s low tone chimes in, “I believe she’s wearing half the paint in Feyre’s studio, and I’m sure my mate’s wearing the other half.”

You chuckle, “uh yeah, Feyre was heading to shower when I left her.”

Rhys dips his head, “that's my cue to leave. BRothers, always a pleasure until better things come along. I’ll see you all later.”

Cassian laughs as Rhys disappears in front of you all, “horny bastard.”

Azriel glares at his brother, “and the pot calls the kettle black.”

Cassian scoffs, flicking his wrist in the air, “pish posh, Azriel. The past is the past.”

“Your past was last week when everytime I came back to the House of Wind for two weeks I got front row seats to your ass.”

“Well, it's our house. And I have a fantastic ass.”

Cassian flexes his thighs, as if Azriel just had to see it to mitigate his annoyance.

“I live there too.”

Cassian shrugs, as if this was a matter of opinion to just accept differences over.

Azriel looks back to you, his eyes making you feel warm, just as they always did. But the warmth was quickly devolving into a ball of anger and sadness, warming your stomach with jealousy and annoyance.

You slap a smile onto your face as you look towards Az, taking in his lazy grin as Cassian slaps him on the back. “I’m off to see Nes. You kids have fun!”

Cassian walks toward the balcony, taking to the skies. Azriel turns toward you, offering his hand so the two of you could embark as well. You accept his hand in yours, a little part of your mind telling you this is the last time you’ll do this. You laugh, pushing the thoughts to the side as you allow Azriel to pick you up, the two of you shooting up into the air.

Azriel flies you back to your apartment, his wings expertly moving over the streets of Velaris. You can’t help the smile on your face as you two fly through the air, watching the people below you until he lands right in front of your home.

You open the door for the both of you, and he follows closely behind. He chuckles at your paint covered clothes, and you fidget slightly, wanting him to make the move to leave.

The clock in your living room chimes, and his gaze moves towards it. “It’s getting late, I have to go. Will you be okay?”

You nod, your arms tightening around yourself. He takes your nervous energy as your hatred for sleeping alone, not wanting to upset you further by making you speak about it.

“How long will you be gone?”

He ponders for a moment, “I should be back tomorrow or the day after.”

He turns toward the door, but you shoot out your hand to grab his wrist. “Can I have one of your shadows? To keep me company? I like having them around.”

One shadow in particular dances at your words, coming from behind Azriel, practically spinning in the air as it immediately rushes to you.

“I hope you like that one because I don’t think it’ll let a different one stay with you.”

You giggle as it weaves through your hair, picking it up into a ponytail before dropping it.

“Perfect, so I’ll have someone to be witness to my antics.”

You giggle, but his face is solemn as he looks at you, something feeling so off about your behavior.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

His words are so soft, and every part of you wants to tell him no, I’m not okay, because you are seeing other women who will be crawling all over you once you leave from here.

Instead you nod, making up an excuse about your eyes being tired from all the painting. He kisses your forehead, his lips soft and light against your skin before pulling away and stepping out of your door before winnowing away.

You count your breath for a few beats before turning to the shadow, “do you know where Rosehall is?”

-

Of all of your terrible ideas over the years, this one was perhaps the worst. You had asked the shadow where Rosehall was, expecting it to be somewhere in Velaris, likely in the parts of the city you were less familiar with. You did not expect the black wisp to wrap around your wrist and begin tugging you away from Velaris very forcefully.

You had started getting nervous when it kept pulling you towards the outskirts, but you were in it now, and you were going to see this ridiculous scheme through to the end.

The shadow had been pulling you for hours it seemed, across landscapes, your feet killing you as you walked, and somewhere several miles away from Velaris, the shadow’s hold loosened on your wrist, opting to move up and down your arm, as if telling you this was your destination.

“Are you sure this is right?”

The shadow danced all around you as if it were confirming your statement. You looked at the gated entrance, the estate so lush and green and not at all what you had expected, it took you by surprise.

This was where he brought women? To do scandalous things and have nights full of debauchery? Was this some beautiful and well-tended pleasure hall? Before you can debate going through the gate, the shadow moves forward, unlatching it and pushing it open for you.

You sigh, thinking to yourself no going back now.

You enter through the gate, preparing yourself to hear the sounds of females giggling, perhaps even moaning, but you are completely taken aback at the chorus of meows you hear, followed by a door opening, and Azriel’s soft voice calling out, “if you’re here for my mother, she has stepped out-”

His voice stops as he takes in the sight of you, the two of you standing before each other across the lush estate. His eyes swim with confusion, and you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him at such a loss for words or the situation before. He continues to look at you, before realizing he’s carrying a tray of various raw meats and fish. He takes no notice of the dozen or so cats circling him, several trying to climb up his legs toward the food he carries.

“You- what are- how did you get here?”

You lift up the shadow that was entwined with your arm before it skitters off to join the other shadows playing games with the cats who weren’t paying attention to Azriel. You try not to wear the confusion on your face, hoping desperately to have some upper hand here.

“Is this Rosehall?”

Azriel sighs, setting down the food as one of the cats lunges to bite at his arm, missing and falling back into the pool of cats at Azriel’s feet.

“Yes.”

You puff up your chest, confusion seeping through your features as you ask, “and where are the females? The girls?”

“The girls?” His voice is incredulous, and you want to roll your eyes at it.

“Yes, the girls. The ones who wish to climb all over you because you haven’t been paying them attention.”

His long legs start to make their way across the front garden, the sea of cats at his feet parting as he makes his way through them. “The girls who climb over me?”

You sigh, exasperation evident, “must you repeat my words? Yes, okay fine. I overheard Cassian speaking of your plans this evening with ‘your girls’. Now why don’t you bring them out and show me to be a fool?”

A deep, belly laugh comes from his mouth, and you are utterly offended.

“Azriel, I came here to put you through the ringer for stepping out on me, and you find it funny?”

He steps forward, trying to put his arms around you but you step away from his embrace. His laughing continues as he asks, “you walked all the way here?”

“Yes.”

You stick out your chin, determined to look strong and confident.

“You walked all the way from Velaris to here, to find out I had cats?”

“Why yes, I did walk all the way here to find out-”

Your words die on your tongue as you look around, not seeing any other females anywhere. You picked up the scent of one, but the scent smelled so much like Azriel, they had to be related in some way.

He watches your nose twitch, separating out all the smells beneath the ever present smell of cat.

“My mother lives here.”

He coughs, the joyous look from his laughter gone, his hands moving behind his back. He rocks on his feet, and you found it quite endearing.

“With my cats.”

“Your cats?”

“Yes, but they’re not really mine. They just show up.”

“Your cats show up? What does that mean?”

“It means, if I spend any time in Illyria the cats seek me out. I’ve already fixed the stray cat problem in Velaris.”

He opens his arms wide.

“They’re all here. Problem solved, I suppose.”

You blink, slightly convinced Rhys had finally broken your mind and made up the most ridiculous scenario he could imagine. You feel one of the cats rub against your legs, and you bend slightly to nuzzle its face. It was pitch black with bright green eyes. It was so little, you couldn’t help but pick it up despite its verbal protests.

“You have cats.”

“Yes, and Rhys and Cassian despise the cats. Rhys says he’s allergic, but I think he’s just too worried about his damn furniture.”

“And Cassian?”

“Cats hate Cassian.”

He says this as if it’s an uncontested fact.

“How can all cats hate one person?”

“He likes to swing them by their tails.”

You nod, “okay, maybe all cats can hate one person.”

As the two of you spoke the shadows had lifted a cat up onto Azriel’s shoulders, where it stood meowing and pawing at the black wisps. You watched in bewilderment, unsure if the shadows were playing pranks or not, when the cat slid from his shoulder into the crook of his elbow, nuzzling into the warmth there.

You cross your arms, heat blooming in your cheeks at your rash decision making. “So there aren’t beautiful females here?”

“There’s one.”

“I knew i- oh. You meant me.”

You deflate once more, letting the adrenaline seep from your body. You were exhausted, well and truly. He nodded before putting the cat down, watching it scamper off into the grass. “I shouldn’t have lied about where I was going. Several dozen cats are just… a lot to spring on someone at once.”

You look to the ground, fingers scratching the ears of the kitten you were holding, “and maybe I got a little…. carried away.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “you picked the wrong shoes to hike out here from Velaris.”

You looked down at your sneakers, chuckling, “uh yeah, I definitely need to soak my feet for a bit.”

“Do you want to come inside?” He watches you hesitantly before asking, “Or I could take you home?”

You look toward the beautiful estate before peering back down at the wiggling kitten in your arms, before deciding that you did want to see Azriel’s mother’s home and to hopefully meet her. “Are you going to tell your mother about how I got here?”

He chuckles, slow and soft, “of course I am. She’d be endlessly amused.”

“Do you have any black felt? I’d love to make this little guy some wings.”

He chuckles, rolling his eyes as he puts an arm around your shoulder, leading you inside. “While you play arts and crafts, I can formally introduce you to all of the other cats.”

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @ninthcircleofprythian

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin

Thanks for reading ❣️

[rosyblooom]

the set up | op81 smau

PAIRING: oscar piastri x fem hamilton!reader SUMMARY: oscar and y/n practically act like a couple, but they swear they're just a couple of besties. so some of the grid devise a plan to force them to call it what it is once and for all A/N: i love sad endings, i can't help it🫣 but here u go <3 (pls don't cry lol)

Instagram

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri, nellarosee, and 164,885 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername happy birthday bestie!!! 🩷🤍🩵

view all 1,309 comments

username I'm crying what's with that random kangaroo pic at the end💀

yourusername huh?? that's just oscar and his big arms, silly! username i- you did not LMAO

danielricciardo Bestie, husband, boyfriend all have the same meaning, I see

yourusername WRONG ! bestie is what i'm gonna make heidi demote u to if u don't zip it! then u can kiss those husband dreams of urs goodbye 😘 danielriciardo If it's anything like what you and Oscar have got going I have no complaints 😁 username oop y/n were you silent or silenced?🎤

oscarpiastri Was that kangaroo really necessary?😐

yourusername it's not a crime to be aussie AND show off ur gains at the same time babes x

username "bestie" smh... imagine how tired we are 🫤 imagine how tired we are of it

(liked by lewishamilton, landonorris and charles_leclerc + more)

username why did nearly the entire grid like this?? they're so messy🤣

username HAPPY BDAY OSCARRR🎉🧡 

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton, alex_albon, and 478,002 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri Couldn't ask for a better date to keep me company at all these events 👍

view all 3,041 comments

username since you brought up date could i propose the actual act of dating?😏

landonorris Me too!! logansargeant Me 3 🙋‍♂️ danielricciardo **4

alex_albon The way I thought those were wedding pics and it didn't even surprise me

yourusername and if I say, when I saw the news that u crashed ur car and stole logan's, it didn't surprise me, then what?😇 logansargeant Now why am I in this... alex_albon WOW username that was sooo nasty omfg😭

username the first pic is literally giving wedding ahhh I wish

yourusername anything for my best friend <33

oscarpiastri :) username ohh y'all are pissing me off

lewishamilton Just best friends??

yourusername not u too 🙄 lewishamilton Some older brother wisdom: don't fight the inevitable. When you know, you know, and I firmly believe deep inside you know what I mean. yourusername not reading allat x

Instagram

oscarpiastri posted to his story!

[ caption: ☀️☀️😴 ]

[ tagged: yourusername ]

Instagram

eveythingf1wags

liked by username, username, username and 8,006 others

eveythingf1wags Y/N Hamilton was spotted in Monaco with Oscar and the Piastri fam, enjoying lunch together! Later on, they both posted pictures to their stories, soaking up the Mediterranean sun on a boat.

view all 152 comments

username 'everythingf1wags' but y'all are posting this man's bestie i-💀💀

username have you seen the way they act tho? could've fucking fooled me like??? username no bc you're so right😭

username if they marry do u think it'll be y/n piastri or oscar hamilton tho??🧐

username **WHEN GIRL❗️

username "just friends" my ass smh

username manifesting they finally fall in love soon🕯️

username same babe 🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

username the way it's literally giving meet the family omg 😍

username enough with the fucking slow burn i need them to kiss like yesterday😩

Instagram

landonorris posted to his story!

[ caption: hugging like you're going to war when it's just blind dates is a choice lol ]

[ tagged: oscarpiastri, yourusername ]

oscarpiastri posted to his story!

[ caption: She says I clean up well but have you seen her? 😍 ]

[ tagged: yourusername ]

Instagram

charles_leclerc posted to his close friends!

[ caption: I think we did it guys ]

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, lewishamilton, lilymhe and 394,029 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername just like and keep scrolling i don't wanna hear it 🔫🙂

view all 4,099 comments

mclaren Congrats🎉🧡 (about time)

lewishamilton Welcome to the family, brother

oscarpiastri Wait, I thought I was already part of the family😅 yourusername lewis istg i'm about to slash your tyres username lmaoo y/n's hands are rated e for everyone i'm cryin💀

oscarpiastri The only one I had in mind❤️

yourusername 🥹🤍 username you guys are so freakin cute 🤧

username LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOO💃💃💃

landonorris @/carlossainz55 run me my money

carlossainz55 Sent 🫡 yourusername blocked x

username you don't understand how much i needed this omg😭😭😭

danielricciardo See how nothing's changed between the pictures they used to post together and these?

yourusername see how nothing's changed in ur points since the start of the season and now? 😋 username ouch. should've just sat there and kept scrolling babe lmaooo

alex_albon Mission accomplished I'd say

charles_leclerc 🍻 maxverstappen1 🍾🍾

0:10 ㅇ──────────── 2:06

[rafecameronsslut4ever]

CASUAL pt.2— lando norris (angst)

pairing; fem!reader x lando norris summary: it took lando too long to realise it wasn't just 'casual'. warnings: a LOT of angst, toxic relationship, sexual implication, not proofread a/n: casual part 2 was not really a part of the plan but the audience had demands 🦧also i think this was too long lmao. AND IM SO SORRY FOR THE LONG DELAY OMG

part 1 - casual

miami grand prix: the biggest pr nightmare for every driver—especially lando norris.

the media had been all over him that weekend, going to the lengths of literally calling him 'the hottest catch on the single market'. hollywood stars and instagram models were so desperate to marry him and have his kids that they didn't catch on the fact that he was a 23-year-old racing driver who couldn't give a fuck about them.

because he was stuck on you.

for weeks, he'd waited—hoping you’d reach out, or at the very least, watch his instagram stories. he posted shirtless photos, sun-kissed photos—hell, he even threw out a thirst trap just for you. But you didn’t take the bait. you didn't take the fucking bait.

you hadn't texted him or spoken to him since the moment you walked out of that hotel room weeks ago, so he didn't try to reach out either. "would've been a blow to my ego," he'd told sainz.

but now, he didn't give a shit about his ego. he was tired of waiting.

his eyes darted across the packed club, friends and guests scattered all around. he couldn't wait to get out of there.

he hadn't been drinking. didn't really feel like it. truth be told, he hadn’t been feeling much of anything at all.

pool parties, clubs, yachts, champagne and girls.

he was tired of the glitz and glam of his life, and you were the only escape from it.

but you were gone.

his mind wandered to that morning, when you had kissed him and the two of you had ordered room service. when he had held you for the last time.

he hated how the only thing on his mind was you. how it was the only thing on his mind all through the celebrations, as hookers danced around him and people tried to pour drinks into his mouth.

for fuck's sake, he had won a grand prix for the first time in his life, and yet he was unhappy.

how did he get here?

he looked up, eyes falling on a group of men in the VIP section, the lights illuminating their faces.

everyone could tell something was off with lando. he didn't want to do any of this.

all he wanted was you. you, you, you.

the girl who had left without an explanation.

why had you left, anyway? no calls, no texts. your friends avoided him, and you avoided his friends. it was like the two of you were nothing.

lando norris was many things, but he was not a fool. he could recognise when something was wrong, or when a situation had escalated beyond his control.

he knew that there was a reason why you left, but the reason never clicked in that thick brain of his. what had he done wrong? where had he gone wrong?

"i'm not feeling too well, mate." he muttered, handing the beer bottle back to the guy standing next to him.

okay, maybe not admitting his feelings for you had fucked things up. but, what could you expect? he didn't have the time to give you what you deserved.

not right now, at least.

lando norris had the world on his fingertips. he could have any girl he wanted. anyone, really.

"what are you waiting for, then?" the other man asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"what?"

"just call her, bro. i know it's about a girl because there's no way any sane man would say no to expensive beers and a million hot hookers."

did lando even know this man? probably not.

"i can't call her. she doesn't want to talk to me. trust me, i've tried."

"have you?"

he didn't know how to deal with rejection. not like this, not with you. you weren't supposed to leave.

"judging by your sulkiness, i doubt you're going to find a girl like her again. and you'll never have her if you're here."

lando didn't have a heart of stone, as much as his social media persona might suggest. he didn't care for any of this. the women, the money, the fame.

he wanted to hold you again. kiss you, tell you he loves you. he wanted to hold your hand. he wanted to be near you, and only you.

so, when his feet hit the floor and he found himself walking towards the exit, he wasn't surprised.

yeah, it was foolish of him to leave a party full of women who were celebrating him (literally) for a girl who had ghosted him, but the need was stronger than his pride.

out of the yacht, he was dialling the only number he'd ever memorised. the phone rang, and then it rang again.

would she be wearing his clothes, or would she have gotten rid of everything related to him?

maybe she'd found another man, finally realising that lando was a bad investment.

as the phone rang, you were hidden in your apartment with blankets wrapped around you and a youtube video playing in the background.

it had been months since you'd heard the word 'casual' leave his mouth. months since you had fled london and monaco to move to miami.

at first, his words had echoed in your mind constantly, and you'd cried yourself to sleep a few times more than you'd like to admit.

but just like every heartbroken poet in history, the hurt faded and the pain slowly morphed into hatred. and anger.

you wanted to slam your head against a wall. scratch that, you wanted to slam his head against a wall.

it was so stupid, and you hated yourself for believing he'd been genuine.

it was just sex. that's all it ever was. it truly was just casual.

the phone was still ringing. your finger hesitated over the answer button. you weren't going to answer it.

it wasn't worth it. you didn't want to hear his voice. didn't want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that his words had hurt you. you didn't want to know if he was sleeping around, if his girlfriends were prettier than you.

so the line went dead.

lando stood by the harbour, watching as yachts and ships sailed past him. the air was humid and his t-shirt clung to his body, the heat almost unbearable. the sound of waves, the distant laughter and music, and the sound of his ragged breaths.

he ran his fingers through his hair, looking around. where was his car?

he had to find his way back to his hotel. he was a mess, and his clothes were sticking to his skin. he needed to fix his appearance, buy a bouquet a flowers.

he checked the time on his watch, and cursed as he saw the numbers. it was almost 3 am. he wouldn't find flowers anywhere at 3 am.

"fuck it." he said, running over to his car. the drive was quiet, save for the low hum of music and his occasional swearing when someone drove a little bit slower than he'd like.

lando norris had the world on his fingertips. he could have any girl he wanted. anyone, really. but he only wanted you. he was a hopeless romantic, and you were his muse.

when he pulled up outside the apartment, his nerves were going haywire. he ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath before getting out of the car.

he knocked twice on the door and when it opened, his eyes lit up.

you stared back at him, sleepiness in your eyes and confusion etched on your face.

and god, did you look gorgeous.

he loved you, he realised. he had to cross his hands behind his back to stop them from reaching out and holding you close.

"lando?" you breathed out.

he had grown a slight stubble since you last saw him. his hair were still the same, except a little bit longer. his blue eyes were wide as he looked at you.

"hey," his voice was shaky.

"what the fuck are you doing here?"

he wanted to say so many things. ask you why you left, where it went wrong, why you moved to miami. he wanted to declare his love for you, press his lips to yours, hold you by the waist. he wanted to hear you say that you loved him too.

he was so in love with you, and you had no idea.

"lando? why are you here?" you asked again.

he was at a loss of words. what could he say? he couldn't exactly just stand there and say nothing.

"because," his voice cracked, "i miss you."

your throat went dry. he could not just say that.

it had been weeks. weeks of him not contacting you, weeks of you not speaking to him. the phone calls had stopped, the text messages had stopped, the late night chats had stopped. everything was just gone.

and now, he missed you?

tears welled up in your eyes, a lump forming in your throat. you shook your head, pushing back the tears, "go away."

"what? no, wait. wait. don't do this." he pleaded, his voice fragile and desperate, like a child trying to avoid bedtime.

"lando-"

he interrupted you, voice louder than before. "can we please talk about this?"

"what is there to talk about?" you were raising your voice. you hated him. how could he act like this after all that happened?

"everything. just—please, can i come in?" he sounded so pathetic. he felt so pathetic. his hands were slightly hovering over the door, ready to push it open and walk in.

the request took you by surprise. "i-no."

you missed him. there was no denying that.

you wanted him to tell you it was okay. wanted to go back to that night in his mclaren, the night he told you he liked you. wanted the weekends spent in london with his family. you wanted him, all of him.

his curly hair wrapped around your fingers, blue eyes staring at you, soft lips kissing you. his cold hands grabbing yours, and his voice saying your name. you wanted it to not be casual.

"i just want to talk to you."

he was drunk. there was no other way he would've showed up here, let alone begged to talk to you. the fact that he needed to be drunk to have this conversation made your blood boil.

"do you still have my jacket?"

of course, you still had his stupid jacket. the one that had his smell embedded into the fabric. it was an exclusive print mclaren had given him, and he had swung it around your shoulders after the night you had first made love to each other.

but he didn't care about the jacket, and neither did you. it was just a reminder.

you were silent for a while, taking in the sight of each other. it was his breath mingling with yours.

"i love you." he whispered.

your breath hitched in your throat, the tears finally falling out of your eyes as you sighed.

"i love you," he repeated to himself. "yes, i do. and i've known that since the day i met you."

you choked back sobs as you shook your head, "you're drunk, lando."

"i'm not," he chuckled, "maybe a little, but not enough."

then, he added, "i mean it. i love you." his voice was steady. he truly meant every word. but he didn't know what would happen now.

"what do you want me to say, lando?"

he sighed, "anything."

you laughed bitterly. anything, he said.

anything would've been better than what had happened.

"i don't think i can do this, lando."

"we can take it slow."

"you've never done slow."

he fell silent again because you were right. he'd never done slow. he didn't know how to take things slow. he was a fucking formula 1 driver, after all. slow wasn't something he did. he'd always lived life like it was the last day. and that's how he had lost you.

"i'm sorry," he began, his voice breaking. "i should've been a better person. i'm sorry for everything i did. i should've given you more, i-i should've loved you more, because you deserve so much more. i'm so, so, sorry."

"lando," you whispered, "it's not—"

"don't make excuses for me, please. i love you, i realy do. and if i have to spend the rest of my life proving that, i will." and he meant every word. "i just want you back."

your mind was racing, a million thoughts running through it. it was like a movie. his blue eyes, his voice, the desperation in his tone, the way he stood before you.

"okay," you muttered.

"wait, okay? does that mean—"

"you're gonna have to work for this," you said.

"i know, and i will. i promise."

you sighed, rubbing your temple. this wasn't a good idea. "get in."

lando's face lit up, and before you could change your mind, he had walked into the apartment. he hadn't really been here before, considering you moved here after the two of you had stopped talking. but the apartment was lovely, homely. everything you.

you closed the door behind him, watching him look around the living room.

"how'd you know where i live?"

he chuckled, turning to face you. "i'm a famous driver. i have my sources."

"i'm sure." a tense silence followed, neither of you knowing what to say.

"i'm not letting this happen again," he blurted, "i'm not. i don't know how, but i won't."

"i don't believe you." you scoffed.

"fuck, baby, what do i have to do for you to believe me?" he stepped towards you, closing the distance.

"stop calling me that."

"you are my baby." he tried to joke.

"lando, i'm not joking."

"i'm serious too," his voice was sincere, "i love you, and i'll do whatever it takes for you to believe me."

you had been through a lot together. the highs, the lows. you had seen him at his best, and at his worst. the good and the bad.

he moved closer, reaching a hand out to hold yours. you didn't know why, but the moment his hand touched yours, it was like a switch had flipped inside of you.

you let his hand wander over yours like a ghost, his calloused fingertips tracing over your knuckles. he intertwined your fingers together, eyes casted down.

"i've never cared about anyone the way i care about you." he admitted in a soft voice.

and then he pressed his lips to yours. his other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

and god, did he taste the same. lando had a way with his lips. it was a talent. he kissed you like he needed your lips to survive. he was desperate for your touch as if he had been starving without it.

you were so lost in the feeling that you hadn't realised how far you had pushed him until the back of his knees hit the couch, and he fell on top of it.

his eyes were wide, mouth hanging open. his shirt was halfway unbuttoned, exposing his chest and toned abs.

the two of you stared at each other, eyes searching the other's.

"i love you." he murmured for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.

maybe it was the way his blue eyes bore into yours, or the way his lips quivered, or maybe it was the fact that he had driven across the city to say this.

but for the first time that night, you believed him. suddenly, the anger was gone. it was all gone.

"i love you, too." you whispered.

it was the only thing the two of you needed. the confirmation, the reassurance. the love.

you leaned down and connected your lips once more, hand reaching up to his curls and tugging lightly. he moaned into the kiss, pulling you on top of him.

your tongue entered his mouth, the taste of him making you lightheaded. his hands roamed over your body, the feeling of his skin against yours.

"baby," he whispered between kisses, "i want you so bad. i've waited so long."

his lips trailed along your jaw and down your neck, sucking marks into the sensitive skin.

"i want you," he murmured against the crook of your neck, "so fucking bad."

but he pulled away, flipping the two of you over so he was on top of you. he took off his shirt, and rested his head on your chest. he cleared his throat, "i should've asked this question earlier, but are you single?"

"yeah." you chuckled, running a hand through his curls.

"so, can i be your boyfriend?"

"lando norris," you hummed, "did you finally get the guts to ask me out?"

"yes," he smiled, lifting his head up to look at you, "yes, i did. will you be my girlfriend?"

"you're a dork."

"that's not an answer."

"yes," you laughed, "yes, i'll be your girlfriend."

lando grinned, and you grinned back.

it wasn't casual anymore.

(u guys im so sorry if i've tagged someone who doesnt want to be tagged i just had no idea how to let non-followers know part 2 is out bcs tumblr is not letting me reply to comments😭if anyone wants their tag removed, feel free to dm me!! i hope u liked this) @oscarpiassrri @meglouise00 @f1fantasys @technicallypleasanttree @ggaslyp1 @obxstiles @nataliambc @prudyhoo @idkwtdwml123 @ushygushybaby @emilyroxy @yootvi @fishingarden @pillowprincess4him @herexpertcollector

[kitten4sannie]

pairing: ex! san x fem! reader feat. wingman seonghwa and instigator mingi

genres: omg actual plot ??, exes to lovers, romance, angst with a happy ending, fluff, an attempt at humor, smut finale

summary: during a winter getaway with your friends, you end up having to come face to face with Choi San, the man who broke your heart in two just last christmas.

w.c: 8.2k

tags: features the unholy trinity: misunderstandings/miscommunication/messiness, drama (i bring drama-ma-ma-ma~), alcohol use, mutual jealousy, mutual pining, lots of banter, third parties, poor sannie and reader are just two big dummies with even bigger hearts </3,, like 20 flashbacks (okay it’s like 2 but i like being dramatic sue me), too many winter analogies, insecurities, confessions, l bombs, tears, all that jazz

warnings: soft dom! san (literally the softest dom to ever exist IM SICK), subby! reader, pussydrunk san and cockdrunk reader (like these mfs are so desperate for each other it’s actually disgusting), dirty talk, pet names, praise, possessiveness, kissing, a lot of spit (leave me alone!!!), tit play, grinding, body worship, oral (receiving), passionate condomless lovemaking by the fire baybeeeee, breeding kink, bulge kink, creampies

a/n: so i listen to last christmas religiously every year and while i was jamming my hamster brain was like “WRITE WRITE WRITE” so i diddd and yeahh this happened??? lmao but fr this was the most fun i’ve ever had writing since feb filth fest…. like wtf. i gotta write plot forward fics more often this shit’s like a drug man. anyways i hope you enjoy my dear lovelies <33

*shoutout to my sweetheart bunbun @cottoncandy-girl for beta reading and hyping this fic up during the writing process. i would’ve second guessed myself twice as much if not for you. you’re a lifesaver!! mwah mwah ~~

song rec for the general vibe: last christmas by wham obv <3, fool by frankie cosmos, snowfall (slowed and reverb) by oneheart, know me by gemini, easily by bruno major, flowers and chocolate by eyedress

angst: pleaser by the wallows, do me right by gemini, homesick by wave to earth, cherie by hojean

smut: mice city by hotel ugly, between your thighs by jimmy brown, lock me in by hojean, touch by keshi, your love by brb

Masterlist

“Hey, Y/N,” your best friend began, walking around the side of your beat-up car to the trunk where you were busy shoving various suitcases and bags into the small space and trying to make them fit. “So, don’t get mad, but–”

With a case of wine bottles in hand, you slowly set it down on the lip of the trunk, side-eyeing your friend with the intensity of a thousand suns. It was so powerful, it’d probably melt the snow that had been falling around your feet for the past thirty minutes. “Why would I be mad? What’s going on?”

“Just breathe for me, okay?” she sighed, bringing a hand up to play with a few strands of her hair. “So, you know how Seonghwa’s coming up to the cabin with us?”

“Um, yeah…? I don’t care about you bringing your boyfriend with us, you know. Just let me know if you’re gonna fuck so I can put my headphones on,” you replied, lifting the case up and pushing it inside the empty space of the trunk, satisfied that your long game of tetris was finally complete.

She quickly waved her hands, shaking her head. “No, that’s not…” she started, taking in a deep inhale, before letting it out, a wave of condensation hitting the cold air between the two of you. “He invited…someone. Someone you know.”

You bent down into the trunk to move a few items around, making sure they wouldn’t collapse on each other. “Okay? I only know you and a few other people, bestie. Who could it possibly be–”

“It’s San,” she finally blurted out, her face scrunching up in anticipation of your reaction.

Once your ex was spoken into existence again, a flood of memories from the previous year bombarded your defenseless brain and heart, causing you to stand up so quickly, you hit your head on the edge of the trunk lid.

“Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay?” your friend gasped, already at your side, helping you stand up straight and placing her hand on the one you had held against the back of your head.

“Oh, yeah, I’m good. I think that just knocked all the bad memories out of my brain. Ready to head out?” you chimed, giving her a thumbs up with your keys in hand, stumbling a bit in place, your vision fading out slightly.

Sighing, your friend reached for the keys. “Yeah, I’m driving.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Your friend pulled her keys out of the ignition once she parked in a free space near the cabin you’d both be staying at, turning her head to observe the way you were playing with the drawstrings of your joggers with a pout on your sullen face. “Y/N, are you sure you’re okay? You know, we’re visiting everyone else later, so you can always stay at their cabin, if you’d like. It’s much bigger and has wifi, and definitely won’t have S–”

“I’m not a little bitch,” you suddenly whined, your eyebrows furrowed, your pout growing. “I can handle being in the same cabin with my dumbass ex, okay? I don’t even care that he’s here, actually.”

She nodded her head knowingly, giving you a gentle smile. “Just let me know if you’re uncomfortable, please. And if he starts up with one of his…unique personalities, tell me or Seonghwa, alright? He knows how to handle him.”

“I can handle him myself. There’s plenty of snow for me to toss him into, or some flames if our cabin has a fireplace,” you muttered, too stubborn to admit that your heart would most likely explode as soon as you had the displeasure of witnessing his disgustingly handsome face and charming dimpled smile.

Your friend shook her head slightly, unable to keep from smiling in your direction. “There is a fireplace, yeah.”

You sighed contentedly, admiring the expanse of dense snow, the sundry of oversized pine trees, the far away mountains covered in white, and the cluster of cozy-looking cabins beyond the frosted windshield. “Finally, some good news.”

Once you both got to the front steps of the cabin you’d be staying at, your arms full of the items that you could bring from the car, the front door swung open, almost giving you a heart attack on the spot.

“Baby, you’re here!” Seonghwa gasped, pulling your friend into his arms when she set her stuff down on the porch and spinning her around in a small circle, his eyes twinkling with pure adoration.

Once Seonghwa acknowledged your presence with a warm greeting, you stood off to the side while your friend and Seonghwa kissed and giggled with each other, your arms beginning to feel like jelly, wishing someone would just stamp the words “third wheel” on your forehead already.

“That looks heavy,” you heard someone say in a deeply familiar baritone voice, causing you to whip your head towards the origin, your wide eyes meeting San’s concerned coffee brown ones. “Do you want me to carry it in for you?”

“San,” you automatically blurted out, alarm bells going off, the mini versions of you running around in panic inside your head, your fingers clasping tighter around your things.

“Y/N,” he parroted back in the same cadence, already moving closer to you, his arms sliding underneath your belongings and holding them up with ease, his navy sweater doing nothing to conceal the solid mass of his arm muscles. “Is it like, misogynistic for me to carry your things?”

You opened and closed your hands, trying your get rid of the pins and needles. “No, I’d say it’s progressive since it’s a big dumb caveman carrying my things, so women: 1, patriarchy: 0.”

San offered you a dimpled smile, his wide shoulders scrunching up slightly, as a hearty laugh emanated from his throat. “Caveman, I like that. Should I go find a cave to explore?” He tilted his head, his eyes flitting between yours and your pleasing body line. “Maybe try to start a fire?”

Your heart leapt into your throat, forcing you to gulp it down. You sneered, already beginning to push past him to enter the cabin, only turning your head back to tell him, “Start a fire and jump inside, caveman.”

San smiled at you, seeing right past your act, watching you walk away, before turning his head to look at the two lovebirds still hugging on each other. “See that? She already gave me a pet name.”

❆ ❆ ❆

“Fuck,” you groaned, dropping yourself down onto the surprisingly comfy mattress in the cozy guest room you were occupying, finally done with putting your clothes and toiletries away in their respective places, for the most part, also noticing that the violent hammering inside your chest had subsided.

And then your door opened.

“Yo, this cabin is pretty sick, right? It’s got a nice, cabin-ey feeling to it,” San announced, walking into your room and looking around like he owned the place. Typical San behavior. Whistling casually, he eventually headed over to your side of the bed, picking up a few skincare products that were sitting on your bedside table to study them. “Does this retinol shit really work?”

“Excuse me, but are you lost? This is my room,” you combated, not bothering to get up from the bed you were currently sinking into, simply turning on your back and lifting your head up slightly to glare at him.

“Bro.” San clutched his chest like you had just emptied a clip right in between his tits, his eyebrows turning upwards, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Why do you act like we haven’t been inside each other?” He climbed onto the bed, looking down at you past his black bangs. “Matter of fact, I know you better than your little friend downstairs.”

You stared up at him, cursing yourself for wanting nothing more than to grab him by his stupid face and kiss him — but you wouldn’t, not after what he did. “You’re so gross.”

“Like in a sexy way, right?” he quipped, chuckling when you just shook your head. San slowly laid himself down beside you, looking up at the ceiling, reaching up behind his head and cupping the back of it to get more comfortable. “You didn’t argue against the fact that I know you better than your own self proclaimed ‘bestie’, you know.”

You let out a small sigh, resting your hands down at your sides, gripping the quilted blanket underneath you, your heart pounding inside your chest just like it did last Christmas. Did you ever fall out of love with him? Was that why your heart felt so stuck? Frozen in place? Like it was waiting for San to make it beat again? “Well, for once, you’re not wrong. I…let you in back then, obviously, so yeah, you know me better than she does. You know me better than anyone.”

San began to reach for your hand, hesitating for a second, not even realizing his walls were just as high. If only he could gather the courage to bring them down. “Y/N…”

You turned to look at San just as he turned his whole body towards yours, giving you one of his infamous gazes, his eyes closed ever so slightly, his lips parted, drawing in a breath. He lowered his hand, touching the top of yours, rubbing it with his thumb. “You know what else I know?”

Why did he have to do this to you? Just what the fuck was his problem?

“What, San?” you questioned underneath your breath, seconds away from losing it completely.

His eyes lost their playful twinkle, instead displaying sorrow. “Y/N, I–”

Seonghwa popped his head into the room. “Y/N, have you seen– Oh,” he deadpanned, displaying an oddly delighted smile for a split second, before his lips evened out. “We’re heading to the hang out now. It’s gonna snow pretty hard in a bit so it’s now or never.”

You both sat up from the bed, your cheeks burning like you had just been caught, well, inside of each other.

Seonghwa was about to say something when your friend walked up behind him and pulled him into whisper something, causing him to whisper back, the both of them nodding at each other.

You and San exchanged glances, before all four of you looked at one another. “Are you hiding things from me, pookie?” you playfully asked your friend, pouting.

“No, I’d never hide anything from you, pookie wookie baby bear!” she cried dramatically, running into the room and tackling you back down onto the bed.

San looked to Seonghwa, making grabby hands at him. “Where’s my hug?”

Seonghwa clicked his tongue, pointing at San’s thin sweater as it rose past his hips. “You better put on some more layers before we go, pookie bear. It’s cold as balls outside.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Instead of hanging out inside your friend’s friends’ cabin where the party was at, you loitered outside in the snow, building yourself a snowman. Maybe he’d stay by your side longer than the last one.

“Hey, what are you doing out here by yourself, ba–” San started, standing with his arm just barely pressing into yours, immediately clearing his throat, sticking his hands into his coat pockets. “Y/N, I mean, heh, sorry I’ve had a few drinks.”

You almost broke the empty beer bottle you were using as the snowman’s nose inside your hands from hearing San almost address you as baby, turning your head to look at the adorably goofy smile he had on his stupidly cute face. You bit your lip, wishing he would just say it, the layers of ice around your heart starting to crack. “I figured. Well, how come you’re out here with me, instead of shotgunning a beer or something with your caveman friends?”

Amused, San nodded his head, impressed by your ability to keep up with your shtick. “They’re too busy hanging around the fireplace, you know. The fire’s so pretty, they got distracted.” He grinned at you, grinning harder when you began to smile back at him, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of the giggle that escaped your lips. “I missed your giggle…missed you…” he murmured absentmindedly, pretending to stay busy by helping you round out the head of the snowman, while you stuck a rock into it where one of the eyes would be.

You dropped the other rock, standing still, feeling your mouth go dry. You racked your brain over his words, wanting to ask him why he didn’t stay with you in the first place if he was just going to miss you so much. You missed him too. You wanted him to know.

By the time you had made up your mind, San had picked up the rock and stuck it into the snow, completing the snowman’s face. “There we go. Mr. Snowman’s looking real nice.” He waited for a second, before turning to look at you with a concerned pout. “He’s not cuter than me, right?” When you didn’t respond, he blinked, leaning in. “Y/N?”

Instead of responding, you found yourself wrapping your arms around San’s neck, pulling him into a hug. You didn’t even say anything — you just focused on feeling his warm body against yours, recalling what it felt like to be his. His baby. If only he would just say it.

“Baby…” he whispered just under his breath, so carefully, like he risked the chance of causing an avalanche if he spoke any louder, gently rubbing your back in circles, automatically resting his head on the top of yours like he did last year. “What’s this about?”

“I don’t know, I just–” you murmured into his chest, your own about to collapse in on itself from hearing what he said, hugging onto him a little tighter than before, wishing things were different. “I…I think I’m drunk…”

“Oh…” San replied, swallowing harshly, only pulling away once you started to. He tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, giving you a concerned look. “You should come back inside and drink some water, then. Seonghwa was right to tell me to check up on you.”

Your face fell slightly, the bottle that was stuck inside the snowman drooping inside the melting snow as if it was mirroring your disappointment. “You…only came out here because Seonghwa told you to?”

“Well, I mean, he was the one that noticed you were gone, so he just thought I should make sure you were okay, yeah…” San explained, rubbing his arm.

You nodded your head, a soft smile returning to your face, not wanting San to see the hurt you felt, not yet, anyway. You were still able to hide it as of late. “That’s nice of him.”

“Yeah, Hwa’s a sweetie,” San mused, noticing the sad snowman, reaching out to fix the position of the beer bottle. “Too bad he’s taken, otherwise I’d be wifing him up and giving him the exclusive Choi San Caveman Experience. There’s a trademark on that, by the way.”He gave you another goofy smile, his smile growing when you offered him a few small giggles.

“I think you need water more than I do,” you mentioned, gently punching his arm.

San chuckled, his smile softening, wanting to say so much more than just, “You might be right.”

After a few seconds of too much silence, and too much yearning for an important conversation to take place, you instead pointed to the lively cabin behind you. “You should go get some. I’ll be back inside soon.”

“Okay, sounds good.” He put his hands back into his pockets, lingering there for a moment, before heading back inside.

You stood there for a while, watching the makeshift nose of the snowman begin to droop again, before you reeled your foot back and kicked into the base of the snowman, watching it topple over and fall apart.

❆ ❆ ❆

You lingered near the spiked punch bowl that sat inside the corner of the cabin’s empty kitchen, drinking down a solo cup’s worth of the fruity beverage and tossing the cup into the sink, not noticing another person’s presence until you turned to the side and bumped your nose into their broad chest. “Oh, shit– I’m sorry,” you apologized, backing up a bit to see that you had ran into no one other than Song Mingi, the man you had trauma dumped and cried to for an hour before having mindless rebound sex with after San dumped you. “Min, hey. Long time, no see.”

“Y/N. It’s nice to see you again. Very nice,” Mingi mused, taking a long sip of his drink, just studying you with his amused, half-closed eyes, pointing upwards with his finger. “What are the odds of this?”

“Hm?” Your eyes followed where he was pointing until your gaze settled on the mistletoe that hung from the doorway above the two of you, a memory of the past immediately lighting up the insides of your brain like the flash of a camera, the snapshot still fresh in your subconscious as though it had never faded in the first place, much like your feelings for San — but who were you to admit that to yourself?

“Jesus, what is with people and mistletoe?” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your itchy christmas sweater, ready to shield your eyes so you didn’t have to look at the two people vigorously making out underneath the red berries that were hung from the ceiling of the crowded cabin.

San hovered near you, running a hand through his hair, his eyes studying your scrunched up, flushed face, wondering how you could be so cute. “The origin of mistletoe is actually really romantic, y’know.” Once you met his gaze, his lips curled into a smile, his dimples making an appearance.

You gripped onto your sweater sleeve, smiling softly back at him, your annoyance fading. “Tell me about it then, Mr. Historian.”

San’s eyes sparkled at your reaction, his shoulder gently pressing into yours as he brought his drink up to his mouth. “Mistletoe has always been able to survive in the harshest of winters. Even when everything’s frozen…” When he lowered his hand, the side of his pinky touched yours, sending warmth into the both of your bodies. “….it still finds a way to bloom.”

You took in a quick breath, having to look down at your feet before your heart burst out of your chest as an unintentional ode to Alien and ruined the annual christmas party. “I didn’t peg you as a hopeless romantic, San.”

“I’m full of surprises, baby.” San hummed, gently taking your chin in his grasp and pressing a kiss to your lips, giggling delightedly as you buried your scorching face into his chest, his heart pounding, wanting nothing more than to show you just how hopelessly in love he was with you, but too afraid to grant you access to the very intense, very full extent of it, let alone himself.

He was full of surprises, so full of them that he was able to show such a meaningful display of love to you and still break up with you on the very same night, with little to no explanation, just a simple ‘I’m sorry.’ Choi San was truly an enigma — one you cursed yourself for still wanting to grasp, to hold, to forgive.

You looked down at Mingi’s drink only for him to motion for you to take it, immediately downing the punch until you were sucking on an ice cube and crunching it between your teeth, satisfied with the buzz coursing through your body, bitterness still seeping its way in your veins. You knew that what you were about to do wouldn’t make you feel any better, but you did it anyway, grabbing Mingi by the collar of his ugly Christmas sweater and smashing your lips against his. What you didn’t know, however, was that San was standing at the end of the hallway, with his hand in his coat pocket, there to witness how Mingi pressed you into the wall.

❆ ❆ ❆

Your friend slowly inched her way towards you from across the brightly lit, festively decorated living room full of your boisterous acquaintances having a battle with each other to determine who could be the loudest, drunkest individual in the room. Currently, it was San, unsurprisingly, who had a beer in one hand while hugging onto the obscenely large Christmas tree in the middle of the room. You couldn’t tell exactly what song he was singing, but you were pretty sure it was a romantic, mostly cheesy pop ballad from the 80s.

“Having fun?” your friend gauged softly, sitting down on the sofa in the corner beside you, clinking her glass beer bottle against yours.

You shrugged, taking a few sips of the chilled beer, crossing one leg over the other. “I made out with Mingi earlier, so that was cool, I guess.”

“You what?” she gasped, pressing closer to you, grabbing your arm and shaking you. “Y/N, oh my god, that’s so —” Her gossipy tone turned into one of concern. “But what about San?”

“What about San?” you grumbled, internally annoyed that all you could think about was San when Mingi’s tongue was down your throat. “He probably already did the same thing, considering how torched he is.”

She sighed, sinking into the couch, very well aware of how San truly felt about you, last Christmas, and how much he wanted to turn things around. Of course she would know. She had to hear it from Seonghwa, who in turn heard it from San off and on for the entire year, but she wasn’t about to speak for him. He would have to do that himself.

“Are you going to play truth, dare, or drink with us?” Mingi suddenly asked you, leaning his hip against the side of the couch, causing you and your friend to look up at him.

“Ehh.” You shrugged your shoulders at him.

He put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it, feeling someone’s eyes burning holes into the back of his head, figuring San was watching the both of you from the tree, who indeed was, his hands tightening around his beer and the scratchy pine needles he was holding onto. “It’ll be more fun if you join in, Y/N. How bout it?”

You sucked on your teeth for a second, your eyes moving past Mingi to gaze at San across the room, who was now talking to a girl who had came up to him, your stomach sinking at the clear appearance of his dimples. Stupid caveman.

You stood up, fingers squeezing around your poor beer bottle. “Fuck it, I’m in.”

“Good, good,” Mingi replied, smiling absentmindedly, bringing his own drink up to his lips, as if he wasn’t aware of the disaster he was about to bring into fruition — and all for the chance that he could recreate the events of last year’s Christmas party. It led to him having a pretty, teary-eyed girl in his bed to take care of, after all.

❆ ❆ ❆

“Yo, I can’t believe — he actually — I can’t breathe,” someone gasped out in between soundless laughs, falling back into their chair along with their other friends, pointing at San as he trudged back into the cabin past the sliding door, clad in only a form-fitting pair of Christmas themed boxers, wiping some snow off of his shoulders, before immediately going for his mixed drink and tossing it back victoriously, one hand on his hip.

“You bitches really thought I wouldn’t do it,” San chuckled self-righteously, taking another sip, before letting out a low ‘aaah’. “Someone owes me 20 bucks. Which one of you was it?” He held up an accusative finger to one of the girls nearby, who giggled and held her hands up defensively. “It was you, wasn’t it? Give it up!”

The rest of the group laughed in response, drunkenly leaning into each other, gleeful smiles plastered on their flushed faces.

“San’s pretty lively tonight,” Seonghwa said near you, nudging you gently with his elbow. “It’s almost kind of cute, huh?” Poor man was out of the loop, but he was trying, bless his heart.

“Cute?” you muttered, raising an eyebrow at him. “He’s butt-ass naked at a Christmas party. He’s a grown man wearing boxers with candy canes on it. What on earth is cute about that?”

Seonghwa pursed his lips, side-eyeing you. “I don’t know, I just thought you’d agree with the way you’ve been staring at him all night.“

You almost choked on your spit, bringing a hand up to your hair to smooth it out. “Well, it’s hard to keep my eyes off of him when he’s being an annoying ass pick-me like that.”

“But you picked…him.”

“I did. Ages ago, Seonghwa,” you corrected him, watching San out of the corner of your eye, unable to believe that he was letting the girl slip a twenty directly into the waistline of his boxers. As soon as you looked down, San’s eyes were on you, his lips turning into a frown, immediately pushing the girl’s hand away when it lingered a bit too long, his eyes filled with bitter determination. “You know what he did to me. He spent all that time getting my hopes up all year long, only to hit me with the ‘i’m bad with commitment’ card before he left the party last year. That’s bullshit and we both know it.”

Seonghwa sighed in defeat, sinking back into his seat, biting at his lip. “I get what you’re saying, Y/N, I really do. It was unbelievably shitty for him to do that to you, but San…I think he really regrets it. All he talks about is you, Y/N.” Seonghwa turned to face you, gently touching your wrist. “He’s always loved you. He just doesn’t know how to verbalize it.”

You started biting at your lip too, simply listening to your friend’s words, wondering if there was any truth to them. It’s not like you were hearing them from San himself. That would be a different story — though you didn’t know if he was even capable of that kind of vulnerability. “I’d like to believe that, Hwa. I just…”

“Oh my god! With tongue? My virgin eyes!” someone gasped loudly at something, covering their eyes, their friends laughing at his dramatic performance.

“At least someone’s getting some,” Mingi chuckled, while eyeing you, currently holding up the same piece of mistletoe you had encountered together earlier, only this time someone else was under it. Someone that made you wish you had never even came up to the cabin in the first place.

“There’s no way…” you whispered to yourself, unable to take your eyes off of San, who was holding that same girl against him, his hands clutching her hips, his tongue halfway into her mouth by the time you got up from the couch and grabbed a water cup from the coffee table, determined to keep your tears inside your body before you stormed out, but you had to answer to your demons first.

“Y/N, he’s just drunk! He’s trying to make you jealous, okay? He’s being an idiot! Y/N, listen–” Seonghwa tried fruitlessly to reason with you, reaching for your wrist, only for it to slip out of his grasp as you made your way up to San and the unsuspecting woman.

Your bitter, frozen heart quelled you to toss the water at San, watching it splash onto the side of his reddened face, the shock of it sobering him up almost instantaneously, causing him to pull away from the woman and look at you, the weight of his faulty decisions hitting him square into the chest when he saw the tears in your eyes. “Y/N…I…I didn’t mean….I just…” Tears began to form inside his own eyes. “I just wanted you to see me.”

“I see you, San,” you whispered, your voice cracking underneath the weight of your emotional turmoil. “I’ve seen enough, actually.”

San froze in place, while what felt like cement sink to the bottom of his stomach, unable to get himself to stop you from grabbing a freshly opened bottle of booze from someone’s hands and walking away from him.

Your friend tried in vain to reason with you, getting hit with a death glare, before you stormed out. She turned to Seonghwa, whispering “Do something,” encouraging him to run over to San, grabbing him by the shoulders and temporarily keeping him upright.

“San, listen to me.”

San sniffled, his nose sporting a pink hue, as hot tears began to drip down his clammy face, sinking down to his knees, watching as Seonghwa sank down with him. “Seonghwa, I fucked up. I just wanted her to want me. I wanted her to get jealous and take what’s hers. I didn’t know how– a-and her, and Mingi– I just thought maybe if I–”

Seonghwa shook San a bit, his nostrils flaring, his fingers squeezing into his friend’s trembling shoulders. “Get a grip and listen to me!” As soon as San took in a shaky breath and let it out, Seonghwa cleared his throat. “You’re going to put some fucking clothes on, nut up, and go after her. It’s now or never.”

San wiped his eyes, trying to control his breathing. “B-but what do I say, Seonghwa? How can I possibly–”

Seonghwa suddenly pulled him into a hug, clutching the back of his head, feeling San slowly begin to relax against him. “You’re going be honest with her, San. Tell her what you’ve always wanted her to know. The world isn’t going to end after you do. She’ll still be there, and you’ll be safe.”

San clutched Seonghwa’s back, blinking away a few remaining tears. “You promise?”

Seonghwa pulled away, curling his pinky finger around his best friend’s, giving him a firm nod. “Promise.” Seeing the trust inside San’s sparkling eyes, Seonghwa reached up to ruffle his hair, smiling softly. “Oh, and give her that Christmas present you’ve been waiting for her to open.”

A small smile slowly apread across his splotchy face, before he gave Seonghwa a stern nod back, reaching his hand inside the pocket of his coat to feel what had been sitting inside and collecting dust for the entire year. It was time. Things weren’t going to end up like last Christmas. It would be different this time. He would make sure of it.

❆ ❆ ❆

With each passing minute, you sank a little further into the abyss of your memories, as well as the freshly fallen layers of snow that surrounded you, splashes of alcohol melting into it whenever you took a lazy swig and dropped the bottle back down at your side. “You dummy…” you mumbled to yourself, sniffling, your warm tears and body doing its best to combat the chilly environment around you.

Once you reached a street lamp, the warm light glowing onto your damp clothes, the memories of last year, that had once been frozen over suddenly flooded into your mind so quickly, you had to lower yourself onto the gravel beneath you, resting your back against the metal of the large buzzing lamp. “Shit…” You brought your wrist to your eyes, smearing a fresh wave of tears into your slightly damp hair, realizing you had been there before, the deja vu hitting you harder than the icy night wind hit your flushed face.

“San, what’s wrong?” You stood next to your boyfriend, watching him simply stare at the Christmas tree in front of him, his hands in his coat pockets.

San clutched onto the present he had spent weeks waiting to be custom-made and even longer just staring at it inside his apartment, wondering if it was enough, if he was enough, for someone like you.

San slowly shook his head, taking his hand out of his pocket to gently grab your wrist, leaning in to ask, “Can we talk?”

“No, we’re not doing this right now,” you told yourself out loud, smacking the side of your head and shaking it back and forth to hopefully send the memory packing, but it persisted, much like the snowfall around you.

“I don’t understand, San, we were fine! We’re okay. Why are you doing this?” you cried, trying and failing to keep San from leaving the cabin, unable to catch the corner of his coat sleeve until you were both under a street lamp, the light blinking occasionally.

San slowly turned around to face you for a moment, shaking his head, keeping his tears at bay. He didn’t know what he was thinking. How would he be enough for someone like you? Poor San simply couldn’t see the beauty he saw in you in his own self. “I just can’t, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I really am.”

“Can’t what? Can you just talk to me, San? I want to understand, San, please, talk to me,” you begged him, your heart sinking further with each step you took towards him as he continued to walk away. You stopped eventually, in the front of his car, your breath caught in your throat. “So, that’s it? You’re just going to leave? Just like that?”

San stroked his hair with a shaky hand in an unconscious act of self-soathing, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, looking off to the side, before gripping the door handle of his car, as well as the felt box inside his pocket with his other hand, only seeing a blurry version of you by the time he looked back up. How could he explain how afraid he was of you and the love you offered him? How his many walls, like ice, were impenetrable, until you melted them away? It frightened him, so much so that all he could say was, “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” before he got into the car and shut the door.

“You…dummy…” you repeated, this time in a whisper, taking another swig from the bottle and choking down the strong liquor, about to force yourself to down it when you heard what sounded like a set of boots quickly shuffling through the snow.

“Y/N,” San gasped, almost completely out of breath from running through the rough winter terrain, bending forward slightly with his hands on his knees to catch his breath, sending puffs of condensation into the air around you. “I have to – tell you something–”

“Oh, now you have something to say? After all this time? That’s rich,” you scoffed, wobbling a bit as you stood up, trying to put up a front like you had done earlier, though your facade had since melted away, your quivering lips and red, teary eyes on full display. “…Go on, San…”

San finally caught his breath, his heart still hammering away inside his chest, reaching up to his head to stroke his somewhat damp raven hair, trying to swallow the growing lump inside his throat. “Y/N, I…I should’ve said this a long time ago, instead of just leaving you the way I did…”

The longer you stared at him, the longer he felt his walls crumbling around him, figuring that he had no choice but to tell you what had always been lingering on his tongue, buzzing in his heart and mind, and swimming inside his thoughts each night when he was alone. He realized it was worth the risk of having to return to a cold, silent heart, a bitter soul, and even higher walls that he could box himself inside of. To him, you were worth anything.

Your anger slowly subsided at the sight of his serious gaze, his warm coffee-brown eyes studying you like nothing else existed besides you. In fact, nothing did, inside his world, except for you. “San…” you murmured, reaching out to touch his hand, but he already beat you to it, interlacing your cold fingers together.

“I love you, Y/N,” he admitted in the softest, most convicting voice you’ve ever heard from him, slowly pulling out the box he kept inside his coat, opening it to reveal a small gold ring with a jewel shaped like mistletoe, gently sliding it onto your finger when you held your hand out. “I love you so much, baby. So much it terrifies me.”

“Oh, San…” you sighed, breathless, bringing your hand to your chest from being so overwhelmed with emotion. After a moment, you reached for his hand, squeezing it, moving closer to him, his confession and gift warming you up more than a raging, crackling fire ever could. “San–”

“If I had just told you how I felt back then, I wouldn’t have hurt you the way I did.” He squeezed your hand back, his chapped, lower lip quivering. “I wish I could take it all back. It’s all I’ve been able to think about– How I wish I could just turn back time and–”

You silenced San’s words with a gentle kiss, letting go of his hand to wrap your arms around his neck, his arms following suit, closing around your waist. You broke the kiss after a moment to whisper, “I love you too, San. Always have.” You caressed his face, making sure he felt the love pouring out of your words when you promised, “Always will.”

San let out a trapped breath of air, hugging you against him, protectively clutching the back of your head, unable to stop everything he had held inside from spilling out of him all at once.

You simply held him in your arms and stroked the back of his head, not noticing when the light above you had flickered once and went out for a split second, only to shine brighter than it did before, the light warming the exposed skin of your flushed cheeks.

❆ ❆ ❆

San sat on his knees beside the crackling fire, adjusting a piece of firewood, watching the flame catch onto it and travel along the cedar, enjoying the warmth on his skin, eventually turning his head back to admire the sight of you bundled up on the couch with a plush blanket on your lap, your hands clasped around a cup of tea, your eyes admiring your twinkling ring, before you noticed his loving gaze.

“Sannie, come here, love,” you spoke softly, taking one finger off of the cup to beckon him to you, sliding the blanket off and putting the cup down after one more sip.

“Coming, baby.” Eyes sparkling, San inched his way over to you, still on his knees, fitting himself in between yours so that he could wrap his arms around your middle, resting his head against your chest. “Mm, you’re so warm.”

You ran your fingers through his soft, still slightly damp hair, waiting till he looked up at you to caress his cheek, a small sigh leaving your lips. “I’m sorry for what I did to you earlier. I really shouldn’t have reacted like that. It was hypocritical of me.” You ran your fingers gently along his jaw, noticing the way he leaned into your touch.

“No, baby, I’m sorry,” he replied, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, pouting. “I did…that to you in front of everyone…It was really shitty…I just couldn’t think straight after I saw you with Mingi.”

Your face fell, your fingers sliding back into San’s hair to play with it. “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t…I want you to know that there was no meaning behind it, love. I was just bitter. And drunk.”

“I know, Y/N. It’s all forgiven, I promise you.” San reassured softly, responding well to your light touches, nuzzling your hand when it came back to his cheek, his fingers sliding underneath your sweater to squeeze into your sides, sending a light shiver up your spine. “But, you know what, baby?”

“What, Sannie?” Your body temperature started to increase as San brought himself up higher so that you were face to face, body to body, his palms settling onto your bare back.

“There’s meaning behind this,” he whispered, bringing his hands up to cup your face, before gently pressing his lips onto yours. You shared a few firm, passionate kisses, your lips moving against one another’s, hearing San whisper something else that sent a wave straight into your core. “Can you feel it, baby? My love?”

“Yeah, show me more, Sannie,” you murmured against his lips, his mouth slotting back onto yours, almost making you forget to breathe when his tongue began to explore the inside of your mouth.

San sucked lightly on your tongue, before moving down to kiss on your neck, his hands moving further up to unclasp your bra from underneath your sweater. “Can I please touch you, baby?” he asked with a desperation that made his deep voice go up an octave higher.

“Yes, please, touch me,” you responded with just as much desperation, arching your back into his touch when he slipped his hands up the front of your sweater, moving your tits in slow, gentle circles, his lips and teeth attacking your neck and collarbone.

“You feel so good in my hands, baby, fuck, I missed you so much,” San exhaled into your neck, squeezing the roundness of your tits in between his fingers, squishing them together, and lifting them up, only to drop them back down into his palms, groaning all the while. He pulled back slightly, rolling the hem of your sweater up a bit, his hooded, dilated eyes focused solely on yours. “Can I take this off?”

A quick nod was all it took for him to lift your sweater up over your head, your bra falling to the floor. Not wanting you to be alone, he reached behind his head and pulled his own sweater off, his sculpted, muscular upper body bathed in glowing, orange light from the fire blazing away behind him. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N…” he sighed, admiring your body like he did the very first time he saw you bare in front of him.

“So are you,” you replied, slowly running your hands up along his abdomen and back down, his muscles flexing slightly underneath your touch, his eyes following your fingers as they unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants down to reveal his cute custom briefs. “My Sannie, so precious.”

San blushed, his goofy smile slowly disappearing as he unbuttoned your pants, biting hard into his bottom lip once he got them off of you. “Baby…” Unable to just sit there and admire you, he reached forward to cup your tits, running his thumbs back and forth over your stiff nipples, lust clearly running rampant in his head and body by the way he was looking at you with such clear hunger in his eyes, his cock hard and stiff against your core. “Can I taste you?”

“Baby, you don’t have to ask, okay? You can have me, in any way–” you started breathily, feeling San’s cock beginning to pulse against you. “–Every way, Sannie. Please, take care of me.”

San suddenly clutched your hips, slowly grinding his clothed cock into your heat, while his mouth closed around one of your nipples to suck on it, his hooded eyes looking up into yours, his tongue darting out to lap at your tit.

“Feels so good, your mouth on me,” you breathed out, running your fingers through his hair, clutching it tight when he swapped your tit for the other, his jaw lowering so that he could fit more of your squishy globe into his mouth, sucking on it desperately. “Sannie…please…”

Knowing what you wanted, San pulled back to spit onto your tits, watching it drip down, before leaning back in to lick it up, his tongue cascading up and down your now slick skin, still guiding your hips against him, your legs already hooked around his slim waist. Your whiny moans were like music to his ears, taking a break from sucking and licking you to say, “You like it messy, don’t you, baby girl? Makes you so wet for me, doesn’t it?”

“Uh-huh, now come here,” you could barely get out, before you grabbed his face and slammed your lips against his, your mouths and tongues working in tandem, strands of spit dripping down your chins, San’s hands squeezing tightly into your hips, grinding against you so quick, so desperately, you were both about to reach your highs just from that.

“Sannie,” you sighed against his lips, caressing his jaw, his cock rubbing against your cunt in just the right way, your body pulsing with the need to be filled.

“Y/N,” he sighed back, pressing his forehead onto yours, the both of you breathing in the same air, the thick, throbbing length of his cock rubbing deliciously along your clothed slit until your lower halves began to jolt, your moans and gasps crescendoing in unison. “Cumming? Are you cumming for me, baby?”

“Y–esss, Sannie, m’ cumming for you,” you cried out, holding onto him as tightly as you could, your nails digging lightly into his back, feeling his muscles contracting. “Cum for me too, please, baby, let me see you.”

San let out a choked, whiny moan, panting heavily, losing his quick, focused thrusts, opting for sloppy, abrupt movements, barely about to get out the word, “B–abyyy…”

You both fell apart in each other’s arms, your eyes never breaking contact, your combined arousal soaking through your respective undergarments.

Once you both caught your breath, San reached down to rub your pussy with two thick fingers, able to see your slit through your shiny, see-through panties, his cum-covered cock already twitching back to life. “Fuck, baby, look at that…you’re completely soaked.”

“Just for you,” you nodded, spreading your thighs open further, pulling the hem of your panties up a bit to emphasize your puffy cunt, your clit pressing into the soft cloth material.

“Oh my god, baby, I need to taste you,” San suddenly whined, squeezing his fingers into the softness of your thighs, lowering himself down to take a deep inhale of your arousal, his head going completely fuzzy, unable to keep himself from drooling onto your cunt.

You slipped your fingers into his soft hair, bringing his face against your heat, sighing at the feeling of his nose bumping against your clit as he took another deep breath, shuddering when he began to tongue your cunt through your panties. “That’s it, Sannie, feels so good,” you moaned, your praise going straight to San’s cock, causing it to strain against his stained briefs.

“Mmmn,” San moaned against your pussy, licking one slow, long strip up your slit to your clit, filled with so much need for you that he couldn’t keep himself from tearing your panties off of you with one quick tug, making you gasp and release more slick, his mouth already on you to lap it right up, his other hand shoving his briefs down so that his cock could spring out against his abdomen, pre-cum smearing across his tan skin. “This pussy is all mine, baby…mine to eat, mine to fuck….mine to fill, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Sannie, all yours, it’s all yours,” you answered, clutching his hair, desperately grinding your cunt against his tongue when he held it out, looking deep into his eyes that never left yours for a second, suddenly gasping out when San spread your hole open, sending a wad of spit inside before his agile tongue slipped inside of you.

San grabbed the undersides of your thighs and lifted your lower half up so that he could tongue fuck you as deep as humanly possible, letting out a pleased moan each time his tongue entered your soaked, pulsing hole. He kept going until you saw stars, going ‘uh-huhhh, uh-huhhh’ as soon as you began to shudder, your arousal squirting out and soaking his flushed face.

“My pretty baby came so hard for me,” San sighed, licking your wetness up from your sensitive cunt and his lips, before he brought you in for another sloppy kiss, letting you taste yourself.

The longer you kissed, the more you wanted him inside you, needed him to fuck his love into you until you couldn’t remember your own name. You needed him so badly, you didnt even realize what you were doing until you had found yourself pushing San down onto the fur carpet below and straddling him, sitting on his lap in a way that showed the both of you exactly where his long, veiny cock would reach inside of you once he filled you up. “Need you, Sannie. Need you now.”

“You can have me, baby.” San’s cock twitched against your abdomen, his hands rubbing your thighs, eventually lifting you up and down onto his cock, groaning at the feeling of your pussy swallowing his length inch by inch. “Fuck, princess, have all of me.”

Instinctively, San began to buck his hips up into you, filling you up so well, you felt a bit dizzy, encouraging you to hold onto his chest, still taking his cock deep inside your cunt like you were made for him.

San must’ve agreed too because he couldn’t keep from groaning out, “Look at you, babygirl, look at the way you’re taking me, taking my cock so deep–” He pressed one hand to your abdomen, feeling the bulge his cock made each time he fucked into you, driving the both of you crazy. “Your pretty pussy was made for me, baby. Made just for me. You’re mine, babygirl.”

“Yours.” You quickly lowered yourself down to kiss him, his hands sliding up and down along your body to feel your warm skin underneath his touch, eventually settling his hands on your cheeks, wiping a few of your tears away when you began to cry from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Cum for me, Y/N…You can do it…Fall apart for me, baby, ” San encouraged in between heavy breaths, slowing the movements of his hips down, instead filling you up in a slow and meticulous manner, drawing your intense orgasm out of you. “Yes, baby, that’s it, that’s it…”

“Sannnn, oh my god, San.” The longer you fell apart, the tighter your pussy constricted around San’s cock, causing him to throw his head back, sweat dripping down along his straining neck, his veins growing more visible when he gripped your thighs tightly. “Fill me up, Sannie. Need your cum inside.”

“Cumminggg, princess, oh my god, baby girl,” San groaned heavily, lifting you up and down on his throbbing length, before fully sheathing himself inside you, coating your walls with white.

Panting, you both gazed at each other’s sweat-covered faces and bodies, knowing internally that it wasn’t enough. Not nearly.

“Again?”

“Again.”

San didn’t waste any time gently pulling you off of him and climbing on top of you instead, spreading you open and filling you back up, sighing at the sight of your mixed arousal forming a ring around the base of his cock each time he pounded himself into you. “You’re so full of my cum, baby…so full of my cock, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

“So full for you, Sannie, don’t stop,” you gasped, hardly able to breathe with the way he had you folded up, your legs over his shoulders, his cock slamming so deep inside you that you swore he was hitting your womb.

“Wasn’t gonna,” San exhaled, chuckling softly, his lips curling up to give you a smile, his eyes creasing with amusement. “Need to show you my love.”

“Show me, baby,” you sighed affectionately, smiling back at him, giggling at the sight of his eyes lighting up, before you pressed a kiss to his lips.

The wet, sloppy sound of your bodies joining together over and over filled up the otherwise quiet cabin, along with your harmonious moans, the remaining pieces of firewood still crackling away beside you. Time seemed to stop completely. It was just you and him, coming undone together for what seemed like a lifetime.

You both ended up back on the couch, your limbs and bodies entangled, snuggling together underneath the cozy blanket, talking with each other about anything and everything until your eyelids grew heavy, leading you to drift off, your fingers clasped together.

Before you could fully fall asleep, you nuzzled your cheek against San’s chest, gently inhaling his comforting scent. He smelled like aftershave, warm cedar wood, and spiced cinnamon. It reminded you of your time there at the cabin, the memories you spent together, both good and bad, swirling together to form a comfortingly bittersweet concoction, one that you would consume in every lifetime.

“San,” you whispered softly into the darkness, the fire beside the both of you now ashes and smoke.

“Yes, Y/N?” he whispered back, his arms closing around you protectively.

You sighed against his skin, your body and heart melting like the snow would begin to do as well, once the sun came up. “I love you so much, San…” You lifted your head up, hovering above him so that you could look down at him, your fingers clutching his jaw, your expression so soft San thought you might cry. “I want to show you how to share some of that love with yourself one day.”

San smiled up at you, his eyes full of so much adoration for you, it threatened to spill out of him, his fingers running through your hair. “You showed me, Y/N. Through it all, behind every word, every action, I still saw it there. That’s why I put myself first and confessed to you.” He smiled softly, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “I’m…not nearly as put together as I seem. I just love you so much, it makes me want to be strong. For you. And…for me.”

You didn’t realize you were crying too until you saw your teardrops land on his face and slide down his cheek, wondering if your icy heart had finally melted, and that was why there were so many tears escaping from your blurry eyes. “Oh, San, my sweet San, I’ll be here to watch you grow, I promise,” you murmured, hugging onto him and laying back down to rest your head on his chest, gently rolling the ring around your finger.

San’s hand came up from underneath the blanket to rest on top of yours. He squeezed your hand and you squeezed right back. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you repeated softly, closing your eyes, your heart at peace. “As long as you promise to watch me too.”

San closed his eyes too, a few more happy tears dripping past his cheeks, squeezing you just a little tighter than before. San felt safe. Whole. “I’d love nothing more, Y/N.”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2023.

[someonexsomeone]

Sweetness

Title: Sweetness

Author: SomeonexSomeone

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader, James Potter x Lily Evans

Summary: The Marauders LOVED to watch you with Remus.

Authors Note: this was actually born from another fic i was writing that i hated scrapped and kept one sentence from lmao

“What are you idiots up to now?” 

There was very little that could rattle Lily Evans. Her sister, Severus Snape, and, as reluctant as she wanted to admit it, James Potter, were just a few people, not to mention the very Gryffindor nature she adopted over the years making her susceptible to reckless actions, but she was getting the hang of it, honest! It was just that stupid Potter that set her on edge without having to do anything, and then he’d bat his pretty eyelashes at her and--

Ugh. Thinking about him made her feel nauseous.

She’d done her best to avoid Potter as much as possible, not that Dumbledore made it any easier assigning them as Head Girl and Boy (despite her many protests), but he seemed adamant on sticking by her side. Or, as Marlene suggested, not that Lily believed it anyway, that Potter was simply going about his day to day life and they just happened to share a few classes together and of course he would sit near her in the Great Hall since it was practically commonplace to sit near your yearmates, and why was she paying so close attention to him anyway?

“Because he’s so annoying it's impossible to ignore. Like a moldy cheese, his stink of annoyance just fills a room.”

“You know, Lily,” Marlene teased, drawing out every word. “Some people think smelly cheese is irresistible.”

She stormed away before she could think that her red face was attributed to anything but anger.

So, imagine her surprise when, the very person she was trying to avoid, was acting more a fool than usual, his butt hanging out of a classroom door with none of the decorum required of a Head Boy. Though, she mused, why did she expect anything different from him, even if he’d been acting more mature this term.

His goofy shocked face caused her heart to flutter, another symptom of her annoyance.

“Lily!” Potter whisper-shouted, somehow being incapable of speaking quietly even when it was so obvious he was trying. Sirius Black, used to his antics, knocked a knobby elbow into his side from his position on the floor, playful glare on his face as he shushed his better half.

“Quiet!” Black hissed, voice just as loud. Potter didn’t seem to notice, sending him a sheeping smile.

“Sorry!” he said, though his voice was only lower in pitch, not volume. Lily rolled her eyes. “What are you doing here? I thought you were studying with Marlene?”

“Stalking me now, Potter?” She was shocked, however, when Potter flushed red instead of his flirty remark.

“I-I would never! You know that, don’t you?” And then, as if he realized how pathetic he sounded, his mouth twitched into a grimace. “Unless, you--…you want me to?”

“Oh Merlin,” Black sighed, shaking his head, voice exasperated. “Marlene told us in case Dorcas finished her meeting with Professor Gropmorph early.”

This time, it was Lily who flushed in embarrassment. Thankfully, Remus took the perfect moment to open the door to the classroom, unamusement clear, even as Potter and Black toppled like dominoes face first onto Remus’s shoes.

“What are you idiots doing now?” Lily felt her chest swell in kinship, even as Remus’s face dropped in shock at spotting her standing there. “Lily?”

“I promise,” she said quickly, “I have nothing to do with this!”

“What…what are you doing here? What are any of you doing here?”

“Well, you see--!” Black scrambled to his feet, knocking James over in his attempt to get up faster. “I was just--...we were just--...”

“Rounds!” James shouted, gracelessly, despite his usual athleticism, using the door frame to pull himself up. Once he was on his feet, he swung an arm around Lily. When she tried to sidestep away from him, he kept his arm firm, and she pretended to hate it. “We were just doing rounds, right, Evans?”

It was a miracle these marauders didn’t get into more trouble if this is what they were like when they were lying. James was staring down at her with his big brown eyes, twinkling with hope. Black was making a subtle motion to play along, though it was in clear view of Remus, who eyed them suspiciously.

Why me?, she thought, miserably.

“...Yeah,” she finally said, though the moment had stretched on for far too long to be convincing. Black face palmed.

“Rounds? But it’s not even dinner yet?”

James cursed under his breath. Lily rolled her eyes. How could he forget his best friend was a prefect?

“It’s those new Head rounds, right?” Black provided. James slumped in relief, immediately nodding along.

“Yep! Yeah, new rounds for Head Girl and Boy. Wouldn’t have taken the job if I knew there was so much to do!” James laughed too loud, then abruptly stopped, whipping his head down to look at Lily. “Not that I’m not responsible! I agreed, so I’ll follow through. Promise!”

“...okay,” Remus agreed, drawing out the sound to fill the sudden awkward silence. He eyes Black, almost looking like he was going to ask what he was doing there, then decided better and kept the question to himself. Lily didn’t blame him. “Well, have fun…?”

“Yes, yes! You as well, whatever mysterious thing you’re doing in there!” Black babbled, practically pushing Remus back into the room, throwing a glare over his shoulder. 

Just before the door shut, Lily swore she saw a familiar silhouette.

With the door now closed, and Black assured that Remus was far enough away, he whipped around, voice exasperated as he said, “Way to go, Prongs.”

“What?” Lily shrugged off Potter’s arm, and he had the decency to look embarrassed. “Oh, sorry. I panicked.”

“I could tell.” She made a show of whipping off her shoulder, but made no move to walk away. “What were you even doing?”

Potter opened his mouth to respond, but Black launched himself, covering his mouth with both hands. Potter's eyes widened, grabbing Black’s arms to push him away.

“Why are you curious? We’re not breaking any rules,” Black said suspiciously, voice trembling as he held his hands still. Lily eyed the two, Potter obviously not putting all his strength into the fight, then looked at the door.

“Remus is allowed to be in there,” she said instead of responding. She turned to Black, crossing her arms and standing her ground. “You, however, are being incredibly rude by spying on him.”

“He’s our friend,” Black argued, as if that justified his actions.

“Friends don’t spy on each other.”

“Friends don’t keep secret lovers.”

Immediately, the two looked at each other in equal shock, eyes widening in unison. Potter used the distraction to finally free his mouth, playfully spitting on the floor.

“Ugh, wash your hands, Pads.”

Lily blinked owlishly at Black, who looked horrified at what he revealed.

“Remus is dating--”

“We don’t know for sure,” James said before she could continue, warily glancing at the closed door. Deciding it would be best to move away, he nodded his head at Black, then gestured Lily down the hall, an illusion of privacy she found she appreciated. Once they were a good ways down, where the door all but disappeared into the lopsided cobbled wall, James continued, “It’s just a hunch we’ve had.”

“A hunch?” 

“Our Moony is very protective of his pack--” Potter coughed pointedly at Black, who just rolled his eyes, “--of friends.”

“What he means,” James cut in, “is that Moony is very selective of who he gets close to. Childhood trauma and all that. He just hasn’t gotten around to introducing us yet.”

Lily thought they were being very nonchalant for discussing childhood trauma, but she shrugged it off, reminding herself these were the boys who thought dungbombs were funny because they smelled like farts.

“And you were…what, trying to find a good time to introduce yourselves?” Potter turned sheepish while Black laughed.

“Not…not exactly.”

“Not that you would know, dear Evans, but our Moony is quite the romantic.”

“Remus? Remus Lupin?” Lily conjured the shy Remus she knew, the one who stuttered the first time they interacted, who she recalled being too quiet to stand up to his friends’ wrongdoings, but helped in every other instance. Remus, who she rarely saw with anyone but his roommates, despite the countless people throwing themselves at his feet for a date.

Black nodded, long hair swinging around his shoulders.

“The most. Would put Calyna Ollapianne to shame.” Although Lily was lost, no doubt one of many pop culture wizards she hadn’t had the time to discover, the way Potter was nodding his head made her inclined to believe it was a good thing. Maybe Mary would know, she wondered to herself, she’s always been into wizarding things.

“And, you see, he’s shy.” To this, Lily nodded. “So, when he does fancy someone, he doesn’t always have the courage to say something.”

“Except!” Black’s mischievous smile made her nervous. “Our dear Moony, who usually runs away tail between his legs when a pretty thing walks by, is currently locked in a room, far from other students or distractions, supposedly tutoring a very pretty thing.”

Lily stopped, her two companions falling in line to look at her, identical smiles on their faces. If she didn’t know Black had been staying with the Potter’s, she might have been weirded out. Instead, she only felt confusion, looking back over her shoulder to the hallway they just abandoned. Black was practically bouncing on his feet as he waited for her response.

“So…”

“Yes?”

“Remus is currently tutoring a fellow classmate and your…disrupting him?” Black sighed dramatically, obviously not what he was expecting to hear from her.

“Come on, Evans. You’re not the littlest bit curious?” He gestured down the hall. “We just let you in on one of our biggest secrets and you can’t even give me a dramatic gasp?”

“One of--?”

“We don’t bother them,” Potter reassured before she could continue, giving her a softer smile, one that relaxed her nerves, as much as she hated to admit it. “We just…want to make sure he’s doing alright. Provide emotional support, or whatever.”

Lily looked, really looked, at James as he stuttered over his words, pointedly avoiding her eyes. Even with his tanned skin, she could see the beginnings of a flush creeping up his neck, painting the tips of his ears rosy. The more she looked, the more he stammered, hands waving wildly, knocking into Black, though neither of them really acknowledged it, too busy studying her or too used to it, she didn’t know. She tucked away the knowledge that her stare made him stumble over her words.

By the time his voice was getting shrill, pathetically forming messy sentences that somehow implicated him and Black in a torrid affair with Remus, a familiar boy rounded the corner.

“Hey! Sorry, am I late?” Pettegrew called, face red and sweaty from no doubt running to meet up with his friends. “I got here as fast as I could.”

Though Remus was by far her favorite Seventh Year boy, Peter Pettigrew was high on her list, thanks to his inability to talk without his friends nearby. Lily hadn’t had many interactions with him, beyond the odd Gryffindor camaraderie at matches and being paired up in class, but there was something about the way he followed along behind his friends, as if he was completely spineless, set her on edge. Pathetic, she hated to admit, was one of the few words she associated with him, and she felt bad enough about it that she often went out of her way to be extra kind to him. Like now, as she gave him a small smile. Pettigrew gave her a toothy one in return when he spotted her.

“Oh, Evans! I didn’t know you liked watching Moony too!”

“Watching…?”

“Yeah!” He laughed, setting Black and Potter on edge. “These two are obsessed with watching Moony get all lovey--”

“You’re such a snitch!” Black yelped before he could continue, locking Pettigrew’s head in the crook of his arm, pushing his fist into the top of his head and rubbing until both of their hair was askew.

“I thought you were there to provide ‘moral support’?” Lily questioned, side eyeing Potter, who started to stutter again. 

It should have been obvious, she mused, that they were lying about being there for his friend. As long as she’s known them, they were always up to something. Niceties hiding deception, innocence hiding trickery. Even if he’d matured in the past term, actually being a good Head Boy despite her reluctance to admit it, old habits die hard.

“We really are! It’s just--...It’s just…” Potter’s stutter, despite usually making her want to roll her eyes, made her feel a little bad. After all, they were a collection of contradictions. Who's to say he couldn't be spying for good and bad reasons? She nearly pinched herself at the thought.

Black, noticing his friend's dilemma, loosened his hold to step closer. Pettigrew used the distraction to pull his head away, surprisingly knocking a leg out to trip Black, sending him tumbling into Potter, and both of them onto the floor.

“They're looney,” Pettegrew rushed out, a mischievous smile on his face. Potter and Black wiggled against each other on the floor, untangling limbs to stop their friend from saying more. “Obsessed with how Moony gets all soft. Did they tell you their favorite thing is when he stands behind to guide wand movement with his whole body? ‘Oh, Prongs, hold me like Moony does!’, ‘Pads, Pads! Do you think they’ll kiss later?’!”

“Snitch!” Potter shouted this time, launching himself across the floor towards Pettigrew’s knees, knocking them down. The two grappled on the floor, Pettigrew laughing while Potter stuttered apologies towards Lily, swearing they weren’t creeps, while Black rose beside her, cackling and cheering them on, an annoying ‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’ that brought on a migraine she did not need to deal with right now. 

“What are you doing?” All four of them froze, the unexpected stern voice rattling them to their bones. 

Lily was the first to turn, wince pulling her eyebrows to her nose as she watched Remus hurry down the hall, obvious exasperation on his face. She felt even worse as she spotted you trailing behind him. It was obvious they weren’t as quiet as they hoped, pulling you from the tutoring session Remus had gone through the trouble of renting a room for.

“Lily?” You called, evidently more confused to see her than the two locked in a wrestle on the floor. “What are you doing here?”

“I was--...I was just--…” She felt foolish stumbling over her words like that. It was a public hallway, she had every right to be here just as the others did, and she wasn’t one of the bubbling fools getting their uniforms dirty while they rolled on the floor. Well, she wasn’t one of the fools, but she had to admit she was very much bumbling.

“Why are you two always on the floor?” Remus said, exasperated. He reached down, hauling Pettigrew to his feet, much to Potter’s dismay, who had to rise on his own, Black still too busy eyeing you up. She could have sworn she saw Remus send a sharp glare in Black’s direction, but the harshness completely vanished as he looked at you again. Instead of the mean look he reserved for his friends, his eyebrows relaxed, face going rosy as he apologized. “I’m sorry, we’re meant to be studying.”

“Yeah, studying…” Black murmured under his breath, much too loud to be a private thought. Lily stomped on his foot not too discreetly in retaliation. “Merlin’s beard--!”

She turned to stick her tongue out at him, a very irresponsible thing to do as Head Girl but there was something about these troublemakers that made her feel like a little kid again, but before she could do more, Potter elbowed her harshly in the side. When she whipped toward him, he had an embarrassed flush on his face, evidently not meaning to hit her so hard, but he gestured quickly back to you. Only curiosity had her pulling her eyes away from him.

“It’s alright, Rem.” Lily watched as Remus all but melted at the nickname, easily dodging around the group to return to your side. His hand hovered over your shoulder, then dropped, either too nervous or too aware of the watching eyes to actually touch you. It didn’t stop his fingers, however, from twitching towards you as you gave him a smile. “It’s getting close to dinner anyway.”

“Sorry about them.” 

Black wiggled his eyebrows at Lily as Remus’s voice dropped to something sickly sweet, lower and smoother than she was used to hearing. However, as he flicked his eyes towards his friends, all in unison the boys whipped their heads away, whistling or otherwise pretending to not be paying attention. Lily flushed, then looked to her feet, disbelieving that she was following along. But, she hated to admit, this was much too good to walk away from.

“They're fun. And, we can always pick up where we left off tomorrow. No big deal.” You seemed to have no qualms touching him, your hand reaching out to squeeze one of his in reassurance. Lily lifted her eyes just in time to watch a scattering of goosebumps litter the back of his neck, just above the collar of his messy button up. “Same time?”

“Yeah, same time.” She could almost hear the sadness in his voice, easily picturing puppy ears sprouting from his head at how downtrodden he was at leaving you. You seemed to agree, laughing, and then reaching out to gently pat his face. “Have fun at dinner.”

“You could always join us, you know!” Black called out when you pulled away, surprising everyone by daring to speak out and break the gentle atmosphere that surrounded you two. Remus whipped his head around to glare, though he failed as his eyes widened in shock, motioning to cut it out. Potter hissed under his breath in tandem with Lily’s pinch to his side, but Black simply let a smooth smirk pull across his lips, ignoring everyone’s not so subtle hints. “Remus always talks about how much he misses you--”

In perfect unison, Lily stepped out of the way, latching onto your arm to pull you away, while James slapped one of his big hands across Black’s mouth, giving you a bright smile.

“--your tutoring lessons!” he gasped out, glancing at Remus quickly before returning his smile to you. “Loves--likes what a good student you are! Best one he’s ever had!”

“Potter was just telling me how good Remus was. Tell me about it?” Lily suggested, piggybacking off Potter’s obvious lie, tugging you down the hallway. You looked at her quizzically, obviously wondering why she suddenly was all buddy-buddy with you when you two hadn’t shared so much as a whole conversation before, but you didn’t press.

“Alright?” She felt giddy as a soft smile stretched across your lips, neck craned awkwardly so you could turn to look back at Remus, waving your hand. “Bye, Remus. Thanks again.”

“Yeah! Yes! Anytime!” Lily giggled to herself at the fumble, his hand waving a bit too frantically to be casual, but it seemed to only endear you more, nearly tripping over your feet so you could continue to look at him.

The two of you barely managed to round the corner before Black’s obnoxious voice rang out, “Way to go, Moony! You sly wolf!”

Yes, it seemed those marauding boys had a hobby of watching your interactions with Remus, somehow managing to do it in the creepiest, most intrusive way possible. But, she thought as you laughed, wistfully looking over your shoulder, she saw the appeal. 

And, if she found herself in this hallway again tomorrow, now, that was surely just a coincidence.

______________________________________________________________

masterlist  l hogwarts masterlist

[aemondsbabe]

Oathkeeper

summary: aemond comes to winterfell to vie for favor and while cregan has his mind set on backing rhaenyra, you remain unswayed. will your indecision be his saving grace?

pairing: aemond targaryen x stark!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, brat taming, aemond is a little shit, choking, mild degradation, oral sex (f receiving), very lyanna mormont coded reader, aemond whimpers, he's down bad tbh he loves it, angst, allusions to violence but no actual violence, please no one kill me for the end lmao, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.1k

a/n: happy 3k laura!! i'm so happy to be a part of this collab with you and so many of my other fantastically talented writer friends! check out the full milestone celebration here and the masterlist will be here!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @aemondtargaryensource

divider creds to @targaryen-dynasty

🦋my masterlist

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

Icy air whips around you as you stand atop one of the many high stone battlements of Winterfell, eyes scanning the horizon; the grey earth and sky seem to meld together as one as the sun sets lower and lower. 

“It is our duty to hear them out, sister,” Cregan rumbles beside you, brow furrowed. Ice glimmers in your periphery when you glance over at him, the great sword strapped over your brother’s shoulder contrasts sharply against the deep black of the furs draped over his body, “If they come to us for aid, we must negotiate.”

The air around your lips turns to mist as you scoff, jaw clenched. Today, of all days, you could do without your brother’s condescending tone. 

“Negotiate,” you echo, pulling the thick white fur of your cloak more snugly over your shoulders as the wind seems to pick up, “They come with hardly any notice, with two dragons, and you still believe this is a negotiation?”

“Sister –”

“To call it anything but extortion is a fool’s game, Cregan,” you keep your eyes straight ahead, focused only on the horizon, when he turns to glare at you, nostrils flared. 

“Need I remind you that we are sworn to House Targaryen? That we have been for –”

“Which House Targaryen?” You swiftly counter, cutting your gaze to his with a biting scowl of your own. The wind gusts again yet you pay it no mind, hardly noticing when a shadow passes overhead. 

An all encompassing roar seems to vibrate the very air around you and you whip your head up just in time to see a behemoth of a beast duck down below the clouds, followed swiftly by a smaller, though no less monstrous, one that lets out a resounding cry of its own. 

“Gods be good,” you sigh, already feeling weary of this whole endeavor; you roll your eyes when you look to Cregan, only to find him positively beaming, entranced. You, however, would not be so easily wooed – of that, you were determined. 

Glowering, you turn your face to the sky once more and watch as the creatures circle one another, huffing when it dawns on you that their movements strikingly resemble two riders racing on horseback, goading and taunting one another. 

Shaking your head, your chest heaves with a tired groan, Seven Hells.

“I shall see you in the Great Hall when you have finished fawning,” you sigh once more before turning, leaving your brother to stand like some open-mouthed whore, gawping at the sky.

“My Prince and… my Prince,” Cregan’s voice echoes throughout the great stone hall, accompanied by the steady crackle of the enormous fireplace at its back wall, “We bid you welcome to the North, I trust your journey’s were pleasant ones.” 

The tension in the air is nearly palpable as you stand beside your brother, carefully watching the two dragonriders.The one on the left, Prince Jacaerys, stares straight ahead at Cregan, as if he doesn’t trust himself to look anywhere else. His dark brows are set in a slight scowl and his gloved hand hasn’t once risen from the pommel of his sword since he dismounted his dragon, who you’ve been informed bears the name Vermax.

Your gaze, however, seems continually pulled to the right, determined to see through the cool mask of indifference Prince Aemond wears. Unlike Jacaerys, his singular lilac eye had been busy flicking all about the space, though he stood stock still with a haughty manner about him, hands clasped behind his back. 

“‘Twas a fine journey, yes,” Aemond hums, looking first at Cregan and then to you; his gaze is piercing and you can’t help but wonder if the rumors among the smallfolk are true – that he’d replaced his lost eye with some sort of gemstone, “Vhagar and I were fortunate to not encounter… anything of note.”

Your eyes move quickly to Jacaerys, breaking from Aemond’s stare once you catch the pointed tone of his words, slicing through the air like daggers. His jaw clenches, though only for a second, as you silently pray that this does not end in the two men coming to blows, or worse. 

“My journey was quite pleasant, my Lord Stark, thank you,” a small part of you is impressed that he seems determined not to let his emotions run amuck. He steps forward and pulls a rolled piece of parchment from the inner pocket of the thick, fur-lined cloak he wears, “I come with a message from my mother, the Queen.”

Beside him, Aemond quickly steps forward as well, producing a similar scroll, close enough to you that you’re able to just make out an image of House Targaryen’s three-headed dragon embossed on the golden wax seal. “And I come bearing a message from King Aegon, Second of His Name,” he pauses, looking between you and Cregan, glancing almost imperceptibly toward Prince Jacaerys, “Who currently sits the Iron Throne.”

“Usurper,” Jacaerys mutters under his breath, nose twitching in annoyance.

“Say that again,” Aemond’s voice is low as he whips around to face Jacaerys, all but shoving the scroll he brought into your hands. 

“That is my mother’s throne,” the brunette replies, simmering with a barely contained rage as he hands over Rhaenyra’s terms to Cregan in a similar manner, “Your drunken fool of a brother has no right to it.”

Your heart thrums in your chest as they stare one another down, the hostility between them seems to suck all the air from the room and bathe it in a silence you’ve only ever felt in the crypts. 

“And who would bend the knee for a whore with bastard heirs, nephew?” Aemond’s footfalls echo about the hall as he stalks around the other prince, circling him with a goading smirk, “She could not honor the oaths made to her husband, I shudder to think what would become of her promises to the realm.”

Your eyes widen and a gasp is wrenched from your throat when Jacaerys whirls around with a snarl and the sound of metal-on-metal grates through the air as both men unsheath decorated daggers from their belts; they stumble a few steps back, chests heaving as they each wait for the other to make the first move. 

“Do it,” Aemond taunts, lips twisted into a wicked smile while he and Jacaerys circle one another. Raising a hand, he pulls the black leather eyepatch from his face and tosses it to the floor, clearly relishing the way the other prince falters at the sight of his uncovered face. The deep blue sapphire he reveals gleams in the light from the fire, the sight of it makes your breath hitch, “Finish what your bastard brother started, go on.”

“Cease this!” Cregan shouts, voice firm, though he may as well not have spoken at all for all the good it does – each man only sparing him a glance. 

“I did not come to fight you,” the brunette huffs, scowling at his uncle while keeping a firm grip on the hilt of his dagger.

“No?” Aemond questions sardonically, “You’ve no wish to prove your might, hm? To show the realm how strong you are?”

The remark sounds like any other taunt to you, yet something about it seems to make the fire simmering within Jacaerys blaze closer to the surface – too close. You can see it coming before it happens from the way he tenses, from the miniscule twitch of his hand.

Acting quickly, you lunge for the great longsword strapped to your brother’s back and unsheath it without a second thought. Cregan reacts just as swiftly and clambers for you when you turn on your heel and rush over to where the two men glower at one another. From the corner of your eye, you see Jacaerys lunge forward but you cut off his movement as you swing Ice over your head. 

Metal crashes against metal, filling the hall with a shrill clang, before the great sword slams against the stone floor with a cacophonous din. Everything comes to a sudden halt as the loud noise sends a shock through the hall. 

“Enough!” The word leaves your lips as a snarl while you stare between the two men, nose twitching in annoyance, “How dare you sully our home with such feckless, asinine bickering!” 

Each of the princes sheaths his dagger in silence, though you hold the sword between them still, the tip of it digging into the stone as you keep hold of the pommel. “I’ve no doubt that were those creatures outside to engage like this that they could easily rip Winterfell to pieces, stone by stone, and yet they remain peaceful! Tell me, do you have baser morals than that of a beast?” Your voice is low as you speak, every ounce of patience you had for this idiotic farce wrung from you, “Is this the kind of man House Targaryen sets upon the realm?” 

“Apologies, my lady… my lord,” Jacaerys murmurs, glancing between you and Cregan before quickly staring down at the floor, his jaw set. 

You give him a curt nod before training your eyes on the silver-haired prince and narrowing them expectantly; he holds your gaze for only a second before looking off into the fire with a sigh, “Apologies.” 

Cregan reaches for the sword again and this time you relinquish it without a fight, turning your attention back to the two scrolls abandoned on the longtable – one carrying a gold seal, the other a black one, both bearing the three-headed dragon emblem.

Your brother sighs behind you and you can practically feel him throwing an icy glance at the two men before he joins you at the table, leaning back against the edge of it and crossing his arms over his broad chest. 

“We will hear your terms,” he starts, ignoring the way your head whips around to face him, “As is our sworn duty, but there will be no violence in these halls.”

“No.”

“Sister –”

“Not tonight,” you shake your head firmly, glancing over your shoulder at the princes before leaning closer to Cregan, voice low enough that it doesn’t carry in through the hall, “‘Tis late and they are on edge as is. Any negotiations will not go peacefully tonight.”

He turns his head toward you with a soft sigh; you tilt your head just slightly when your eyes meet, communicating silently, with only a look, as you have since the two of you were small. 

“Please,” you think, your gaze flicking between his blue eyes, lips set in a firm line, “Listen to me, just this once.”

Finally, after a long moment, he simply nods and looks back at the two men still standing in the hall, looking pointedly away from each other now. 

“We will hear your terms in the morning,” you announce, turning to face them, your expression set and neutral, “The hour is late and I imagine the two of you are tired from your travels, the –”

“Lady Stark,” Aemond starts, stepping forward, jaw clenched with barely contained annoyance, “W–”

“We will hear your terms in the morning and that is final, my prince,” you repeat, enunciating each word firmly, leaving no room for whatever argument he was intending to make. You glance between the two men again, watching as he gives a polite, stiff nod. 

Sighing tiredly, you give Cregan one last withering look before turning on your heel. “The servants will show you to your quarters,” you call over your shoulder, grabbing the gold sealed scroll from the longtable on your way to the doors without sparing the men another look. 

By the grace of the Gods, you manage to have a few peaceful hours to yourself. The castle remains quiet, save for the usual bustling of various servants and guards. The crackling of the small hearth in your chambers is the only sound that accompanies you while you read over the terms Prince Aemond brought with him, which were fairly generous, all things considered. 

Only one point gave you pause, perhaps King Aegon’s greatest gift – the offer of his brother’s hand. You wrinkle your nose in disgust when you read over that bit, although you had expected it. It’s no secret that you, Winterfell’s greatest prize as you’d been told time and time again since you were old enough to even somewhat comprehend the idea of marriage, are unclaimed. Of course the Greens would exploit that, the Blacks probably did as well.

Of course any other weaker Lady would take the offer. 

Unconsciously, you clench your jaw as you gaze into the fire, watching the flames dance while you think over the terms set before you, etched cleanly on the parchment. You get up from your place at the desk to go see if Cregan has finished reading over Rhaenyra’s terms, quite curious to see what it is she’s offering up. 

“Gods!” You exclaim when a sudden knock at your chamber door cuts through the peaceful silence of the night, startles you enough that you grab at the edge of your desk to keep the bottle of ink there from spilling. Corking it, you let out an annoyed little grumble as you stand.

“Enter!” You call out, smoothing out the silken, fur lined fabric of your evening robes, the soft blue color sparkling like seafoam in the light from the fire. Your brows pinch together in equal parts annoyance and intrigue as a certain white-haired prince saunters through the door, his lips set together in a firm line, as if deep in thought. 

“Prince Aemond,” you huff, bristling when he closes the door behind him, “The hour is quite late, surely whatever you’ve come for can wait until the morning.”

He pauses at that, not moving from his place in the entryway. Confusion wells up within you when he doesn’t meet your gaze, his lilac eye blinking as his lips open just slightly – something clearly weighs quite heavily on his mind. 

“I apologize for the late hour, my Lady,” he murmurs, finally looking up as he takes a few steps into your chambers, arms clasped behind his back, “But I do not think the matter can wait until morning, no. I don’t believe that would be wise.”

“Speak, then,” you nod with a sigh, resting against the arm of a small sofa by the fire. You try your best to hide your annoyance, feeling certain that whatever the Prince had come to you with is not nearly as serious as he seems to believe.

Aemond remains quiet for a few seconds more and you can practically see the wheels turning in his brain, something brewing just below the surface. “I… Did you intend to make a fool of me, Lady Stark?”

“What?”

“I’m aware that my coming, and that of my nephew, were… sudden,” he continues, leaving you utterly perplexed, which only makes you clench your jaw, already exasperated at this entire exchange, “But, had you and Lord Cregan made it clear that you had already come to an agreement, I could’ve left — been on my way to the Stormlands and saved us all the trouble.” 

“Seven Hells, why must he speak in riddles,” you think, squeezing your eyes shut and pinching your brow tiredly. 

“Prince Aemond, perhaps I could be of some help if you spoke your concerns more plainly,” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest and peering at him once more, “However, I can assure you that Cregan and I have decided nothing. He and I have planned to take the evening to read over yours and Prince Jacaerys’s terms, which we will discuss in the morning.” 

“Mm, then am I to believe that your lord brother plots without your knowledge, my Lady? I find that hard to believe.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Aemond paces, smirking as he traipses back and forth before you, acting like he can see clearly through some false plot you’ve set… if only you’d set one at all. 

“I overheard them, Cregan and Jace, in the library — I cannot seem to find sleep and thus was wandering the halls,” he murmurs, quickly explaining his actions before you have time to ask, “Surely you’re aware that your brother intends to support my traitorous sister.” 

His words should come as a shock, that Cregan would do something like this behind your back, and yet you can’t find it within yourself to be truly surprised. Ever since he’d become Warden of the North, he’d become… hardened, even to you. Before, he would’ve never dared do this, would’ve considered your thoughts as carefully as his own, but not anymore. 

“My brother may be decided,” you start, voice clipped, “But I have yet to come to a decision.” 

The prince hums yet again, something he seems to do often much to your great displeasure. He studies you for a moment, lilac eye never wavering from yours, before looking away with a tsk. “And yet, from what I overheard, he seems quite convinced that you have.” 

You scoff at that and push yourself off the arm of the sofa, placing your hands on your hips as you blink at him for a moment while the corners of your lips twitch with the threat of a smirk, “I must confess, my Prince, but I do not know how to proceed. We seem to be at an impasse – I assure you of one thing and yet you cling to your belief in another.”

“So it would seem.”

His calm reply does nothing to lessen your irritation and your chest heaves with a sigh, jaw clenching. “Well, then,” you huff, no longer patient enough to keep the frustration out of your tone, “What would you have me do, hm?”

“Perhaps,” your eyes narrow at the indifference with which he speaks – an act, you’re sure of it, “It would bring me some comfort if we could come to some… agreement of our own. As your brother and my nephew seem so eager to do.”

“As I’ve said, I do not wish to discuss the matter further. ‘Tis late, my Prince, and I see no point in staying up half the night to do something that can be accomplished just as well tomorrow.”

“Mm,” he hums, pacing around you and further into your chambers, to your great annoyance. You turn, watching him as he saunters through the space, acting as if it’s his own, only to come to a stop beside your desk. 

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips just as he feigns surprise at seeing the scroll he’d brought with him unfurled over the wooden surface, “But, you have read the king’s terms, no? Surely discussing them would not take long.”

“Discussing them, no,” you acquiesce, gritting your teeth, “My thoughts of accepting them, on the other hand…”

You can tell he’s only half-listening as you speak, focused on reading over the notes you’d scrawled in the margins of the document – questions of various assurances and the like… aside from one particular line which you’d hastily crossed through. A shiver goes down your spine when his eye trails up from the parchment to once again meet yours, darkened with some new sense of resolve.

“You are aware that the crown has the ability to strip you and Lord Cregan of your titles, yes? Especially if I were to inform my council of your plot against me…”

Your heart quickens at his warning, thumping meanly in your chest while you try to process his words. “All this over a simple marriage offer?” You think as your brows pinch together in a scowl; you do not take kindly to such threats.

“Over my brother’s right to the throne…,” Aemond murmurs and it’s only then you realize you must’ve spoken aloud, not hearing your own words due to the turmoil in your head, the rush of blood in your ears, “Over my family’s safety, yes. I would be willing to dole out harsher reminders as well, if need be.” 

“You must understand, this is not a slight against you, nor your council,” fire rages within you as the winds outside pick up, howling throughout the castle, “I have no want to be bound to anyone –”

“Think of the station you’d have,” he cuts you off, determination seeming to well up within him the same way it does you; each of you is ready for a fight, “The power you could wield in King’s Landing, everything you could do to benefit –”

“You could not drag me from the North kicking and screaming, I have no desire to go –”

“My Lady, you are intelligent, ‘tis plain to see,” he murmurs lowly, indignation finally managing to bleed through his placid exterior while he paces about, circling you just as he did Prince Jacaerys, “Surely you realize that your talents will be wasted here, squandered to the cold, frozen waste –”

“Do you think insulting my home is the way to win me over, my Prince?”

“Mm,” his dismissive hum alights a spark within you and your hands curl to fists at your side, “No, though I suspect flattery would do no good either.”

His words are sharp, spoken with the sole purpose of cutting into you, yet all they draw is an angry huff. You can see his eye narrow in your periphery, can feel him studying you, no doubt trying to find a way to make you crack. 

A part of you hopes he’ll succeed. 

“So, you see, I’ve no other choice than to resort to threats,” he hums, long silken hair swaying over his shoulders as he finally comes to a stop before you, close enough that you’re forced to raise your chin to maintain eye contact. 

“Should you be fool enough to try, you will not succeed in taking the North, my Prince,” you say softly, a quiet calm blanketing your fury just as snow blankets the fields outside, “Even Aegon the Conqueror could not, surely you know that.” 

Something dangerous flashes in his eye at that and your eyes narrow with the knowledge that you’ve crossed some invisible boundary, gone a step too far. 

He stays quiet for a moment, just long enough for the eye of the storm within you to pass, for the maelstrom to be ignited once more. 

“Surely you’ve heard tale of the wrath the Conqueror brought upon Harrenhal, Lady Stark,” his voice is low when he finally speaks, though there is no softness to it; only a harshness, a finality, that would surely make anyone else grovel for forgiveness at his feet, “Reduced to a pile of ash and molten stone… even now, more than a century later, it stands as a ruin – a cursed place…”

Your jaw clenches tightly at his words, eyes narrowing as you stare into his own as if challenging him to say it, to finish his threat.

“It would be quite a shame if that same doom was brought to Winterf–”

Aemond lets out a grunt when his back thuds against the stone wall behind him, gasping and caught off guard by your sudden advance. 

“Have you no shame?” Your words are biting as you snap at him; fury pours off of you in waves, your entire being concentrated down into rows of gnashing teeth, “You come into my home, unbidden. You threaten to spill blood in my hall, you feel entitled to my time and my space and my thoughts and my hand, all unbidden.”

For the first time all evening, the prince seems to have no response, not even a condescending hum. He stands frozen on the spot, held against the wall by your forearm pinned across his chest. The air feels like it evaporates from the room, leaving the two of you in some sort of bubble where the only sound is Aemond’s harsh pants. You see his angular nose twitch and his lips press firmly together as a sneer forms on his pale face. 

There’s a cruel, almost savage, gleam in his eye that should scare you, that maybe actually would, were it not for the soft pink flush spilling across his cheeks and an undercurrent of something resembling shame in his gaze – the expression of a child being scolded by a parent, caught doing something they shouldn’t. 

The strangeness of it brings you to heel for a second, only for the anger within you to flare up once more when he starts to open his mouth, starts to push himself off of the cool stone at his back. 

“Don’t,” you huff, narrowing your eyes and pressing back against his chest. A bitter laugh bubbles up from your throat as you stare at him, surprised once more when he quickly gives in and lets you push him back, “I bet you’re quite used to getting your way, hm? You’re a prince of the realm, of course you are.”

With each passing second, your ire for him seems to be slowly replaced by a growing curiosity — Why isn’t he fighting back? What kind of game is he playing at? 

“Entitled prince,” your heart quickens when his breaths start coming more harshly and his chest heaves against beneath your arm, “You hold no power here.” 

Aemond’s nostrils flare and his lilac eye narrows, just as fiery and intimidating as before. Your lips part when his hands come to rest on your waist, far too delicately for the situation. 

“Might I remind you,” he mutters, a rumble to his voice that hadn’t been there before, “That the crown—“

“The crown, the crown, the crown,” you lean in, nearly on your tiptoes, just a hair’s breadth away from touching your nose to his. Without considering the movement, your free hand wraps itself around his pale neck, not squeezing but merely resting there, pressing against his Adam’s apple — a reminder for him to remain silent, “Why is it that you lean so heavily on something you do not even have, my Prince?” 

You can feel him swallow against the palm of your hand, once again not fighting back. Though, it’s only when you meet his half-lidded eye and see that heady, shameful spark hiding there does the truth finally hit you. 

“Gods, he likes this,” your eyes widen ever so slightly at the realization, such a mighty, fearsome prince and yet he’s all but melting under your touch. The feeling is rather intoxicating and you feel a rush of power flow through you, making the hair at the nape of your neck stand on end. 

“I don’t see a crown on your pretty head,” you continue leaning into the feeling, intending on leveraging his submission to whatever extent you can, “Doesn’t that bother you, Aemond? Hm? Being reduced to the second son when you could’ve been so much more…”

“V-Vhagar could—“

“Vhagar could do nothing,” your fist tightens around the column of his throat as you press yourself more tightly against him, the thin fabric of your evening robe the only thing separating you from the warm black leather of his tunic, “Not if I take my brother’s sword and go slit her great belly myself.” 

He balks at that, brows furrowing as he stares at you — half in fury, half in wonder. He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off again, not interested in hearing another half-baked threat. 

“Does it bother you that I don’t find you the least bit intimidating?” You question, narrowing your eyes at him. 

A grin blooms on your lips when he just barely shakes his head, the movement so subtle and so quick that you hardly catch it — though it sends lightning down your spine all the same.

“No? It doesn’t bother you, does it?” Again, he shakes his head, more firmly this time; his throat bobs beneath your grip, “Do you like it? That you can’t scare me?” 

He nods — not good enough. 

“Say it,” you command, tightening your grip on his neck once more. 

“I… I like it…,” he answers after a long moment, his voice hardly a whisper.

“Good boy.” 

He whimpers, the small sound vibrates against your hand. A shock goes through you and before you can fully register what you’re doing, you release his chest and neck and haul him toward your bed — that barely there whine enough to ignite a fire in your belly. 

You can see the confusion written plainly on his face when you sit on the edge of your mattress and gaze up at him expectantly, you try not to focus on the little flip your heart does at the fact that he’d followed you so willingly, like a little puppy. 

“Kneel,” you command, nearly giddy when he actually does, actually sinks to his knees before you. You lean forward and quickly tug off his eyepatch, eager to see the sapphire once more, and again, you’re shocked when he doesn’t put up a fight. 

Tossing the small scrap of leather to the side, you stop for a moment and admire the glimmering gemstone, even admiring the long, thin scar that adorns his otherwise flawless face. 

“You’ve been a thorn in my side all evening,” your fingers card through his hair while you speak, your voice low, hardly louder than the crackle of the logs in the fire, “Starting fights, coming to my chambers in the middle of the night for matters I said I would not be discussing, talking back… and I can think of much better uses for this mouth.”

Aemond’s breath hitches when you cup his jaw and skim a thumb over his bottom lip, grinning when he just barely follows your touch. With your free hand, you tug your robe open at the slit going up your leg, just enough to show him you’re bare beneath it.

“If… if I do this, you’ll back Aegon?” He rasps, staring up at you from his place on the floor as his hands come to rest gingerly on your thighs, “You’ll agree to his terms?”

“Of course…”

“… All of his terms?”

“All of them,” you echo breathily, sighing softly when he leans in and kisses the top of one knee, a smug grin on his lips despite the situation. 

If only he didn’t make this so easy. 

“Enough talking,” you grab at his pale hair and shamelessly pull him to where you need him, smirking at the little gasp that leaves his lips once he’s face to face with your center, “Show me what it is I’ve agreed to.”

For all his faults, Aemond doesn’t make you wait and quickly dives in — licking a solid line up the middle of your folds, groaning as he goes. His hands tighten around your thighs and he eagerly spreads them wider, shifting on the floor until he’s pressed closer to you. 

“Oh, f-fuck!” You gasp, leaning back on an elbow, though you keep a grip on his hair and use it to drag him directly to your aching pearl, arching your back when he hungrily suckles at it. His eagerness makes the fire in your belly burn bright right away and you swallow thickly, battling against the dryness at the back of your throat. 

Aemond growls against you and dutifully licks over your bud, flicks his tongue against it again and again until your head spins. Your thighs tighten around his head but he’s quick to press against them once more and hold you open, fingers digging into your supple flesh. 

“Good boy,” you pant, relishing the way his eye rolls back. Biting at your bottom lip, you yank his hair once more — guiding him to your entrance. He catches on quickly and another almighty gasp is wrenched from your throat when he pushes his tongue inside you, making you shiver. 

“Seven Hells!” Your hips buck against his face of their own accord when his angular nose brushes against your pearl, sending a jolt of pleasure down your spine. Your walls clench down around his tongue, pulling twin whines from the both of you. 

Knowing you won’t be able to hang on for much longer, you press his face against your core and rock your hips more earnestly against his face; your eyes nearly go cross when he groans deeply against you, squeezing at your thighs hard enough to surely leave behind bruises. 

“T-That’s it, that’s it,” you chant, chest heaving. It feels as if lava flows through your veins each time he presses his tongue against you, the fire inside you burning brighter by the moment. 

Suddenly, he moves on his own accord and nips softly at your pearl before suckling at it once more. The sudden turn of events causes you to snap and finally slip over the edge, making fireworks explode behind your eyelids. 

“A-Aemond, Gods!” You cry, harshly tugging at his hair, nearly ripping it from its roots as pleasure beats against you in waves. You’re so lost within yourself that you hardly hear him growl against you, low and heady. 

You shove him away after a moment when his touches begin to border on overstimulation and lie panting on the bed, dropping to your back against the warm blankets and staring, half-lidded, at the ceiling. 

You can hear the shuffle of his clothes as he pushes himself up off the floor but you don’t bother sitting up, limp still from your peak. It’s not until he speaks that you finally look up. 

“I take it I’ve fully persuaded you, then?” He hums, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. Leaning up on your elbows once more, you look him over — taking in the flush on his cheeks, the way his chest thrums under the dark leather of his tunic, the evidence of his arousal pressing tightly against the ties of his trousers. 

Gods, what a desperate thing — wanting so badly for validation.

“Well, I’ll still need to read over Rhaenyra’s terms…”

“But —“

“But nothing,” you snap, sitting up once more on the edge of the bed, “I must at least operate under the pretense of being fair, no? Cregan will know if I don’t come to collect the papers your nephew brought.” 

Aemond nods stiffly, lips set in a thin line as he looks you over. Your heart speeds up just slightly when his lilac eye pauses at your chest, darkening at the way your robe has loosened, showcasing your cleavage. 

“True,” he acquiesces, brushing a lock of hair from your shoulder, “It would be smartest for us to be careful now…” 

He leans down, intending to kiss your cheek, perhaps even your lips or neck, but you put a hand up to stop him — shaking your head with a small smirk and a raised brow. 

“That’ll be all.” 

His brows furrow at your words, eye searching your face, “I thought —“

“I need to rest,” you cut him off, nodding to the door, “Goodnight, my Prince. I hope sleep finally finds you.” 

“I…” he starts, staring at you for a second, absolutely crestfallen, before simply nodding. “Lady Stark,” he mumbles, finally turning and seeing himself out, hands clasped behind his back. 

“Poor thing,” you think with a sigh as soon as your door shuts behind him, “He has no business here.” 

You’re hit with a wave of deja vu as you take your place next to Cregan, each of you standing before the long table at the head of the Great Hall. Once again, the place is as silent as a crypt, the only sound being the steady crackle of the fireplace. 

You stare straight ahead, focusing intently on the opposite wall while your brother addresses the two princes — exchanging morning pleasantries and worried smiles. Throughout his small speech, you can practically feel Aemond’s gaze on you, like he’s determined to sear a hole straight through you. 

“I have read your terms carefully, both of them,” Cregan states, each of the scrolls laid out on the table behind you, “And I propose that House Stark honor will keep faith with its alliance to Lady Rhaenys, in memory of the oath we once swore to King Viserys.” 

“Very well,” Prince Jacaerys nods, giving your brother a small, polite smile and grateful nod. 

“And what say you, my Lady?” Aemond cuts in, determined to force your hand, for you to make good on your assurances from last night. 

The desperation in his eye almost makes you feel bad.

With a sigh, you finally look up at him for the first time all morning, immediately noting the dark circles beneath his eye. Breaking from his intense, nearly pleading gaze, you look toward Prince Jacaerys with a small smile.

“I’m afraid I must agree with my dear brother,” your voice is cold, emotionless as it rings throughout the stony room, “House Stark will not be breaking its oath today.” 

Aemond lets out a sharp, stuttering breath, as if he’d been punched in the gut and his shoulders sag in defeat. 

And you almost feel bad, only for a moment. 

Almost.

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

consider adding yourself to my tag list or check out my works on ao3!

[divinesolas]

Undeniable Desire

c.w season two spoilers; characters (addam and nettles), mention of dragonseeds (nothing more), loss of virginity (jacaerys) non virgin reader, smut, fingering (fem), oral (fem), p in v, clothed sex ?, possessive jacaerys, not proofread

summary: You are dragonseed and have become good friends with the prince. You think nothing of it and not expecting your desires to lead to anything but when you speak of what you think of your future his truer colors show.

w.c: 1.8k

a.n: anybody else cant stop thinking about bridgerton LMAO, i need to rewatch soon, anyways i hope you all enjoy :3 promise im getting around to requests i just needed to push out this idea 🥰 LOVE YOU GUYS

You finally manage to shake off addam and his drunken rampage with a laugh telling him off. “come on you cant leave yet.” “I am going to bed you fool leave me be.” You knock him upside the head and he groans giving you the opportunity to walk away and turn back to the rest of them with a wave. Chimes of goodnights and sleep well are what your met with and you walk away, feeling eyes burning into you you turn back once more and see him staring at you with an unknown look on his face, taking a drink out of his chalice ignoring alyn next to him who was talking his ear off, not even sparing him a glance as he continues to stare at you.

You turn around attempting to ignore how your stomach burns and your face heats at the thought of him. Jacaerys Velaryon. You just like the rest of your ‘dragonseed’ friends have grown close to jacaerys during your time together. Yet you can’t help but feel their was something different about the way he looked at you and even other people can’t help but notice it either.

‘He is definitely wants to fuck you.’ ‘Nettles!’ The girl next to you laughs before chugging down her wine. ‘Do not say such things.’ Addam walks over and drops down to the spot next to you, ‘what are you two talking about?’ ‘The prince.’ ‘ah and how he wants to shag miss oblivious right here.’ ‘did you guys plan this?!’ You in your frustration rip the cup out of addams hands and chug it. ‘its not our fault he makes it so painfully obvious and you are so painfully oblivious to it.’ You shake your head and keep your gaze at the campfire in front of you. ‘It is not true.’ you don’t see the way the pair look at each other and instead start picking at the grass near you.

Even if it was true it wouldn’t matter, you certainly had no intention of sleeping with him. He was betrothed and he certainly did not seem like the type of man to lay around with any women he saw fit. He was the crowned prince for gods sake the heir to the queen and you were in the middle of a damn succession war feelings be damned and you were certain your friends were just playing jokes on you and he certainly just saw you as a friend.

You think nothing of it as you are getting ready to go to bed, just having put on your night gown after your bath, when the flap of your tent opens and you turn to it alarmed and let out a sigh of relief when you see him. “I am sorry i did not mean to disturb you.” “It is no issue my prince, Do you need something?”

You turn back to the mirror and fiddle around with your hair, eyeing the prince through the mirror. He just stares at you for a moment and takes a drink from his cup, you gulp and look away from him, pushing down your own desires attempting to stop your imagination from running wild. What if he just walked over to you and pushing you against the mirror, ripping off your dress and having his way with you, maybe he would drop to his knees and wrap his lips around your pearl, only letting go until you were withering and begging him to stop.

You shake your head and “Would it be selfish of me to admit i missed you? i feel as though we did not talk much today?” You smile lightly at his words and curse yourself for thinking such terrible things. Of course he simply just wished to see you, as he had been busy with his duties all day, only getting to see you all at the end of they day only for you to leave before getting to say a single word to him.

“You honor me my prince with your time.” He shakes his head with a laugh taking another sip, “i would give you anything in the world.” You flush and look down, fiddling with your dress too embarrassed to move from your place in front of the mirror. Hes just being dramatic you think, he does not mean what he says, especially since he seems to be drinking. “You are too kind my prince.” “Call me Jace i beg of you.” “Would you truly beg me?” “I would get on my knees at your feet and do whatever you asked.” Your knees shake as you press your thighs together, the heat between you legs almost unbearable, a part of you wants to shoo him away so you can put your hand between your legs and take care of yourself or find some poor soul in the camp to relieve yourself with. You don’t, you cannot simply ask him to leave for such selfish reasons, especially since you know deep deep down that if you sought out somebody else you would only be thinking about him.

He seems to realize you don’t plan on saying anything so he begins to speak. “You know they were all talking about something.” You give him an interested look in the mirror and he takes another sip, “About what they were planning on doing after this fight is over. Do you have any thoughts? About what you plan to do?” You look up in thought, “I haven't given it much thought if im being honest.” He hums but says nothing. “Maybe i go off to the reach, it sounds very lovely.” “You would not stay in the keep?” You laugh at his idea and shake your head, “Why would i stay there? What would you miss me?” He says nothing and you don't look at him, instead continue talking, lost in your own imagination. “I would probably travel around for a bit, then find some lord to marry he fuck some babies into me and then i live the rest of my life-” You gasp as your suddenly pushed against the mirror being completely trapped by him, you hadn’t even registered the cup being thrown to the ground.

“My prince?” He flips you around suddenly and your eye to eye with him. His hands grip your waist and pull you directly against him. “You will not leave.” “I don't understand-” “You are not going anywhere you will stay by my side.” He has an animalistic look about him, like he's about to eat you whole, completely bewildered by the idea of you leaving. “I have no place in the keep.” “Your place is by my side.” His words have such a finality and certainty about them as if he's giving you no reason to argue with him. “You are to be married, This is highly inappropriate.” Your words are pushed out like puffs of air as his hands have moved up to your chest, rubbing your nipples through the fabric, you can feel him hardening between your legs. “I shall take you as a my second wife, no one will argue i will be king.” “You are being absurd.” “Do you desire me?”

You pull him into a heated kiss. He quickly reciprocates, his hands moving from your waist to under your night gown and he lets out a delighted hum at the liquid on your thighs. ‘Are you bare?” “I was planning on sleeping.” He moans lightly before he pauses before actually touching, “Do you want this?” you nod feverishly, “Please touch me please.” wasting no more time he runs his fingers along your folds, “This is for me right? and no some stupid pompous lord in the reach.” “yes yes.” You answer him but he doesn't seem to be listening, mumbling to himself in anger. “I hate the lords in the reach, always with each other heads in their asses no way you will marry any of them, let them put a baby in you.” He sticks two fingers inside you, “I wouldn’t i wouldn’t only you.” The pit in your lower stomach grows as you watch in shock him drop to his knees in front of you, his body being lost to your gown as he begins to lick and suck at your clit, his fingers moving quicker to pump in and out of you.

You cannot speak so much of his name. Using one of your hands to cover your mouth to not draw attention to yourself, the other plays with one of your tits, sliding it under your dress. He does not let up, even has you orgasm once then twice, only releasing you after the third time and you fall back, leaning against the mirror with wobbly legs as he keeps a tight grip on you holding you up as he stands. You can see the shine of your own essence on his lips and jaw, you swear you can even see some of it dripping down his neck into his collarbone.

He simply stands there and watches you fiddle around with his pants to free him for a few moments as he licks his lips. “You do not know how often i have thought about this.” You look up at him and give him a smile, “You think of me?” “Every minute of everyday, my waking thoughts and my dreams are only filled with you.”

Before you know it he is pushing into you with a hiss and you chuckle with a delighted moan at his closed eyes and clenched teeth. “First time?” “I may not have been your first but i will be your last.” Giving himself a second to get used to your pulsing warm walls that seem to be sucking him in every second he begins to move. Hes a little sloppy, clearly unsure and if anything a little unconfident about what he’s supposed to do. You place your head on his neck, making sure your lips are right next to his ear and you begin to move your hips to meet his, moaning in his ear only for him to hear.

He gains confidence after a few moments and soon enough you have no longer and need to meet him as he begins to pound into you diligently. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his tunic as the pit in your stomach grows once more. “please tell me your close.” You’re shocked he’s even managed to last this long but nod and he groans in delight. “Please peak please together.”

The mirror behind you is completely covered with a foggy mist just as your eyes are when you finally release. You pray as you catch your breath that you two were quiet enough because you would rather be dead than me made fun of by your friends for finally fucking the prince. But as you feel his seed running out your lips and down your thigh you decide maybe it was worth it.

--

perm jacaerys taglist <3

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese

[xazse]

CAN YOU PLEASE DO A PT 2 OF

SUGURU AND SATORU MEETING A CURSED HYBIRD PUPPY!GIRL WHER GOJO GOSE BACK TO THE PUPPY GRIL PLSPLSPLSPLSPSLPLSPLSSSSS

Notes: LMAO GLAD YOU LOVED <33 I HOPE THE PEOPLE WHO ALSO REQUESTED ALSO SEESTHIS: @appleblueberry-pie @postsarenerverdaily

2nd part of this: CursedPuppy!Reader

Pairings: Satoru x CursedPuppyGirl!Reader x Suguru

Tags: Fluff, Satoru and suguru are in jujutsu tech together so in this they are minors, light kissing, petting, (I don’t want to sexualize them as minors so this is sweet and fluffy)

Satoru is doing something he really should not be doing, it’s just too irrestiable.

He’s sneaking back to where he had met you, hoping and praying that you were still there. Suguru had been watching him like hawk, he knew Satoru would attempt to come back and find you, at least that’s what he had thought. Satoru gave it a couple of days before he’d come search for you again.

It was difficult but he had finally managed and now with his six eyes he would search for you. It was nighttime so the village was down and asleep, he carefully made his way to the old house a little far away from the village. He used his technique to search for your energy and found it, he almost jumped for joy. He followed it and you hadn’t felt his energy yet: weird but he ignored it.

You were squatted down poking at some water so adorably. Your back was turned to him so he cleaned his throat to get your attention. You were quick to whip around and see exactly who it was. The smile that graced your face was damn cute, Satoru’s heart was craving in on itself, you immediately jumped to your feet and ran to give him a hug.

He hugged you back so hard, kissing your forehead and saying just how much he missed you. He scratches behind your ears, which makes your cute tail wag at a high speed. You aren’t understanding his words but nonetheless you give in to his kisses and warm hugs. As Satoru is enjoying the moment he comes to the realization: What is he to do to you?

Suguru is livid when he comes to the Gojo estate: still composed of only gojo. To find flickers of a similar cursed energy he had felt that day. Satoru really does not listen, nor does he understand what the curse could capable of.

“Satoru.”

“Suguru.”

“You’re extremely hard-headed you know that.”

Suguru looks down at you cuddled up with Satoru on the couch where you lay on his chest, light breathing indicating you were sleeping and so peacefully so. You were wearing different clothing, shorts and a shirt that looked too big for you.

Satoru sighs and waves his hand in the air but not too hard as to not stir you awake, “you knew I was gonna do this” Suguru is left with nothing to say as he completely agrees.

“So what are you gonna do when a mission comes up?” Suguru says while making his way to the pair of you, sitting down in the open spot where Satorus head is. “You can only threaten the higher ups for so long you know” “I know that, we’ll work around my packed schedule, aww suguru are you worried about her being alone here?”

Suguru ignores that in favor of poking at your sleeping face, he’s mainly poking at your fat cheeks, you seem to be a little too comfortable for a curse. Satoru lightly swats at his hand, before giving you more kisses on your forehead.

“She’s a little cute, only a little” “only a little? stop fooling yourself Sugu” Suguru flicks at his forehead and Satoru clutches it while feigning hurt.

You start to stir awake, they both still completely and watch you. First you sit up slowly, stretch a little, and your eyes land on suguru. You weren’t this close to him during your first encounter before so you’re quick to crawl over Satoru: (he’s completely offended) and sit in his lap, you sniff at him, grab him, and mess with his hair. as surprised as Suguru is he makes no move to remove you.

“Traitor! Traitor! He’s not the one who saved you!” You just tilt your head at his words and giggle at his antics, Suguru really is interested in your tail, he grabs it a little too rough and in turn your quick to jump up. “Not so hard Suguru” Satoru scolds, he can’t believe he has the opportunity to tell him off it excites him a little. Suguru raises his hand towards you as a sign of an apology, you don’t seem to understand this gesture so he grabs your hand and guides you back to his lap.

He’s gentle with rubbing your ears, so soft and reactive they are. He can see your leg twitching just a bit when he rubs the back of your ears, you seem to love attention, love when all eyes are on you. Satoru leans over and gives you another kiss but this time on the cheek and when he’s pulling away you follow him, you really are goddamn cute, Suguru can fully admit that.

You shuffle so you’re back on lap properly and wrap your arms around his neck, placing your face in the crook and sighing loudly.

“Sorry Satoru it seems you’ve been replaced” Suguru laughs sinisterly

“Replaced? Me?!” Satoru stares for a moment before getting up and walking to the kitchen, he’s rummaging in there for a while before he walks out with some cake on a plate, and he sits at the end of couch and begins poking at it while glancing at you occasionally. You sniff the air and notice the cake, Satoru has deemed that you love sweet things as much as him so he expects you to crawl over and be all up in his face like you usually do, it’s cute when your mouth automatically opens like he’s meant to feed you.

You don’t do none of that, you bury yourself deeper in Suguru’s shoulder and play with his hair, to rub it in Satoru’s face while he sits there mouth open astonished, he tilts his head a little to give your cheek a little kiss, you react with giving him multiple kisses. All while Satoru is pouting obviously and loudly.

[junovrsmp4]

one of the girls

part 1. the arrangement

Chris Sturniolo was bad news. You knew it, every girl within a 100 mile radius knew it. Your own brother had warned you to stay away from him, despite being his best friend. That didn’t stop you from wanting him though.

pairing: chris x reader

pt.1 summary: despite all the warnings, and his reputation, you're intrigued by chris. on your 18th birthday, u find out exactly why he's bad news. and like a drug, u get addicted to him. cue, the arrangement

warnings: ABSOLUTE FILTH, very very plot heavy, rough sex, oral, choking, slapping, over-stimulation, mild bdsm, p in v, degradation, slight age gap (reader is 16 and chris is 18 when they first start fooling around, reader is 18 and chris is 20 when they first have penetrative sex)

word count: 6.9K (lmao i think this is going to be a thing)

author's note: so, i found out as i was writing this that @worldlxvlys has a fic with a very similar premise because its inspired by the same song, check it out if u havent already, its so fucking good

It had started out innocently enough.

Chris was your older brother’s best friend, so naturally he was always over at your house or your brother over at his. You remember the first time you’d seen him, sitting on your living room couch, dressed in a black t-shirt and denim shorts, sporting a silver chain. You’d just run down the stairs, yelling for your brother to order you some food when you spotted him. The shock of seeing a complete stranger- a hot one, at that- had you stopping dead in your tracks. You remember how you’d just stared at him like an idiot, before turning around and sprinting back up to your room. You cringe a little, every time you think back to that moment, how you’d been dressed that night, in one of your old sports bras and baggy shorts, your hair an absolute mess.

Awkward first meeting aside, you got to know him, little by little. Sometimes, through little anecdotes reluctantly shared by your brother at your behest, and sometimes, from the man himself. Every time he came over, you’d make excuses to be around him and your brother, and you remember how he’d always smile at you, include you in conversations even when your brother would groan on about how annoying you were being and try to push you back to your room.

So of course, you developed a crush on him.

As a thirteen year old, you would make up cute little scenarios in your head of how you might confess your crush to Chris, and maybe he’d tell you he always liked you too, or maybe, maybe he’d be the one to confess first, with a bashful, awkward smile, and you’d become boyfriend and girlfriend and live happily ever after.

It didn’t take long for you to get over your little fantasies though.

While it hadn’t been obvious to you at thirteen, as you grew older, you witnessed the whirlwind that was Chris Sturniolo, the guy who got every girl’s attention, showed them a good time, and then left them in the dust when he got bored, before moving onto the next.

Your brother, bless his soul, did warn you to stay away from Chris. Had tried multiple times, to tell you how much of a player he was, how he just had a rotation of girls ready to go, and was always looking for someone new to ruin.

“He’s no good,” he’d said. “He’s my best friend, and he’s like a brother to me, but I wouldn’t trust him around you, alone.”

“Why are you friends with someone like that then?” you’d asked.

Your brother hadn’t been able to give you an answer then.

Knowing what you did about Chris didn’t get rid of your interest in him though. You’d long since let go of the silly fantasy of being his girlfriend. It had been a childhood delusion and nothing more, but you still found him…intriguing. The way he commanded every room he walked in, the way every girl around him fell to their knees to be able to service him in some way, the way guys hung around him in hopes of having his appeal somehow rub off on them, it fascinated you.

Even more fascinating was how Chris seemed to be so obviously putting up some sort of front. There was an edge to the cool, suave persona he seemed to be parading in for everyone else.

For every person who told you to stay far, far away from Chris, all they did was stoke the little part of you that wanted to see just what he was really like.

Besides, we all know what they say about curious cats; curiosity may kill them, but satisfaction definitely brings them back.

-------------------------------------

The party was already in full swing by the time you’d made it through the front door. The entire house was lit with flashing lights, bright and blinding, the music so loud it seemed like it almost thrummed straight through the bodies that surrounded you, almost consuming you and swallowing you into the heart of the party.

A party to celebrate the end of an era, and you turning eighteen.

You hadn’t wanted anything crazy, but trust your friends to go behind your back to plan something big.

“It isn’t just your birthday, ya know?” they’d said. “We’re finally done with high school!”

It seemed like they’d invited everyone who was anyone in your town, because you don’t even recognize some of the people at the party. Friends of friends of friends, and so on, you guess. Some were your seniors in high school, who had graduated way before you and your friends. It helped that your birthday and graduation coincided with summer break, because it meant a lot of the older kids were back from college for the holidays, which guaranteed the presence of more…discreet party favors.

The air was thick with smoke, from weed, tobacco, and god knows what else, the humidity only amplifying the feeling of breathlessness you feel every time you’re in a big crowd. You spot your brother and his group of friends huddled together, taking up a section of one of the big couches, all of them nursing beer bottles. All except one.

Chris’ eyes are on you the minute you step through the crowd. Unlike all the other guys sitting beside him, he opted out of drinking, and was instead smoking a joint, plumes of smoke slightly obscuring his face. He looked relaxed, leaned back with one arm stretched over the top of the couch, legs spread out. His eyes scan you from head to toe, and you see the way he glides his tongue across his bottom lip before biting into it. Your breath catches in your throat when he slightly shifts his hips, his eyes flitting down and then back up at you, like he’s silently asking you to go sit on his lap. You almost go over to him, slightly swaying on your feet, before you remember where you are and who’s sitting right next to him. You stand there long enough to see some other girl swoop in and plant herself on his thigh, looping her arms around his neck and leaning close to whisper in his ear.

Your brother spots you just then, and you make a show of pointing a thumb at Chris and rolling your eyes, like you’re not desperately wishing it was you that was on Chris’ lap, before making your way to the make-shift drink station that had been set up on the dinner table, where you find Matt fixing drinks for his friends and himself.

“Hey kid,” he drawls out, bobbing his head to the music, and swaying slightly as he pours drinks for the people around him. “Happy birthday!”

His outburst has everyone nearby yelling out their own wishes, and you thank everyone, accepting side hugs and shoulder pats from a bunch of them. One of them even comments on your outfit, telling you that you looked sexy and asking if you wanted to ‘hang out’ with him for a bit, with a waggle of his eyebrows.

You look down at yourself, flattening your palms over the black mini skirt you were wearing, the length, obscenely short. You’d paired it with a black bralette, a cropped mesh top with a watercolor wine print and platform ankle boots. Your friends had helped you with your hair and makeup, and you knew you looked really fucking sexy, if you did say so yourself.

You yell out a quick thanks but decline the offer to hang out, before asking the Matt to pour you a drink. You can still feel Chris staring, but you don’t dare look back, because looking back would mean giving in to him. Not yet.

You had a game to play after all.

-------------------------------------

Funnily enough, the game between you and Chris had started with a literal game. Specifically, his last lacrosse game for Sommerville High.

You usually didn’t care to go to school events, especially to watch a bunch of people play a sport that you didn’t understand, but it was also your brother’s last game that he’d be playing for your high school, so you’d gone to show your support. Your parents had been there too, and they’d taken a seat next to Chris’ family.

“Oh, this is such a bittersweet moment, isn’t it?” you hear Mary Lou ask your mom, who nods solemnly. They strike up a conversation about their kids, how they grow up oh so fast. It’s funny watching them lean over to talk to each other while Nick sits between them, looking bored out of his mind.

He catches your eye and breaks out into a grin, before politely asking your mom if she’d like to switch seats with him, which she excitedly accepts.

“Never thought I’d see you at one of these,” Nick comments as he looks down at the field, eyes searching for his brothers, you assume. “Want some?”

He’s got a bag of popcorn that he tips your way, and you thank him before grabbing a handful. You make idle conversation for a while, mostly about how he, his brothers and your brother would be graduating soon, and about your classes. You avoid the topic of the triplets ever-growing YouTube channel; you don’t need Nick knowing you obsessively watch every video of theirs.

Nick was a welcome presence; where his brother Chris managed to put you on edge and make you feel hyperaware of his presence, Nick was comforting, grounding.

As disinterested as you are in sports, the energy of the field gets to you eventually, your eyes tracking the same three players, 3, 4, 15, Chris, Matt, your brother, over and over, while listening to Nick chime in occasionally about the score. You have enough awareness to pick up on the energy of the crowd, and it looked like the Sommerville players were doing really fucking well. You watch your brother and Matt make a couple of saves, and Chris going full offense by scoring a bunch of points for the team, all while clutching onto Nick as the two of you cheer each time.

It’s down to the last few minutes of the game, and you watch with bated breath as both teams turn the ball over to score a point or stop the other from scoring.

“Wait, what’s going on?” you ask Nick. With only two minutes left, you notice all the players running to the edge of the field and forming team huddles.

“Timeout,” Nick says before taking a sip of his drink. “Coaches probably want to discuss final strategies with the team, but it won’t make much of a difference at this point. We’re winning this thing!”

“Oh, I see…” you mutter, and your eyes gravitate towards player number 3. You can’t see much of Chris’s face from this distance, but you watch as he swings an arm over your brother’s shoulder. His head tips upward slightly, and for a second, you almost feel like he’s looking right up at you, but that would be crazy.

The game is back on, and you watch as your brother immediately springs into action, trying to get the ball that one of the players on the rival team had managed to grab. A shrill whistle blows, and Nick winces beside you.

“Shit- what’s wrong?”

“Your brother just got a foul, kid,” Nick says with a shake of his head. “He was playing really well though, damn.”

One last minute. You watch as the Sommerville team expertly passes the ball around, going back and forth between a bunch of the guys as the other team tries to bat it from them. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath when you see Chris has the ball now, and with just a few seconds left on the clock, he makes the last score of the game, and the crowd goes fucking wild.

Everything else was a blur after. You remember being ushered onto the field by Nick, your parents joining you as the players all took pictures together, as a team, with their families. You remember seeing Chris’ eyes widen as he took in your presence, before quickly flashing you his signature smirk.

“Look who decided to finally show up for a school game!” he’d said, arms cross over his chest, and you’d remember feeling small under his gaze, holding onto to Nick’s arm to hold back from flinging yourself at him in front of all these people, in front of your family.

The next few minutes had been spent taking pictures, and there was a particular moment when both your mother and Mary Lou had asked for a big group photo, and that’s how you found yourself pressed up between Chris and your brother, who had his arm slung over your shoulder. You still remember the way Chris’ fingers brushed against yours, your breath catching in your throat when, in an extremely bold move, considering you were with your families, he’d linked his pinky with yours.

That’s how it had started. Looks exchanged across rooms, stolen touches hidden from everyone else’s eyes. A pull and push, a game of who’d break first. It was like something that emboldened Chris that day of the game, and he’d test the limits to what you’d allow him to do to you. The goal for him seemed to be to get you to let down the invisible guard you’d put up whenever he was around, to get you to admit something even you weren’t aware of. Your goal was to get your fill of Chris in hopes of satiating whatever curiosity and hunger you had for him before you had to watch him with some other girl as soon as he got bored with you.

There were nights after that game when he’d come over to your house to hang out with your brother when Chris would sneak into your room, under the pretense of going to the bathroom or to grab a snack.

It was during those nights that you’d exchange rushed, heated kisses, Chris grabbing onto your waist while you clutched at his shoulders, pulling him close before quickly pushing him away, breathless. He’d swipe his tongue across his bottom lip before sinking his teeth into it, fighting back the grin that threatened to take over his face.

“Go out with me,” Chris had asked one night, leaning against your dresser and fiddling with the rings you’d left there from earlier that day.

“No, Chris,” you had replied, already back to reading the book he’d pushed out of the way when he’d crawled over you to kiss you. You tried to ignore the way your lips feel swollen and bruised from where he’d bitten them.

“I don't know why you’re playing so hard to get,” he said with her arms crossed over this chest, his lips quirked up in his signature smirk. “You clearly want me- why not date me?”

You can't help but let out a chuckle at that.

“What?”

“Everyone and their mother knows you’re not the dating kind, Chris” you said, with a tight smile. “You’re going to bail the minute it gets too real, before going with one of the other girls in your roster.”

The silence that follows makes you look up from your book, and Chris is watching you with a look you can’t comprehend.

“Touché. So you’re good with being one of my girls then? I just don’t want you to come crying to me later saying you were hoping I’d be your boyfriend or some shit.”

You roll your eyes, hating the way his words made you feel. It was pathetic, chasing after crumbs, knowing you wouldn’t get anything more. You knew what you were getting into, and you weren’t expecting anything more. but it still made you feel like a fool.

“By the way,” Chris begins to speak, arms crossed tightly across his chest, his shoulders stiff. “The only reason I bail-” he says the word with a harsh tone you’d never heard from him before, “-is because all of you seem to have already set your minds on being with me for one thing, and one thing only. Not that I’m too mad about it.”

He’s scowling now, and you see the muscles in his jaw flex, like he’s gritting his teeth. He was definitely mad, about what exactly, you weren’t so sure.

“What do you mean?” you’d asked, but Chris was already walking out of your room.

You’d spent the rest of the night wondering what had gotten Chris angry. There was a part of you, the one that really, really enjoyed Chris’ attention, that was worried you’d pushed him away, but a bigger part of you wondered if this was for the best. You’d gotten more than you’d ever imagined from him, and it was probably best to leave it at this before you ended up getting swept up in…him.

It didn't matter in the end, because that same night, after making a show of leaving out the front door to go back home, he’d snuck back into your room through your window and spent an hour leaving harsh kisses and bites on your lips, your neck and your collarbones.

He was clearly taking out his frustration from earlier on you, his fingers gripping at your waist and thighs as he pressed your body down onto your bed with this own.

He took, and took. Took your breath away with his kisses, took your wrists in his hands, grip tight as he held them down on either side of your head, all while laying claim on you and your body. Just like you wanted him to.

Realizations were made that night, because as soon as Chris had gotten his fill and left, you’d made yourself cum, over and over, as you imagined him being rougher with you, laying his claim on you with harsher, more painful touches to your body.

-------------------------------------

Parties like these really weren’t your scene, but you did enjoy being a fly on the wall, observing all the people around. Drunk teens and young adults giving into more baser instincts, their judgement clouded by the various substances they’d consumed. Some were loud and brazen, engaging in risqué activities right where everyone could see them, some hidden in dark corners, making out with each other.

You’re still nursing your first drink, letting it pull you into a tipsy haze, and you vaguely register the guy standing beside you talking about something you had absolutely no interest in. He’s got one arm against the wall as he leans into your personal space, his lips close to your ear as he speaks, to make sure you can hear him over the loud music. You let out noncommittal hums and nod occasionally to seem like you’re listening, but your eyes are trained on Chris and the girl who’s currently sitting on his lap, a different girl from the one you saw when you first walked in, grinding down on him.

Just as Chris turns his head in your direction, you turn your head towards the guy next to you, bringing your free hand to his and pulling it to rest on your waist. You smile up at him and laugh at a joke he’d just made, something incredibly unfunny and slightly problematic even, before telling him you were going to go grab another drink.

You head into the kitchen, where you get pulled into a conversation with a couple of your former classmates. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Chris slip into the kitchen as well, before he squeezes past you. What no one sees is the way his hand lingers on your lower back as he moves past, dipping low to grab your ass, before quickly moving to the group of people that were also in the room, slinging his arms over the shoulders of two guys before delving into a loud discussion about this seasons lacrosse game.

Heat blooms across your face, and you bite your lower lip to keep from shouting across the kitchen at Chris to just fuck you already, because that wasn’t the plan. You had to have more control than that now, because this was the only time you’d have it tonight.

Your mind wanders back to the several texts you’d exchanged with Chris over the years, after you’d first started your…dalliance with him. They were sparse, you mostly kept your conversations minimal over text, but there had been one night last year, when you hadn’t been able to sleep and had found yourself sending the one text you thought you’d never send to Chris.

> i need something

You’d immediately regretted it. You thought you’d worded it in such a way that you could pass it off, pretend it didn’t happen, or that it was meant for someone else, but you knew Chris would be able to tell exactly what you meant. He would be able to figure out everything you’d thought of him since the past year, every dirty thought, every horny fantasy you’ve had since you first started letting him kiss and touch you, only ever with your clothes on, nothing that progressed past heavily making out and groping each other, leaving you panting and breathless, and him hard.

It was 2 a.m. on a Thursday night and your text could only mean one thing.

You’d put your phone down, trying to go to sleep, hoping that, come morning, if Chris did reply to you, you could pretend you had sent it by mistake, but the anxiousness you felt made you pick your phone back up, and you saw it, the three dots that meant Chris was typing a response.

> U need to go to sleep

That would have been the responsible thing to do. You imagined being bolder, but you were only sixteen, and you had no experience flirting with guys, especially with guys like Chris, so you’d sent off a quick text apologizing, and telling him it was meant for someone else.

> Is that true? Who was it meant for?

> goodnight chris

> Tell me who

> no

> Need is a strong word, almost sounded like u wanted some late night lovin’

You don’t think, you couldn’t think, not with the way your blood rushing in your ears makes you feel slightly faint, and before you know it, you reply with-

> well i feel strongly about it

> Strong feelings can be dangerous

> i want something dangerous

You were being honest. Chris was dangerous. This was dangerous.

> Want? Or need?

> need

There was a long pause, no ellipses indicating Chris was texting back, and for a moment, you think he’d abandoned you, that he was probably texting the many other, more experienced, girls he could be with.

> Dont fall asleep yet. I’ll be there in a bit.

> okay

> So the text WAS meant for me then

> shut up

> :P

The abrupt shift in tone of the conversation had made you giggle a bit, but you remember how you’d waited with bated breath for Chris to show up outside your window, before letting him into your room.

Chris had spent those early morning hours teasing you with his mouth and hands, whispering dirty little things into your ears, coaxing your needs out of you, demanding you tell him exactly what you meant with that text, with one hand wrapped around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you feel breathless but not take away your ability to breathe, because you told him you wanted it, while the other one dipped down into your underwear.

You’re so fucking responsive, even to the slightest touch, he’d said. Everyone thinks you’re such a good girl, but here you are, sneaking around with your brother’s best friend, what would everyone think?

You’d let your body melt under his touch, letting him envelope you with his touch, his words, his scent.

I think about how you’d look with my cock inside you. I think about tasting you. I think about holding you down and fucking you until you can’t hold back your sweet little moans. God, you’re so fucking desperate for my dick, aren’t you?

And you were, you really fucking were, because no matter how much you pretended to be unfazed by him and his touch, the truth of the matter was, every moment you spent with him was followed by you locked up in your room with your fingers desperately pumping in and out of you, imagining how he would fuck you if you actually let him, how he’d open you up and push his dick into you, how you’d be so full of him.

That was the first night he’d touched you, really touched you, the first night you’d cum from fingers that weren’t your own.

A loud laugh accompanied by a friendly slap on the shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts, and you let out a weak chuckle as your friends remark on how out of it you seem, even though you’ve only had one drink. You look up to see Chris looking back at you over his shoulder, and when you meet his eyes, he jerks his head up slightly, and you know exactly what he’s trying to indicate.

Come upstairs.

Your eyes widen and you shake your head as imperceptibly as you can, even though you’re going to do exactly what he wanted, and you see how it gets him excited, because Chris liked being teased, liked how you played so hard to get, and you loved playing it up, acting all coy and innocent when both of you knew otherwise.

You tell your friends you need some fresh air, but instead of making your way out to the backyard, you slowly make your way upstairs, pushing past people and hoping to all powers above that there was at least one room that wasn’t occupied.

You take your time checking every room on the floor, opening doors to people in various stages of undress, quickly yelling out apologies before moving to the next, until finally, you come to a door furthest from the stairs leading up to the floor. It was quieter here, the music from downstairs was almost muffled. You press an ear to the door, and when you don’t hear any noises from the other side, you excitedly turn the handle to open the door, but it doesn’t budge.

Locked. Fuck.

Just as you’re about to turn away, you feel a presence right behind you, the heat of a body. The strong scent of weed washes over you as hands come up to rest on your hips, before warm lips brush over the shell of your ear.

“Look what we have here,” Chris whispers in a teasing tone, sending a tingle up your spine, making your skin break out in goosebumps. You shiver slightly as his arms encircle you, before he rests his chin on your shoulder, looking down at the door knob.

“It’s locked,” you whisper back, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearms.

“I know,” he mumbles, before holding out one of his hands, and you see a set of keys.

“Go on,” Chris says, nuzzling into your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your burning hot skin. You quickly grab the keys and fumble with the lock as Chris’ hands wander down between your thighs, grabbing onto them as he presses into you from behind. You feel his length, not hard yet, but still hard to ignore, and the possibilities of how tonight is going to go has your head reeling.

You finally get the door open, and you stumble inside, Chris not far behind. You watch as he grabs the key out of the lock, before following you in and locking the door from inside this time.

You have half the mind to ask him how he got the keys to the door, how he thought of keeping it locked, but all that goes out of your head when he swivels you around and pushes you up against the wall, one hand cradling your head as his lips descend on yours. His fingers grip the hair at the base of your neck and pull, making your head tip back and you gasp as both pain and pleasure bloom and settle low in your stomach, your thighs clenching, and he takes that as invitation to lick his way into your mouth, his tongue fighting and very quickly winning for dominance. Your knees almost buckle from the intensity of it all, from just how turned on you are.

Here you were, with Chris Sturniolo, your brother’s best friend, pulling at your hair, grabbing you so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your hips and thighs by morning. It was a heady feeling, being wanted, and being wanted by Chris was like experiencing the best high from the best drugs.

Chris lets go of your hair to grab onto your hips, pulling your waist away from the wall and grinding you against him, like you were just here to help him get off, and it still surprises you, how much it turns you on. The thought of being just a body to be used, a body that Chris owns and controls.

Your hands find purchase in his hair as you gasp under the assault of his mouth on yours, his teeth biting into your lower lip and pulling, before going back to twisting his tongue with yours. It’s a messy kiss, rough and just painful enough that it has you wet and dripping. You feel the way your underwear sticks to your folds, and the patheticness of your own arousal turns you on even more.

Chris’s hands snake up your stomach under your top, making it bunch up right below your neck. His gaze is heated as his eyes rove over your body, before he’s pulling your bralette down, and the fabric of it bunches up tight below your breasts, pushing them up further into Chris’ face. He takes no time before licking and sucking on your nipples, groaning as he grinds his growing erection against your thigh.

“Chris- please, please-” you whine, body writhing under his attention, hips bucking as you try and find some relief.

“Stay still,” Chris says, and it almost sounds like a growl, which has the opposite effect to what was intended. Your moans get louder and he bites your nipple, your chest arching off the wall.

Chris straightens up, one of his hands coming up to smack you on the cheek before grabbing you by the chin, forcing your head back against the wall.

“Stay. Still.”

The slap had been more shocking than painful, but it still turns you on, just how rough Chris is being with you right now, and you think about how much rougher you hope it gets.

Chris peers down at you, his grip on your chin relentless. “Will you stay still and quiet?”

You nod against his grip, teeth sinking into your lower lip to hold back a whine.

“Good girl,” he says, thumb stroking your lips before pushing into your mouth. You instantly wrap your lips around it, tongue laving at the tip of it before sucking it deeper into your mouth. You see Chris’ pupils dilate as he watches you, mouth falling open slightly as he heaves deep breaths in and out.

“Take off your panties,” he says as he pulls his thumb away, swiping it over your nipple. He chuckles as you jerk away from the cold, wet touch. His fingers flutter over your skin as you quickly shove your underwear down your legs, and you think about kicking them away, but Chris holds out his hand.

Oh.

You hand over your underwear, soaked from your arousal, to Chris, who pockets it with a smirk.

“Hm, good girl,” Chris mutters, before patting the side of your leg. “Spread your legs.”

You peer up at him through your eyelashes as you spread your legs apart and the cold air in the room hits your heated core, making you quiver.

Chris doesn’t take his time. His body presses up against you as he brings a hand up your skirt and to your core, two fingers sweeping through your folds to gather the wetness that was dripping out of you before pumping them in and out of you, each thrust of his fingers punching a gasp out of you.

The room fills with the wet, obscene sounds of Chris’ fingers squelching in and out of you, and he adds a third finger, twisting and spreading them inside you to stretch you out.

“Fuck, Chris, I need you-” you moan, your hips rolling and pushing down to meet Chris’ fingers. You bare your throat to him as he presses his nose to the spot under your ear, his teeth scraping down your throat. His fingers continue pumping into you, pressing repeatedly at the spongy bundle of nerves that had you clenching around them, and that’s how he gives you your first orgasm of the night.

“You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?” Chris asks, nipping at your jaw. “Look at how fucking wet you are.”

He steps back and holds up his fingers, glistening from the wetness, and spreads them apart, and you see the strings of your fluids clinging between his fingers, some of it dripping down onto his palm. Your breath catches in your throat when Chris brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them and moaning at your taste. He’d done this before, when he’d fingered you, and it made you squirm each time, seeing this visual confirmation that he enjoyed your taste.

Your eyes flick down to Chris’ crotch, where you see the clear outline of his hard dick, and you realize that this is the first time you’re actually going to have a dick inside you. You remember the first time you’d seen it when you’d asked him if you could suck him off, and he’d had you kneel for him, before pulling it out of his sweatpants and feeding it into your mouth, guiding your head up and down his length, before he’d eventually just jerked off and cum all over your face.

You watch him as he pulls it out now, and you can’t explain how oddly attractive his penis is. You didn’t think you’d find a penis attractive, but Chris’ was. It was long and thick, but not too thick, and it curved slightly to the left. It was ruddy now, from all the blood that had rushed down to it and the head of his dick glistened from the precum that was beading and dripping out of his slit. Chris wraps his hand around it, stroking it slowly to gather his precum and slick it up.

You make a move to step towards him, thinking he’ll move things to the bed, but Chris grabs your hips and turns you to face the wall before lining his body against yours, pushing you into the wall, with your face turned sideways, your cheek pressed down against the cold surface. You hear the telltale sounds of a condom wrapper being torn open and rubber being stretched over skin.

You look back at Chris, eyebrows furrowing, as he hikes your skirt up your ass, lining his cock up against you and grinding it between your cheeks.

“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” Chris whispers in your ear, his hand coming up to circle your throat, pushing up to tip your head against his shoulder. You feel his other hand reach down between the two of you, before guiding his dick into you, and your eyes flutter close when the tip slides through your folds to push into you, stretching you. Chris keeps his grip on your throat tight, and braces his other arm against the wall right beside your head.

Your body opens up for him, accepting him into you, as Chris sets a brutal pace, his dick driving in and out of you, leaving you breathless.

“Chris- oh god, f-fuck, ngh-” you whimper, your hands scrambling to grab onto him, one hand clutching at his bicep, while the other comes up to grip the wrist of the hand that is squeezing your throat. “Harder, please- fuck, fuck, fuck- choke me harder-”

“Such a fucking slut, what would everyone think if they knew you were up here begging me to choke you, huh?” Chris rasps out against your temple. “What would your brother think?”

You clench around him, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he continues restricting your airflow, arousal and shame making your blood run hot in equal measure.

“You love being split open on my cock, don’t ya? Your pussy is fucking dripping around it,” he grunts, punctuating his words with harder thrusts into you, the head of his dick hitting the bundle of nerves that has you seeing stars.

“Yes, yes, yes-” you chant, legs quivering as you gush around Chris’ dick. “I’m gonna cum-”

“Yeah? Cum on my dick, c’mon,” Chris rasps, the hand that was braced against the wall moving to rub against your clit, making you buck up against him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight still.”

His fingers rub furious circles over your clit, which has you clenching rhythmically around him, and it doesn’t take long before you cum around Chris’ cock, the force of your orgasm wracking through your body and making you quiver violently.

Chris keeps thrusting into you, chasing his own orgasm, and you’re hit with that thought again, of being owned and controlled by Chris, because it was the truth, wasn’t it? He hadn’t even bothered to get either of you fully undressed, hadn’t taken you to bed, because you were just a means to a satisfying end, a warm body that accepted his rough, painful, attention.

And you loved it.

All you hear are the sounds of skin slapping skin and Chris’ grunts and moans over your own punched out whimpers, and now Chris has both his hands on your hips, gripping them hard as he pulls you back onto his dick, his blunt nails digging into your skin and leaving a delicious burn. You don’t know how long it lasts, but eventually Chris comes with a muffled cry, biting into your clothed shoulder as he fills the condom.

“Fuck,” you breath out, slumping forward against the wall, wincing when Chris pulls out, before bringing two fingers up to glide through your folds, still wet, but now also puffy and raw from the constant rubbing.

Chris guides you towards the bed, and you hold onto him because your legs won’t stop shaking. He helps you fix your clothes, pulling your bralette and top back down your torso and smoothing your skirt down your thighs. He tucks his dick back into his pants before disappearing out of the room with the used, and now tied-up, condom in hand.

You sit on the edge of the bed, dazed and out of breath still, and Chris comes back a few seconds later with a wet towel which he gently swipes between your legs, while kneeling before you, letting out a chuckle and a sheepish ‘sorry’ when you wince and jerk away from the cold and rough towel.

Chris stands back up, and goes to say something when his phone buzzes. He looks down at it, letting out a low whistle at whatever message he’d just received.

“I’ve gotta go,” Chris says, his thumbs flying over his keyboard as he types out messages.

“One of your girls?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Chris says distractedly, before tucking his phone into his pocket. “You going to be okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“Alright, happy birthday again” Chris says, bending forward to place a quick kiss to your cheek before patting the top of your head and leaving.

You flopped back onto the bed, sighing as you push your hair out of your face, your legs rubbing together to try and warm yourself up in the now too-cold room. And it was only then that you realize that Chris had left with your underwear.

Fuck.

> you have my underwear asshole

His reply came much later that night, after you’d already gotten home, using a pair of cycling shorts you’d snagged from the closet in the room Chris had left you in and bunching them up under your skirt to make do as underwear for the rest of the night.

> Oops

author’s note: idek if i like this one y'all (: likes, comments and reblogs r much appreciated <3

taglist 🩵 (comment on my pinned post to be added or removed):

@luverboychris @bigbeefybitch @liz-stxrn @slut4chriss @slut4mattsturnio1o @sturniolosgirl @coochiedestroyer1 @cutiepiess4l @kvtie44 @vschrissturn @hercigaretteblush @fwskullz @m4rriii @anabanana28 @sturniolosange1 @webbersturn @odeezier @johnniesrealwife @freshsturns @marlenafortuna @carolineheartsmatthew @incndescentglow @starniolosposts @urfavgirllyyyyy @mattsturniolosworld @lilyloveschris @sturniozo @lookingformyromeo @heartss4matthewq @lanasturniolo @zina25sworld @ezziewinchester @s-s-842 @sturnlova @whyarefictionalmennotreal @55sturn @cheetahmadi @sturniolowhore @cupidsword @sturnsblog @lovehoneygirll @breeloveschris @littlemisswhore @worldlxvlys @sturniolo04 @sturnioloco @littlemisswhore @pandacake128 @chrizznmetswife

[itsonlydana]

Heyy I just wanted to ask if you could write something for Thranduil x gn!reader just something really light and fluffy maybe like how he takes care of reader what they do in a day and just spending time together doing romantic things and reader really just enjoying life without a care in the world... (Deine Fanfictions sind soooo super ❤️Ich stecke grade sowas von in der Prüfungsphase es ist echt Gold wert wenn man deine Stories zu Lesen hat🤌🏻 )

Spoil Me, Pamper Me, Love Me | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x gn!reader 👑

a cozy day spent with Thranduil

warnings/tags: none, fluff!

words: 1,4k

an: such a lovely request; had such a fun time writing it :) take the elvish terms of endearment with a grain of salt.. i literally googled them lmao but i made sure to use gender neutral names. [Ich wünsche dir viel Erfolg bei deinen Prüfungen, anon! Ich hatte meine im Februar und hoffe du kommst da gut durch <3]

+ masterlist + rules +

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

Being Thranduil's beloved comes with positives as well as negatives – he is a king, a leader after all, and most of his waking hours are dedicated to keeping up his political alliances.

This spanned from week-long travels to other kingdoms to meetings that could last long enough for most of the day to pass without seeing each other much.

Many of these affairs do not require personal attendance though and only expect Thranduil to correspond through letters; a convenience you both treasured admits all the dragging conferences at round tables that were more draining the less importance of the topic to be discussed – even a royal elitist like Thranduil, who took great pleasure in all things rich and extraordinary drew the line after twelve hours of staring at two types of wood to repair a bridge.

Paperwork days – as you called them – were the perfect opportunity for lazy mornings between you and Thranduil. Drowsily cuddling underneath silken sheets that caught the sunrise in their translucent fabric, shutting out the world for unhurried fooling around in each other's arms and with only your giggles and his huffed laughter carrying any indication you were awake at all.

Breakfast was served in your shared chambers and instead of getting up and dressed you took the small feast in bed, unbothered by the missed chit-chat and gossip that eating in the great hall brought forth for Thranduil's kisses are much sweeter than anything anyone could have done.

There is nothing the Elvenking wouldn't do for his significant other, including providing you with the ripest fruits to feed you only to lose himself in peppering kisses to your lips – chasing after the taste of the fruits that colored your lips red and pink.

"The sweetest," Thranduil mumbles, his lips moving from one upturned corner of your mouth over the bow of your lip to the other corner where he breathes another kiss into the crinkle of amusement that makes no effort of hiding across your whole face.

You are sprawled across the bed, still in an airy night robe that's pushed up to your thighs to leave room for Thranduil's hands to gently caress the skin.

The elf himself towers over you, the comfortable weight of his lean yet strong body pressing down on you as his hair falls over the both of you like a curtain of starlight. Your hands trail over his muscles as kisses the spot behind your ear that has you giggling and nudging your knee against his abdomen to push him away.

"Stop, my King–" you laughed, hands sprawled across his chest without any real strength behind them, "you know I can't stand this teasing!"

You feel the pull of his grin against your skin before you hear the rumble of his deep laugh. "I do, meleth e-guilen, I do," Thranduil says, and tipped his nose against yours, "but that makes it all the more tempting."

Your hands trail up to his shoulders and gather some of the light strands of hair, sweeping it over his back. His skin glows in the sun pouring through the window, thrumming under your touch, and with him draped over you, one warm leg between yours, the heat travels to you even if his broad back blocks out the golden light.

"Awful," you huff, "you are nothing but a dreadful lover, keeping me trapped here in bed." Like your hands on his chest, the words carry no harm behind them or any attempt to push him away from you.

If anything, you revel in the attention he peppers you with. The last weeks had dragged you apart and moments like this, where you had to think about nothing except for your lover's care toward you.

"Awful?" he repeats in a playful tone and makes a move to sit up. "Whatever did I do to deserve such harsh treatment?"

Instead, he quickly grabs you by your waist and before you can realize what's going on he has flipped you over, laughter bubbling up your lungs and spilling out while he falls back onto the mattress, pulling you with him and leaving you to topple over across him.

His fingers dig into your sides, holding you down onto him so you can't even escape the tickling that he dooms you with. "Awful, they say! I will show you dreadful, you minx."

Whenever you do make it out of bed eventually, hair all messed up by his hands, Thranduil insists on dressing you.

He treats you like you are made out of glass, warming up the milky creme in his hands before he massages it into your skin so that the chill doesn't bother you, and he sits behind you on the bed while he combs through your hair.

"Looks like thrush nested here," Thranduil chuckles. He barely evades the hand you swipe back at him as you snort indignantly. "Careful! You will scare the birds if you are not mindful of them"

The curse you throw at him instead has him gasping at the pure filth that leaves your mouth that, after hearing his reaction, curves into a smirk. "Get back to combing, Your Majesty. I do not have all day."

"Your word is my command, guren vell."

Thranduils lips kiss your neck, featherlight and then again, lingering. You sigh and let your head drop backward, falling to his shoulder, and blink up at him through lowered lashes, your eyes full of adoration.

His smile lights up a fire in your heart, the softness of it on marble features a reason to go to war just to see it again and for you to be the only recipient of this gentleness with which he wraps his arms around your middle, the hair comb long forgotten, that fuels the fire for all eternity.

On any other day, the duty to dress you would lay in the hands of your most trusted servants or your own, though nothing reached the level of wonderful that Thranduil made you feel right now, helping you to flowy robes.

For you, he even sinks to his knees, the only being alive that deserves this honor of the Elvenking kneeling in front of them, and you smile down at the crown in his hair, the silver circlet glittering just like his cerulean eyes in the midday sun, as he fixes your shoes for you but not without breathing more kisses on the inside of your calf which he carefully holds.

"Shall we walk through the gardens later?" Thranduils hand falls to your lower back on your way through the intricate floors of the underground palace, evoking a pleasant buzz in your stomach.

"We could go riding out," you muse, thinking back to the last time you and Thranduil had taken out the royal elk.

Thranduil steps closer, ignorant of the servants and elves rushing past you with lowered heads and bows, to nip at the curve of your pointed ear.

For everyone else, it looked like he had just kissed you, but his teeth grazed the delicate skin in a hidden manner.

That's how the public display of his utter devotion to you goes; loving kisses that – away from prying eyes – turn completely devoid of etiquette, as well as his hands that never seem to leave you, whether it's in the form of a simple pressure in your lower back or resting on your side to hold you close to him.

Thranduil did not need to put you on display for everyone to know you were his, the expression in his eyes told the story of a King completely in love in a way that didn't need flashy gems or luxuriant robes; not that those weren't gifts you regularly found yourself unpacking nevertheless.

"Whatever you wish for. My heart is your loyal servant," Thranduil vows, smiling at the bright-eyed expression you gift him at that.

The letters on his desk could wait for a day longer, he had all of eternity to manage his kingdom.

Thranduil spends the rest of the day tied to your side – or behind you on our royal moose, as you take him outside to the forest, Thranduils arms around your waist and his chin propped up on your head, as you let yourself fall into his chest. In these woods, with your beloved's sharp senses taking in all of your surroundings even while he busies himself with twirling the fabric of your robes between his fingers or drops kisses to your shoulder and neck, you are completely safe.

©itsonlydana 2024, character art by MiracleAna on Devianart

[mxtxfanatic]

I find it interesting that in both svsss and mdzs, mxtx writes in what I affectionately refer to as “knock-offs” of at least one of the main pairing. What are knock-offs? Characters that are said to be incredibly similar to a protagonist, but with some slight difference to make a commentary of some kind.

In svsss, Gonyi Xiao and Zhuzhi-lang serve as Luo Binghe knock-offs and are shown to be admired by Shen Qongqiu during the period in time where Shen Qingqiu’s relationship with Luo Binghe is still heavily adversial. The fact that Shen Qingqiu holds affection for characters that look and act like Luo Binghe but are just not him is meant to show how Shen Qingqiu’s problems with Luo Binghe are not anything to do with Luo Binghe but with the novel-assigned roles that he believes they are fated to play out. The fact that he eventually gets with Luo Binghe but never once considers his knock-offs as viable romantic partners is meant to show that he sees Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe is a person to him, not a character archetype or a eye candy for female readers (and characters) or a product of the story. Luo Binghe is a whole individual unique enough to be fallen in love with on his own merit.

In mdzs, Lan Xichen is Lan Wangji’s knock-off. I really feel like this one is obvious because the whole “twin jades” thing (😂) but for the sake of being clear: Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji are said to physically identical but different in personality. Lan Xichen is the smiling “twin,” while Lan Wangji is the stoic and expressionless one. Lan Xichen cares about niceties and making friends, Lan Wangji cares about rules and shirks companionship. However, not only is it easy for Wei Wuxian to tell them apart, he—life of the party anywhere he goes—picks the killjoy twin over his much more outwardly friendly counterpart. Why is this important? 1) It shows us that appearances don’t reveal to us the full character of a person: Lan Xichen, “the nice one,” is the one who supports the corruption of the cultivation world and is implicated in multiple acts of injustice in the name of maintaining the status quo and not breaking etiquette, while Lan Wangji, “the rule follower,” commits several social taboos and breaks many rules of his own clan in order to stand up for what was morally right. 2) Wei Wuxian is not enamored with or fooled by appearances: whatever attraction and interest Wei Wuxian displays (overtly, obnoxiously) about Lan Wangji is completely absent from him towards Lan Xichen. To him, Lan Wangji is Lan Zhan, Lan-er-gege, Hanguang-jun, whereas Lan Xichen, for all intents and purposes, is just Lan Wangji’s brother lmao. There’s nothing about Lan Xichen that stands out to hold Wei Wuxian’s attention the way Lan Wangji does. And when you dive into how both brothers lived their lives throughout the text, it becomes clear why. Twins they may appear, but their moral convictions set them very far apart from each other.

Now to get to the question that sparked this post: are there any knock-off characters for Hia Cheng or Xie Lian in tgcf?

[darlingkikki]

wait need a 141 scare actors x reader blurb

Synopsis: A horror night worker sees you and gives his men a task; make sure you leave smiling. Pairing: TF141!Scare Actors x GN!Reader (first meeting vibes so nothing too crazy but Kyle’s too great for me to keep it lowkey lmao) Word Count: 3.6k (I think) Warnings: negative self-talk, reader is very lonely (reasons up to you) a/n: Let me know if I missed any warnings or did not keep it gender-neutral and I will fix it <3. You gave me the green light and you will pay dearly for how badly I wish I were a better writer. Happy Halloween!

A man with an interesting mustache and beard combo greets you at the gates.

“Admission for one?” He asks, glancing over your shoulder to check that your friends or partner aren’t lagging. 

The question pokes at the part inside of you that recoils into your shell when others notice how alone you are, the forever raw wound that no positive affirmations or small bouts with talk therapists have been able to scab over. It’s constantly bleeding, oozing thoughts in voices you both recognize and don’t. They cover a wide variety, though they lead back to you, a homing missile locked onto your actual self and not the warped beyond-recognition version they are about. The version no one who knows you sees. You’ve been told you’re actually not that bad; you’re still stuck on why they used the word actually in something meant to be complimentary. 

One therapist (the one you felt could help, but they decided a job in another state was more important than your problems), said that the best way to combat these thoughts is to fight them, think louder and harder in the opposite direction, even if you think you’re lying to yourself. So, that’s what you did. You psyched yourself up in the mirror for the better part of an hour as you pulled on your costume and repeated to yourself that this was normal. 

Why should an infamous horror night be such a big deal? People go out alone all the time.

“Yep,” you say with a forced smile. It’s enough, but it doesn’t feel like enough. So, you over-explain because your mouth never knows when to quit. “I love going to these alone, really puts me in the Halloween mood.” 

The man tilts his head to one side, observing that slight pinch of your expression. Your voice is light and measured. And that smile. You’re performing. Everything about this is fake, everything about you is fake, a mask worn when the switch in your brain flips to ‘social interaction mode’, so strangers think of you in a certain way. You want him to know you’re not the least bit insecure about being alone. Not at all. The distant sounds of screaming and laughter inside the park don’t carve into you like an ice pick.

You’re not fooling him—no one can, as far as he’s concerned. He’s posted at the entrance for a reason, not because he’s grown too old to run around and scare people with grotesque makeup or prop weapons. He’s an assessor through and through. One brief conversation and he knows whether someone will be a good sport or one of those rude assholes that think it’s cool to scream back at the actors or posturing snobs who shit all over their efforts. You may be lying to him and yourself, but you won’t be a problem. 

Something about you reminds him of someone. He draws the comparison only after you school your smile to a blank expression. You have smile lines around your mouth, evidence that the muscles aren’t under-used, he just wonders how many are genuine. 

You’re still staring at him as he extends his hand towards you, palm up. 

“Give it here,” he orders and gestures towards your own, which has been clutching the fabric of your costume as if you think it’s trying to escape.

You stretch out your fingers, persuading them to relax and hold out your clammy hand so he can press a stamp down on the back of it. The design glows a bright lavender when light catches it at a certain angle, indecipherable enough that you can’t figure out exactly what it says or depicts. You’re about to pull away when he stamps you again. You don’t ask why, assuming it’s because the first was too light or smudged. With a gentle parting squeeze, your hand is your own again. You start towards the exit as he’s stuffing the stamp back into his pocket. 

He speaks again just as you’re about to be past his shoulder. His voice is soft but gritty like a smoker's. “You have yourself a hell of a night, alright?” 

“Yes, Sir.” You curse yourself for your unnecessary use of the title as you make it past the entrance to the park. You don’t know why you called him that, but it makes more sense than it should. He has a natural ability to garner respect, you felt it even in that brief interaction. He chuckles, rough and deep, as he pulls his phone out to make do with his mission.

You take a break from screaming and scurrying away from zombies and slashers to do something fun.

And what’s more fun than blowing too much money on playing carnival games until you win one of the large plushies? It seems easy enough after the woman running the stand explains the game to you—until you’ve sunk twenty bucks into it and only manage one ring on a bottle. The others have bounced off and landed on the ground. 

The stares of the wide-eyed plushies feel less like they’re cheering you on and more like they’re mocking you. Are you seriously playing a child’s game alone? And losing? Why? So you can win a dumb stuffed animal? You’ll leave here the same way you came and you deserve it.

There’s no way one is even worth the amount that you've lost so far. You’re ready to throw in the towel when you sense something behind you. 

It shouldn’t be something that spells danger, not with the woman who has been pocketing your money standing just a few feet away, but your body seems to ignore that fact and react as though Michael Myers himself is lurking behind you. 

You whirl around and your bones turn to ice when you find yourself face-to-chest with a tall, imposing figure. You’re too aghast to scream, mind-body connection severed, you’re left gaping up at the man like a fish out of water. He can’t have been there long, but you’ve been so caught up in the game that he could’ve been standing behind you the entire time. 

The man does not react to your fear, just meets you with an uncomfortably realistic-looking skull mask and unblinking eyes. His posture is rigid, like one of the decorative scarecrows you saw near the entrance. His eyes rake over your body in a way that reminds you of an x-ray, lingering on something for a prolonged moment. Whatever he sees, it pushes him to speak to you. 

“This one’s fuckin’ awful.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners, dark pools glinting with humor, but you’re too busy trying to calm your racing heart to respond. He’s used to people being afraid of him beyond the context of working at events like this, so he steps around you and picks up the pile of rings on the table. You press a trembling hand to your chest and take deep, pacifying breaths.

In and out, you tell yourself, over and over, until your heartbeat no longer resembles the sound of galloping horses. In the time it takes you to collect your bearings, he's thrown each ring over the tops of three bottles effortlessly. Anxiety dissolves into confusion, even more when he turns to you and then jerks his head towards the higher shelves, ignoring the slightly annoyed woman behind the counter. She was probably hoping you’d spend another couple of dollars.

“Oh.” Confusion melts into realization. Your lips curl upwards, but something still doesn’t feel right. He’d broken character to help you for seemingly no reason. “Thank you, but you didn’t need to-” 

“Already did. Pick the one you want.”

His insistence is sharp but harmless equally. The prize is yours, so no use in trying to out-polite the man. 

When you look back at the shelves, it’s with a radiant smile. Even though you hadn’t exactly won one yourself, the kindness of the skull-faced stranger was enough to silence your worries. The perfect one picks you before you pick it. There’s a lone skeleton with cutesy eyes and a squishy body surrounded by a sea of adorable plush pumpkins and black cats. You point to it and the woman behind the counter hands it over with a half-hearted “congrats”. The stranger in the mask smiles at your choice, though you’re not looking at him. When you’re done giving testing squeezes to the plushie, you turn to the man to thank him again, but he’s nowhere to be found, gone just as quietly as he’d appeared.

Sometime later, plushie in your arms, you find the line for a walk through the cornfield. It winds around plastic dividers like a snake, but what else can you expect from the major attraction when the night is in full swing? You join the line, picking at the white tag sewn into the leg of your plushie. There’s a couple in front of you dressed in matching costumes; they decide the wait is the perfect time to get reacquainted with one another. A worker ropes off the divider so no one else can enter and the distracted group of friends in front of the couple doesn’t notice or care about them, so no one else accompanies you in the awkwardness of listening to smacking lips and affectionate hums. Bitterness swells in your throat like you’ve swallowed a pill without water. Stroking the soft underbelly of your prize helps—somewhat. You think about the sweet, albeit intense, scare actor until the giggling couple with now identically smudged makeup walks hand-in-hand through the entrance.

There is little to no light inside of the field. The brightest thing is the moonlight, which makes walking down the dirt path between corn stalks an even more eerie experience. It’s almost peaceful, ignoring the creepy props lining the paths and the random actors hidden in the stalks itching to grab at your ankles or jump out at you (three have accosted you so far). And soon to be a fourth as corn rustles in front of you, leaf blades bouncing off each other harsher than when skimmed by the wind. 

Another couple of steps and a man in a bloody burlap sack-like mask pops out with outstretched arms and a loud “boo” to top it all off—you yelp, nearly dropping your plushie on the ground.

The man responds with a laugh, infectious and warm, before tugging off his mask. Odd, you think, because none of the other actors had prolonged the interaction after leaving you short of breath. Well, none but one.

“I’m Kyle,” he introduces himself, flashing a disarming smile. It’s dazzling, you almost miss him holding out a hand. “Sorry for…you know, just doin’ my job and all.”

Without the disturbing mask, he’s quite pretty, the kind that makes you immediately comply and give him both your right hand and name. Your stamps glow under the moonlight, and he sighs in relief, shoulders relaxing. He thought you’d have left by now.

“Nice meeting you,” he says, bowing at the waist. 

He’s prince-levels of charming, much too relaxed for the environment. His costume is more normal than scary without the mask, just a deep red tunic and dark-wash jeans. You can make out small bits of hay stuck to his hair and clothes. It makes for a dorky and cute visual. 

He does not slink back into the corn as the actors before him did. Instead, he straightens, making a face at the stuffed animal you’re holding.

“You win that for yourself?” 

“Tried to, but one of the actors ended up helping me, actually.”

He quirks a brow. “You pick it because it looks like him?”

You don’t know how he guessed so quickly, but you nod, sheepish that he’d caught you clutching it so protectively, like you were holding a dear gift from a loved one. 

It’s just a stupid toy a stranger won for you. Won for you. You hold it tighter.

Kyle shakes his head, muttering “smart bastard” under his breath and then his eyes are on you. He has that deep shade of brown that’s impossible to say no to.

“The way to the exit can be a bit borin’,” he explains, his lips pursed in thought. “You alright with some company?”

And now you’re even more confused. Was he even allowed to? And why would he care if you’re bored?

“Will you get in trouble?” You ask, glancing towards the quiet path, trying to gauge how long you’d be pulling him away from his job. From what he’s saying, you can assume the exit is near, but you can’t see it from here.

“Nah, you were the last one coming through, so I’m free to roam,” he shrugs, stepping out of your way so you can walk side-by-side.

You soon discover Kyle is even more of a gem than you’d initially realized. He's more than just a beautiful person to look at, he’s funny, and more friendly with you than strangers ought to be. He asks about you. You don’t know what to say at points, but he doesn’t seem to mind. When your voice wavers or your tongue fumbles, he’s patient. He’s genuinely interested, actually listening, and those pools of brown are as distracting as you thought because soon you’re walking underneath the cobweb-decorated archway signaling the end of the walk.

Your heart clenches. You’re not ready for your night to be over. You’re not prepared for your time with Kyle to be over, to face that tonight has been one of the few times you’ve been the target of considerate treatment and could very well be the only time.

You miss the reflected disappointment in his features because a harsh sound cuts through the air, similar to the rev of a car engine. Then it happens again, just as cacophonic followed by maniacal laughter, and a large man barrels through the corn so quickly you scream and nearly fall over into Kyle’s arms. 

“Fuckin’ hell ‘Tavish, you nearly killed my new friend here,” Kyle laughs, patting you on the back. Reassurance. You’re in no danger. 

The chainsaw wielder lets the act go rather quickly, lowering it to the ground and regarding you with a mischievous grin. 

“Just doin’ my job,”—the man waves off the accusation—“Not my fault Price chose a screamer.”

You squint at the man who’d nearly given you a heart attack. Price chose you? Who’s Price? Kyle claps the man on the back of the head. They interact as old friends, brothers. 

“Sorry,” Kyle turns to you, apologetic. “Should’ve warned you about the main event. Got a bit distracted.”

In fairness, you were too. You don’t mention that it was because of his eyes..

“Apology accepted,” you say, “Though your friend is on thin ice.”

“Me?” The man in question scoffs like you’ve accused him of a grave sin. His lips press together to keep his laughter at bay, though he’s got about as much tact as the hair on his head, which is shaved on both sides, leaving a strip of hair down the middle. He’s cocky, you can sense that. Cocky people are to you what salt is to a snail, though Kyle doesn’t seem the type to surround himself with the bad kind, so you try not to curl in on yourself.

“Not jus’ his friend,” he says, sending you a wink, “I’m John, Johnny if yer feelin’ brave.”

Kyle rolls his eyes and nudges you with his shoulder to get you walking towards the park exit, a straight shot from the cornfield. “Come on, we don’t need to take this.” 

“You scared me too,” you remind him as Johnny takes up the space on your left side, “Don’t think I forgot about that.”

He snorts, “Touche.”

“A screamer an’ not afraid to knock you down a peg,” Johnny notes, “I like ‘em already.” He hasn’t stopped staring at the side of your face. You wipe your hand across your cheek in case something is on it. 

The walk through the park is quiet, save for Johnny and Kyle throwing friendly jabs at one another. Most people have already left; the last few actors send looks in your direction and carnival game runners are shutting off their lights and closing down for the night.

“You have fun tonight?” Johnny asks you once the parking lot comes into view. Only a handful of clusters of cars remained in contrast to when you’d arrived.

The most fun you’ve had in a while. You’ve grown used to that heavy chunk of loneliness sitting in your chest like a rock. You drag it around behind you, a life sentence. Let it tether to your emotions and bog them down, anchoring your feet in some instances and letting the ground swallow you whole in others. You’re going home with a small part carved out. A crevice where something less bitter and more sweet can wedge itself in and find a home, spreading far and wide if you’re lucky.

The two exchange toothy grins when you respond positively, a cheerful smile cracking your face open for them to see. The look withholds a meaning that you aren’t privy to. Price was right, as always. A special someone deserved more smiles tonight, and they’d accomplished their mission.

“Found you any earlier an’ I would’ve won you one of those too,”—Johnny gestures to your plushie—“Ah’ve got an arm on me, a mean one when it comes to the bottle toss.”

Kyle and you roll your eyes. You assume the people in his life have grown quite comfortable doing so. Your initial descriptor of cocky was accurate, but he’s endearingly cocky in a way that doesn’t put you off too much. 

“Watch it, the big guy will take your head off,” Kyle warns.

“He’s not even here. I can say wha’ I want.”

“He’s right behind you.”

“Nah, he’s—” Johnny spins around and gasps, similar to how you’d reacted earlier, though he is a bit more dramatic. “Steamin’ Jesus, where’d you come from?”

You turn as well, hoping it’s who you’re thinking, and it is. The man who’d won you the plushie you’re holding.

He looks at you in the same way as before, though his imposing figure seems more relaxed than it had been. You presume these men are all friends. They seem comfortable enough around each other to be.

“Price wants to see us,” he says, his deep voice rolling from his chest the way water does over the smoothed rock on the bank of a river. You can hear it much clearer now that your heartbeat isn’t thrumming in your ears. 

“Can it wait?” Kyle glances towards you. “Wanted to make sure they made it out alright.”

Another chip at that loneliness, but you don’t want to jeopardize anything with him and Price—who you assume is his boss—even if you’d prefer he continues lessening the weight holding you down beneath your rib cage.

“You’ve done enough, Kyle,” you say, pointing behind you with your free hand, “I can see my car from here, anyway. I’ll be fine.”

“We cannae let ‘em go without makin’ sure, Simon,” Johnny insists, echoing Kyle’s sentiment and steamrolling over your assurance. 

Simon, finally a name for the face, or at least the parts of it you can see. Kyle and Johnny had shed their costumes, yet he wears his like a second skin. His stiff demeanor from earlier seems more of a costume than anything he’s wearing. 

Simon glances over your shoulder to where you’d pointed, dark eyes impossible to read. Johnny turns up the dial on his charm. At least that’s what you think he’s doing when he gives Simon a wide-eyed, puppy-like expression, pressing his palms together in front of his face and tipping his head forward. The picture would be complete if he sunk onto his knees with a bible in his hands.

He has the energy of the youngest son in the family. The visual brings a laugh tumbling from your lips and Simon relents, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Go on then, we’ll watch from here.”

So you do, waving at the group, who murmur their goodbyes, and then walking to your car. 

You walk slower than you need to, relishing in the experience of people wanting to ensure you made it anywhere safe. It’s a luxury. You strive for it like people dream about vacationing or owning a house. Unfortunately, time stands still for no one.

Chancing a look at the group of men as you climb into the driver’s seat, you find six pairs of eyes. Kyle smiles broadly, you get another wink and smirk from Johnny, and Simon blinks at you from behind his mask. You barely know them and yet their reactions are all so distinctly them. You beam, holding up the plush skeleton and waving one last time like an Olympic athlete holding up their medals before resting it on the passenger's seat.

Alone again, you push your key into the ignition and your car comes to life. The dashboard bathes everything in a golden glow. Come morning, when you’re bathed in a similar hue by the rising sun, you’ll think about this night. You’ll think about them, each of them, and you’ll wonder. Hugging your prize from the night, you will implant the memory into the grooves of your brain, where it can sit safe and snug, just as looked after as you’d been. You’ll wonder if any of them will end up in your life again, and hope the answer to that question is ‘yes’.

[guesswhoitsn]

Netflix and Chill

Themes: Fluff Pairing: Paige X Azzi TW: Swearing, Suggestive Content Words: 518 Let's get back into writing shall we LMAO , this is my first time writing on tumblr so please tell me if anything is messed up grammar/formatting wise!

_ "Netflix and chill, huh?" The teasing coming from the curly haired brunette is what makes Paige side-eye her best friend after giving back the microphone to the interviewers with a 'thanks' as they walk away. The hallway seeming much emptier without the interviewers and extra media attention. "Don't even, you said the exact same thing as me, Az." The blonde can't help the grin that shows on her face, blue eyes locking with crinkling brown ones. "I said it because you said it." Azzi nonchalantly shrugs, shoulder rubbing against Paige's as the duo continues their walk side by side. Their conversation slightly hushed despite being the only ones around. "Uh huh, Miss, hard is more satisfying." Paige allows her grin to grow once the flush of her girlfriend's cheeks begins to brighten, tanned skin showing a fair amount of rose tint to it. "What was that all about?" Paige continues with a husk, teasing the younger girl more as she moves to intertwine their hands, bringing Azzi's up to ghost her lips across the back of her hand. "What? Hardcovers, are more satisfying to me." The emphasis that Paige hears from the other only solidifies her belief that, that was not at all what Azzi was referencing and with a small shake of her head and laugh, Paige tightens her grip on the others hand softly, smirking when she feels Azzi lean more into her as they walk. "Guess lucky you, you don't ever have to try and deal with something soft." The innuendo is clear as the older girl speaks, earning a slight shove her best friend which just sparks her laughter more. Paige barely stumbles before she's back in her prior position, standing tall as Azzi leans into the other. As the music begins to become louder, and the end of the hallway comes into view, Paige starts to let go of the other's hand, reluctantly beginning to maintain the role of best friends once again for the crowd around them. However she freezes once she feels a tug on her hand, Azzi keeping the two limbs intertwined as Paige turns around towards her, eyebrow raised before blinking when she feels the quick peck of lips against hers. With a taste of her own medicine, Paige's own cheeks light up a much brighter red against her pale skin, Azzi's own dimpled grin shows as the younger lets go of their intertwined hands, walking past the taller blonde. "W-What was that for?" Paige gets out as she starts to move again, staying by the other's side as they begin to enter the concert venue, heart speeding up not only due to the blaring music and atmosphere as she knew right now, that was the last thing on her mind. "I don't know what you're talking about." Azzi states simply, hands folding behind her back before the two reunite with her own mother and family, the brunette missing the way that her girlfriend's eyes had never left her back until Usher began preforming his second song. Don't let that girl fool you, Azzi fudd, was a menace.

[enhaven]

look closely | psh (m.)

pairing: sunghoon x reader

genre: smut, angst?, gala!au, idk what they are

word count & rating: 4k | 18+ (minors gtfo)

summary: you've been spending a lot of time with Sunghoon lately so he's not entirely pleased when you showed up with a date after turning down his offer.

warnings/content: jealousy • dirty talk • nipple/breast play, kinda mirror sex? • rough oral sex? (fellatio/deepthroating) • voyeurism? • hair pulling • pain kink lmao, semi-public sex again 😭, phones are being used of course ;)

a/n: ik it was supposed to be hockey!hoon from the poll but this mf posted and i was seeing things smh.

to say Sunghoon was confused is an understatement.

especially when you entered the doors arm in arm with none other than his best friend.

jake? when did this happen?

a series of questions start occupying Sunghoon's mind. at first, he didn't mind you rejecting him when he asked you to be his Valentine's date. maybe it was too much for you, that going to the gala with him might give your schoolmates the wrong idea.

and as always, Sunghoon took it like a man though it did confuse him cause he thought you both were on the same page. he was planning to ask you out if you had said yes but it's probably too early for it.

for you both to be official.

you've been spending a lot of time together since the beginning of the second semester. going on dates, studying together, and fucking each other's brains out for stress relief so Sunghoon thought there was something there but now he thinks that he read everything wrongly.

he's fully aware that you don’t owe him anything but he couldn't help himself feeling a little dumbfounded going alone to this event that your department's hosting. he thought that you'd be alone too but as he watches you and Jake wandering around to find your assigned table, he's lowkey regretting not asking other girls to keep him company instead.

.

you immediately felt Sunghoon's stare as soon as you entered the doors with Jake. rejecting him wasn’t really your intention because you'll gladly be his date for this event. it’s just that everything's becoming too real and confusing when he never even asked you to be his in the first place.

that's why you've been taking your distance.

it was just a simple date for a gala though so it shouldn't have mattered to you nor mean much to Sunghoon. he’d probably have a substitute date after you declined that’s why you said yes to Jake when he asked so you won’t look like a fool just in case you see Sunghoon there with someone else.

you don’t know if Jake knew that his best friend asked you first. with how close they are, surely it should be given that he’ll be aware but the surprise on Sunghoon’s face tells you otherwise.

now you’re utterly fucked.

this could appear as a low blow to Sunghoon since Jake’s his best friend. you should've considered this possibility when you agreed to be Jake's date but it somehow slipped your mind for whatever reason. it must be the desperation in you, considering him as a blessing in disguise when he asked you pretty last minute because you were already debating on not going.

seeing Sunghoon with a date would only ruin your night even if it's your fault. so you really thank the stars that Jake decided to ask you since you're already familiar with each other. besides, he’s a very sweet guy who’s become dear to you after sharing a class with him last semester so why not?

you’ve already acknowledged your stupidity in decision making anyway so might as well go through with it.

to ease up your nerves, you try conversing with Jake as soon as you both sit down, avoiding the pull to look at Sunghoon's way who's standing by the counter. you can see his figure from your peripheral view, wondering why he's still there when everyone is settling in their seats since the program's about to start.

could he be avoiding you and Jake? or is it the many girls crowding him? still taking chances if he'd entertain them since he didn't bring a date.

you’re sure they hounded him as soon as he arrived by himself but he could be waiting for you. to see if you were alone as well based on how he reacted earlier so now the guilt has been eating you up more quickly than you anticipated.

.

Sunghoon should've picked any of those girls to sit by him as he approached your table. watching you flirt with Jake was harder for him than he initially thought.

it riles Sunghoon up that you're being so sweet with Jake, even putting your hands on his chest whether it’s intentionally or not. he couldn’t even blame his best friend cause Jake's natural charm can woo anyone who comes across him.

"hoon, man, where's your date?" his friend turns to him as he’s sitting down on the chair while Sunghoon's gaze remains on you.

"nah i don't need one," he says dismissively, quickly switching his gaze to Jake with an amused smile cause he finds it adorable that you're avoiding his eyes.

he also finds it funny how Jake seems to be clueless about this underlying tension between you two, just like how Sunghoon is with this game you're playing. 

he’s sure that he’s been so obvious but he also knows how dense his best friend could be. honestly, Sunghoon doesn’t really care either way if Jake knows whatever's going on or not. what he wants is to understand you because he couldn’t remember doing something that would have pushed you to go for his best friend instead of him.

if Sunghoon had asked anyone, they’d just tell him to move on since you basically gave your answer but he’s a driven man. plus, the way you're acting around him says enough so he smiles wickedly at himself.

this night should be fun. 

if you really don’t give a fuck about him anymore then you would've acted differently so he'll just let you play around with Jake for now.

.

the program's halfway done when you feel someone's leg nudging yours below the table. without a doubt, it’s Sunghoon’s but you're still refusing to look at him. it'll frustrate him for sure but he surprises you when he casually joins your conversation with Jake. hopefully, your date won't notice that you've been avoiding his best friend.

everything was smooth since Sunghoon was doing the same as you, engaging in normal conversations with the others at your table despite his quiet personality. except, for the nonstop heated gazes he throws your way while his long ass legs nudge yours from time to time, provoking you.

you see, ignorance is usually your forte but not when it comes to Sunghoon and he knows that. it's like he must've sensed that you're about to kick his leg away cause he suddenly gets up, excusing himself to go to the washroom.

you end up hitting the chair instead, causing you to wince lightly and grabbing Jake's attention. his best friend, on the other hand, didn’t care about it nor your glare towards his retreating figure. so instead you turn to a very worried Jake and smile reassuringly at him.

"are you sure? you can just sit down and i'll get the food for you later"

"i am jakey, don't worry" you reach out to hold his shoulder and he calms down, relief now in his eyes as you smile at him. he returns it with an even brighter smile and just then realizes how gorgeous he actually is.

but so is Sunghoon, who by the way, hasn’t come back yet. 

you backtracked cause why was he still lingering in your mind. worrying about him was even worse and it's making you restless no matter how much you shrug them away by talking more to Jake.

when dinner starts, your date rises from his seat to line up for food. he offered once again but you declined, leading for his worry to return. still needing a lot of convincing, you stand up and twirl to show Jake that you’re fine.

"see? totally okay! i'll be back okay?" you nod at him as you walk away, eyes immediately looking for Sunghoon who's nowhere to be found. you ponder his whereabouts cause he could be fucking someone right now like he used to in events like these.

the scenario your mind came up with made you uneasy. no denying on your part that seeing Sunghoon earlier with a bunch of girls made your stomach churn. you might totally lose your appetite if you somehow found him in that compromising situation. yes, it's essentially your fault because none of these feelings would be here had you said yes to him.

.

navigating around the empty halls was fortunately easy despite the intricate design of the place. the whole venue screamed classy and elegant so it took you a bit of time to find the large fancy washroom located on the upper floor because you were fawning over the interiors.

it's where you suspect Sunghoon would be instead of the ones downstairs that are usually packed with people. he's the type to find places where no one usually goes, preferring peace amid any form of ruckus.

and you were right, instantly spotting him leaning by the edge of the black marble counter with one hand in his pockets.

"took you long enough" he scoffs, looking up to you from his phone. he looks annoyed as he places it beside him but he proceeds to do you a one over that definitely didn't make you wet now that you're also taking his whole fit at once.

all formal in black with that signature hair of his that you really love.

"well thanks to you" you reply drily, recovering from that small relapse with your annoyance bubbling back to the surface. he must’ve thought it’s directed to him when you’re actually mad at yourself but you’ll let him think that way.

it's fun and this is how you usually talk anyway, bickering and teasing which you surely missed when things got awkward between you since that day.

"me? you're the one who's all over Jake" he huffs, shooting you a glare that you found amusing. he does look cute whenever he’s sulking, especially when he gets jealous although he masks it with indifference each time you call him out on it.

"he's my date hoon" you deadpan, stating the obvious which irks Sunghoon even more but he notices the mischievous glint in your eyes.

“why are you with him?” he starts, trying to sound nonchalant as he leans back. it might be hopeless and he shouldn't care this much but Sunghoon just wants to know the very reason he's alone in this gala.

“why can’t i be with jake?”

he was gonna tell you why if his ears didn't catch the teasing lilt in your tone the more you step closer to him. “isn’t he your best friend hoonie?” you add when he didn't answer, noticing his thick brows scrunching as he adjusts his gold bangle bracelets.

so you are doing it on purpose, staring him down right now with those beautiful eyes and playful smile like you didn’t break his heart weeks ago. he may acted like he was expecting you earlier but you pretty much didn’t care so he's still unsure why you followed him here when Jake's probably out there waiting for you.

maybe Sunghoon was wrong. well, he had been clearly assuming a lot of things so who knows. this could just be his inner desire hoping that you still want him.

“he is, but it doesn’t mean that i’ll share you with him” you're startled when Sunghoon grabs your waist as soon as his arms can reach you. he pulls you closer to him before burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

one of your hands grasps his hair as a reflex, the other gripping his shoulders as you try to come up with a response. it's a bit hard when you can feel his breath fanning against your skin but he holds you for a bit, waiting for you to stop him.

when you didn’t, his lips touched your skin and began leaving kisses around your exposed collarbones. and since Sunghoon's been very familiar with your sensitive spots, he finds your weakest spot in the neck right away, coaxing a needy whimper from you.

“i-i’m not yours hoon” you're struggling to reply when you feel Sunghoon's smile but you love how eager he's been. aside from missing him in general, you’re deprived of his touch too since the last time you were in this position was the day you turned him down.

"no? but this one’s mine right?” both his hands move down and grab a handful of your ass, earning a surprise gasp from you. they're pretty quick too that you didn't even realize Sunghoon's pulled down your dress' plunging neckline, freeing your tits right in front of his face.

he eyes them hungrily as a hand of his stays on holding the hem, embarrassment flooding you as a result though he’s seen your bare body several times already. 

in all honesty, Sunghoon would’ve found your flower shaped pasties adorable if the circumstances were different. he teases you nonstop about them cause he secretly loves it when you wear them instead of bras, easy access each time he touches you.

despite how much he missed you, he's still pissed so he peels them off a bit harshly, eager to taste your perked nipples but he finds it absurd that you're shying away from him.

the audacity of you to come here then.

instead of putting your pasties aside, he keeps them in his pockets and you’re about to protest when his large hands are on your bare tits at once, fondling them briefly before he latches his mouth on one of them.

"h-hoon—" a loud moan slips from your lips when his tongue starts flickering your nipple, leading you to grab his hair again and push his face further on your chest. 

he occasionally bites a nipple as his palm gropes your breast, rendering you speechless at how it feels. you keep arching your back so Sunghoon's other hand returns to gripping your hips steadily.

looking down, you see Sunghoon's playfully making suctions while sucking your tits. it's his way of teasing you as he alternates on sucking both your breasts with his eyes closed, allowing your eyes to fixate on the mole in his nose that you adore.

with your breathing getting heavier every minute, suppressing your giggles has also been difficult each time his hair brushes your skin.

"hoon please.." you didn't plan on begging him but he's just too good at finding what makes you weak. watching his wet tongue and sharp canines graze your nubs didn't help either, heightening the sensation throughout your body so you couldn't help it.

but Sunghoon's a tease so you should've expected him to release your nipples with a pop after hearing your plea. with a taunting grin.

"now you're begging" he snickers, knowing exactly what you want from him. you pay no mind to it, brain’s all muddled currently at watching him lick his lower lips, eyes zeroing in on his saliva disconnecting from your buds.

you turn mute at that, not knowing how to respond to Sunghoon. the usual witty response to counter him’s nowhere to be found. all you can think of is finding ways to return to his good graces so you relent.

“yeah i am” you say quietly which surprises Sunghoon. you’re never the type to beg so he presumes that it's because you’re probably feeling guilty.

that’s why you’re here.

not really to see him but just to make him feel better.

it must be it so he proceeds to stare you down, contemplating if he’ll give you what you want. of course, Sunghoon would want to but he couldn’t possibly let you get away with this stunt you’re pulling tonight.

your exposed wet stricken breasts cause you to shiver while doing your best to maintain Sunghoon's gaze. he's making you wait too long so you softly squeeze his padded shoulders for an answer, watching his face morph back into being smug.

but before Sunghoon can even respond, you drop to your knees and look up at him with pleading eyes. he curses in his head trying to not give in right there. he's gotta keep his hardened exterior cause it's not often you’re this desperate hence why it’s one of his favourites.

“want my dick?” he teases, the familiar sly grin now plastered on his lips. you nuzzle against his clothed thigh as an answer and Sunghoon couldn’t help himself to reach out and caress your cheek.

he sees your hand reaching out and he takes it, allowing you to feel him over. then your hand fumbles to unbutton Sunghoon’s suit blazer, revealing his lean body that compliments his muscled arms.

he's fucking hot with this alone, given your kneeling position and you can't wait to finally make up to him now that he's letting you.

you're still a bit sus though that Sunghoon's making everything so easy.

he must've had other plans so you quickly pull down his pants and boxers, to have his cock in your mouth. you didn't get to though, his ringed fingers threading right through your scalp to stop you. a surprise whine and frustrating sigh escapes you but Sunghoon's enjoying seeing you like this.

“hoonie..” you coo, trying to look more deflated so he’ll release you. your earlier hunch was right and now little whore in you is excited to have his punishments again. 

you eye his cock, so angry already with the precum coated tip that you’d do anything to taste it again but Sunghoon’s firm grip on your hair reminded you of what you did.

a pout graces your lips, surely he already knows what you’ve been missing. it’s been about a week or two since the last time you fooled around with Sunghoon, the same day you rejected him.

he stares at you intently without saying a word, seemingly unimpressed with your current way of begging. you're getting conscious again, mind scrambling on what else to do to convince him but you can't think of any.

but there's one thing you both have in common, impatience. you see it in the way he grabs his dick to tease your lips with it, running the tip across the edge of your lips. your tongue darts out in hopes of catching it but he suddenly slaps it against your cheek, causing you to pathetically whine against his clothed thigh.

“suddenly this desperate? then why’d you say yes to him?” 

“i…”

you ran out of excuses just because you didn’t want to tell Sunghoon the truth. you’re not sure if he’s aware or which part of the truth he knows. if he does then it wouldn’t be a surprise. he can read you like an open book that’s why avoiding him earlier ended up being pointless.

it’s also why Sunghoon releases his grip on your hair a bit, allowing you to take his cock in your mouth. he misses the warmth your mouth is around him, the eager look in your eyes as you keep bobbing your head to please him.

well, it’s not enough. even for you, cause now he sees that familiar glint in your eyes when you want something more.

his hand didn’t leave your hair the entire time and excitement rush through you as soon as you watch him shift his stance, believing he’ll start fucking your throat.

but Sunghoon doesn't, if the smirk on his face is anything to go by.

instead, he pushed your head further down his cock, causing you to gag with the sudden movement. good thing you have amazing reflexes, hollowing your cheeks and breathing through your nose as you try to maintain eye contact.

you’re struggling when Sunghoon bunches up your hair and gives it a hard pull.

"did you really think i'd give you what you want?" he taunts, chuckling darkly as you moan around his length, the vibrations turning his laugh into a deep groan.

he would've let you with those begging eyes. he loves the desperation in them, making it one of his weaknesses. there's nothing he wants more than to fuck your throat but he can't give in that easy.

your head game's unmatched and it almost made him forget why you're here until he sees you slow your pace, intentionally taking him deeper until his tip nudges the back of your throat.

his hand returns pulling your hair, to the side this time as he picks up the phone beside him. it stings but you don't mind, letting Sunghoon control the pace of your sucking however he wants.

"so cock hungry, aren't you?" he grits his teeth, followed by a deep grunt.

he's being mean but you don't mind, nodding while your sole focus is running your tongue through the underside of his dick. to hear more of his deep grunts, now that he's mindlessly moving his hips slowly.

already anticipating it, you close your eyes to avoid the flash from Sunghoon's phone. if it'll make him forgive you then so be it.

you're not too concerned right now other than to make sure he finishes in your mouth. it boosts your ego, how you must've been doing so good for him to record you like this.

which suddenly ceased as soon as he releases your hair, his cock slipping out your drooling mouth.

"hoon?" you query, voice a bit confused as to why he's stopping you when you sense that he's close. 

"get up" he spits and you obey, a bit disappointed when you see him putting his very hard length back in his pants.

before you can protest, Sunghoon flips you around and pulls you against him. now you're both facing the other mirror in front of you while you're on his lap.

you watch Sunghoon resumes what he was doing before you begged to suck him off. he's kissing your shoulders and upper back this time, ringed hands fondling your tits again and it's increasing your desperation. you can feel how hard he is under you so you start grinding on him out of frustration, hoping he'll finally fuck you.

"w-what do you want hoonie hmm? if you d-don't wanna fuck here then.." you gasp, stammering each word as his groping becomes rougher. "we can go back to dinner then leave after..oh fuck.." you throw your head back when pinches your sensitive nipples, grabbing a handful of his hair behind you.

"pretty sure it's over by now.." he drawls after suddenly releasing you, feeling his breath against your skin as his hands move down to guide your hips. you've been watching him through the mirror this time, looking unfazed while ignoring your words.

"but you still want dessert, right jake?" he adds, shifting his eyes to someone in the corner.

realization washed over you even before following Sunghoon's eyes after hearing the name. there in the corner of the room, you see Jake standing and clutching his phone in one hand while holding the door with widened eyes.

"i was wondering where you are.." his voice echoes, eyes trained on both you and his best friend. you have no idea how long Jake's been standing there, if he saw the whole thing or what. you were too busy focusing on anything else aside from his best friend.

and if he meant you or Sunghoon he didn't specify.

you both should've stopped but his best friend has no intention of, continuing to play with you as if Jake's not there. this tells you exactly how Jake found you both. the way he wasn't entirely surprised at what welcomed him, eyes raking your half-naked form which causes you to squirm against Sunghoon's lap.

Jake looks a bit nervous but there's a slight eagerness swimming in his eyes. you wonder if this is the first time Sunghoon did this, sending him lewd videos or pictures which you honestly find kinda hot. you keep grinding against Sunghoon's cock while watching Jake's gaze fixed on your tits which Sunghoon continues to fondle, earning more needy whines from you.

"figured that he's looking for us.." Sunghoon says wryly as he stops your hips from moving, his unbothered face turning to his best friend like this is just a common scenario between them. you watch Jake gulp nervously, slowly sinking in the implication of Sunghoon's words.

you heard it clearly, his tone alone suggesting that this night's far from over.

not until he's satisfied with your apology now that you have an audience.

e/n: now let's ignore that this was supposed to be for Valentine's but i ain't gonna wait for next year to post this to be on the right season 😭