sanlixzone - Tumblr blog

sanlixzone · 2 years ago

Text

a requested drummer boyfriend!san one-shot

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 (𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄) | choi san x fem!reader

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : With your eyes on his playing, San feels like a superstar.

You, on the other side, feel super horny. Mamma Mia…

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : fluff, smut

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 7.8k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : established relationship, a bit cocky but very sweet drummer!san, shy but not inexperienced girlfriend!femreader, sensory overload & deprivation, slight dry-humping (f), light-hearted teasing, pet-names (sun, sunshine, sunny, baby), explicit consent, verbal & physical reassurance, blindfolding, praise, cunnilingus, fingering, love-making, passionate sex, unprotected sex (not sorry), cussing; banging against the wall and mattresses squeaking used as a narrative and poetic device, barely plot just good fuck and tuck (aftercare)

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : i wrote this in 4 long sessions while i had a very horny long distance relationship with drummer!san due to all the business i experienced while working on this lol. i missed him any time i couldn't write for him, which, over the course of almost 2 months (i'm sorry)... is long.... i promise it is sweet and love-making but uh. horny. i was drunk for a big chunk (like a half) of writing this (took care of obvious errors but tell me if you find anything please omg.) anyway lmao hope you have fun reading it <33 always appreciate reblogs, likes and comments/feedback xoxo

𝚝𝚊𝚐-𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 : @ateezstanforever : @sanwhalvr : @itsvxlentine : @jeonride : @r1kitti : @sanniesbunnie : @northerngalxy (thank you!!!)

[ what he’s playing : MAMMAMIA / FEEL / FOR YOUR LOVE ▸ Måneskin | playlist ]

OH, OH, OH, AUGH!

There he goes again, your boyfriend, his black earphone plugged deep into one ear, drum sticks held firmly in his hands, hammering down on the drums he's been abusing for the past, uh — gosh, how long has it been? An hour? A lifetime?

You love your Sannie, you really do, but when you signed up to be the girlfriend of infamous drummer “Sun Set”, you were expecting heated, secret glances from the stage to the audience, feverish making out-sessions post-concert, and while you do get those things in an overdose, listening to drum covers (without the vocals, mind you) on repeat until your ears actually fall off–? No, that one was not on the initial contract.

And, come on, it's finally the weekend after one long, exhausting week, which San and you usually spend trying to de-stress, relax and relieve yourself. So yes, if it was as usual, you would be spending your sweet time with your boyfriend right now— if it wasn't for his upcoming competition with his band.

Alright. It’s not to say that you are being forced to stay here in between these soundproof walls, covered by graffiti San's bandmates left to immortalize their jam-sessions, and don’t forget the pungent smell of tobacco that will without a doubt stick to the hoodie you fetched after he took it off— you do want to be a supportive girlfriend that’s worth winning those 1K for.

So, you’ll still give him a thumbs up and applause every time he finishes with a song, tilts up his head triumphantly, fingers running through his incredibly disheveled red hair that has formed singular spikes of sweaty strands, while the drum sticks still rests in his hand with his breath all messed up. He gives it his all, but what you understand is that San gives even more when you are there to watch him: At least that’s what you’re seeing right now, when he doesn't give himself more than five seconds to transition to the next track.

Lower lip bitten deep by his teeth, face pulled together to a concentrated frown, head rocking up and down, side to side, with his red locks waving around in the wind of his energy and feet aggressively stomping down the bass drum, your boyfriend feels his music, always, with his whole body, his mind drowns and explodes with the help of his loud instrument, and as you sit there, on the couch, a pillow clenched in between your legs– you try to balance out the overbearing noise by digging your nails into the cushion, and you deal with the “awe” you feel for your boyfriend being so immersed by his artistry, god, so astonishingly burning and afire— by pressing your thighs together so the beats of his drum can finally stop pulsating between them.

San doesn’t smile when he plays, you noticed it a while ago, makes an almost disgusted-looking face by scrunching his face together, especially when he really hammers down the cymbals and throws his head to the back, drilling holes into the ceiling with his eyes as if he’s challenging the gods to come stop him, his thick neck glistening in his sweat, his pulse pumping through the vein that is bulging out.

Oh, mamma…

You hope those gods do have mercy with you, because San looking like this does things to you that go beyond just feeling fear that he’s going to throw his shit to the floor. It makes you go into a craze that he’s also wearing a very drenched black tank top and pair of ripped jeans, his black bandana he had on his head is now tied around his thigh, and his arms are flexing with each time he’s thwacking down on his tom-toms and smashing the cymbals— fuck, where does your boyfriend get the time to go to the gym? Is it getting hot in here? You can’t possibly be enduring overheating on top of a headache, you’ll actually pass out or have to rip off your clothes in its entirety. But, shit, look at him— your boyfriend looks absolutely carnal right now and you can’t even slightly touch him, you’re going to melt. Like actually melt into mush.

… mia.

San is going through his usual cathartic euphoria, the snaring sounds of his drums and cymbals penetrate your ear cut and clean, but while you usually can bop your head to it, listening to him does slightly differ, when your brain clenches after each sound that follows the other.

It’s 1 AM. The weekend has just started. It’s been two hours of his practice now, with a small ‘make-out break’ that is already more than thirty minutes ago. San promised you, ‘just one last song and I’ll be there for you, yeah?’, but there goes he, your boyfriend, Choi San, Sun Set, drumming along to his tenth or something song, overflowing in intense passion.

You could have been lying in bed with him now, San in your arms or you in his, smothered by his love or something, anything; Please, just… No more beating the skin. No more rudiments, diddles– you don’t want to hear none of it, and you know you’re being an immodest glutton for your boyfriend thinking of him like this, but there’s nothing else on your mind except him and how bad you want him to stop playing. Of course you can’t say that out loud, at least not that he could hear it over the sounds of his drums, especially over how loud the music in his earbuds is set, the vocals screech through the plastic so even you can hear the shouts.

San values his musical time with his drum, needs it to feel secure for the competition, it would be cruel to interrupt him just because you have a headache and an even more so aching cunt, right?

No, you dummy.

San is your boyfriend. Or no, you, dear, are his beloved girlfriend. He’s not going to let you sit here and suffer, even if you mean well for him and watch Sun Set be hot. Being his scarily attentive self, he catches the strain in your face and immediately stops stepping into the bass drum with his sneakers. A very acute quietude interrupts his playing and washes all of your boiled up headache away.

Silence.

It can sound so sweet, can’t it? Can feel so sweet, too…

“Hey, are you okay, sunshine?”, San asks, and after your ears get used to the lack of sound, you see his sweat drop from his forehead, hear his voice soft and molten, which starkly contrasts the overwhelming volume of the instrument he’s been playing.

“No, it’s nothing,” you murmur, failing at hiding your discomfort, as the pillow still rests in your hands, nail marks as visible as visible can be on the velvety surface. You’ve obviously been scratching that, don't even try to hide it.

“Oh, sunshine,” San sighs with a sorrowful smile that understands immediately, and after he swings his legs from the stool, he makes his way to you with open arms to slide them under your armpits.

You liquefy in his hug, the pillow tumbling out your groin, body going lax immediately as you wrap yourself around his neck, sinking into him. The couch squeaks a bit upon the impact of San falling into it, but the shrill noise is nothing compared to the beat of his drums. His embrace engulfs you, makes you feel sunken in remedy, reverie and warmth– and the slippery surface of his back only adds to the experience of having your lover in your arms. All that was a buzzing chaos— San makes it golden, melting your tense body, lifting it up to gently sit down on the couch side-ways with you on top, your ear listening to how his heart knocks against his ribcage, slowly, loudly, steadily.

“It’s past midnight already!”, he gasps silently, looking at the clock, “Why didn’t you tell me, sunny?”

“You had that look on again,” you whine, face planted into his breast, god, his pillowy, sweaty chest— and look up to him, as he strokes over your back.

“I have something like that?”, San hums, voice is kept low so he doesn’t irritate you in any way, though there’s a slight suggestive swing in the repetition of your words, “A look?”

His eyebrow twitches up and his lips are curved into a smirk, wanting you to tell him in detail what’s gotten you to fidget around with the pillow and whine in impatience, clearly bleeding in confidence that comes from having not missed even the slightest beat of the songs.

You didn’t think drummers were that sexy, since the usual limelight was kept on the flirtatious vocalists, powerful guitarists or the red-blooded bassists, but after San had invited you to one of his jam-sessions on the third date, your life had been tilted upside-down, rocked, and your fate settled. (It was really rough to not fall around his neck after his drum-solo, peculiarly when Seonghwa and Wooyoung kept making jokes about your red cheeks, but you still remember the way San asked you whether you were alright with his heavy breath, and, oh god, does it still turn you on to this day.)

If it’s not the look he has on his face every time he pounds into his instrument, the one which you can feel flutter in between your legs, it’s most certainly the look in his eyes he has on right now, the sultry, slightly taunting gaze that’s trying to make you sweat, and as if the room isn’t heated up enough, his dark irises spark in between his eyelashes, kindling a fire in you that definitely needs extinguishing— so best believe he should know it.

“Your fans tell you every day, Sannie,” you groan, embarrassment croaking your voice while you snuggle yourself deeper into his comfortable body, his thigh parked between your legs. You can feel the knot of his bandana stroke your core and you shudder a little bit, a cracked breath escaping out your nose. Your boyfriend raises his eyebrows– doesn’t seem to acknowledge how you inhale deeply– and San exhales out a chuckle, answering, with glittery puppy eyes that make you unable to say no any further, “I’d like to hear it from you though, sunshine…”

You slump deeper into his flesh and as his bandana grazes the thin layer of your boot- shorts again, you savor how slow he’s breathing and how warm he feels under you, sighing, “Sannie, when you play the drums… It’s like… W- wow, what do I say, you know…”

“Aww, don’t be shy now,” San croons and doesn’t acknowledge how he’s encouraging you to keep grinding needily on his thigh, hands skidding to your ass to cup them delicately, drifting and pushing you over slowly. “I don’t know, Sannie… You–,” you whirr and you have to inhale sharply after your sensitive bud tingles, “You… make my head hurt, Sann- n- nie.”

Alright, let’s be honest here. You’re lying through your teeth, and San chuckling is confirmation that he doesn’t believe the lie one single bit.

Yes, your head hurts, but that was his music, not San as the only man who could take care of all the feelings that have been jamming up like crazy. Feelings being a gut-wrenching mix of longing, craving, lusting for San as hard as you do. Even now, you can count the drops of sweat on his face dripping down his freckled neck you’ve already previously admired, but seeing it up close makes you quite greedier, especially when you can still make out his flavor on your tastebuds from having had your tongue down his throat a (too long) while ago. Not to forget his fingers groping into your plump butt right now, and it’s confusing how your boyfriend’s visage can stay as innocuous as it looks while he’s obviously supporting you on chasing your thrill.

After the silence that follows San’s chuckle, your boyfriend speaks up again, and despite the air being undeniably thick, his voice vibrates comfortably in his ribcage, lulling in the side of your head; “I’m so sorry for making your pretty head hurt, Y/N.”

You click with your tongue, pouting, gathering a bit of your energy that’s slowly coming back, and grab San by his shoulders. You turn your head so your chin is poking into his sternum, looking right to where he’s eyeing you down. You stop grinding and he looks with a smile.

“How can I make it up to you, hm?”, your boyfriend snickers softly, hands disappearing under his hoodie to trail you down your back and waist with his fingers. You feel fuzzy and velvety under his touch, and him gently breathing out “sunny” melts in your ears like a restorative, refreshing breeze after the endless knocks of his drums intimidating you and tying your throat shut.

“My ears were seriously killing me, I think,” you admit, but the cute pout remains formed on your lips and San mirrors it instinctively.

“Ohh, Y/N, I’m– I’m really sorry to hear that. I really didn’t want to make you hurt, sunny, I promise,” San sniffles and mirrors your pout; you get the hunch he does feel very, very sorry this time, yet his hands are very guilty of slithering up your back and— clip! Open up your bra.

Ignoring that you flutter, feel light and feel the relief already, you uncontrollably giggle in surprise and push yourself up, getting to see more of your boyfriend’s handsome face. He has stopped pouting now, using his tongue to wet his red-tinted lips with a friendly, yet very ferocious smile. “You know the songs I was playing right now, sunshine?”

“No, I don’t,” you answer with continuing honesty.

Your boyfriend chuckles, “hm, maybe it’s better that way,” voice dripping like honey, but the sweet innocence is feigned, making you curious of what he’s hiding from you, deflecting from the very evident scene he’s painting.

His caramel skin proves it; for the particularized taste, heat must be added for sugar to win aroma, and your boyfriend is testing the theory to its limits.

Gliding his hands to your hips, San gets your cheeks burning, and when he hooks his fingers into his hoodie and drives it off your body, you lick over your lips asking yourself if you need any clarity to know where this is going; With your arms raised, your boiling skin meets fresh air through your drenched shirt and you shudder for a short moment, before your boyfriend gets his hands on the bra, fetches it, and slithers it out your arms.

After it drops to the ground and San sees your nipples poke through your shirt, he shifts his weight to the front to make you trip on your back, and takes off his tank top with both of his hands. His lats spread frighteningly wide and you let out a gasp. You’ll never not be surprised about how beefy your boyfriend is; San’s sweaty body expands in front of your eyes, and his collarbones are perfectly in your sight, as he hovers over you with his hand propped next to your head. There’s a wave of heat hitting your face and you aren’t sure whether you’re blushing or if his body is just genuinely that thermal.

Adopting the rather playful tone of your lover, you sulkily murmur, “It’s unfair if you don’t tell me about those things now, Sannie,” letting your finger trail along his slippery chin with softness, aware that you will only semi-attentively listen to his words from how distracted you are from his fallen eyes that are slowly flaming up. There’s only two things on your mind and while one of them includes going home, the other one can be perfectly executed on the couch.

“Oh, so naughty things, sunny, I don’t know if you want to hear about them, actually.”

San chuckles, his words contradicting how eagerly he kisses your hand, piercing through you with his eyes, making you melt. He gets his upper body up, his knees caging you in and you murmur “tell me about them”, as your boyfriend grabs you by wrist to help you move it down his chest that is still perceivably sleek, down to his abs that are just as lubricious and then, with a heavy sigh he definitely forms into a clear “ha~” leaving his mouth which makes your insides wobble.

Your boyfriend is such a tease. On stage, he doesn’t get to be as interactive as his band-counterparts do, like getting their sweat-drenched heads dangle down to the crowd and be ruffled through their hair, but Sun Set surely takes off his top oftentimes enough so every fan of his can admire his build. Your boyfriend’s amazing build.

He lets go of your hand to go through his red hair with a smirk, peeking down at his belt, clearly driving you into a wall here which is going to feel feathery light, but still so scary to brush against your skin— you have to make a choice here, one that makes your voice come out stuttered, one that proves to San that he's on the right track, cooking you up deliciously.

San might be a tease, but ohh, Y/N. You’re just so fun to tease, aren't you?

“P.. Please, Sannie,” you murmur, shyly, voice whispery because the headache fizzles inside your head, rather cripplingly slowing down your thoughts. He knows he likes it a bit too much, you being shy, but there’s something twitching inside his pants, when San thinks about the things he can do to you tonight to make you react even more, a smirk hurrying onto his face.

“Mmmm,” he hums, and you watch him collectively gather the bits and tits of his vivid, loud, rocking mind, silence remaining strikingly strong between you two, your head beaming everytime he doesn’t say anything to take his time to think.

“Things you were doing with that pillow for example,” San hushes. Your hands move by themselves to unbuckle his belt, and while you do blush a little bit, both your hands get the black leather strip out the clip with hurried motions. “Or the things you were doing to my thigh just a second ago, sweet sunshine.”

Your boyfriend snickers and once his belt is on the floor too, he shuffles a bit to the back and wraps his fingers around your ankles, pulling you so you lay straight on the couch, while he’s kneeling between your legs, cowered as small as his big frame allows it.

“I- I don’t think I understand yet, Sannie,” you droop, wanting San to get more explicit with you so you can swim in his vulgarity that he oozes, and also make him finally confirm you don’t have any reason to be embarrassed about being the only one whose guts are demanding to be stirred. He’s getting more bricked up, and since his baggy jeans are hanging loose now, you can see his cockhead bulge out his boxershorts. “I think you need to explain it more…”

You gulp at the wet patch and flutter with your eyelids, and with San’s thumbs caressing your love handles and leaning towards over your torso, his heat radiates to your face again. You were feeling a bit more bold, but no, you could never get used to how intensely San looks at you. His eyes speak a thousand words, sing a million songs, and they’re all about getting a bite of the red on your cheeks and taste how it will melt into his tongue. There’s a droning buzz which thumps into your eardrums and it’s blood rushing to your head at the incalescence of your boyfriend, who doesn’t let a second pass where he’s not touching you, even when he’s pulling off your t-shirt from your body.

“Hmmm, maybe you’re just not able to listen correctly, my love,” San sneers, almost paradoxically sweet, and arousal boils in your guts, while your sweated body gets used to the new temperature, your boyfriend’s hands cupping your breasts once, just to have finally get a touch. “Because of the headache, right? Mmm, right,” he murmurs to himself, and San unravels the bandana on his thigh.

You look at how he straightens the fabric in front of you, and how his hands slowly approach your head. “Will you let me fix that, sunshine?”

“Wh.. What are you going to do, Sannie?”

“Show,” and San instantaneously corrects himself, after he lets the slightly warmed up fabric drape over your forehead, ”hmm, make you hear,” to then let it fall over your eyes, getting very close to your ear, so his warm lips line your earlobe, his raspy voice reverberating in your ear. “Make you hear yourself, Y/N.”

“Yeah..?”, you whisper, and look at San for a last time– his eyes sparkle in excitement that can’t be heard through the droopiness of his voice:

“Listen to how my love makes you feel, baby.”

Ayayay…

“How is this, Y/N?”

“Lemme see,” you joke and you blink a few times, after the bandana has been tightened behind your head. It is pitch-black dark in front of you. Quickly, you feel how you’re getting more aware of San’s breath coming through and leaving his mouth– you following his slow pace soon enough– and feel especially how his rough fingers are tucking in your hair so he gets to see all of how your face muscles pull together in pleasure, sending your cheeks and nose into a ticklish wave of sensation.

“It’s,” you say, but what was once a steady voice turns– after getting goosebumps all around after San courses down your neck to your sternum with the tips of his fingers– into a whimper: “A- amazing, Sannie.”

You hear San sigh, and you’re sure it’s a sigh of awe, him watching your hand search for his so you can hold it. He intertwines the fingers immediately, and when he’s at your shorts with his other hand, fingers delving to where your hip fits perfectly into his hold, San begins peppering kisses on your abdomen, you falling apart into a tense, sensitive mess at the cause of his touch.

“Can you feel how my fingers and lips feel against your skin?”

You weakly nod, his thumb chafing over your skin, as San gets his hand out and touches you everywhere.

“Words, sun. Your pretty voice, I need it to continue, alright?”

“Yes, Sann–”, you answer, but you shudder, when San lets his digits dangle over your breast, ghost-like little grazes spreading over your torso, shoulders tucking in by themselves, as you feel it run over your back like your wings are expanding, “nngh-nie…”

“So soft, aren’t you, sun? So soft for me,” your boyfriend murmurs against your fuzzy tummy, and hooks his fingers into your waistband. You were intending to hum a forlorn ‘mhm’ to answer him again, but it comes out whimpered, after San lets his thumb, which is still anchored to your hand, slither over your cunt, his thumb tickling over your now even more sensitive nub.

“Can you feel how warm you are?”, he whispers, becoming a bit greedier with the kisses he’s spreading down your pelvis-bone, accompanying how carefully he’s sliding your clothing off, your skin being more and more revealed to his eye, while you live with the uncertainty of darkness in front of yours. “How do I feel like, Sannie?”, you ask him, hearing your own voice ricochet in your throat, your ears have become more conscious of sound.

“You feel like,” he whispers, and then, when the shorts have reached your knees, and San breathes against where your cunt is soaked in your panties, he purrs, “you’re mine.”

His voice condenses warmly there, like a sweat, and you clench just by how raw your boyfriend speaks. The thought of him seeing your soaked cunt also just makes you run hot, and if it wasn’t for his elbow keeping you open, you would’ve closed down on him.

“Y- yeah?”, you shudder, as it seems that San is breathing in the lust-sodden heat from between your legs.

“Would you like to say it for me, sun? I would love to hear it…”

“I’m.. I’m y-yours, Sannie,” you choke out, and you are really not meaning to be as shaky as you are, but just when you thought you knew what you were about to get touched at your erogenous area, San has somehow managed to hover over your body and has bit into your lip, the darkness in front of you feeling even more blurry in front of your eyes due to the sudden gesture. “Hmmn–!”

San chuckles. “Aww, relax, sunshine. Trust me, Y/N, okay? I won’t hurt you, but if I do, just tell me. I’ll stop immediately,” he reassures the safety you find yourself in, despite not seeing anything in front of you. As you nod and let out a confident “Yes, Sannie,” with a deep breath in, San hums and pinches your nipples.

“Sannie!”, you whine out, and your voice cracks, when you feel his tongue circle your bud and his eyelashes flutter against your eye-collar, seemingly soothing the little surprise with his warm saliva. “Yes, sunny? Do you want me to stop?”, San asks, his cocky grin unmissable in his voice, his other thumb tickling your nipple.

“N- no, I-I mean–”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

His voice is slightly lispy from how your nipples are stuck between his lips, San softly sucking them in, pecking your flesh around with cottony kisses.

“Yes, good… v-very.”

“More?”

“Yes, yes, more.”

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” San laughs throatily, and then traces your silhouette, making you even woolier than before, a little squirm leaving your mouth, when his thumb meets your feverish crotch. “Your sounds,” San sighs, and presses his lips against your neck, his upper body slightly weighing into yours, as it seems that he’s holding himself up by grabbing into the backrest of the couch, “are my drug, baby.”

“Mmm-hm,” you answer, trying to keep your mind where his voice leads you, but you’re too busy feeling how San’s fingers sift slowly through your folds, softly, carefully, feeling every inch of slick squelch warmly around his digit. “Fuuuck,” San grunts into your ear, circling his fingertip around your clit, causing you to grab his wrist that has wandered to the top of your head. You have to gulp, and your boyfriend takes it as a sign to go a bit slower on you, but it doesn’t stop San whispering things to make you spiral into a hypnosis. “Fuck, sunshine, you’re so fucking sexy…”

A whimper leaves your opened mouth, as San chuckles in awe and coats his fingers with more of your arousal. “Is this what happens when you watch me play, sun? Getting all wet for Sun Set?”

It feels like your head is going to fall off your neck, when you softly nod up and down, San’s finger continuing to make you clench by stroking over your clit. “Th- this is what happens when,” you murmur, pushing down on his wrist as your lower abdomen continues to flutter and his lips nibble at your neck, his tongue working around a sensitive spot, “wh- when my boyfriend kisses me and then ignores me for an hour…”

“Aww, ignoring you?”, San whispers, easing his fingertip at your entrance, your hot hole immediately tightening around him, “I could never ignore you, my love…”

“Hngh, I don’t think so, Sannie… You were so concentrated on your drums…”

San whispers out, “I’m sorry”, as he curves his finger a little, caressing your inner skin fondly. You feel how thick his digit is and your glutes tense up. It doesn’t stop you from speaking your truths though.

“It’s okay, Sannie… It looked so… fucking… hot.”

“Really?” Your boyfriend gasps, always loving how you sneak in some brass into your words, and sucks lovesomely at your neck, his humming vibrating against your pulse, his finger pushing in through your arousal that gives him an easy entrance. “So say again, I made your head hurt because I’m so ‘fucking hot’, sunny?”

“Mhm,” you answer, and after San’s whole finger curls inside, you mewl out, “you’re the hottest man there is, Sannie– you’re– you’re so hot I don’t know what to do with myself. Only you can make me feel like this…”

“Fuuck…”

Your words seem to rile your boyfriend up very much, it is getting very difficult for San to not immediately run his fingers in and out, maintaining a slow pace that you feel expanding your tightness. “S- Sannie, you… you make me so crazy,” you whine out, his fingertip grazing over your sweet-spot, making you clench, “You make me feel so amazing, y- you are amazing, such a good musician and boyfriend, baby, you’re– nmmmh~!”

San couldn’t help himself and had to finally kiss you, his plump lips encasing your mouth, tongue running over yours the second he’s able to find contact. The warmth of his sweet saliva floods your mouth and you have to moan in some air.

“‘mmmsorry, sunny,” San mumbles, and you’re so sure that there’s a string of saliva connecting your lips, when he knocks his head back. “Couldn’t wait. Hehe.”

His lips peck yours, as he’s working his finger inside you, rotating it around your deepest spot. Sighs leave your mouth every chance you get, as you try to not be overflowed by the pleasure that’s stirring your guts and cutting off your breath.

“You feel so good,” you breathe out, “Can you feel it too, Sannie?”

“Hmm?” San is more than a bit out of breath now, warming up the fabric over your eyes with the loud exhaling through his nose.

“Can you feel how… Can you feel how much I love you?”, you ask, but before San can answer you, you grip into his wrist again, gathering your confidence through your pleasure, “How fucking aroused I am because of you?”

“God, Y/N, I can feel it,” San huffs, and then pants with his cock twitching at your unforeseen blunt courage, “You’re so wet for me… Only for me… Oh, sunshine, I love you so much.”

Though you can’t see how he’s biting his lip in excitement, San is moving his finger in and out of your hole while shuffling to your lower body, gripping your ankles with his free hand to gently place them over his shoulders.

“Sun, can I eat you out first?”, San asks, his voice running warmly over your abdomen, as he licks his fingers clean, “You can wait for me, can’t you, Y/N?”

“Wait for you–?”, you whirr, feeling exactly how thick and calloused San’s finger is inside you, lubed up by his spit, not being able to feel anything else, “Wait for wh- what?”

“Wait for me to fuck you, because right now, sunshine, I want to, god no, I need to eat you out, please, baby.”

Overwhelmed by his sudden lust-soaked rambling, you’re left with no other chance than to search for San’s neck, trail up his head and grab your boyfriend by his hair, let it tangle between your fingers, as San breathes against your dripping pussy. “Mnhh, do whatever you want tonight, Sannie. I want you to.”

“I want you, Y/N. ‘Want you so fucking much, sun… God, I don’t know how I waited, either.”

You chuckle and feel how the couch brushes against your back, leaving some phantom scratching there, after San pulls you closer by your hips, his forearms stationed around your pelvic bone.

“... So worth though, fuck.”

A sigh escapes your opened mouth, as San licks up your cunt one time, his hot tongue gliding up the wetness with ease. “Hngh,” you grunt, pulling San’s hair, and since your boyfriend hasn’t re-entered his finger, you clench around nothing, needing to be stuffed again, preferably by his cock.

“You taste so fucking good,” San grunts back, already sounding like he’s drunk and delirious, lapping over your clit with his tongue while panting like a dog, “so so fucking delicious, sunny.”

“S- Sannie, oh my god,” you react to how your boyfriend sprints over your sensitive nub, your heightened senses drowning you in your own slick, as you hear how San’s tongue creates squelching, wet sounds.

“Hmmm? Feels good, huh?”

“Sannie, s-so good, god– you’re so– fuck fuck fuck–”

“What am I?”, San asks tauntingly. It seems he’s found some fun in the manner you’re tripping over your own words at the cause of his tongue. You don’t need to see him to know he’s grinning, you can feel that he’s enjoying himself by how his chuckle heats up your cunt even more. “Tell me, sunny, what am I?”

“You’re so– good! Sannie! Fuck, Sannie, you’re gonna make me–”

“Make you cum? Already?”, San grins, his fingers working you a beat that could only be described as irregular, him pumping in and out and licking you up and down so fast, he leaves you no time to recover from the last thunderous pleasure. “God, I love you so much, ‘m gonna make you cum so fucking often, all the time,” San murmurs, letting his mind roam free, your arousal coating his lips and tongue, while you tug his hair to keep yourself from choking on your own breath, as it becomes more stagnated and needier, filling out your lungs with helpless pleas.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, oh my god,” you whimper, eyes rolling back that you are seeing bliss and bliss only.

“Gonna cum?”, San husks and thrums against your sweet spot until your thighs tense up, “are you cumming, sunny?”, his fingers continuing to ram into you, “cumming for me?”

“Yes, uh- oh my god, yes, yes, yes–”, it splurts out of you, “yes, yes, yes, YES!”

“Thaaaat’s it…”

You push your legs together, San’s head clutched between your thighs, as his tongue runs over your clit that little stars begin to form in front of your unseeing eyes, your first orgasm resonating through your body, his voice vibrating on your cunt.

“Good girl…”

“F- f- fuck,” you whimper, your stomach crunching together, and you feel San’s thumb caress your abdomen, as he places wet kisses all across your pussy.

“Sannie,” you breathe out, falling to the back in exhaustion, as your boyfriend pulls away and kisses all of your legs down to the calves, folding you together even more.

“Yes, sun?”, he asks, and massages your hips.

“I wanna see you, Sannie...”

“Oh yeah?”, San chuckles.

You nod and tug at the bandana around your eyes, but it’s too tight. “Please, Sannie, I wanna see you so bad… I wanna see my handsome boyfriend,” you murmur, your cunt still pulsating between your legs, barely recovered from your orgasm.

“Yeah?”, San hums and leans forward, his jeans pressed against your wetness, as he gets his hands behind your head and loosens up the knot. “Careful, sun,” he whispers, kissing your temple, as he slowly removes the fabric from your eyelids, the dimmed lights flickering into your vision.

“There you go,” San hums and slides the bandana away, letting it sit behind your head, as he looks down at you. Your eyes struggle to see immediately and you have to strain your eyebrows, but your boyfriend patiently just watches your pretty face get used to seeing again. “Are you okay?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer and blink with some force. San slithers his hand against your neck, his thumb sitting at your jaw, as your eyesight assuredly returns.

There he is, grinning, just like you expected him to, but what you didn’t expect is how absolutely messy you’ve made him. His red, fiery hair is disheveled, ruffled, sticking out to all kinds of directions, his lips are puffy and still wet from kissing you and eating you out, his thin breath leaving his mouth.

“Felt good, huh?”, San asks, rather rhetorically, as you subconsciously lean your face into his handhold, in awe of how handsome your boyfriend is and how lucky you are he’s yours, as his lips peck yours.

“Mhm,” you chuckle, a bit weakly, but with your hands skidding along his sweaty silhouette, it should become quite clear that you’re not finished. “I want more, Sannie, please.”

“Aww, can’t get enough of me?”, your boyfriend croons and lets another hand slide behind your waist to– “I’ll get you all you want, my love,” make you sit on his lap, or rather on his abs, after he tilts his body to the back with you in his arms and scuffs his baggy pants from his legs.

“Speaking of which, I thought we might wait until we’re home,” San admits and kicks his jeans away, “so I got no condoms on me, sunshine.”

“Mmm, Sannie, you know we’re okay,” you smile and kiss him. “Your bandmates don’t care about stuff like this…”

“Sorry for caring about you?”, San grins and pinches the tip of your nose. “So you’re fine with me just pulling out, yeah?”, he asks, as if you haven’t talked about this over and over again, but you keep on that smile and caress his cheek.

“Yes, Sannie. It’s all okay, and I want you so bad right now, please.”

“Alright,” San smirks and kisses you back, propping up his legs, so you slide onto his crotch.

“How do you want it?”, he asks, and you can feel how hard and throbbing hot he is in his boxer shorts, as you grind on his length. “I-I don’t know, Sannie, I want it all,” you laugh, airily, your slick adding to the wet patch that has been created by his pre-cum.

“You wanna watch me how I fuck into you?”, San prompts, and kisses your collarbones. “Uh-huh,” you sigh and throw your head to the back. “Please fuck me so you can see what a mess you make me, Sannie.”

San laughs. “I already saw that, sun,” he says, playfully teasing you, and gently grabs your legs, so he can lift you up and get his legs away from the couch and his feet on the floor.

You sit on the couch how a couch is supposed to be used, your back leaning into the cushion, San now standing in front of you, cups his own erection through his boxer shorts, grunting into his hand.

“This is your fault,” he says, snickering, pulling off his underwear, his cock bolting out, after it passes his waistband. “God, Y/N, how could I ever concentrate on my drums when I have my perfect girlfriend sitting in front of me, huh?”

You press your lips together, ignoring the fact that Sun Set can, in fact, concentrate on his drums, but San is merely explaining to you that with every song he plays passionately, uses his all of his body to accompany the music with energy, you, Y/N, live in his mind to excite him.

San gets your legs between his arms, anchoring your inner knees at his bicep, and your hand works automatically to grab his erection and pump it.

Realizing you haven’t given him an answer because you were just too amazed by his body, you inhale to speak, but San leans down and kisses you solicitously.

“Sunshine,” he breathes out, looking you deep in the eye, as his forehead is almost pressed against yours, “can you put it in by yourself?”

You lick your lips, the last kiss lingering ardently on the flesh and lead San’s cockhead to where your cunt is waiting, ready for his girth.

“Sunny,” San grunts, and as your hole stretches out with his pelvis driving inwards, he kisses you on your neckline repeatedly. “I love you so much, I love how you sound, feel and look like, how good you are to me,” he rambles, immediately sinking into a place of pleasure. “I love everything about you, Y/N.”

He may not be a singer, not even a background vocal, but off-stage, San always makes sure you know what a great girlfriend you are by moaning, whimpering and groaning it, sometimes just to himself– mindlessly thrusting into you, or directly into your ear, so his voice buzzes through your head.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” you whine, head falling to the back and bouncing against the backrest after his whole length is inside you, “So good, Sannie, please don’t stop.”

San confirms your comfort and hauls his hips backwards to snap inside again with a slight smack against your hamstrings. You both moan and once San has found a steady pace, the room fills with your voices and sounds of your skin meeting in a clap.

“Harder,” you grunt, and this is San’s command he will never not listen to, even when he’s still working his hips in and out of you, figuring out a way to comply immediately. He grins wide and goes through his hair, before he leans deeper into your body, taking a step closer as he does so– repeating your words by chuckling, “harder?”, folding your knees together and pushing them over to the side.

“Y- yes, please.”

“Harder,” San repeats again, and exhales the word out his mouth, his hand gripping into your hip. “As,” he grunts, thrusting into your cunt with all he’s got, “you,” again, while fixating you in place, “wish,” and again, “my love.”

You both inhale some air, but out of your mouth, it comes out a distorted moan, when San picks up in speed and rams himself into you with no mercy, barely any opportunities to secure yourself on the cushion beneath you. The couch begins to squeak with San’s rough movement, your body being rocked over, and your head becomes light, the expanding tickle in your abdomen binding itself together into a knot of pure pleasure that’s preparing to release.

Silence is sweet, but clamor can be so savory; the sounds of the springs under the cushions mix up with his stagnated gasping, and with San’s absolute undefeatable sense for rhythm makes it sound like he’s creating a drumbeat with his body, the couch bangs against the wall, increasingly sending your brain into overdrive. San’s cockhead hits the deepest spot in your cunt repeatedly, over and over again, pushing your buttons that makes you feel like your thoughts are leaving your head within your whiny moans.

“Oh, fuuu-uuuck,” you gutter, voicing out your pleasure through all of the rutting, your eyes disappearing behind your head, and San’s neck shimmers in sweat, his Adam’s apple glistening, as he unfalteringly shoves forward and outward, grunts and groans reverberating in his throat. His face is tightened together, mouth remaining open, as he watches you slowly lose it, the prettiest of sounds entering his ear which boost his stamina.

“Fuck, sun, I’m gonna cum, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he whimpers and rams himself through you, his hips working desperately for his release, ignoring how the couch is being unsettled and broken with each of his hard thrusts, and his hand is dug so deep in your hip, the skin has turned slightly red. “Are you cumming?”, he grunts, and despite how much your head is bobbing anyway, you nod and whine out, “yes, yes, yes, Sannie, I’m cumming–!”

Your eyelids feel heavy, and your body floats in orchestral pleasure as you cum on San’s relentless cock, gripping into the couch with your fingernails, as your back arches, cunt tightening around San.

“God, baby, I love you so much, I love you so so much, Y/N, my sunshine, my–”

San pistons his cock into your puffy pussy with an unmeasurable speed, the shrill squeaking of the springs overtoning his needy whines, the banging against the wall being resemblant of his rough body-movement, and droplets of sweat drop of your body, as your boyfriend pulls your over by your hip. His hot cum spurts out and lands on his own abs, as well on your stomach, and you heave in exhaustion, laughing weakly.

His hand pumps out the last drops of ejaculation out his cock, and even if his cock remains hard and twitching, San falls to the front and hugs your sweaty body, kissing your cheek and lip alternately.

“That was,” you chuckle, watching how San has to brush his drenched mane to the back, “amazing, Sannie.”

“Yeah?”, your boyfriend asks and strokes your shoulder. “You forgive me?”

“Hm?”

“For the headaches, sun. Do you feel better now?”

You snicker and share a short, but very gentle kiss with San. “I feel so good, Sannie, thank you.”

His dimples pop out and San fetches your clothes, whilst rubbing his head against yours, nuzzling his temple into your scalp. “I’m glad I could relieve you, sunshine.”

San turns his head around and searches for something to clean up the cum with, and all he finds is his bandana on the couch. “Hey, I’ll wash this, alright?”, he laughs, when you send him a judgmental look, and to calm you down he pecks your forehead.

“Help me get my clothes on, please,” you murmur, and as you feel your body going lax, San immediately grabs your underwear, shorts and his hoodie so you don’t feel cold again. “Mm, I should get you more of my stuff,” he smiles, after he’s put the oversized clothing on you, “you look so cute in my hoodie, sunny.”

“Really?”, you answer, voice guttural, feeling a bit sheepish under San’s affectionate gaze, you being the only one that’s clothed, while he remains pretty much naked, skin sweaty and steaming.

“Yes, love, but honestly, you always look amazing, Y/N...”

Your eyes were drooping down, but you couldn’t have missed how San’s voice was deeper and huskier than it should have been.

“Baby… Please… I’m exhausted…”

When you squint, San is licking and biting his lower lip and because he is so exposed, you can see how his cock is glistening again, while you can only leave out a sigh. Your boyfriend’s stamina and energy should be studied…

“Sorry, you’re just so hot,” San chuckles out and gets his boxer shorts on. “Body and mind do what they want sometimes.”

“... And you want me, I get it, okay… God, Sannie.”

“Yeah. I want you so much.”

You, sat on the couch, watch him again, Sun Set, how he’s scratching his neck, his impassioned pulse beating in his muscular chest, beating for your gaze, you, his girlfriend’s voice, your words, your entrancing existence, the melody that guides him through his life.

A playful chuckle whirs in the silent practice room, and your eyes meet his, as you look up to San.

“I guess we’ve got to take a shower at home.”

Give me a command, and I'll do what you ask 'Cause my favorite music's your "Uh, uh"

704 notes · View notes

sanlixzone · 2 years ago

Text

(9) to you, 2000 years from now.

hongjoong x fem!reader.

tags: angst, captain!hongjoong, royalty!reader, betrayals, misunderstandings, mentions of death, cruelty, fluff here n there, fantasy setting, strangers to lovers to enemies to..?

summary: after the death of your parents and near fall of your kingdom, you have no choice but to leave your first love in order to keep the kingdom in balance with you as the new ruler. years later, you see a familiar face - but instead of being in your arms, he's kneeling in front of the guillotine.

word count: 5.4k

networks: @cromernet

currently, nine out of ?

previous.

evening comes faster than you had expected. you had lost track of time during your impromptu café hopping session with wooyoung and san, trailing behind the two pirates as they tried every tester they could get their grubby hands on and convincing you to try them out as well. as unsettling as eridanus is, you couldn’t help but admit that their pastries are rather tasty.

maybe, you had pondered while trying another tester. i can ask for some to be sent to pyxis when i return.

‘when’ is quite a… hopeful choice of words, you realize after a minute.

it’s more of an ‘if’. if you ever return to your home kingdom, because a nagging piece of your consciousness is reasonable enough to put some sense into you that a certain cold hearted pirate captain might not be kind enough to let you live when you serve no use to him anymore. what exactly does he plan to do with you after the whole map reading ordeal is finished? you haven’t got the slightest clue.

the sound of crackling fire is the only thing that’s keeping you from being swallowed in complete silence. after keeping your promises to meet up during sunset, seonghwa had led you and the other two pirates towards the inn that hongjoong had rented for his crew to rest in. it’s a quaint, unassuming piece of stone architecture that stands a mere two-stories, located by the edge of eridanus’ city.

“head right in,” seonghwa had instructed once you arrived by the wooden door. “i’ll go find yunho and mingi.”

that exchange was approximately twenty minutes ago.

you can see hongjoong’s growing frustration quite clearly, the bright orange flame from the fireplace illuminating his features perfectly for you to see the way his jaw clenches and the deep frown he has on his lips.

“what’s taking them so damn long?” the captain groans, folding his arms over his chest as he leans backwards against the stone wall behind his seat. the dusty air is tense, and you can only fiddle with your fingers underneath the table in front of you while no one else dares to answer hongjoong’s exasperated question. you can feel san shift from one foot to another from his spot behind your seat, the young man opting to stand instead of sitting down like his bright red haired friend who seems a tad more relaxed compared to the others within the cramped common area of the inn.

there’s a sudden creak of an opening door, and everyone within the room turns their heads towards the source of the sound. you’re expecting to see the three men that you’ve been expecting to arrive almost half an hour ago, but instead, you’re met with the sight of a young woman.

the woman carries a tray with her, one that appears to have six pieces of porcelain cups neatly arranged atop. her gown seems simple and modest, colored in a dark brown that’s appealing to the eyes and contrasting with the clean, white apron that’s tied around her middle. you squint in an attempt to make out her features, but due to the poor lighting within the dark inn, you can’t see much of her face.

“good evening,” she greets, voice light and easy on the ears. “i see that the rest aren’t here yet.”

there’s a gentle chuckle coming from someone, and much, much to your surprise, you turn your head back forward just to be greeted with a smiling captain, dark eyes focused on the young woman who just came in.

“unfortunately.” hongjoong sighs. “but i can’t blame them entirely, it’s been a while since we’ve docked here.”

“they’ve gone sightseeing, i suppose?” the woman responds with a playful lift in her tone as she approches closer, and once she steps into the light from the flame in the fireplace, you can clearly see the way she returns hongjoong’s smile.

“they went to get drunk.” wooyoung claims from his spot.

“did they?” the woman tilts her head to raise an eyebrow at the red haired pirate. “hard to believe, since i would’ve expected you to follow them, wooyoungie.”

wooyoungie? you blink, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“i don’t drink on the job.” wooyoung huffs.

“lies,” you hear san butt in from behind you. “i have enough dirt on you to prove otherwise.”

“sannie, don’t be mean.” the woman scolds, her attention now on the pirate behind you.

a muscle twitches on your face. san is right behind you, and if she were to look at him, she would definitely notice you as well. however, that doesn’t seem to be the case, since she doesn’t spare you a single glance before deciding to place one of the cups from the tray that she’s been holding on top of hongjoong’s table.

“i made some tea for everyone.” she continues to smile at the captain, who returns it with one of his own a little too naturally for your liking. hongjoong mumbles a quick thanks before the woman turns to place another cup on wooyoung’s table, and then one more on your table.

“and this,” she says, eyeing the man behind you once again. “is for sannie.”

it takes all the strength you have not to grimace as she turns to walk away from your table, but before she does, you clear your throat.

“excuse me,” you speak. “i think you’re missing someone.”

the woman finally lets her gaze fall onto you, and the confused look on her face seems as if she’s questioning your entire presence within the inn.

“oh,” she blinks before gesturing towards hongjoong. “i’m sorry, but i only made tea for the gentleman over there and his friends.”

someone scoffs rather loudly, but you decide to ignore it. you’re not given the chance to respond to the woman by saying ‘hey, i came here on their damn ship, too.’ before hongjoong decides to butt in.

“she’s part of the crew,” the captain points out. “it would be appropriate for you to offer her some tea as well.”

there’s a beat of silence that follows hongjoong’s words, one that you can only describe as painfully awkward. the way that the woman’s sickening sweet smile fades away for the quickest moment doesn’t go unnoticed by your eyes, but before the others could catch on, she’s back to her cheery expression.

“i see,” she says as her hands place another cup on your table. “i apologize, i just didn’t expect for the pirate king to recruit a woman onto his ship.”

the woman doesn’t lift her fingers from the rim of the cup even after she places it down onto the wooden table. instead, she keeps her gaze on you for a moment, eyes scanning you from top to bottom. you return her stare, jaws clenched and teeth chewing on the innerside of your bottom lip.

“especially one that looks rather… unbefitting for life at sea.” she continues as she removes her hand from the cup.

“trust me,” you decide to play along, reaching over to grab the porcelain cup and pull it closer to you. “i didn’t have much say in it either. if you’d like any more details, feel free to ask wooyoungie over there.”

as you sip on your tea, the sound of wooyoung spluttering on his drink reaches your ears, and you can’t help the satisfied smile from growing on your lips as you watch the woman’s own smile falter.

nobody gets the chance to say anything afterwards when the front door of the inn is suddenly flung open, the wooden material slamming against the stone wall with enough force that could easily break the sctructure. the legs of someone’s chair screeches against the cold floor, and you don’t bother to turn around and figure out whose, because the sight before your eyes is one that’s hard to break away from.

“sorry for the delay,” seonghwa says from his spot by the doorway. “i had some… issues while looking for these two imbeciles.”

issues seems to be quite an understatement. what you and the others within the room are looking at is more of a whole mess - seonghwa and mingi currently have their arms wrapped around a seemingly unconscious yunho, his head hanging low as he’s dragged inside by the other two men. someone whizzes pass your table to reach the trio, and you watch as the woman fusses over yunho’s unresponsive state.

“is he hurt?” she questions, her tray of teacups placed somewhere else, giving her the chance to place her hands on yunho’s cheeks to lift his head up, allowing her and the rest of the people in the room to get a good look at his face thanks to the light from the fireplace.

“no,” mingi breathes out. “just drunk beyond saving.”

“called it.” wooyoung decides to comment from afar, earning himself a hard glare from seonghwa that immediately shuts the younger pirate up.

“what the hell happened?” hongjoong steps closer, no longer comfortably seated.

“yunho and i decided to go for a few drinks while waiting for sunset,” mingi explains as he follows the woman towards a vacant seat, carefully placing yunho down. “i didn’t think he’d go overboard and get himself this drunk.”

“bullshit.” hongjoong scowls. “what’s with the cuts on your faces, then?”

you feel your heart drop to your stomach the moment you heard hongjoong’s words, and only now do you notice the small slashes and grazes on all three of their skin. you’re unable to see very clearly due to the lighting and the fact that they’re seated quite far from your own spot, but you hope that it’s nothing too serious.

mingi doesn’t respond this time, opting to look somewhere else and keep his eyes low as if he’s avoiding his captain’s angry gaze. sensing the fact that he won’t answer him, hongjoong turns to look at seonghwa instead, trusting that his quartermaster would be sensible enough to offer him a more truthful story.

“... bar fight.” seonghwa responds in one breath. “i don’t know how it started, but i heard the commotion and went to check it out. lo and behold, i caught these two fighting for their damn lives against some thugs and one of them knocked yunho out. i came in and got them out before anything else could happen.”

the room turns quiet once again. the woman decides to exit the room in a hurry, mumbling about getting something to clean the wounds with. you’re expecting for hongjoong to get angry and lecture the trio for being reckless, spewing stuff about how they should know better and not cause any unnessecary trouble.

to your surprise, he doesn’t.

the woman comes back into the room several moments later, and she carries with her a basket that you can safely assume contains a bunch of supplies to clean the open wounds. she settles the basket on top of the table, and you can hear the glass bottles that most porbably contain alcohol clinking against each other.

as she places her hand under seonghwa’s chin to lift his face up and inspect his cuts better, her own face mere inches away from his, you suddenly can’t watch anymore.

the way you quickly look away doesn’t go unnoticed by a certain captain.

“yoona.” hongjoong calls out, and the woman turns to face him.

ah, you note. so that’s her name.

“would you be so kind as to escore the rest of the crew to their rooms? i need to talk with these three for a moment.” hongjoong flashes a quick smile, and yoona obeys diligently.

“of course.” she says, letting go of seonghwa’s face before gesturing for you, san, and wooyoung to follow her. you do exactly that, lifting yourself off from your seat and trailing behind the other two pirates as they follow yoona up the small wooden stairs that lead to the second floor.

yoona explains how three of the boys will share one room, and another three will share another one.

“as for you,” she refers to you without even turning to look you in the eyes. “i didn’t expect an extra guest, so you will have a seperate room for yourself.”

“brilliant.” you respond. yoona doesn’t say anything any further as she hands you the keys to your room, hastily making her way back down to the common area afterwards.

you feel yourself let go of a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding as soon as yoona is out of frame. the silver keys are cold to the touch, and you waste no more time before shoving them into the keyhole of your designated room, wanting nothing more than to rest.

just as you hear the click of the door unlocking, someone whistles behind you.

“looks like you’ve got some competition, your highness.” wooyoung’s voice reaches your ears. you’re glad that you have your back turned against him, because it gives you all the freedom to roll your eyes as hard as you can without his knowledge.

“bold of you to assume that i care.” you respond, offering no further words as you turn the doorknob before pushing the door open.

“really?” wooyoung steps closer, his shoes clicking against the wooden panel floors. “not even when she’s making googly eyes at the captain?”

your fingers tighten their grip around the doorknob as you suck in a deep breath, exhaling slowly afterwards in an attempt to calm yourself down. with a strained smile plastered on your lips, you turn around to face the red haired pirate.

“no. now go to your room, jung wooyoung.”

“wow, you sound like seonghwa now.” the cheeky grin on wooyoung’s face merely grows as he continues. “ah, i get it! you’re not jealous since you’ve got eyes on-”

“goodnight!”

wooyoung’s taunts are promptly cut off by the sound of your door slamming shut right in his face. you can hear his cackles from behind the wooden structure, followed by a bid goodnight with a teasing tilt in his voice. a small scoff falls from your lips as you step away from the door, approaching the single-size bed that’s positioned by the corner of the small room.

the sheets are neat and clean, colored with a dark green that matches the wooden frame. there’s a double-hung window right next to the bed, one that currently has the bottom sash opened and allowing cold evening air to enter the room. if there were any lit candles, they would’ve gone out with a single breeze - luckily, the room is illuminated with a warm, yellow tinted glow coming from an oil-lamp that sits neatly atop the nightstand located next to the bed.

it’s cozy, you think. it’s nothing grand, far from the luxurious comfort of the royal chamber you’ve had for your entire life - but you suppose anything is better than having to rest on a hammock tied between two pillars of a constantly moving vessel.

placing the keys on top of the nightstand, you take your time to look outside the window, even when there’s nothing to even look at. the streets are eerily empty, and a breath of night air whistles past your ears, making you shiver. without any more thought, you reach above your head to hold onto the sash of the window just to bring it back down, closing it properly for your own comfort.

your fingers find the wick adjuster of the oil-lamp, twisting it counterclockwise until the flame goes out entirely. the room dims after the flame’s glow is extinguished, leaving only the gentle beam of moonlight leaking from the glass window. with a soft sigh, you settle yourself down onto the mattress, lying down against the clean sheets and staring at the ceiling above.

with a silent wish to see your homeland once again, you close your eyes, falling into a comfortable sleep.

there’s an itch on your back.

it feels like you’re lying down on a rough surface, miniscule sprinkles of some kind of dirt prickling against your skin through the thin fabric of your outerwear. you feel yourself rumble out a lazy groan, wanting to roll over from your current position just to get away from whatever that you’re lying on – but you’re unable to do so.

your limbs feel heavy for a reason you can’t explain, particularly your legs. the ache in your thighs feels as if you’ve been travelling on foot for miles. the bottom of your feet are sore as well, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of the pain that’s spreading along your soles.

just as you’re about to gently pull yourself out of your lazy slumber, an abrupt sweep of cold water washes over your feet that reaches up just below your knees, and you’re startled wide awake from the sheer temperature that could rival any snowy land.

it hurts as soon as you open your eyes. there’s a bright shine coming from the sky, one that’s far too bright for you at the moment, prompting you to cover your eyes with your hand. blinking once, twice, and a few swivels of your head left and right to take in your surroundings, are all it takes for you to finally register your current situation.

the sea water rises up again, small foamy waves climbing the shore and reaching over to the spot of damp sand you’re currently sitting on. you pull your legs closer to yourself to avoid getting your feet soaked by the water again, and you eventually notice the way you’re barefoot. without any shoes on, the reddened blisters and cuts that decorate your feet are out in perfect display.

you frown. it explains the ache and soreness, but you’re clueless on how you got them. hell, you’re clueless on why you’re even on a beach.

weren’t you… somewhere else? you can’t bring yourself to remember anything, even when you know something isn’t right. you opt to shake your head, deeming your uneasiness as some kind of post nap confusion. so, to freshen up and hopefully get yourself on your bearings again, you decide to move closer towards the water with the intention to wash away the sleepiness.

another wave comes in, and you bend down to collect some water with cupped hands, but you’re stopped halfway through when you catch a glimpse of your reflection.

have you… always looked like this? why do you look so tired, and so different? there are wrinkles on your visage that you don’t remember having, and the dark discolorations under your eyes are somehow more prominent than ever before. it’s as if you’ve aged up for god knows how many years. you reach a hand up to gently place your fingers over the skin of your face, and you grimace at how dry it feels. must’ve been the heat from the sun, you ponder, taking your sweet time to stare at your own features before the water descends back.

you’re startled once again when someone places their hand over your shoulder from behind, and you’re met with an unfamiliar face as you turn around. a man stands tall behind you, dressed in simple clothing that consists of a white long-sleeved shirt and trousers that are neatly folded up to his knees. his hair seems to be just as nicely kept like the rest of his appearance, dark medium length locks neatly tied in a loose bun with a few stray strands framing his chiseled face.

you tilt your head for a moment. you’ve never seen this man before, and yet, you feel yourself break into a fond smile. his name, one that you’ve never heard of, manages to slip out of your mouth as easy as the sea breeze blows at the back of your head, making the tangled strands of your hair obscure your vision for a moment. there’s a chuckle that escapes from the man in front of you as he reaches over to tuck your hair behind your ears.

“look who’s finally awake,” the man smiles, crouching down to meet you at eye level. “are you well rested?”

“… yes.” you breathe out reluctantly. “but my feet are sore.”

“i would be surprised if they weren’t.” the man sighs before properly settling himself down to sit next to you. “we’ve been travelling on foot for days.”

you blink. there’s a question on the tip of your tongue, but it never comes out. you can’t tell whether it’s because you’re far too confused to even speak it out, or it’s because the unfamiliar looking man beside you suddenly… feels very familiar.

he looks unfamiliar, yes, but the aura that he’s giving and the way he makes your heart squeeze in a way that only one person has ever been able to do feels all too familiar to call this man a complete stranger. you feel comfortable with him sitting beside you like this, in the middle of an unknown beach and feeling the salty breeze gust against your face as you stare at his side profile. you mutter out his name again, the syllables rolling off your tongue as if you’ve said his name a thousands times before, and he turns to look at you, lips slightly curved up.

there it is. the shine in his eyes, twinkling like the stars that you’ve always admired ever since the creation of your whole existence – a shine that you thought you’d never witness ever again.

it’s him, you realize, your first and only true love. he looks different, as different as you look yourself, but it’s him. no one else in the entire world could ever reach and have the very stars in his eyes, nor could anyone make your heart tremble the way he does.

“what?” he asks after a moment, and you smile as you notice his cheeks reddening. “is there something on my face?”

“no,” you shake your head. “i just… missed you, i suppose.”

‘miss’ feels like a very light word to describe whatever you’re currently feeling, but it’s the only word you can think of as you try your best not to burst into tears. to sit like this in his presence, talking normally without any malice or ill-will in sight, to hear his laughter and to see his smile – it feels like a dream.

a beautiful dream, but at the same time, it feels cruel. a piece of yourself knows that this may be the only way you could ever be like this with him again. in a dream.

you catch onto the way his features soften up after your words, and you’re not quite fast enough to turn away in attempt to hide the fresh tears rolling down your cheeks. you feel his touch on your face soon enough, hands rough and callous, yet the way he holds you is so soft and loving, it only makes the tears fall faster and drop onto the awaiting sand.

“hey,” he whispers, quickly pulling you closer to wrap you in his embrace. “i’m here, i’m here.”

“please don’t go,” you grasp onto the fabric of his shirt as tightly as you can, as if you’re terrified that the heavens were to be cruel to you and snatch him away once more. “please, you can’t leave me, not again.”

all of the sudden, you feel like a young teenager again. to let go of yourself and be vulnerable in his arms while he holds you with as much care as he would hold a porcelain doll – it makes your heart ache.

“i won’t leave you,” he says, muttering into your hair as he hugs you just as tight as you’re holding onto him. “i will never leave you. i’ll find you in every lifetime, i promise.”

at his words, you feel yourself let out a small, humorless laugh. if he were to find you in every lifetime, you pray that none of them are similar to the one you’re experiencing now. you pray that you can be happy, genuinely happy, with him by your side and without any obstacles in your road to achieve the life you’ve always wanted with him.

“then i’ll be waiting for you,” you croak out, peeling yourself off of the man ever so slightly, just enough to tilt your head up and offer him a tearful smile. “i’ll always wait for you.”

the man returns your smile softly.

“you never change, starlight.” he whispers, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ears. “then please, wait for me now. i’m afraid i can’t stay any longer.”

just as your grip on his shirt tightens, the man cups your face gingerly.

“don’t worry,” he chuckles, as if sensing your anxiety over his previous words. “i’ll come visit another time, okay? trust me.”

you wish to object, to cling onto him as if your life depended on it, to try and convince him to stay with you until the end - but instead, you nod. it’s as if, deep down, you know this isn’t real, that it’s bound to end as soon as you open your eyes and face the reality that only has a cold stare and an even colder heart waiting for you.

you feel the man place his hand over your eyes, prompting you to close them.

“wake up.”

you wake up in cold sweat.

the room is still dark. you blink a few times, and there’s a wetness in your eyes that you don’t remember having when you fell asleep. with a quick touch using the tips of your fingers, you come to realize that you were shedding tears in your slumber.

you don’t remember why, though. did you have a bad dream?

whatever the reason is, you can’t seem to fall back to sleep because of it. you toss and turn, but your head decides to start pounding and your eyes refuse to obey your wishes of wanting to rest some more. you feel yourself getting increasingly agitated, the migraine merely growing and making it feel as if your head is about to split in half. soon enough, you ultimately decide to get up from the comfort of the mattress.

maybe a quick stroll could help, you wonder.

you reach for the keys by the nightstand, shoving them into one of the many pockets you have on the pants you’re wearing before making your way towards the door.

the hallway of the second floor is as dark and quiet as one would expect it to be during the dead of night, but even from your current spot at the end of the coridor, you can make out the silhouette of a person standing by the other end, right at the top of the stairs. the person has their back turned on you, head slightly tilted downwards as if they’re watching whatever that has their attention in the common area downstairs.

they seem to have felt your eyes on them, because they quickly swivel their head around to catch your gaze. there’s a faint, barely-there glow of light that you can safely assume is coming from the fireplace by the common area, and you feel a quick thump in your chest once the person’s features are illuminated for you to make out with a bit of effort and a squint of your eyes.

hongjoong raises a curious brow at your presence, opting to turn himself around properly to face you. he has his arms crossed over his chest, and even with the poor lighting, you’re able to notice the way that he has a few buttons undone. you try your best to keep your eyes from travelling downwards.

“can’t sleep?” hongjoong speaks after a minute, leaning against the railing of the staircase. you give him a weak nod before stepping away from the doorway, closing your door with a soft click. the captain seems slightly surprised by the way you’re willingly approaching him, the gentle thumps of your shoes on the wooden floor getting closer by the second. he notices that you’ve decided to shed yourself off of some layers of your attire, leaving you in a simple white shirt that’s a few sizes too loose and a pair of trousers.

hongjoong steps to the side a little, just to give you enough space to stand next to him and peer down the stairs. he catches a whiff of your scent, as sweet and enticing as he remembers.

you don’t pay mind to the way hongjoong starts to cough and clear his throat next to you. instead, your attention is entirely on the situation that’s playing in the common area. you’re given a clear view of yoona, still wearing the attire you saw her in earlier, sitting down opposite to yunho, who seems to be conscious now. your eyes travel down a little, and you can see the way yoona has her hands clasped around yunho’s, placing them on her lap as she fiddles with the pirate’s long fingers.

they’re chatting about something, judging by the way their lips are moving, but you can only make out hushed whispers.

“you’re spying on them?” you turn to hongjoong, who immediately frowns at your accusation.

“hell no,” he scowls. “i’d rather step in puke than watch those two lovebirds.”

“lovebirds?” you question in slight disbelief.

hongjoong seems to realize what he had just said, and he’s quick to backtrack.

“they’re childhood friends,” the captain explains. “yunho is a local.”

“ah,” you nod. “no wonder you all seem so close.”

your words were that of pure understanding, but for some reason, you can hear an entertained scoff coming from the pirate beside you.

“it’s an act,” he says. “for me, at least. she’s the innkeeper’s daughter so we have to be nice and shit for free stay.”

you nod once again, eyes unwavering from their gaze on the two subjects of your conversation with hongjoong. for some reason, your chest feels a little lighter after what hongjoong had just told you.

“so if you’re not spying on them,” you start, fighting back the smile from growing on your lips as hongjoong narrows his eyes at you. “then what are you doing?”

the captain takes a minute to respond, and you give him all the time he wants.

“.... making sure yunho is okay.” he speaks after a moment, the tone of his voice becoming quieter than before. “being here in eridanus is going to be challenging for him.”

“why?” you decide to query. “i thought this was his homeland.”

“this is where he was born and raised, yes,” hongjoong tenses. “but that doesn’t mean this is his home. not after what happened.”

another question threatens to slip from your mouth, but you stop yourself by pursing your lips. something tells you that it’s best to keep yourself from interrogating any further about this subject. hongjoong seems to appreciate your silence by the way you can feel him relax next to you, breathing out a sigh.

“why couldn’t you sleep?” you decide to change the subject. is that what it is? you feel as if you can’t stand to just sit in silence with him right next to you. you’re unsure if it’s the inability to tolerate the awkward silence or if it’s the fact you just wish to talk to him more. either way, hongjoong responds to you lightly, and you’re glad.

“had a weird dream,” he explains. “woke up with the worst headache ever.”

you feel your heart stop for a second. that sounds awfully familiar, you think, because that’s exactly why you couldn’t sleep either.

“... i see,” you mumble. “i had a weird dream too. woke up crying like a kid.”

your lower lip aches from the way you’re relentlessly chewing on it, and hongjoong’s silence is not helping.

maybe, just maybe, he woke up crying as well? just how you woke up with a headache like he did?

even if he did, would it mean anything significant? or would it be a simple coincidence?

“i see,” hongjoong replies after what felt like hours of painful silence and feeling your chest beat uncontrollably. “didn’t think spoiled royals like you had anything to cry about.”

ah, you think. so it’s nothing.

all of the sudden, it’s quiet again.

hongjoong decides that he’s had enough, and you don’t even bother to turn and look at him as he pushes himself off from the railing, walking away afterwards. every step that he takes feels like a stab to your chest.

once it fades away, you’re left alone once again.

liar, you bitterly curse within your head.

you said you wouldn’t leave me.

next.

taglist: @atinytinaa @crimson-mia @catwhisk @lelaleleb@realrya @layzfeelit @atinyreads @revehosh @fourthirtyone-am @jexizia @xxluckydreamsxx @sankatchu @mythicalamphitrite @isntw0nwoo @honeyhwaaa @hiccups-are-better

86 notes · View notes