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clefaiiiry · 3 months

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i love every part of you

hello yosante shippers i am but a mortal making a humble offering. mind the tags.

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-~*~-

Yone can’t sleep.

That in of itself is not abnormal, there was a reason Sett joked her blood was ninety percent caffeine at this point, but usually once she was actually in bed it wouldn’t take that long to drift off. Especially with K’Sante’s warm body against hers.

When she finally gets sick of staring at the red LED glare of the alarm clock, she carefully, very carefully, shuffles out from under the covers, and makes her way to the en suite without a sound.

The sudden light makes her flinch, taking a second to adjust. Her toes are cold against the tile as she splashes her face in the sink and sighs. Yone meets her own gaze in the mirror and is struck by how exhausted she looks. She almost looks sickly, eyes dark and skin pasty. Alune had done her makeup earlier and some stubborn mascara still clung to her lashes. Her hair is greasy, several days overdue for a wash, the dirt under her nails becoming rather dire. But there’s more to it than that.

She’s much too tall, her cheekbones are too angular, shoulders are too wide. She frankly looks ridiculous in these pyjamas. They’d been a gift from Ezreal shortly after making the announcement to her bandmates. Kayn said they made her look like a granny, but Ezreal had been so damn pleased with himself that she couldn’t possibly decline.

She wonders if her bandmates- friends had ever been just as awkward as she feels. She didn’t even know about Aphelios until she overheard Sett lecturing him for wearing his binder for too long. He seems so casual about the whole thing, something that feels so unnatural for her.

Yone turns the light off before she can stare at herself any longer.

Her side of the bed is cold when she returns, shuffling closer to press herself against K’Sante’s back. If it were anyone else she probably would have gotten away with it, but he’d had always been a light sleeper. He mumbles, tilting his head back.

“Yone?”

“Shush, go back to sleep,” she murmurs against him.

But her voice wavers, tensing as he rolls over to face her.

K’Sante’s arms curl around her, pulling her against his chest. “Are you alright?” he asks, still muddied and thick.

“I’m fine, sorry to wake you,” she says, managing to remain level till the very end this time. Even so, it isn’t enough to convince him, he knows her well enough by now.

“Talk to me?” A question, quiet and not even expecting an answer.

“It’s foolish, really.”

“Hey, it isn’t if it has you so worked up.”

Yone exhales deeply, and looks him in the eye. Even in the dark, she can see the way his brows furrow, the set of his jaw. There’s a tension in her chest, one that just keeps building even with his soft touches.

“I don’t know-” Her breath hitches. “-how you can stand the sight of me.”

For a brief moment, she swears she sees his heart shatter. K’Sante crushes her against him, pressing a kiss to her head. “Oh, no Yone.”

His voice is enough to utterly decimate her defences and wheezes out a sob, tears escaping despite her best efforts. She buries her face into his warm, firm chest, clinging to his back as though he might vanish. K’Sante strokes her hair, still presses kisses to her head.

“You’ve always been the most beautiful person I know,” he says, wholehearted and sweet.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she chuckles, but the sound is choked and awkward in her throat.

K’Sante’s laugh is certainly her favourite sound. “It’s done me well so far.”

The quiet between them is comfortable, only disturbed by the distant sound of Kayn and Ezreal squabbling in the living room. They’re muffled enough that she can’t quite hear whatever they’re arguing about, but it’s probably something stupid. Why on earth are they up at such an hour anyway? Yone supposes she shouldn’t judge.

She prods at K’Sante’s chest until he lets her pull away and sit up. Her face feels puffy, her eyes are sore. “I’m such a mess,” she says, raspy.

K’Sante smiles as he rocks up beside her. “Aren’t we all?”

That eases some of the tension from her shoulders and she flops into his side with a deep, low sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise.”

“You’re much too good to me.”

That gives him pause for a moment, but he swiftly recovers. “You deserve the world, and my only regret is I can’t give it to you.”

Yone stares at him, mouth slightly agape. She looks away. “You’ll make me cry again.”

“I mean it.”

K’Sante takes her hands in his. She’s not small by any means, something that nags at her heels everyday, but it’s a comfort to see the difference in size between them so blatantly on display. She meets his eyes again and sees they’re shining.

“You’re allowed to love every part of me, why can’t I love every part of you?”

Oh.

Yone surges forward and kisses him, melting into him with a weak, desperate sound. K’Sante meets her, tilting his head for a better angle, sighing against her lips. It’s a messy thing, but she treasures it all the same. He cups her jaw in both hands and kisses her, slow and deep. She’s held with nothing less than pure reverence, as though she were a holy relic. It makes her dizzy, drawing out an embarrassing little whine.

When they pull back, a string of spit lingers between their lips until she swipes it away.

“Can I touch you?” he asks, breathless.

She hesitates for a moment too long and he almost pulls away, but she takes his hand again. “Okay, but- can you leave the lights off, please?”

K’Sante’s eyes are so sincere, she feels her heart ready to burst. “Of course.”

He does go slow, much slower than he ever has. It reminds her of their first night together, like he was terrified she might break. He shifts, adjusting their position so she’s below him, pressing a knee between her legs. She shudders at the sensation, rolling her hips against him

One hand ghosts down her jaw, trailing her throat, even lower until it finds her pyjama shirt. He plays with the fabric for a brief respite until she closes her hand around his.

“You can take them off,” she says before he can ask. K’Sante obliges, pressing another kiss to her chin as he works. K’Sante only sleeps in his briefs so they’re easily dealt with, and tossed with her pyjamas into the corner to be recovered in the morning.

Yone can’t bring herself to look down at her flat chest, even when K’Sante eases his hands over her breasts with an appreciative hum. He ducks his head, peppering kisses along her collarbone, up the curve of her throat. She stifles a giggle as his beard tickles her sensitive skin and she feels him smile against her neck.

“You’re so amazing, you know that? You always work so hard, I don’t know how you do it.”

A flush spreads over her cheeks and down her chest, splotchy and uneven. He travels further south, fingertips skittering along her soft stomach. He takes her thighs and, gradually so she can pull away if she needs to, pulls them apart. He lets out a hiss as he stares down her.

“I don’t know which god I’ve impressed to share a bed with you.”

Yone tosses herself back on the bed, twisting her face to hide it in the pillow. “K’Sante-”

“I know, I’ll stop teasing,” he laughs.

He dips further still, disappearing between her legs. His fingers dance over her inner thighs, almost dainty as they go. She’s open like this, exposed for him to lick and kiss however he pleases until she turns to putty with his efforts. Despite herself, she looks down and sees the crafty little glint in his eyes.

“What are you-”

Yone’s words taper off into a high whine as K’Sante presses his tongue flat against her, dragging upward with pure intent and zero urgency. He stops just below her balls, presses a kiss to her taint, and then returns to her entrance. Each swipe is firm and deliberately slow. She’s soon panting, legs quaking as she can’t decide whether to spread them further or to wrap them around his head.

She jerks her hips up against his mouth, but K’Sante only chuckles, his warm breath making her shudder. He pushes Yone back down to the bed and earns a loud, pleading sound.

“K’Sante, you said you’d stop teasing,” she grits out.

K’Sante is a man with his self preservation instinct intact, so he correctly pulls away. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” he says as he leans over to retrieve a little bottle from the bedside drawer. Yone can’t help herself but to watch his cock as he moves, almost overcome with the very potent need to choke on it right that second. Almost; she’s still tired and really, really wants him inside her.

He squeezes out an excessive helping of lube into his hand and slicks up his fingers, methodical and meticulous, then he moves down once more.

Even now, with her husband carefully circling a finger at her rim, all she can think about how he’s used too much lube, it’ll make a mess of the sheets-

Yone closes her eyes as K’Sante slides one in. He stokes down her thigh with his free hand, waiting until she finally exhales before he eases the finger deeper.

“You’re so wet,” he says in awe, as if it isn’t his fault she’s so soaked.

It’s silly, but it helps in its own odd way.

The sound of his finger slipping in and out is so filthy it hauls a sound from the pit of her stomach, wet and so utterly needy. She clamps a hand over her mouth in shame.

“You always make such pretty noises,” K’Sante hums. Yone scowls.

“S-Shut up,” she grumbles, but it admittedly isn’t quite so threatening when he’d reduced her to such a state.

He shoots her a wink, lips moving up to press a kiss against her cock. It punches another filthy sound from her gut. As he pushes another finger in, he teases the underside, light and barely there but it’s still enough to make her squirm.

Yone arches against him, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. He says something, mumbled against her skin so she doesn’t quite catch the words. Before she can clarify, he pushes in a third and she is convinced she’s going to melt.

“K’Sante, put it in, now.”

His expression betrays his hesitation, but he withdraws his fingers regardless. Yone slumps back to catch her breath as he flicks open the bottle again, using even more than previous to prep if the sounds are anything to go by. She peers up at him through her lashes, lips hanging open as she watches the head of his perfect cock disappear under the foreskin with every firm stroke. K’Sante sighs, his resolve shaking and betraying just how desperate he was under his self control.

He pulls her up into his lap, cock snug against the curve of her ass, red hot and soaked. She sighs at the sensation, hooking her arms loosely around his shoulders and gazing at his handsome face in the dark.

“I love you,” she whispers, as though it was a secret from the universe itself.

K’Sante holds her face, stroking her cheekbone, wiping the tear track with nothing less than complete devotion. “I love you too.”

His gaze sweeps downward, leaning back to take her all in. It takes so much to follow his eyes, peeking down at her flat breasts and the cock that sits between their stomachs. She tries to cover herself but K’Sante catches her wrists. There’s no force behind it, she could easily push away.

“You’re beautiful,” he says.

And God, his eyes are so genuine, creased with warmth, Yone almost believes him. She pulls him closer, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. “K’Sante, please- I’m-”

“I know, I’ve got you. I’ll go slow, alright?”

Yone doesn’t trust her voice, so she only nods.

K’Sante lifts her, just far enough for the head of his cock to press against her entrance. The slick sound should be humiliating, but it only drives her further to the edge. Each inch is as agonisingly slow as the last and tempts her with the reckless desire to slam down in one go. His breaths are shaky and loud against her ear as he kisses her throat and murmurs encouragement.

“You’re so perfect.”

“K’Sante-”

She bites her lip as he finally bottoms out, panting against his shoulder. She’s drooling, she realises, regaining enough sense to wipe her face. K’Sante runs a warm hand down her back, slow and sturdy. The other stays at her hip, digging in hard enough to bruise. K’Sante probably isn’t conscious of how tight his grip is, but it grounds her, stops her slipping too far.

“I’m going to move, alright?” he murmurs, waiting for her nod before he gives a deliberate rock of his hips. Yone hums, holding him tighter. Satisfied, he repeats the action, slightly harder. They build up a steady rhythm, neither of them interested in rushing this little pocket of peace.

Yone buries herself further into his neck with every movement, taking one hand back to cover her face and muffle any whimpers that threaten to spill past her defences. K’Sante tilts his head far enough to plant a kiss to her cheek.

“Yone, plea-” He cuts himself off with a low groan as Yone rolls her hips back against him. K’Sante takes a breath, then tries again, “I want to hear you.”

“No,” Yone grunts, digging her nails into his back with the effort.

“You always sound so good, Yone,” he sighs against her skin, kissing his way down her collarbone.

The jerk of his hips is relentless and knocks the air from her, still she clutches her mouth, spit dripping between her fingers. She squeezes her eyes so tightly they start to hurt, gasping.

K’Sante sighs and stills, leaning back. Yone tries to follow, but he slips a hand under her chin. He guides her back, gazing into her eyes with that wonderful, handsome smile.

“You’re beautiful. Every part of you is,” he says, pressing their foreheads together, “and I’ll tell you as many times as I need to, until you believe me.”

Yone makes a choked, embarrassing noise. “K’Sante-”

He pulls out and she gives a mournful, desperate whine. K’Sante doesn’t leave her wanting for long, easing her back down to the damp sheets and sliding back in with one even thrust. He wastes no time returning to their previous rhythm, the slick slaps utterly vulgar and much too loud.

Yone is burning, resisting every impulse to hide her face in the pillow. She curls one arm over K’Sante’s shoulders, the other holding his face. She parts her red, bitten lips and tilts her head back. The first moan is too low, it breaks and tapers off in a sound that makes her cringe, but K’Sante picks up his pace.

“That’s it,” he groans, kissing her nose, “you’re doing so well.”

It calms her nerves, even if only a little. Yone gets louder, reaching between them to wrap her long fingers around herself. She moans again, a prettier sound than the first. K’Sante shudders and somehow gets even faster. He’s babbling now, like he often does when he gets this far-

“You’re so perfect, Yone. You feel so good. So-”

She opens her mouth, though she isn’t sure what she was going to say as her words dissolve into a high gasp. She tightens her grip on herself, jerking in fast, hard strokes. Yone throws her head back into a perfect arch, the sounds breaking from her unabashed and filthy. If she were more lucid, she’d worry about their bandmates hearing them but she’s well and truly past that point.

“K’Sante- Please,” she gasps, astonished that she had managed two entire coherent words. K’Sante nods rapidly, peppering kisses all over her face as he thrusts harder still-

She feels like she might break, but she still craves more-

Yone’s orgasm sneaks up on her, a flash of white so intense and hot that she screams, toes curling, scrambling against the covers for any form of purchase-

Eventually, it pitters out into a steady thrum as she rides it out, dimly aware of the wetness leaking out of her ass as K’Sante pulls out. He looks rather sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Hah, sorry. I should have pulled out.”

Yone hums and smiles, spreading her legs further. She’s totally going to have to wash these sheets tomorrow, but it’s worth it for the way K’Sante’s eyes darken.

“You’re going to kill me,” he says, gulping and closing his eyes in a feeble attempt to calm his breathing.

Yone giggles. “You’re adorable.”

“No, you,” he says, because he was a grown ass man and very mature.

She laughs, though the sound is somewhat rough after all that noise she’d been making earlier.

“Do you believe me now?” he asks, head tilted.

Yone shuffles against the damp sheets. “I might need some more convincing,” she says, peering up at him through her lashes.

K’Sante’s chest rumbles with a laugh. “Then I’m more than happy to oblige.”

He disappears briefly into the bathroom and returns with a warm cloth. He lifts one of her legs up over his shoulder for better access, or so he would say but Yone is pretty sure he just wanted an excuse to kiss her ankle. She sighs, watching him work as she hums the bridge they’d been working on earlier that day.

“You know,” he says, breaking the lull, “Ezreal always said you had milf energy even before you came out.”

Yone stares at him, thoroughly befuddled. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah! Guess he was onto something, huh?”

Yone wheezes, tipping her head back and giving a rather undignified snort. She laughs, breathless and unrestrained, chest heaving. When she looks back at him he’s gazing at her again, like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

And, Yone finds, it’s easy to believe him, even just for a moment.

#yosante #heartsteel #league of legends #k'sante lol #yone lol #k'sante x yone #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3

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