#I’ve also got two one shots in my mind | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nanivinsmoke · 24 days

Text

✩ Take Care .

✩ logan ‘wolverine’ howlett x mutant!femreader

hate is a strong word, but not stronger than the feelings you have for him.

✩ tags: sexual tension, enemies to lovers (?), mentions of blood, you and Logan both get hurt, passionate sex, creampies, logan has nightmares, rough sex, etc…

note: nightmare scene heavily inspired by the first x-men movie with rogue and logan. cr: plutism for divider <3!

“Did you hear? Ms. Y/N slapped Mr. Logan in front of her whole class!”

“I heard that he called her a bitch. I don’t know, that seems deserved.”

“Those two are definitely in love with each other. I don’t even have to use my powers to know.” Professor Xavier shook his head as he wheeled by a group of students, talking about his two hard headed staff members; who can’t seem to get along. At least that’s what they’ve been trying to claim.

Being a telepath has its perks, but it also has its disadvantages, and right now the professor wished he couldn’t read people’s minds. As he rolled into the science class, he wasn’t surprise3: to see the two of you there—keeping distance from one another.

“I’ve been hearing a lot about you two.” Charles announced, causing the two of you to look at each other, an eye roll from you while Logan groaned. Using his telepathy, the professor closed the classroom door; rolling closer to you both.

“Why are we here, Charles.” Logan spoke, getting ready to light his cigar—however you swiped it out of his mouth, using your powers. He shot you and look and the two of you began to bicker, but that immediately ended as the Professor got into your heads; silencing you both.

“Sorry professor..” You mumbled and the old man nodded his head.

“This is the third time the two of you had got into a fight, not counting the ones off school grounds. You two are teachers, adults better yet, and you two are setting a bad example for the kids.” Even though he didn’t look angry as he spoke, it was evident that the Professor was. It was hard for you both to look him in the eyes, he was disappointed with you two.

“If the two of you don’t clean up your acts and realize the truth behind your feelings for each other, then I’m going to put you both on leave; until I deem fit.” The Professor turned and wheeled himself out, not bothering to hear an explanation from either of you—since he made himself clear.

You turned to look at Logan, his hazel eyes on yours before he turned away—following after the professor’s steps, leaving you alone. You sighed and began to clean up your classroom, Xavier’s words replaying in your head; especially what he meant about your feelings. ‘Did you actually hate Logan?’

That question played in your mind for the next couple of weeks, wondering what were your true feelings for him. The two of you stayed out of each other’s way, taking the Professor’s words seriously; you two couldn’t afford to get into another fight.

The only time you two saw each other is during x-men meetings or as you passed each other in the hall way. It was for the best and everyone could see the change, especially Charles.

However, things took a turn during one night in the mansion…

It was real late in the night, almost everyone was asleep; except for you. You had just got out of the shower, a silver colored towel wrapped around your nude body—excess water dripping off of you as you rummaged through your closet for something to sleep in. Settling for an oversized t shirt, you slipped it over your head, tossing your towel on your vanity’s chair—before climbing into your bed, getting comfortable.

And as you reached over to turn off your lamp, your ears perked up to this low groaning, followed by some yelling. You rose an eyebrow and climbed out of bed, slipping on your slippers before coming out of your room, checking to see where that noise was coming from.

And as you followed the sounds, with it becoming louder as you approached, you found yourself outside of Logan’s room. With a soft knock, you entered and tip toed inside—the room covered in darkness, yet you could see the man writhing in his sleep. You frowned at the sight, it wasn’t uncommon for mutants to have nightmares about their pasts. However, seeing him like this hurt you and you walked over to the bed, lightly tapping him to wake him up from this terrible dream.

He continued to shake and mumble, his hands clenching the sheets below him and when you reached over once more—tapping him, he shot up from his bed; yelling—claws unsheathing and piercing your skin. You were stunned, mouth agape like you were going to scream, however nothing came out—you couldn’t.

And as Logan slowly came to, he had realized what he had done, his hazel eyes still wide like saucers—claws retracting back into his knuckles.

“Mr. Logan? Oh my—im going to get Ms. Grey!” A student who happened to hear everything, appeared in the room—shocked by the horrifying sight. You gasped and kept your eyes on Logan, before responding to the student, “No need, just go back to bed. I’m fine.”

Your healing factor had now kicked in and your wounds slowly started to close, the pain fading away as well. You turned your head and gave the student a smile, reassuring them once more. “I’m okay, really! You can go back to bed.” The kid looked over at you once more before nodding, retreating back to their room and leaving you two alone.

Turning back to Logan, his eyes had softened and he had grabbed your waist—staring at you.

“I’m sorry….I didn’t mean—“

“I know. You were just having a nightmare.” You cut him off and gave him a smile small before he pulled away, getting up from his bed and grabbing a t-shirt from his dresser—tossing it over to you. “Since i ruined yours…”

You smiled once more and turned in your heels, headed for the door before you felt his hand on your wrist, pulling you back.

“Stay with me….if that’s alright with you?” His voice was soft, just like his eyes. There was something about this that made your heart swell, so you nodded your head and dipped into his adjoining bathroom—changing out of your bloody t-shirt, into the clean one that he had given you—which smelled like him. Warm and musky, with hints of spice. It was comfortable.

Reappearing from the bathroom, you saw Logan lying on his bed, looking up at the ceiling until his eyes fell onto you. You gave him as soft smile, before climbing into bed with him, creating a distance between you two as you stayed on one side of the bed.

It was quiet as you laid there, trying your hardest to sleep, however it was just too cold. You shivered and tucked yourself further under the blanket, yet it still wasn’t enough. You looked over at Logan, his hazel eyes closed, and scooted over towards him—his body heat radiating off of him and warming you up. He felt you next to him and he didn’t protest or push you off—instead he pulled you closer and wrapped his arm around you, relaxing into his spot.

And after a few minutes, you could hear him snoring, sound asleep once again. You sighed and closed your eyes, drifting off to sleep in the comfort of his arms.

From that day on, everything changed for you.

You had found yourself in his room almost every night, sleeping in the bed with him, arms around each other; having the best sleep of your lives. He didn’t mind it either. You would find him awake every time, almost like he was waiting to fall asleep with you.

And in the afternoon, during your breaks, he would treat you to lunch. Sometimes you guys would eat at the academy, other times he would take you for a ride into the city, buying you something to eat out there.

Almost like your perception of each had changed and you weren’t going to question it. You liked it and deep down you knew he did too. But, there was something about this that had your heart thumping and skipping a beat. Is this what the Professor meant? Was the truth behind the hatred really something else?

Those questions scrambled in your mind and as you entered Logan’s bedroom, your heart caught in your throat. The sight that was plagued upon you was shocking, Logan and another woman in his bed—kissing each other. “Oh.” You let out, startling the two.

The woman parted from him and excused herself out of his room, brushing past you as you stood near his doorway. You kept your eyes on him, a million emotions running through your body as his demeanor changed, standing up and coming close to you.

“Look, I don’t need a fucking babysitter and im damn sure not your boyfriend. You’re fucking suffocating me!” His words were harsh and eat one felt like a personal slap to the face. You could feel your eyes watering and you bit the inside of your cheek to stop your tears from falling. After all the things the two of you said to one another, this was one of the worst.

“You’re a dick. Go to fucking hell!” You stormed out of his room, tears falling down your face—head tense from thoughts of him; and you soon realized what Charles meant. Without using your powers to connect with the Professor, you knew he was listening to your thoughts anyway—shaking his head as he listened to your heartbroken mind. He was disappointed, especially in Logan.

Days turned into nights and nights turned into days as time went on, the two of you never interacting with each other. You passed by each other like two stranger’s on the street and evens thought the two of you worked together—that didn’t mean you needed to interact with one another.

You did your best to avoid him, during team missions you made sure to be paired with someone else and if you were paired with him; you would handle the mission practically on your own. When it was real late at night and you went into the mansion’s kitchen for a snack, and saw him there, you would quickly grab whatever you were looking for and headed to your room—never acknowledging him.

You even went as far as getting a set of ear plugs so you wouldn’t hear him at night. You were done with him. You focused on yourself, your teaching and trainings—riding him of your mind.

As you sat in your class after the last one, grading papers, Charles entered, catching your attention. You smiled at him, but from the look on his face you knew something was wrong. Using your telepathy powers, you listened to his thoughts, your facial expression changing by the second.

You shook your head and stacked your papers together, “He can go to hell and back, Professor. I don’t wanna hear about him.” The older man wheeled closer to you, and placed his soft hand onto yours, a half smile on his face.

“I’ve read his mind, he thinks about you a lot. He’s been miserable with out you, ever since that night.”

“Yeah? Well that his problem, im not the one pushing people away. Im not the one who’s scared of letting people in! Im not the one who’s not scared to admit how they feel!” You yelled, heart thumping out of your chest; overwhelmed with emotions.

“And how do you feel?” Charles inquired and your eyes widened, but before you were able to respond a cloud of blue smoke appeared in the room; allowing Kurt to pass through—a frantic look on his face.

“Professor! Come quick, Logan’s been hurt! He isn’t regenerating and he’s not waking up!” The sound of his voice along with the news, made your heart drop to your stomach. You quickly grabbed onto Xavier’s chair and teleported with both him and Kurt, appearing in the academy’s infirmary. Your eyes widened once you laid sight on him, his half naked body hooked up to wires and machinery, while Jean and Hank worked on him—trying to find anything to get the male up.

Your eyes were filled with tears as you ran over to the table, looking at every wound he had, heart breaking by the second. You cupped his face and sobbed, at that very moment you weren’t afraid to admit how you felt. You were in love with him. Deeply in love with, Logan.

“Fix him! Please!” You begged Jean and Hank, watching them trying to repair his body; but the wounds were deep and without his regenerative factor—nothing would heal.

“We’re trying, but he doesn’t seem to be there either. Like his mind isn’t conscious—I can’t connect with him telepathically,” Jean spoke, patching his bloody body with gauze, hoping to soak up everything.

By now, tears poured out of your eyes as you looked at his lifeless body, “How did this happen?” You asked, eyes never leaving Logan’s body.

“He was on a mission. His car flipped multiple times—totaling everything, injuring him gravely.” Charles explain and you blinked out tears, cupping his face, before you turned back over to the Professor. “Have you tried to tap into his mind?”

“I have, but it’s like he’s not letting me in…I think you should give it a go.” Charles suggested and you took a look at Logan, leaning down to kiss his temple—taking in his musky scent before placing your hand onto his forehead and closing your eyes.

‘Let me in Logan’ You whispered, before you heard his voice in your mind.

‘Princess, is that you?’ His deep voice asked, the nickname making you melt, before you continued.

‘It’s me. I need you to wake up for me okay?’

‘I fucked up, Y/N. I hurt you….fuck im such a dick’ The hurt in his voice made your heart pang, while more tears left your closed eyes:

‘I know baby, but you have to wake up for me. Okay?’ You didn’t hear a reply back, however you were quickly shot out of mind, hearing him groan out in pain as he finally returned back to his body. His wounds started to close up, stopping his crimson red blood from pouring out. Logan’s hazel eyes connected with yours and he started to pull out the wires in his body.

“Wait Logan! You shouldn’t—“ Hank was cut off when he seen the wolf like male reach over and pull you into a kiss—a deep and passionate one.

“I think we should give these two some privacy.” Charles suggested, with everyone agreeing and following him out of the infirmary. The two of you stayed just like that, kissing each other, lips melting onto one another’s—making your heart swell. And as he pulled away from your addictive, plump lips, a spit trail followed; which you happily slurped up.

Logan pulled you close, ignoring the soreness in his body, arms wrapping around your waist—while his head lied on your shoulder, “I fucked up, I ended up hurting you twice…all because I couldn’t say I Love You.”

You were quick to pull back from him, scanning his face for any misconceptions, however his face remained the same; and you kissed him once more—hand reaching up to tug on his hair, eliciting a growl from him. His huge hand traveled from your hips to your ass, giving the fat a nice squeeze through your skirt, making you whine.

“Could smell you the moment I kissed you. I should’ve known how needy you’d be~” You whimpered as his hand trailed under your skirt, ghosting your soaked panties—eyeing you like you were his prey. “Please…Logan~”

“Please what, princess?” He began to rub you through your panties, your slick seeping through and onto his digits. You moaned softly, looking at him with low lidded eyes, “Please, fuck me.” A smirk etched on his face, pulling you into a kiss before he pulled your panties to the side and started to toy on your clit.

His fingers worked numbers on your swollen bud, pinching it and rubbing it in circular motions, making you whine in the sloppy kiss he was giving you. He pulled away from your lips, thick fingers now inside of your aching hole—pumping in and out of it; stretching your walls.

You were in pure bliss, you had yearned for this for some time and now you were getting your wish fulfilled. “Don’t tease me, Lo’~”

“Gotta prep you. Need you to take all of me, princess.” He pulled his fingers from your pussy, a whimper escaping, before he tore your button’s off your top and pulled your skirt off—eyes glued to your navy blue matching set; his favorite color.

You watched him, hunger in your eyes while he undid your bra; your plump breasts falling—nipples standing at attention just for him. The more you watched him take his time with your body, undressing you, the more needy and impatient you became; causing you to take matters in your own hands.

Using your powers, you pushed his back onto the infirmary’s bed, catching him by surprise; eyes locked on your body as you climbed onto of him; hovering right over his crotch. You moved the white blanket, mouth watering at the sight of his heavy cock—cunt becoming more slick with arousal when you grabbed it at the base and eased it into your entrance.

He was just as big as he looked, fatter too, as he stretched your pussy to fit around him—clinging to him like a glove. “Fuck, would’ve been an idiot to give this up,” Logan cursed, big hands clinging to your hips—pushing you all the way down on his length; filling you to the brim. You didn’t bother to try and get used to his size, instead you began to grind and bounce on his dick—tension building in your core; a whine slipping from your lips.

“Slow down, princess. Don’t want you hurting yourself.” You shook your head and continued your movements, tip rubbing against your sensitive spot.

“Need to cum on your cock right now.~” your lewd words, along with the squelching from your cunt, had Logan bucking his hips up to match your movements—allowing a louder, sexier moan to escape from your mouth. “Right there, bub. Sit there and take it.” He pushed your back down, closing the gap between you two and proceeded to drill your pussy.

You were a moaning mess, face on his hairy chest, drool spilling out the sides of your mouth and the coolness form his dog tags stabilizing your body temperature—while he proceeded to make it rise with each stroke.

You were taking it like a good girl, the bubble im your stomach at its peak, seconds away from bursting—you craved the pending orgasm. “G’na cum! Please please please—I love you!” Lips crashing onto one another, his cock twitching; craving a release as well.

“Cum for me….” His tone had came off like a beg and you couldn’t hold it anymore, your walls clung onto him—spasming like crazy, creaming all over his fat dick. Logan watched as you came undone, the pretty mewls and moans were a perfect melody to his ears, perfect enough to help him cum—buckets—into your womb.

He let out grunts, thick ropes of cum pouring inside of you—filling you up while you rode out your high. Your legs shook while he continued to thrust underneath you, bottoming out into your cunt.

And just like earlier, as Charles sat outside the infirmary’s doors, he shook his head—wondering why out of all the mutant powers in the world, he was stuck with telepathy. He unfortunately heard everything, including the two of you going for round two.

However, he was happy the two of you finally got together—his two favorite mutants.

#wolverine x mutant reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #xmen wolverine #logan howlett x you #logan howlett xmen #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #Logan howlett x mutant reader #wolverine x female reader #xmen logan #xmen

537 notes · View notes

casualhedonists · 10 months

Text

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter two)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

chapter: 2/?

MASTERLIST

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, oral sex, thigh riding, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

a/n: first off, THANK YOU for the love on chapter 1. wasn’t sure how I’d fare since I’ve done a lot of writing in my life but little to no smut. with that said! longer chapter incoming. also I just know he’d give insane head okay i just do,the guy looks like he fucks and he definitely does

You weren't sure exactly how you slipped away from Snow’s room that night, but you could somewhat piece it together in flashes. First a head rush, then the fire in the pit of your stomach practically having gasoline thrown on it.

You remembered a quiet gasp escaping your lips, then panic, a flash of white, and suddenly you were stumbling away, head spinning as you tried to catch your breath, pacing unevenly down the hallway, any chance of a stealthy escape long thrown out the window.

Back in your room, once the door was bolted and your back was against it, making sure nobody could get in if they tried, you had your first shot at clear-headedness since you’d heard heels scuffing the hardwood.

You’d soaked your panties through and were dripping down your thighs, but you’d be damned if you could get into the headspace to take care of it. Panic flooded your veins, ice-hot as you tried to catch your breath. you slid down the door and sat there, legs numb against the cold wooden planks.

Who was she? A million questions filled your head all at once. Was she from the Capitol? Could she be one of Snow’s friends, one of your friends? The thought made you sick. What if you’d dined with her before? Talked to her? How long had this been happening? Who knew about it? Were you being played?

Had he seen you watching him?

Unable to help yourself, your one-track mind took you back to the way he’d groaned your name, though you were half sure that had been a fever dream of some kind. Still, you kept replaying it. Over and over, like a broken record.

It didn’t make any sense, you were so fucking confused. All this time you’d been hoping he would make a move, you’d practically begged him to. Why hadn’t he? When you were clearly on his mind, and yet he made you believe he didn’t think of you that way at all. Was he just respecting your agreement?

You fiddled with the lace on the hem of your slip as you mulled it over. You stayed sat like this for almost an hour, trying unsuccessfully to wrap your head around it. When you ended up right back where you started, and you were sure enough time had passed that if someone was coming to get you, they would’ve already, you finally stood up. Your caution led you to drag a chair from across the room, propping it up by the door to jam the handle. That left you with the sliver of peace of mind you required to shower off this cold sweat you’d formed.

The next morning, you dreaded breakfast. But you knew you had to face him, as well as the fact that this could very well be your last meal. You should at least try to eat well.

You made your way downstairs, a few minutes later than usual, enough for Coriolanus to already be sipping coffee, a few pages through his newspaper. You’d not got fully dressed yet, not wanting the contrast to be too obvious, but you’d wrapped a silk dressing gown around you so you were a little more covered up. You knew one thing for certain, you wouldn’t be trying any more of your tricks until you knew just what you were dealing with.

He didn’t look over at you, which you took as a good sign. The urge to hide from him, from what you’d seen and what you now knew, overwhelmed you. You didn’t say a word, and picked silently at your breakfast, but despite your best efforts, not managing to keep more than a few bites down.

“You’re quiet today.” He muttered, and you started.

“Um.”

He lowered his paper.

“Something wrong?”

How about everything?

“Oh, no, I’m okay. Just uh…” you glanced up at him, and met his sharp gaze. Fuck. You’d hoped you’d go unnoticed. You felt like a deer in headlights, like he could read your mind.

“Well?” He prompted, gaze unwavering. You blinked.

“Headache.” You managed to breathe, faking a small, pitiful smile.

He brought his paper back up in front of him, crisply turning the page. You both thanked the new barrier between you for cutting off his stare, and resented it as you looked at the tiny printed words you couldn’t make out from where you were sitting.

“I’ll have Lucille bring you up something.”

“Thank you.” you said quickly, almost too quickly, and you feared he might lower his paper again to watch you as you stumbled over another excuse. But you fell lucky this time.

The week seemed to pass in a blur, Monday’s gala being one of the only times you really left your room when Snow was around, other than meal times, which you spent in a similar state as that first breakfast. You cursed yourself for throwing out your longer dresses, and settled for the least suggestive of them, the white one you’d been thinking of pitching to Snow as a backup plan in your panicked state outside his bedroom. That all felt worlds away now. What you’d seen had shifted the tides, marking a solid, definitive line in your head between the before and after.

The gala went as well as it could given the circumstances. You danced, Snow was charming to you in front of the guests, but held your gaze no longer than usual. It was simultaneously terrifying and thrilling to feel his hands on your waist, knowing what you knew. It felt like you’d been tapped with a cattle prod and had to hide it every time his hand brushed yours on top of the dinner table, as unsuspecting guests smiled at you, the happy couple.

If only they knew that in the same breath, you were scanning the crowd, wondering who the blonde could’ve been, how close she was to Snow, if at all, and hating the way every touch he placed on your hands and waist served as a reminder that he’d been touching her instead of you.

Your stupid brain had formed a highlight reel of what you’d witnessed behind Snow’s door, and it tortured you with every passing moment. To know he was thinking of you. To think that maybe, he wanted you there instead. It put a strange sense of possessive pride into you, that weaved between your jealousy. Because yes, you’d seen another girl on her knees with her mouth around him, but you hadn’t heard any name other than your own while it happened.

You carried this strange hope, dwindling to start off, and then building each day that you were left un-hanged and very much alive, slowly chipping away at your fear of the worst. And yet, you knew the game, unbeknownst to Snow, had been fundamentally changed. You’d stopped your antics altogether, now barely meeting his eye as you passed each other in the hallway, covering up more at breakfast, and only talking just enough to avoid another interrogation. Avoiding touch, and conversation, and all-around keeping yourself away from him.

You were quieter still at night in your room. After a few days, you’d finally felt safe enough to move the chair away and sleep with the door locked as you normally would. But while your games had stopped, your want for him had only been amplified. Fuelled by jealousy and frustration, you had to bite down on your hand so that not even the slightest noise made its way out as you pictured him, not as you used to in your fantasies, but as you’d seen him that night, undone with your name on his lips. It was much easier, in your head, to picture yourself as the one on your knees. Any other fantasy just failed to make the cut now you’d seen the real thing.

Thursday rolled around and you’d made a new habit of pacing the downstairs library when Coriolanus was out of the house. That way, if he got home and stepped inside, you could pretend to be lost in a book. But the hours seemed to stretch out and you became bored, and with no Snow in sight, you decided to head down to the servants’ quarters.

This wasn’t a common occurrence, but it wasn’t unheard of. You were known for your gentleness among the house staff, less harsh than Snow, but firm nonetheless. It had led you to a respectful friendliness with the maids and servants, and once every so often you’d check in on them.

Today’s objectives, however, were purely self-motivated. You found Lucille, who dressed you, at the kitchen table, chopping vegetables.

She stood upon seeing you, and curtseyed (Snow was rather old fashioned that way). You nodded, then took a seat at the foot of the table.

“Do you need any help with that?” You glanced at the cutting board.

Lucille’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Ma’am.”

You laughed. Lucille chopped and diced, and you asked questions. At first, they were after her family, her brother was sick and despite your offers, she wouldn’t accept help. So instead you listened, and slowly but surely, your questions got a little more directed toward the object of your interest.

You were good at playing the long game, so you started by asking about the company he kept. What she thought of them, with the promise that it would stay between the two of you, cross your heart.

She wouldn’t say much but she knew a little more than you; Snow kept very similar company as you did, and rarely went out for social visits. Any trips were strictly work-related, and when you eased into the topic of his past, Lucille mentioned, in very polite terms, that he had left a small trail of women heartbroken after a short period of time. That not all of them had been pleasant, and that she was pleased you seemed to have a positive effect on him.

She knew about your arrangement, practically the whole staff did, but they were kept on a very tight leash and were thoroughly reminded to not say a word acknowledging it, not even to you. It was with a knowing glance that Lucille told you she was happy you’d stayed around.

You smiled. Knowing that was likely all you were going to get for now, you let her be. By then, it was late enough to have gone dark, and you headed up to bed.

You awoke to creaking outside your door, and the shadow of footsteps from underneath it. You’d been tossing and turning for the last - you checked your watch - two hours. Excellent. You rolled onto your back wondering who it was, and then you heard it again. At first you wondered if it was just a sleep-deprived hallucination, or a sense of deja-vu, but then you focused, and there it was. The sound of heels. Again.

You sat up in bed, pushing your hair out of your face. You were enraged the first time, but if this was becoming a Thursday night tradition, it would be a serious problem. You were tired, you reasoned, you could just try to go back to sleep. Ignore it. Not let him have this power over you, a power that he didn’t even know he had. All the more reason to ignore it, and make it tomorrow’s problem.

But you just couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie, no matter how hard you tried. Your mother used to say it was a problem, always sticking your nose in places it didn’t belong. But it had got you this far, hadn't it?

You knew you were going to follow her to Snow’s room again, it was just a matter of time. You had to at least pretend you had an ounce of self-control, whereas really your head was thrumming and you knew it would take getting hit by a high-speed train to send you back to sleep now.

So you held off. Five minutes passed. Then ten. You had to know, at least, what they were doing. Maybe you could get a look at her face, see who it was, and answer some of the questions you had.

So you went. With a purpose this time, knowing full well what and who you’d end up seeing, trying to take steady breaths and focus on your plan. Check who it was, then leave.

You’d never been that great at execution. Call it hedonism, call it a morbid fascination, or living vicariously, but when you walked up to the door - which was ajar again, strangely even more than last time, by at least an inch or two - you looked inside, and your feet planted. The last shred of your self-control allowed you to take in the room first, the desk and chair that was right within your sight, and as you tucked yourself into the room, half hidden behind the door, you finally looked back at the bed where you’d seen Snow with his blonde girl last time.

Neither of them were sitting now.

Thirty seconds ago, you would’ve believed the hottest thing you’d ever seen was what played out in this room last week. But that was before you saw Snow turned away from you, still fully dressed with his sleeves rolled up, stomach on the bed and face between the blonde’s thighs, eating her out like he was on death row and she was his last meal.

You’d gotten head before. You knew it felt good, but the boys you’d slept with before your arrangement with Snow were selfish and inattentive. They would try, but they were far more interested in getting their dicks wet than showing you a good time. But Snow - you’d never seen anything like it. You didn’t know it could feel that good, or at least, not as good as the blonde girl - who you noted in the back of your mind, wasn’t anyone you recognised - was making it look. Her hips were bucking so hard he was having to pin her down with both hands around her waist.

She was just moving so much, wriggling and crying out and gasping and - you didn’t think you’d ever truly known jealousy until that moment. You couldn’t look away, knees weak and hands shaking, letting yourself get sucked into this headspace again, losing all trace of rationality. You’d think she was playing it up for him, but you knew what that sounded like. You’d faked enough orgasms to know if she was, but this? This was real. As she got close, grinding into him, writhing, running a shaky hand through his hair then getting louder, you managed to snap out of your trance.

In a flash, you ran back down the hallway.

If you thought you were avoiding Snow before, this week was about to give you a run for your money. You took breakfast in your room, and kept only to the parts of the house you knew he never entered. You only touched yourself in the shower, silent cries washed away by the water and steam, paranoia backing you into a corner.

You feigned illness the one time Snow sent a maid to inquire after you. Nothing too major, but enough to put him off. When he left the house, you snuck into the library to smuggle books back to your room, a pile forming as you tried ceaselessly to distract yourself.

You wrote home, you studied art and history. You attempted a few terrible sketches. You tore apart your room, then put it back together.

Before you knew it, Thursday rolled around again. On longer days like this, when Snow had been away working for hours at a time, you’d doubled down on your efforts to get information, and after chipping away for just long enough, you finally managed to squeeze some tidbits out of Lucille. Namely that there was a certain gentleman’s club in the city that he used to frequent before his election as President. Snow’s old driver might know its name, she said.

“But that was long before he met you, ma’am, rest assured.” She added hurriedly.

“Of course. Thank you, Lucille. I think I’ve kept you for long enough. Goodnight.”

Snow had been gone for the whole day, and you weren’t sure if he’d come home yet, so as you headed up to your room, you quietly wandered a little further down the hallway, to check if there was any light beneath his door. There wasn’t. Good. You were glad he wouldn’t be continuing this routine of his. Maybe this Thursday night, you could sleep peacefully.

With a sigh, and mulling over what you’d learned today, you returned to your room, poured a drink, then collapsed into bed.

This night was as sleepless as the rest, and you’d been drifting - not uncomfortably - in and out. A storm was brewing outside, and the sounds of howling wind began to keep you alert. You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling, then glanced towards your door. Snow must’ve come home at some point, and very late at that, because dim lights had been turned on in the hallway. Paranoia crept into your mind, slowly poisoning your thoughts and turning you inside out.

It didn’t take long before the feeling pushed you to roll out of bed, slide on a dressing gown, and crack open your door. This time, you couldn’t hear footsteps, or anything that might arise suspicion. You closed the door again. Waited. Then looked around your room, at the messy sheets and the half finished glass of liquor on the nightstand. You rarely drank alone, but these past few weeks had been getting to you, fucking with your head. Coriolanus Snow had driven you to this.

The wind got louder, and you knew you were too wired to sleep, so you stood by your window and finished the glass.

You’d never been good with mysteries. You wanted to know everything, all the time. Know who had power over you, know precisely how to take it away. Know exactly what was happening around you at any given moment. But most of all, you didn’t like being played for a fool.

And sure, the ethics of it had never been discussed between the two of you. Your business was strictly professional, but when you weren’t allowed to sleep around, why could he?

In fact, how dare he?

You poured another glass, straight whiskey. Downed it, pacing your room, back and forth between the door and the window, running your fingers along the ridges of the crystal glass. You thought about him, comfortably in his room, not a care in the world.

How dare he.

You weren’t sure if it was the drink or the buildup of your situation that had your blood boiling, but it didn’t matter. You were incensed. His behaviour was an insult to your name, to your family’s name. Sure, this relationship was a sham, but all the more reason for him to act with basic fucking respect. Sleeping with - and very obviously, at that - a whore, who had a bad habit of leaving the door cracked open, was unacceptable.

You were running hot, and if you knew one thing for certain, it was that when Snow met with fire, he was going to melt. You’d make sure of it.

Your feet took you into the hallway, with the decidedness that this would be the last time.

You rushed down the corridor with a tightly bottled rage that was about to burst, words hot on your tongue and demanding to be spoken, until you turned the corner and saw Snow’s door half open. You stopped in your tracks. Reassessed, then stepped closer, slowly, steadily. Remembering what you were there for.

Then, as you got close enough to see inside - right there, without you even having to step past the threshold, were the two of them, lit by a table lamp, Snow sat on the desk chair as the girl rode him to high heaven, obscene noises getting louder. As you approached you saw Snow’s face again, eyes shut, breath laboured, and you couldn’t believe that anyone just walking by would be able to see this. They were fucking like animals, out in the open. You didn’t know how or why you drew closer still, closing in on them. The girl’s head was dropped down to his shoulder, back facing you, and couldn’t see you unless she turned, but Snow? He was practically facing the door, almost as if he’d been…

No. It couldn’t be. Could it?

But you didn’t have time to think it through, because Snow’s eyes blinked open, and you knew. He was looking right at you, blue eyes piercing into yours, sharp and dangerous like he was going in for the kill. You stood there, jaw dropped, unable to look away. In what world could you walk in on someone like this, and feel like they held all the cards, and you none? That was how he looked at you; like you’d been there watching the whole time, and this was all a show, playing out exactly as he’d planned it. Like somehow, despite all your best efforts, he’d landed on top.

It was like he read your mind, because he wet his lips, unblinking as the blonde writhed on his lap, and fucking smirked.

a/n: can’t wait for them to hate fuck after this (oh sorry forgot i’m the author for a sec) thanks for reading <3

taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii

if you’d like to be tagged, please leave a comment on the masterlist!! 💌

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #snow x reader #snow x you #the hunger games #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow smut #tom blyth

2K notes · View notes

vincentintheflesh · 1 month

Text

Head On Over

“Damn, I look so fucking hot..” He mumbled to himself as he admired the picture of his exposed self.

“Wonder which one I should use for the next post..”

…

Draft edited 05/04/2015

Sup guys! Jason here.

As you can see, I’ve been taking pictures of myself out in the open and exposed! Why? Well, people don’t really pass by these areas and it gives me this weird (but good) feeling when I show myself off. Not in the kind of way where you feel like you could get caught- but in a way where someone is actively watching you. No one was ever there when I checked around though. Dunno. I swear I never got this feeling before getting to this place but it’s prob nothing.

Aside from my sexy little shots, everything here is pretty cool. Lots of nature, sunlight, mountains, and hot locals. One of the guys here in particular has really stuck in my mind. He didn’t really do anything interesting- he just seems to be everywhere. Dunno how he does it but I see him at least 3 times whenever I go out, and he has a different outfit on each time. Not gonna lie I was a bit creeped out because I thought he was stalking me. The more I thought about it though, the more I realized that he never glanced in my direction until I approached him. I was able to talk to him a bit and I guess he’s cool and pretty hot up close. Also noticed something about his neck but I didn’t say anything.

He also told me that I was welcome to “head on over” anytime. Wasn’t sure if I really wanted to enter a stranger’s house at first, but we’d already talked for a good bit so why not? What could go wrong? I could totally beat his ass if needed to. And I’m pretty sure that this area is relatively safe too so maybe he won’t kill me lol. Don’t really have much else to do anyway since my vacation is almost over. Might as well have a bit more fun before I go.

Draft edited 05/05/2015

Alright, I’m heading over to that guy’s house. Wish me luck dudes.

…

“Hey! Good to see you, Jason.” He nonchalantly said as he waved his muscular left arm at Jason. His smile was wide as he sat up from his shaded porch to walk towards him. As he moved into the sun, his hard and defined muscles revealed its chiseled form under its light.

“What’s up, man.” Jason returned the smile, his eyes darting between the man’s face and abs.

“Come on in.” He said with a knowing smirk “I’ve only got milk for drinks right now. Is that alright?”

“..You hinting at something?”

“...No.” He smirked as he pulled the door open.

…

The moment I walked through that door… I suddenly remembered the pictures that I took of myself and the feeling of it. Huh, that’s random.

Before I could question it any further, his voice pulls my attention towards him.

“Follow me.” He said in his usual friendly manner.

I immediately listened for some reason. I assumed that he was going to lead me to the living room or something, but he just kept bringing me to these doorless, empty, and identical hallways. We occasionally took a few turns but that was it. And throughout it all, he seemed a bit.. Out of it? Each time I tried to make conversation, he just gave me clipped answers with that same smile. What was up with him..?

I looked behind me, contemplating whether or not I should leave but only saw the endless hallway.

“Oh- we’re almost there! Don’t turn around just yet!” He suddenly called to me from farther ahead. At this point, I really didn’t want to be here anymore. When I tried to just leave though, my feet just wouldn’t budge. It was like the carpet was gripping onto me whenever I tried to step away from the man, so the only way was towards him.

Ugh…

We eventually reached a room that seemed to somewhat resemble a living room. Wooden floor, two couches and a table.. And that was it. No windows or decorations. I knew it- this guy was a weirdo… I sigh as I stepped forward.

…

The moment he stepped into the room, he was overcome by an overwhelming numbness.

“…”

… Wait.. Why does my neck- Why can’t I feel anything…?

“Sorry- ” the man apologetically said as he turned to me.

What’s going on..?

“I’ve really been needing this..and so has the house so… Yeah.”

He shrugged. There was a bent smile on his lips.

“But I’ll take good care of your body, alright? It’s a promise.”

What the fuck is he talking about?? What’s happening?!

I tried to scream as I felt his cold hands gently clasp around my neck. And then, they suddenly tightened and pulled upwards.

Pop

“There we go!”

My eyes widened as I looked down after hearing the noise.

Is that..

My body?

…

The man gently placed Jason’s head down onto the little table, facing him in a way that guaranteed that he would see what was about to happen. He silently smirked at Jason as he roamed his hands around the headless body’s bulging muscles. As he did so, his hands slowly inched towards his pants… and suddenly, the body’s semi-hardened package straining against his jocks was in full view for both Jason and the man. Jason couldn’t believe his eyes as he witnessed what was unfolding. His very own body twitched and squirmed whilst under the mercy of the grinning man.

For a moment, he stopped his groping and stepped back.

“Alright, give it to him.” He said, clapping his hands twice.

Just then, the spot of the ceiling directly above the body began to twist and morph as if it were slime. It only did so for a few seconds until something familiar emerged from it. A hint of recognition passed through Jason’s eyes as he watched it cleanly plunge onto the stump of his headless body. He glanced between the man that brought him here, and the head. They shared the same dark hair, dark eyes, stubble, thick eyebrows, styled hair, and mismatching skin tones on their necks… Suddenly, everything made sense to him.

The newly attached head slowly opened its eyes and looked around. Its lips curled into a smirk when its eyes fell upon Jason’s bodiless form.

“Finally…”

Its right arm rose up and bent into a flex, while its other hand made its way down to its bulging jock, firmly squeezing it.

“Mmmm… Fuuuuck…” It moaned as it began to peel away its jockstrap to free his throbbing member.

As it controlled Jason’s limbs to feel its stolen muscles up, the other man approached his body from behind, pressing his tented pants against his bubble butt. The two of them lustfully grinned at each other before pressing their lips together. Their tongues twisted into each other whilst their warm bodies grazed on one another. The head began to stroke his hardened length and the man hungrily rubbed his cock against his ass, the both of them desperate for a release. The man then pulled away and repositioned himself in front of the body. He kneeled down and quickly took its length deep into his throat. Wet squelches of his mouth echoed throughout the room as he relentlessly thrusted his head back and forth.

The body thief reeled its head back and grunted in pleasure. It thrusted forward, grasping the man’s head as he erupted, warm drops of white leaking out from the corners of the man’s mouth.

And throughout all of this, Jason could only watch as a bystander- hindered by his bodiless form.

“...It’s… cold…” he finally said. His eyelids became heavy as he drifted off to a deep slumber. The ceiling shifts again, twisting and turning. This time, thick tendrils emerge from it, reaching down onto Jason’s head and encircling it. As if accepting an offering, it pulled his head into itself.

“Do you think he’ll mind a little makeover?” The man nonchalantly asked the head as he looked at the ceiling.

“Well, who would mind looking like me… or rather, us?” The head replied with a laugh.

The man smiled “Hm, no one of course- but we’ll need to find a body for him.”

“Right right… But why don’t we have a bit more fun before that..?”

“I'm all yours.”

#possession #muscle theft #head swap #head replacement #body theft #body swap #headless #natural body magic #male natural body magic #nbm #detachment #anomalyvincent #detachmentvincent

411 notes · View notes

slasher-fxcker · 2 months

Text

Slashers seeing their future S/O for the first time

Part 1

Including: Billy Loomis, Bo Sinclair, Jason Voorhees, Lester Sinclair, Stu Macher & Vincent Sinclair.

Warnings: Mentions of death, slashers being slashers. This page is 18+ Minors do not interact.

A/N: Okay this is my first post on here so any and all feedback is welcome! Also, there will be a part two, I will be including all the slashers I write for I just got a bit carried away and I thought it was a bit long for one part lol. Second part will include Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Billy Lenz, Brahms Heelshire and Jesse Cromeans.

Billy Loomis:

· This was meant to be an easy kill for Billy. Some geek that showed up at a party he shouldn’t have been at, Billy had been watching him for most of the night when he saw his target getting ready to leave. He started heading to the closet he hid his Ghostface costume in when someone crashed into him spilling their drink all down the front of his shirt.

· Billy was in two minds about whether he should give them a piece of his mind or ignore their apologies and sneak away anyway. But as he looked up whatever reply he had planned got caught in his throat. When he looked into your pleading eyes he could immediately tell how bad you felt. He didn’t realise he was staring until he noticed you were waiting for a response.

· He regains his composure and brushed off your apologies, telling you not to worry about it. You seemed relieved and he couldn’t help but smirk at how you looked around the room frantically. “Lost something?” he finally asks you, “Am I that obvious?” you laugh before holding your hand out, “I’m Y/N, Randy’s cousin.” Billy seemed to stare at your hand for a second before taking it in his and introducing himself. Maybe just this once he’d let the target go and find something worth enjoying.

Bo Sinclair:

· Getting out of the beat-up truck Bo winced as he felt the pain in his arm of the wound that hadn’t fully healed just yet. Lightly holding the spot and remembering how one of the victims had cut him good with that knife. He sighed and shrugged the thought off before walking towards the dimly lit bar. Sitting down on one of the stools and ordering a beer.

· He soon becomes aware of a man groaning angrily at one of the nearby pool tables, “There aint no way you're winning again without cheatin’” he hears the man grumble. Bo’s fairly accustomed to the usual pool bets but what does surprise him is the feminine laugh he hears in response, he turns around to see you bent over the table lining up your next shot. He feels his throat dry up at the sight of the position you’re in and the teasing smirk that’s on your face.

· “Don’t be a sore loser Jimmy,” you laugh before sinking yet another ball into its socket. Bo can barely take his eyes off you as he leans back taking another sip of his beer. You and the man seem to go back and forth in arguing about the game, and he feels like he could watch you all night. The game is coming to an end with you clearly winning, before he even thinks about it Bo has downed the rest of his beer and is walking towards you. As you’re lining up your final shot Bo slams down a couple of bills on the side of the pool table, you look up at him and he flashed his signature grin at you, “I’ve got winner,” he says as he looks you up and down. You sink your last ball before turning back to him, “You’ve got it handsome,” she smirks. Oh, you were trouble, and Bo couldn’t wait to see how this night turned out.

Jason Voorhees:

· It had been a quiet week for Jason, no campers, no teens, nothing. He had been out collecting wood for the fire when he found a small stone, he liked collecting bits and pieces from around the woods. Small knickknacks to decorate the shabby cabin he called home. The stone had five points and could be seen as almost the shape of a star, what Jason didn’t realise was he had spent far too long invested in the stone to notice someone walking on the trail nearby. The snapping of some sticks broke him out of his thoughts as he saw a figure nearby.

· Jason quickly shoved the stone in his pocket before walking silently to a spot where he could watch the trail without being spotted. He watched you from afar for a while, seeing you look around you as you made your way down the path. The way you watched the nature around you with a small smile on your face made Jason feel a warmth inside him. He followed you all the way to the camp grounds. You seem surprised to find the open space on your trip. You sat down on one of the stone seats before unpacking some lunch for yourself.

· It wasn’t long before you had gotten up and were walking around the small opening. It was then that Jason heard you speak for the first time which caused him to tense in fear. “Hey there little guy.” That was it, you must’ve seen him. He froze as you stepped towards his hiding spot only to stop a few feet in front of where he stood, where he thought he was hidden by the shrubs. But you weren’t looking at him to his relief, he saw the small squirrel perched on a branch that seemed to have your attention. He felt himself relax as he noticed this before trying to silently move further to the other side of the clearing.

· To his surprise the squirrel hadn’t run away, he must’ve smelt the food in your hand as he stood hesitantly sniffing the air. “You hungry?” you asked him rhetorically before holding out a small piece of crust for the squirrel and placing it on the branch near him. Jason watched and couldn’t help but melt at your kindness, he heard the familiar voice in his head but this time the voice was calm, telling him you needed protection, you needed him. But how was he supposed to approach you. A few minutes passed and you turned back to your seat, walking over you noticed something had now been placed where you once sat. You picked up the small stone, noticing it was shaped like a star. You looked around for someone before looking back at the stone, a small smile on your face. It warmed Jason’s heart as he prepared himself to find you more gifts.

Lester Sinclair:

· Lester found himself almost zoning out as he drove down the all too familiar road, the predictability of the same turns and sights that he saw every day seeming to get on his nerves today. Until he noticed a car on the side of the road, he hated his part in this, he tried to just shut himself off from it and think of whoever the poor bastard was that wandered their way as just a stranger, a nobody with no identity. It helped that they were usually rude to him, at least that way he felt less remorse for them. He couldn’t see the person that was hidden under the hood, probably uselessly trying to figure out what was wrong with their car.

· “Looks like you could use a hand.” He didn’t expect the slight squeal from whoever was behind the hood before you walked out, “oh gosh you gave me a fright,” you giggled. Lester was trying to pick his jaw up off the floor and string a sentence together, you definitely weren’t the first young lady to come through these parts but he sure thought you were the prettiest. “Uh, sorry ma’am.” He gulped before wracking his brain for words, “I saw you stuck here and thought you could use a hand.” You sighed before closing the hood, “Unless you happen to have a fanbelt on you, I don’t think so,” He felt the slight dread creep up as he remembered the scenario, he hesitated before spilling his usual script about taking you to see Bo. Of course, you agreed, having no other option and climbing into his truck.

· Not long into the drive you spoke, “I’m Y/N by the way,” he nodded before realising you were waiting for a response, “Oh, I’m Lester,” he responded. “Lester,” you repeated with a smile, he couldn’t help the feeling in his stomach when you repeated his name. “Well thank you very much Lester, I definitely owe you one for driving me all this way.” The more you spoke the worse he was starting to feel, you seemed kind, you were nice to him which was a welcome change, you laughed along with him instead of at him, you didn’t deserve the fate that you were walking into. As you neared Ambrose he realised he couldn’t let you die, he didn’t know how yet but he would do everything he could to keep Bo from hurting you. He knew life was going to be anything but predictable with you around

Stu Macher:

· Stu groans when the bell rings, his least favourite subject and it was the first lesson of the day. “You coming Stu?” He looks at Randy as he seems to think it over, “Nah, we’ve got Evans, I don’t need another detention from that douche.” Randy just rolls his eyes as Stu starts walking in the opposite direction, he hears Randy grumble some smart-ass comment to himself as he walks away.

· Stu was about to turn towards the entrance when he heard you curse to yourself, he glanced at you before turning the corner. “Woah,” he stopped in his tracks before backing up back into the hallway and looking you over again. You must be new, he definitely would’ve remembered you if he had seen you before. You're too engrossed in the paper in your hands to notice someone coming up to you and leaning against the lockers. He puts on his cheesiest grin before getting your attention “Hey there,” you almost jump out of your skin as you drop your books.

· “Oh man I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Stu apologises as he crouches down and begins to pick up your things, you join him in picking up your books, “No don’t be, I should’ve been paying more attention,” you give him a soft smile before standing back up as he passes you some of your belongings, “You must be new, haven’t seen you around here,” you just nod before continuing, “actually, i’m having some trouble finding my class,” he looks over the schedule you had been engrossed in. “Oh that’s actually where I’m headed, I can take you if you’d like,” he couldn’t help but smile at the way you beamed up at him as you agreed.

· The walk was filled with Stu making you laugh, as you neared the class he seemed to slow down and began talking to you again. “You know, I’d be happy to show you to your other classes if you need help finding them after this?” you agreed and he walked into the class with you. A big smile on his face even after being reprimanded by your teacher. “I thought you weren’t coming,” Randy whispers to him, “Yeah something changed my mind,” he replied, not taking his eyes off you. Maybe this class was worth showing up to.

Vincent Sinclair:

· Vincent had been in the museum, positioning his newest artwork. He stared at it with a slight tilt of his head, questioning every stroke, every pose and every colour. He couldn’t help it, he knew he was good at what he did but insecurity still nagged at every decision he made. He was in his own world when the creak of the front door broke him out of his stupor. Bo had told him a small group of victims would be heading down to the museum while he worked on ‘finding’ a fan belt for them. Vincent was quick to move to his usual hiding spots to watch them.

· Vincent hated how loud this group was, joking and making fun of his art. “You have to be pretty sick to make any of this.” One of the guys spoke up, Vincent immediately started thinking of how he would hurt this man. It wasn’t until a softer voice spoke up that he noticed the girl trailing at the back of the group, “Come on guys, don’t be so rude. Someone must have put a lot of effort into these.” It was then that Vincent could finally make out your form, you seemed quiet even when speaking up for him, defending his work. Vincent wished he could get a better look at you. The man scoffed, “Okay art freak.” Vincent saw the way you practically flinched at the insult before turning away from the group to go and look at some other pieces.

· Vincent felt angry, the man would definitely suffer. He made his way closer to where you were, staying hidden as he watched you from afar. He could tell the insult had hurt you and this only made him angrier. You seemed to pause as you squinted closer to the art work on the wall, brushing some dust off the framing. “Vincent,” you read the signature to yourself with a small smile on your face, Vincent stilled when he heard you. He wasn’t sure what it was but something about hearing you say his name struck a chord in him. He was more than intrigued by you, he felt drawn to you in a way he had never felt before. He wasn’t sure what this meant but whatever it was he knew Bo wouldn’t like it.

426 notes · View notes

cxrrodedcoffin · 2 months

Text

Don’t Call Me Kid - Aaron Hotchner

“don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you made me.”

——

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Reader confesses their feelings for Hotch, they have an angsty yet adult conversation about it.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I was originally not going to give this a happy ending but I got too sad writing it and changed my mind, also yes i’ve been writing a lot don’t criticize me lol

TW: alcohol mention, angst, age gap, slight physical touch (all respectful, nothing sexual), slight implied daddy issues, fem reader

Rating: G

——

Aaron Hotchner was not a man one could approach without a level head. He was rational, always thinking of the most reasonable course of action, weighing every outcome before making any decision. He had to be, as hasty decision-making had cost him more than he cared to discuss.

You knew that, you’d worked under him for two years now and although he didn’t discuss his private life all that frequently at work, these weekly team meetups at the local bar taught you more than enough about him as a person. The usual stoic head of the team was kind, funny, encouraging, albeit a bit quiet until he knew you a bit better.

About a year into your time with the team you let slip that you’d never explored the city, and Rossi wasted no time letting Aaron know about it. A week later he was driving you around, explaining the history behind the popular monuments you had requested a visit to, then spending an hour at the Folger Shakespeare Library to admire the historic architecture and impressive selection of literature, and ending the day at the Moongate Garden, watching the sunset on a bench surrounded by cherry blossoms.

From that day you knew if there was anything you needed, all you had to do was ask. He’d shown you your favorite restaurant, the coffee shop you sat in every free morning you had, reading books he’d suggested you read. You didn’t want to admit it, but you had fallen hard for him, and over the last year those feelings became harder and harder to push down.

It was 2 a.m. and the bartender had announced last call, earning a disappointed groan from Penelope.

“We were just getting started!” She whined, her speech slightly slurred.

“You’ve had more than enough for tonight Babygirl, let’s get you home.” Derek caught her waist, steadying her as she rose from the booth the team had been sitting in.

“I better get going too, Will has to work early so I have to take Henry to school in the morning.” JJ added, playfully rolling her eyes.

The rest of the group finished up their drinks, wrapping up the current conversation before shuffling out of the bar. You said your goodbyes, giving parting hugs before pulling out your phone, ready to order yourself a rideshare home. Your cell service was almost non-existent and the app was taking forever to load, the chill in the air causing goosebumps to form on your bare legs. You raised your phone in the air, trying to gain a better signal as you walked back and forth in front of the bar, growing increasingly frustrated.

Aaron exited the bar as you made another pass by the entrance, tripping as your ankle wobbled in your heels. He was quick to catch you, helping you find your footing once more.

“Do you have a ride home?” He asked, offering you his suit jacket for warmth.

“I’m trying to order a taxi but the app won’t load.” Your frustration was evident, each tap of your finger against the glass of your smartphone just a little too firm.

“You don’t live far, correct? I can walk you home.” He offered, his hand still lingering on the small of your back to steady you. You weren’t drunk, not by a long shot, but you didn’t handle your liquor the best and although you were mostly there mentally, your center of gravity had been better.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to go out of your way for me.” You countered, always raised to decline at least once when offered anything to remain polite.

“I want to make sure you get home safe, it’s really no trouble.” You knew he was earnest, always such a father figure to every member of the team. You put your phone in your bag, throwing it over your shoulder before turning to walk down the street that led to your apartment building.

You walked in silence for a while, his hand hovering behind you just in case your clumsiness kicked in along your walk. His suit jacket was surprisingly warm, the stiff fabric shielding your bare arms from the cold. You weren’t sure why you’d chosen to wear a short sleeved blouse when it was nearing the end of fall, but you suspected it subconsciously had something to do with how well the v-neck showed off your cleavage. You felt a bit pathetic sometimes, finding any way you could to attempt to pull his attention. It never worked, Aaron respected you too much to stare at your figure no matter how provocatively you dressed.

After a few blocks your heel caught on a storm grate, making you stumble forward. His reflexes were impressive as ever, his arm reaching out to catch your waist.

“I swear I’m not usually this clumsy.” You joked, straightening your skirt as you started again on your journey home. He didn’t say anything, but the slight smile his lips formed told you he found your try at humor in an awkward moment amusing.

“It’s just around this corner, I’ll be fine from here.” You tried to wave him off, dying to disappear into your apartment to prevent further embarrassing yourself.

“I’m walking you up to your apartment, I need to see you home safe.” He stated, turning the corner with you. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, his domineering yet caring tone making your heart race. This was all becoming too much, the protectiveness, the slight touches, you could feel something burning in your chest, the urge to spill your guts growing stronger by the minute.

He waited for you to punch in the code to the front door of your apartment building before holding it open for you, following you to the elevator up to your floor. You took the quiet ride up, him continuing to follow you down the hallway to your apartment when the doors opened. You opened your bag, fiddling around for your keys for a moment before finding them, your hand shaking as you tried to unlock the door. You finally got it, pushing open the front door and stepping into your messy living room.

“How are you getting home?” You asked, setting your bag on the small table next to the door.

“I’ll order a taxi, I’m just glad you’re home safe.” He began to pull out his phone, and the liquid courage coursing through your veins told you to invite him in.

“Do you want to come in while you wait?” You offered, handing his suit coat back to him. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and making sure to lock it, never too cautious.

He laid his suit coat over the back of your coach, taking a seat before taking out his phone again to order his ride.

“It won’t be ready for another 30 minutes, I hope I’m not overstaying my welcome.” He was far too courteous, and all you wanted to do was tell him how badly you wanted him to stay forever.

“You could never.” You told him, kicking off your heels before sitting next to him on the couch. You took a deep breath, trying to settle yourself as you picked up the book that was resting on your coffee table. You watched over the top of the pages to see him glancing around the room, scanning the contents until he stopped on the media console across the room. He stood from his place next to you and walked over to it, taking a knee to get down to the same level as your record collection.

“You have impressive taste.” He stated matter-of-factly, his long fingers brushing across the spines of each album. You gave a quiet ‘thank you’ as he began to pull a record out, and you placed your book down again to see what had caught his eye.

“I didn’t know you listened to The Beatles.” He held up the jacket of the band’s white album, looking to you in slight disbelief.

“Of course, The White Album is one of the greatest of all time.” You were excited to talk music with him, it was a topic you’d never discussed before and you were always eager to learn more about him. That may have been to your own detriment, because the more you learned about him, the harder you seemed to fall.

You knew a relationship between the two of you could never happen, he was your superior, not to mention twenty years your senior, but something felt like it was pulling you to him no matter how many guys you tried to distract yourself with.

“You never fail to surprise me.” He smiled, the outer corners of his eyes crinkling just so. You could’ve died right there, content to collapse into a puddle of yearning. You didn’t know what came over you, but you found yourself clearing your throat as a rush of adrenaline coursed through you.

“Aaron, I have to tell you something.” Your voice shook, but you remained strong in your conviction.

His faint smile turned to a look of concern, quickly rising from his knee to join you on the couch again.

“What is it?” He questioned, brow furrowed as he angled his body toward you.

“I-It’s, nevermind.” That burst of adrenaline quickly faded, his eyes on you feeling like a cigarette burn.

“Y/N, whatever it is, you can trust me. I understand if you’re not comfortable telling me, but don’t let fear hold you back on my account.” He reassured you, resting his hand on your knee sympathetically. You had to do it, there was no way you could face him every day if you brushed him off without an explanation.

“I’m in love with you.” You blurted out, hanging your head, too afraid of what his reaction would be to dare look him in the eye. The silence that sat between you two felt like it carried on forever, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. After what felt like an eternity he cleared his throat, still holding his hand on your knee.

“Why do you feel that way?” He asked, trying to understand where this was coming from. He couldn’t deny that he had felt chemistry between you, but it wasn’t something he could ever entertain acting on.

“Over the last year I’ve gotten to know you in ways I never dreamed I would, I’ve never felt this way for anyone before, even those I once thought I loved in the past. You’ve been so kind, Aaron, you’re an incredible friend, father, leader, how could I be anything but amazed by you?” You felt as though you were rambling, but he seemed so invested in your answer that you didn’t care if what you said was rational.

“I understand.” He confirmed, turning silent as the gears turned in his mind. You could tell he was fighting something internally, the look of concentration on his face seeming almost painful.

You pulled your knee out from under his hand, your nerves convinced that he was looking for a way to fire you without creating an HR nightmare. As quickly as you pulled away he had moved closer to you, his hand finding its place on your knee once more.

“Look at me.” He said, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin. You did as you were told, tears threatening your waterline as you did your best to hold his gaze.

“I’m not going to lie to you, you are a very charming young woman and I’d be honored to pursue something more intimate with you, but we can’t. I’m your superior, and you’re young enough to be my daughter.” He explained, the pain in his expression serving to break your heart in two.

“I don’t care.” You were not thinking rationally in that moment, your heart speaking for you instead of your head.

“You should, this is your future.” His tone held frustration this time, finding your childish response disappointing.

“I am not a child Aaron, I can make my own decisions.” You told him, a tear slipping down your cheek as you grew increasingly frustrated with his stonewalling.

“I know that, but you’re young, you have so much to experience and you shouldn’t put that on hold for me, or anyone else for that matter.” Even through his anger he was just trying to steer you in the responsible direction, thinking more about your future than whatever desires he held.

“I have all I’ve ever wanted, my dream has always been to work for the FBI. I don’t have any delusions of grandeur, I never have. I want a job where I’m doing good and a family to come home to when all is said and done.” You explained, and it wasn’t a lie. It’s not that you weren’t driven, you clearly had to be to even make it to the bureau, but that was as far as you wanted your drive to take you.

“For this to work, I can not be your boss, and I won’t ask you to step down.” He continued evaluating each possible risk in your dynamic, and for once you were one step ahead of him.

“You don’t have to, I put in for a transfer to the financial crime unit last week.” You finally let the other secret you’d been keeping slip, and you watched his face drop in disappointment.

“The team is going to miss you more than you know.” He told you, wishing he had known so he could have convinced you otherwise.

“I know, but I couldn’t bare the thought of being around you every day while I feel like this, and I was fascinated by the way their team handled the case we partnered with them on last month. The timing felt right.” You explained, needing him to know that it was not his fault, but a conscious decision you made.

“I just want to try.” You pleaded one last time, hoping he’d let his walls down just this once.

“If this is really what you want, I’ll take you out next weekend. If we’re going to do this, I’m going to do it the right way, you deserve that much.” He gave in, letting himself do something personally risky for the first time in years.

“I would love that.” You agreed, all of the anger and frustration that had been building up over the last year finally starting to dissipate ever so slightly.

How it would pay off, only time would tell, but for now, you were content to just get to know him more and show him who you are the best you can.

——

Part 2 can be found here

Tag List: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or Aaron Hotchner taglist :)

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #mine #my writing

549 notes · View notes

heartless-tate · 5 months

Text

High lady. | High Lord Eris X F reader

Summary: You used to love Eris- and now that’s all in the past. Or you at least that’s what you think. Until you receive an invitation to a dance from the high lord- Eris.

A/N: Hellooo my fireflies! I’ve been thirsting for Eris these past few weeks so why not write for him? I can’t believe I ever didn’t like this man 😫. Also for my male readers out there, if you’d like me to rewrite this or any of my other fics with a male reader, just ask! 💕

3k words

warnings: cussing, allusions to sex, use of y/n, slight angst, she/her pronouns

There were no words to describe your shock at seeing the royal invite to the ball. You weren’t high fae. You were a simple, low class librarian. Your name was written in beautiful, classy cursive. A handwriting you recognized immediately. This was handwritten by Eris. Eris Vanserra. Memories flooded your mind.

Running through the gardens, dogs barking behind you playfully. You didn’t have time to react before a body landed on you. Eris. He tackled you to the dirt, his hand was cradling your head to prevent it banging against the floor as he straddled your back. His hounds crowded the two of you, stomping and making noises with excitement.

“Got you little fox!” Eris announced, hugging you from behind.

“Not fair! You said you’d give me a head start.” You pouted. Eris’s laughter filled the air, creating a warm atmosphere. His arms wrapped around your middle and he pulled you into a hug. His embrace was warm and comforting in the cool autumn air.

Cauldron. That was so long ago. Eris was older by you than a long shot, but at that time, you were young. Nineteen years old. Young and innocent. He was also slightly more innocent then, playing with you and entertaining your young soul. Your face flushed a slight shade of pink, and you shook your head. You remember your crush on him. How could you not have one though? Everyone warned you. And you didn’t listen. He was everything a girl at that age would’ve wanted. Beautiful, handsome, smart, experienced, and a prince.

It was only when you discovered Eris was to be betrothed to some high fae daughter in his father’s court, did your little world come crashing down with reality. You were a peasant compared to him. And he likely saw you as nothing but entertainment. So you distanced yourself. You stopped accepting his invites to dinner with his family, you didn’t go out with him anymore. Of course, you couldn’t bear to completely cut him off. So you still would accept his occasional invite to walk with him in the forests with his hounds. He always told you they missed you. Now days, the walks were somewhat awkward. They happened every few months.

The last one was 6 months ago. You always thought you were doing better, you worked at a library, and cared for precious books. You lived in a relatively small apartment, but it was okay. You were grateful, you had a roof on your head and food on your plate. Things had changed since your last walk with him.

Beron was dead. On Eris’s wedding night, before the marriage had been officiated he had dueled Beron to a battle of death. Hundreds at the wedding had witnessed as Eris brutally slayed his father, and placed the crown on his head. Declaring himself as high lord. He released himself of the marriage, and granted his fiancé permission to marry her true lover. When the news escaped to the streets and you heard, you couldn’t help but be nervous. You realized, Eris would be to busy with his court to come on walks with you anymore. And that made you realize that your feelings weren’t gone. You had never gotten over him.

Tonight was a royal ball. You remembered Eris had always begged his father to let you attend the dances and balls, but Beron always refused. Saying trash like you should never be seen with royalty. Eris, stayed by your side though. He’d sneak from the dances and find you, and would dance in the silent night with you. And you had no idea why Eris was inviting you to this ball. Was it pity? Did he want you to experience something nice once in your life? What would you even wear? You certainly didn’t have royal attire.

You ripped open the letter with your nails, admiring the wax seal of a little fox on it. You opened it to a small card inside. Eris’s handwriting.

Little fox,

I’d be honored for you to attend the royal autumn ball tonight with me. A carriage will wait for you at your apartment at noon. Don’t neglect my dogs of your attention any longer.

Love, Eris.

You giggled. You felt like a school girl. You could feel the heat on your face. You admired his familiar handwriting. It was neat and lovely in every sense. A dried viola fell into your lap when you opened the card further. Memories of him teaching you cursive in the gardens made you smile. You stood, grasping the flower, and pulled out the small box you kept of every letter he had ever sent you. Whenever Beron would try to restrict him from seeing you, it didn’t stop him from convincing his maids or servants to get his letters to you. You hadn’t received a letter since his last request to walk with you. The box was filled with the dried flowers he’d always sent with them.

How could you go? What would you wear? You approached your closet. And then you remembered something.

“Eris- I can’t wear this. This is too- too, royal.” You squeaked, admiring the beautiful dress he had just gifted you.

“Wear it. It matches the suit my father made me wear. Let’s dance, little fox.” He purred, pushing hair out of your face. Once the dress was on, he pulled you close to him in the empty streets on the Autumn Court and guided you in a slow dance, uncaring of the lack of music. Or the fact he was missing a royal ball.

You didn’t waste time in finding the box tucked away safely under your bed, and pulling it out. You opened the box, staring at the gorgeous forgotten dress. You had only worn it the last night he had danced with you.

This would work. Looks like all the dances you learned from books would pay off tonight.

Music from the orchestra blasted loudly. You entered the throne room, slightly late. But nobody cared. You were fashionably late- you had to find a mask. It was a masquerade after all. And Eris’s letter was a little bit close to time so, nobody could blame you. People danced in sync all over the room, dresses of different colors swaying. It was so fascinating. You couldn’t help but be mesmerized. Sure, most of these people were stuck up cunts, but they were beautiful, and they knew it too. You walked down the the grand stair case, eyes greedily taking in everything.

And then they caught on him. He sat on the throne, auburn hair messy as if he had ran his hands through it more then once tonight. The crown on his head was slightly crooked, giving him an uncaring look as high fae of all kinds greeted him. His mask was the color of burning fire, gold lace trimming it. He seemed bored, uninterested in this whole party. And he looked every bit of the High Lord you knew he would be.

You didn’t have the guts to greet him. You couldn’t. He had invited you out of perhaps pity. There were clear boundaries you were sure of. And you knew approaching the high lord as a peasant would break every single one of those boundaries. You could already see high fae turning their noses up at you as you walked by.

You approached the giant banquet table, observing the various foods. They were all favorites of yours. Maybe you just had a fancy food taste. You grabbed a glass of fae wine off of a servant’s tray, happy to indulge yourself in high quality wine that you didn’t have to pay for. You decided to eat after you danced.

You turned to face the dance floor. You watched the first waltz come to an ends, couples departing to find new partners. You swirled your wine in your glass, smelled it and then took a taste. It was glorious. Aged, and woodsy. You figured the bottle was easily in the three hundreds. Who cared? You didn’t have to pay for it. You snickered to yourself.

“Dance with me?” A coy voice purred beside you.

You turned, seeing a gentle around your age. High fae. And he was still asking to dance. Odd. His mask was black with silver lace. He wore a simple black tux. His hair was a dark brown, slicked with gel. He had a warm smile. He was handsome. You took his outstretched hand.

“Why not?” You replied, setting your wine glass down on a servant’s tray. The male smirked with arrogance, and swooped you to the dance floor. Music begun, and he started the dance.

“I’m Silas.” He murmured, twirling you. You nodded, having no problem in keeping up with the complex strides of this particular dance.

“Y/n” You responded. His eyes glinted.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl like you.” Silas said. He started to move faster, as if seeing how well you could keep up. And you did. Having no trouble at all.

You smiled warmly. This man was nice. You could see yourself with him. But it felt like something was missing. Like a hole in your heart.

“Thank you, Silas.” You purred back, starting to lead the dance. You guided it into a more complex rhythm, going along with the music, but ultimately making it more difficult. You giggled when he tripped over his own foot but caught himself. He glared at you.

“You dance awfully good for a commoner.” He huffed out, twirling you again.

“Having trouble keeping up?” You taunted playfully, not caring of his snarky remark. He was embarrassed. You could tell by how his eyes were roaming the people that had take to watch the both of you dance, interested in seeing how long you could rule the dance floor, he was embarrassed. Your eyes roamed the people. You could feel a familiar sense of someone watching. Your eyes found Eris. He was no longer listening to the fae beside him. His amber eyes bored into you. When you caught eye contact, he smirked. His legs spread as he leaned further into his throne. His eyebrow was cocked, his long talons tapping against the throne.

Cauldron. You had forgot how breathtakingly gorgeous he was. And sexy. You felt your face flush.

A snarl distracted you from him. Silas’s hands clutched your hips.

“Do not mock me.” He growled quietly in your ear. The music’s rhythm went faster, and the dance along with it. The curious fae quickly started dancing again, embarrassed at how they were so mesmerized by a commoner.

You went to take another step, but Silas went crashing to the floor. You watched in shock as he slid on the floor, his eyes wide with fury and embarrassment. His face heated with embarrassment. He looked up at you mouth open as if he was about to blame you, but his eyes caught on something behind you. Or rather, someone.

You turned slowly to see the high lord standing in his full glory behind you. His sharp cunning eyes squinted and mouth pulled into a smirk. He observed the male on the floor before looking at the people around you both. Then his eyes landed on you. You were awestruck by him for a minute- before you realized he was royalty. You started to bow but an invisible force stopped you. Your eyes narrowed in confusion before Eris bowed in front of you.

The High Lord just bowed in front of you. You. A peasant. Before you could say anything he lifted his hand to you.

“Grant me the pleasure of a dance?” He said, loud and clear. Gods you missed his voice. Yours ears picked up multiple gasps of shock. You heard a start of a growl before seeing Eris’s eyes glare into Silas behind you. You heard Silas scrambling away, knowing his place. Eris’s eyes turned back to you. He stayed in a bowed down position, hand waiting for yours. You swallows your shock. So be it. This very much may be the last dance you and him share, and you would take it.

Eris smiled softly when he felt the familiar embrace of your hand on his. His hand wrapped around yours, completely swallowing it. You hadn’t even realized the music had stopped until now. He motioned with his free hand for it to begin again. Fae around you scampered to start dancing, but all of their eyes were on you. On him. And his eyes were on you. And that’s all that mattered.

His free hand moved to your hip, grasping it gently with respect. He slowly moved to start the dance, holding you close. You didn’t know what to say or do other than to follow his lead. You didn’t even realize your mouth was gaping open.

“Little fox, you look like a fish gasping for air.” Eris teased in your ear, and you quickly shut your mouth.

“Sorry-“

“Don’t apologize. You never have to apologize to me.” He replied, smoothly. Gods. It was as if you were 19 again and you were dancing in the empty village with him. His long nails drew circles on your hip as you slowly started ti advance in the pace of the music. He kept up with ease, and you the same.

“Your hounds miss you.” Eris murmured, leaning his head down enough to kiss your forehead. It took every ounce of self control to not accidentally trip in shock.

“My hounds? They’re not mine. They’re yours!“ You started.

“Yes, they are, little fox. You helped me save and raise Sadie’s pups. If it wasn’t for you most of them would’ve died during birth. They are every bit of yours as they are mine.” He responded, pulling you closer. You knew better then to continue this fight with him. He was stubborn. And you knew if you tried to refuse again you’d probably have a pack of hounds at your apartment door tomorrow- out of spite.

“Whatever.” You grumbled defeatedly, shaking your head. He chuckled. His laugh was deeper now. You could smell the envy of other women around you. You wondered if they knew there wasn’t anything to be jealous of.

“So..how’s being High Lord?” You asked, unsure of what to talk about now. Eris frowned with a playful pout.

“Lonely. I’m sure the hounds would agree too. But don’t worry about that. That’ll change very, very soon.”

You weren’t quite sure what Eris was getting on to now. He always spoke in riddles. You sighed. Before you could re-question him, he started talking again.

“How has my little fox been?” Eris divulged.

You blushed. He had always had a knack for that dumb nickname. You were glad people couldn’t hear your conversation. The current dance came to an end and Eris wasted no time in pulling you into another. He knew you would have no problems keeping up.

“I’ve been good.” You responded. You looked up at him. He had gotten taller. And bigger. Maybe it was the high lord magic that transferred to him after Beron died or something. You weren’t sure. But he towered over you, creating a comical size difference. He gave you a toothy playful smile. He was always so carefree around you. You loved it. You loved him.

“You look lovely in that dress.”

“You bought it.” You quipped back at him.

“I have such good taste don't I?” He countered.

You couldn’t help but giggled looking away. The music slowed and you knew this was coming to an end. And gods you didn’t want it to end. His eyes softened as if he too was thinking the same. He grasped you tighter, pulling you closer, your bodies left no space between each others. He leaned down and inhaled your scent.

“Gods. I missed you. I missed your scent. The way you laugh. Talking with you- I missed it all.” Eris started. He held you tighter when you tried to pull away, confused.

“Don’t move away. Let me enjoy this Y/n.” He whispered, head going to the crook of your neck as he slowed the dance, moving with rhythm to the orchestra’s music. You realized how desperate and clingy his hood on you seemed now. As if he had missed you as much as you missed him.

Fuck boundaries. You couldn’t care if you were a peasant compared to him right now. You let your inner thoughts win as you tightly clutched at him. You didn’t wanna let go of him. You let your head lean against his chest, relaxing into the calm and slow dance. You knew fae were gawking at you both. And neither of you cared. Eris seemed shocked at your return of his embrace. The music slowed to a stop, and so did you both in the middle of the floor. Eris gently pulled away, staring at you with such adoring eyes. A sharp contrast to who he was in front of these people. His eyes found their way to your lips. He looked back up at you, a pleading look on his face. You understood what he wanted.

His hand clutched at the back of your head as your lips met. His were soft. It was the most gentle and loving kiss. You couldn’t give a flying fuck about the jealous and envious fae. Not just women. Both males and females snickering in jealousy. Eris pulled away, eyes soft. He took in the sight of you.

He didn’t waste time in pulling you in for a second kiss. This one wasn’t gentle. It was hot. Aggressive. He kissed you as if there was a fire in his bones and you were the only thing that could sooth it. His teeth gently nipped and sucked on your bottom lip. You returned it. His hand clutched at the back of your head, talons tangled in your hair. His other one clutched at your hip and roamed to your lower back. Your hands clutched at the front of his dress shirt. When you pulled away gasping for air, Eris had the biggest smile on his face. His eyes roamed your face again. You lips were swollen and pink from him. You were panting and looking at him as if he was everything. And he returned the same look. He tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear before cupping your jaw.

“Don’t make me miss you anymore. Stay with me. I’ll give you everything you could dream of. You can be my high lady. Anything- anything you want.” He begged, eyes pleading. You knew he wasn’t lying.

“Eris..”

Eris swear his heart stopped with the way you said his name. He’s positive he would die right here on this floor at your knees if you rejected him. You were all he ever wanted.

“You’re everything I could dream of.” You whispered to him. Eris took in a gasp of air, not realizing he had been holding it. Relief flooding his body. And then pure love. He grabbed your hand before you could say anything and guided you up the stairs the the throne. He turned, facing the crowd with you. His hand placed on your lower back.

The whole crowd of fae stared in confusion and shock. No idea of what was about to happen.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Eris barked. “Show some respect to your high lady.”

His voice boomed across the room, gasps eliciting from the crowd. And then, they all bowed. You stood in front of the throne, watching as they all bowed to their knees. The scent of fear and confusion flooded from the fae.

Eris smirked before turning around back to you. He knew that despite your anxieties, you were made for this. Just your presence demanded attention from others. He knew you were his. His eyes shined with pure male pride as he removed the autumn court crown from his head, and gently placed it on yours. You watched as he bowed down on his knee, paying respect to you. His queen. You relaxed. Hundreds of high fae all bowed down to you. Your man bowed down to you. You tipped your head up with a smirk.

Eris grasped your hand and kissed your ring finger with a possessive glare at it. As if promising himself it would soon have a ring around it. He stood, and walked you to the throne. He held your hand as you sat down on it, crossing your legs. He stood beside you, eyes peering to the fae. He looked to you. Gods you were gorgeous. He couldn’t help the possessiveness in him that filled to the brim at seeing you where you finally belonged. He had waited so long to be able to do this.

“The masquerade is over. Get out.” He growled to the people, his eyes never leaving you. He didn’t bother turning around to ensure the people left. He could hear them rushing to get out.

He was gonna fuck you on your rightful throne.

#acosf #acotar #imagine #x reader #acotar 5 #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #azriel acotar #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vandaddy #lucien #lady of autumn #beron vanserra #Eris X reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you

503 notes · View notes

sergeantbarnessdoll · 5 months

Note

Looks like a group of guys from your college won’t leave you alone.

Oh would you look at that,

1940’s!MobBoss!Bucky Barnes

has got your back, and will continue to have your back forever.

(Also hi babes!!! 🤗🤗Thousand kisses from me to you! 💋💋)

Have Your Back Forever And Always » 40s Bucky Barnes

Pairings: Mob Boss!40s Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky steps in and saves you from the guys in your friend group who won’t leave you alone.

Warnings: Fluff, language, alcohol, smoking, unwanted touching, kissing, use of pet names

A/N: @amathslutsguidetofandom I love the thought of 1940s!Mob Boss!Bucky Barnes and decided to write it as a one shot🥰🩵

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

“No thank you.” You say, politely turning down a drink from one of the guys you go to college with.

“C’mon, sweetheart. It’s just one drink.” Gerald says, wrapping his arm around your waist.

Bucky watched from the other side of the bar as you continued to politely turn the guys down, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer. He could tell how uncomfortable you were.

“It’s just a drink, Y/N.” Fred says, putting his hand on your thigh.

That made you even more uncomfortable than you already were. Bucky downed the rest of his drink and made his way towards you.

“She said no.” Bucky says, standing behind Gerald and Fred.

“No one asked you, man.” Fred says.

“Why don’t you run along?” Gerald says.

Bucky chuckled before grabbing the back of their necks and slamming their heads against the bar counter, making everyone in the bar go quiet and look at them. You quickly stood up and backed away with wide eyes.

“How about you two run along?” Bucky says.

They were too scared to say anything so they just nodded their heads. Bucky let go of them and they stood up. They were about to bolt out of the bar when Bucky grabbed the back of their shirts.

“If I ever and I mean ever see you two near her again, I won’t hesitate to kick your asses, got it?” He says.

“Got it.” They say in unison.

Bucky let go of them and they sprinted out of the bar. You stood there with a surprised look on your face. No one has never done that for you.

“Are you ok, ma’am?” Bucky asks softly.

“I am now. Thank you.” You say, giving him a smile.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks.

“I’d like to know your name first.” You say.

“James Barnes.” He held his hand out for you to shake. “Everyone I know calls me Bucky.” He says.

“Nice to meet you, James.” You shook his hand. “I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself. “Now that we know each other’s names, I’ll accept that drink now.” You say with a smile.

You and Bucky took a seat at the bar counter and he ordered you two drinks.

“So tell me, doll face…” Bucky took a sip of his bourbon before asking his question. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing at a bar like this?” He asks.

“I go to the local college and I wanted to come here for a couple drinks after all the studying I’ve been doing lately.” You tell him.

“What are you studying?” He asks curiously.

“I want to be a nurse.” You say.

“That’s amazing. I hope all that studying pays off.” He says.

“I hope so too. I graduate next month.” You say.

You learned that Bucky is one of the most powerful men in Brooklyn, New York. You and Bucky spent the whole night talking and getting to know each other till the bar was about to close. He even offered to walk you home from the bar. Bucky being the gentleman he is, wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you close to him and to protect you.

“Thank you for saving me and for walking me home, James.” You say with a smile.

“You don’t have to thank me, babydoll. I have your back forever and always.” Bucky smiles. “If you don’t mind, I would like to see you again.” He says.

“I would absolutely love that.” You smiled. “I’m free tomorrow afternoon after school.” You say.

“Great so it’s a date.” He says.

Bucky cupped your cheeks and kissed you passionately. Your hands grasped his suit jacket to steady yourself. Your lips moved in sync with his. It felt like everything around you guys was in slow motion. Bucky pulled away slowly, looking deep in your eyes.

“See you tomorrow afternoon, doll.” Bucky says softly.

“See you tomorrow, Bucky.” You say, smiling widely.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

427 notes · View notes

wolverigrl · 9 days

Text

Thirst Tweets

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

!Disclaimer! I’ve got a lot going on right now, and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get back to writing. There will definitely be more parts, but not this week. I also have two oneshots saved that might go online this week, so don’t be surprised if you see them.

I'd be happy about some feedback and just a reminder to you, I have my requests open, so feel free sending some of your ideas! :)

Warnings: tiny bit of fluff and some swearing here and there

Enjoy!

Previous Part

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

Returning to New York felt like waking up from a beautiful dream I never wanted to end. Sydney had been a paradise - sunshine, the salty breeze from the ocean, and Hugh. God, Hugh. We couldn't keep our hands off each other, behaving like love-drunk teenagers. Whether it was our sunset strolls by the harbor or cozy nights in, wrapped in blankets, we found ourselves growing closer every day. There was something magical about that time - like we were in a world of our own, free from distractions.

Hugh would sometimes visit his family, leaving me to explore Sydney on my own. I’d walk through the city, admiring the sights, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin. But no matter where I went, I was always thinking about him. It wasn’t long before I’d be back at his place, sharing stories of my solo adventures while he teased me with that wicked smile.

Of course, the paparazzi had a field day. Every moment seemed to be caught on camera - whether we were laughing together at the beach, wandering the streets hand in hand, or lounging in the park. There were endless photos of us everywhere, but I didn't mind. Honestly, I found it kind of funny how we had become some sort of internet sensation. I had even started posting more pictures of Hugh on my socials - candid shots of him with funny, flirty captions. The fans ate it up, especially when I started liking and commenting on their fan edits of Hugh. They said I was fangirling hard, and maybe I was, but could you blame me? The man is perfect.

The hate we used to get was slowly dying down, too. People were starting to root for us. It felt good.

Today, though, was on a whole new level of fun. We were shooting a "Thirst Tweets" video, and it was as chaotic as you'd imagine. The energy in the studio was electric as we settled into the plush chairs, both of us trying to stifle our giggles before the chaos of "Thirst Tweets" began. I glanced over at Hugh, who looked far too calm for what was about to go down, his long fingers tapping lightly on his knee, his face carrying that familiar smirk that always made my heart race. It was like he knew exactly what was coming and how I’d react.

The first tweet was mine to read. I grabbed the small card from the pile and cleared my throat dramatically. “Okay, here we go…” I scanned the text quickly before bursting into laughter. “Oh my God, okay. ‘I would let y/n punch me in the face just to say I’ve been touched by perfection.’ ” I couldn’t help it - I snorted.

Hugh chuckled beside me, shaking his head. “We’re starting off strong, aren’t we?” he teased.

I leaned over, nudging him with my shoulder. “What can I say? I have violent fans.”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Perfection though? Can’t argue with that." he said, giving me a wink that made my face heat up.

It was Hugh’s turn next. He grabbed his card, took a quick glance, and then raised an eyebrow at me. “Alright, here’s a good one. ‘I’d like to officially announce that Hugh’s arms should be declared a public service. Like, those things could end world hunger. Use them for good, sir.’ "

I let out a loud laugh, slapping my knee. “See, this is what I’m saying! They should be protected. Maybe insured.”

He flexed a little - just enough to make me roll my eyes - and grinned. “I’ll take it under consideration.” he joked. The crew behind the camera was already in stitches, but I could tell this was just the beginning.

The next tweet was handed again to Hugh, and he gave it a quick scan before bursting into laughter. "Oh, this one's good. 'Hugh, you can call me baby girl and tell me to sit down, and I would happily obey for the rest of my life.' "

I raised an eyebrow, trying to hold in my laughter. "I mean.. you do have that commanding presence."

He turned to me with a devilish grin, his voice deep and teasing. "You think I should try it out, love? Call you baby girl and see what happens?"

I immediately blushed, my laughter betraying how flustered I was. "Oh no, let's not give the fans more material!"

He chuckled, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "Too late, baby."

He took the card with a dramatic flourish, his eyes quickly scanning it before he burst out laughing, almost choking on his words. “Oh no, this one’s for you, love. ‘Y/n really out here fangirling over Hugh like the rest of us. She’s one of us now.’ ”

I groaned, though I couldn’t hide my smile. "Listen, I am not fangirling!" I protested weakly, but Hugh gave me a look that said he didn’t believe a word of it.

"Oh, you totally are!" he teased, nudging me playfully. “You’re in deep.”

I shot back with a grin. “Okay, maybe I’m a little obsessed with you. Can you blame me?”

The crew behind the camera was losing it by now, and I could hear some of them whispering amongst themselves, probably trying to stifle their own laughter. But we were just getting started.

I grabbed another card, still grinning. "Hugh could choke me with his biceps, and I'd die happy."

Hugh started laughing again, clearly enjoying himself. "There's a lot of love for my arms in this, isn't there?"

I looked at him, pretending to be serious. "I mean, have you seen your arms?"

He flexed again, playing it up for the camera. "I guess I have no choice but to deliver." I snorted loudly and leaned against him while laughing and hiding my face behind my right hand.

Hugh took the next tweet, shaking his head in amusement. “Alright, here’s a spicy one. ‘Hugh, please, just throw me against a wall. Like, I’m begging you.’” He read it in such a deadpan tone that I nearly fell out of my chair laughing.

He raised an eyebrow at me as I tried to compose myself. “Well?”

I fanned myself dramatically. “That’s a strong request, but relatable."

Hugh opened his mouth to say something but instead snorted with laughter and shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

I picked up the next card, already giggling before I even read it aloud. " 'Y/n’s laugh could cure my depression, I swear. She could rob a bank and I’d still be like, wow, what a cute laugh!' "

Hugh looked over at me, grinning. “See? You do have a cute laugh.”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool even though my cheeks were burning. “I mean, if it works for bank robberies, maybe I should test it out.”

He gave me a look, smirking. “I’m not bailing you out.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to." I replied, laughing. “I’d just charm my way out of it.”

I grabbed the next card from the pile, glancing over at Hugh before reading it aloud. "Y/n, how do I sign up to be your sugar baby? I don't need much - just a little attention and maybe to sleep on Hugh's abs as a pillow."

Hugh let out a loud laugh, his eyes widening. "My abs, huh?" He leaned back, pretending to flex for a moment before winking at the camera. "I didn't realize they had so many applications."

I rolled my eyes playfully, unable to hide my grin. "I mean, you have to admit, they're not wrong. Those abs could solve a lot of problems."

He smirked, leaning in closer to me, his voice dropping a bit. "Is that what you think about every time you cuddle me, baby? Using me as your personal pillow?"

I nudged him, trying not to laugh. "What can I say? I'm resourceful."

The next few tweets were just as wild, some downright inappropriate but in a way that had us both cracking up. Hugh read a particularly bold one aloud: " 'Hugh in that leather jacket… sir, I’m on my knees. What do I need to do to get you to ruin my life?' " He paused, glancing over at me with a devilish grin. “What do they need to do?”

I covered my face, laughing into my hands. “Oh God. This is escalating so much!”

He looked at the camera and lowering his voice. “Maybe just say ‘please?’ ”

The crew burst out laughing again, and I could see the camera shaking slightly as the person filming struggled to keep it steady. By this point, even the sound guy was wiping away tears of laughter.

Hugh grabbed the next tweet from the pile, his eyes quickly scanning it before a sly grin spread across his face.

"Okay," he began, in that rich voice that could melt butter, "Here’s a fun one: ‘Hugh Jackman could breathe in my direction, and I’d immediately drop to my knees, ready to serve.’"

I let out an involuntary snort, burying my face in my hands. "Oh my!" I gasped between fits of giggles. "They went straight for it!"

Hugh, trying to maintain composure, turned toward the camera with a half smile. "Well, I appreciate the enthusiasm." he said, and then turned to me. "Is that something I should be adding to my skill set?"

I swatted his arm playfully, still laughing. "Please, let’s not turn this into a live demonstration."

Hugh chuckled and nodded towards the camera. “Fair enough. But hey, I’m flattered."

I grabbed the next tweet, scanning it quickly and feeling my face heat up even more. "Oh, this one’s good. ‘Y/n’s legs are so long, they could wrap around me twice, and I’d happily suffocate.’"

Hugh let out a low whistle, his eyes flicking down to my legs and back up to my face with a teasing grin. "I mean, they’re not wrong." he quipped, making the entire crew laugh again.

I gave him a playful serious look. "Careful, you might encourage more of this behavior."

He laughed, raising his hands in surrender. "Too late."

I passed the next tweet to him, still trying to suppress my laughter. Hugh's eyebrows shot up when he read it. “Oh, wow, okay. ‘Hugh could literally break me in half, and I’d say thank you.’” He paused, a devilish grin creeping onto his face as he looked up at me. “I’m sensing a theme here.”

The crew behind the camera was howling at this point again, and I could barely breathe through the laughter. "I mean… who wouldn't be thankful?" I teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

Hugh laughed, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself. "Should I be concerned for you people, or…?”

"Concerned, maybe. Grateful, definitely,” I replied, still giggling.

He handed me the next card, his smirk widening. “Your turn. Let’s see if it gets wilder.”

I took the card and immediately had to press my lips together to keep from bursting out laughing. “Oh God, here we go again… ‘Y/n could ruin my life, and I’d thank her by paying her rent for the rest of the year.’ ”

Hugh’s laugh boomed across the room, his head falling back as he tried to catch his breath. “Well, if you’re ever looking for a side hustle…”

I gave him a playful nudge. "Hey, rent’s expensive in New York. I might just take them up on that."

He wiped away a tear of laughter, still grinning. “You’d definitely have no shortage of offers.”

Another tweet landed in Hugh’s hands, and he gave it a quick read before raising an eyebrow at me. “Oh jeez, we’re diving straight into the deep end now. ‘Hugh Jackman’s voice is so hot, I’d let him read the phone book to me while I climax.’”

My jaw dropped. "NO." I immediately covered my face with my hands, laughing so hard. I would lie, if I'd say my body doesn't hurt of laughter by now.

Hugh, ever the professional, barely flinched. He just gave the camera a deadpan look. “The phone book? Really? That’s a bit outdated, but… hey, I’m here for it.”

I peeked at him from behind my hands, still laughing uncontrollably. “You’re not gonna let that one go, are you?”

He winked at me, his voice dropping an octave. “If that’s what the people want, who am I to deny them?”

I playfully shoved him, still blushing furiously, but loving every second of the ridiculousness. “We need to talk about boundaries later." I joked.

He shot me a grin. “Boundaries? What are those?”

I took a deep breath, composing myself enough to grab the next tweet. The second I read it, I was gone again. “Oh, this one’s golden. ‘Y/n, I will pay you $1,000 to sit on my face. I don’t even need to breathe. Just consider it.’”

Hugh burst out laughing, clutching his chest and wiping tears from his eyes. “A thousand dollars? Only? That’s a bargain!”

I covered my face again, my shoulders shaking with laughter. “This is officially out of control.”

Hugh leaned in closer, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Come on. You’re underselling yourself. You’re worth at least $10,000.”

I laughed so hard I almost fell off my chair. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, babe.”

By this point, the crew behind the cameras was barely keeping it together. The laughter was contagious, and it felt like the entire room was on the verge of tears from how absurd the tweets were getting.

Hugh, still grinning, took the next card, glancing at it before giving me a cheeky look. "Alright, last one for me. ‘Hugh, you could crush me between your thighs, and I’d die a happy person.’”

I dissolved into laughter again, leaning back in my chair. "See, this is what I’ve been saying!" I managed between giggles.

Hugh turned to the camera, looking far too amused. “I’m sensing a lot of… very creative fans.”

I wiped away tears of laughter, still grinning. “Creative is one word for it.”

With that, the video wrapped up, and the crew finally stopped laughing long enough to give us a round of applause. Hugh’s charm and my endless giggling made for the perfect combination, and I could tell this video was going to go viral the second it dropped.

One of the cameramen approached us, grinning. “I’ve been doing this for years, and that was easily the funniest shoot I’ve ever been a part of.”

Hugh smiled, thanking him, while I nodded in agreement. “That was insane!” I said, still feeling the buzz of excitement. “I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard.”

After the shoot, we headed back to Hugh’s place to get ready for dinner. Ryan and Blake were coming over with their kids and dogs, and Hugh was in charge of cooking, much to his delight. He loved being in the kitchen, and it was one of those little things about him that always made me swoon.

While he started prepping in the kitchen, I disappeared into the bathroom to get ready. I slipped into something simple but nice, touching up my makeup before making my way back to Hugh. He had his back turned, fully focused on whatever he was chopping up, so I tiptoed up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, leaning my head against his back.

He jumped, clearly startled, but then relaxed into my embrace. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!" he chuckled, setting down the knife.

I grinned, squeezing him tighter. "Sorry, couldn’t resist." My hands slid over his chest as I pressed closer. "You look ridiculously good in that shirt, by the way."

He glanced down at himself - just a casual button up and jeans - but it worked for him in a way that made my heart race. “Oh yeah?” he asked, turning his head slightly to look at me with a playful smirk.

“Yeah. Like.. annoyingly good." I teased, letting my fingers linger on the fabric. “Distractingly good. It's kind of a problem.”

He turned fully then, wrapping his arms around my waist, and leaned in close, his voice low. “Maybe we should skip dinner then?"

I bit my lip, laughing softly as I pushed against his chest. "Nice try. We’re not blowing off dinner with Blake and Ryan. You know they’d never let us hear the end of it."

Before we could get any further into our flirt, the doorbell rang, and we both groaned. The Reynolds were right on time, of course.

With one last grin at each other, we reluctantly pulled apart. Hugh grabbed a towel to wipe his hands before we made our way to the door. When we opened it, we were greeted by a whirlwind of chaos - Ryan with the kids and Blake holding onto the dogs. It was loud and warm, the kind of energy that made you feel instantly at home.

Blake gave me a tight hug while Ryan and Hugh exchanged their usual friendly banter. We all gathered in the dining room, Hugh finishing up in the kitchen while Blake and I set the table, chatting and laughing about everything and nothing.

Dinner was filled with easy conversation, laughter, and the occasional bark from the dogs. Hugh caught my eye from across the table more than once, and each time, I couldn’t help but smile. This was our life now - full of love, friends, and shared moments that felt like they could last forever.

And honestly? I wouldn’t change a thing.

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

@spectorrrhgf @tinawantstobeadoll @appetencyfortacos @weskerussy @kellyxo1 @larkkyoris @shukirschtein14 @corvusmorte @carefree-flowerchild @rexmeshlasblog @melmel-fandom @needz1nk @nonamevenus @morganlolitta @angelofthorr @pickuptruck01 @inlovewithcharmers @gaulty74 @mega-kittyglitter-1

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman x you #marvel #wolverine #x men #hugh #jackman #fluff #hugh jackman imagines #oneshot #fanfiction #hugh jackedman #thirst tweets

303 notes · View notes

ohdeerfully · 6 months

Note

Hii!! i’ve never requested smth before but i absolutely adore your lil one shots for alastor and was wondering if you could write smth based on someone’s idea?

https://www.tumblr.com/sockmeat/741700944177315840/alastor-in-rut-but-instead-of-him-being-horny-hes

completely fine if not!! i just thought it was a cute idea and would love to see it wrote in an actual scenario!! :3

this is really simple and short but god writing block is killing me quickly... hope u like it anyway!!!!!! mwah mwah

as stated in the request, this is based off of @sockmeat 's post, which you can access by clicking here!

Jealousy Looks Good on You

alastor x reader (fluff) TW: alastor is super possessive, reader is referred to as female but doesn't really effect story at all, thats it i think

join my discord!

◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈

It was that time of year again for Alastor. A few months of absolute physical and mental torture—which, considering he lived in Hell, maybe that was how Heaven finally managed to torment him for eternity. It never took a genius to figure out what put Alastor in such an odd state.

He was a deer.

Deer go into rut.

It was incredibly embarrassing, to say the least, especially for him when the rut was over. However, for his “mate,” who faced the brunt end of his seasonal affections, you didn’t mind in the slightest. In fact, it was probably your favorite three months of the year.

You were currently lounging in the hotel lobby, chatting with Angel Dust about a bar he was interested in going to. You had one leg thrown up over the other, clad in a dark red outfit that had been “mysteriously” placed on the edge of your bed when you woke up—you knew who the culprit was as soon as you saw Alastor a few minutes later in a suspiciously similar outfit of the same color scheme.

He had been sitting next to you for a while, making small, nearly unnoticeable bids for attention as you tried to focus on Angel’s words. A pressure on your knee with his own, a light graze of his fingers through your hair as he lifted his hand to adjust his monocle… to anybody else, the contact would’ve seemed only coincidental; however, to you, it was obvious considering the great care he always took to mind his personal space.

A brief glance out of the corner of your eye confirmed your suspicions. You couldn’t help but lightly grin at the tense grin on his face and the growing expression of frustration as you continued to keep your attention on Angel.

“–so, that being said, I wanted ta invite’cha out with me! And Cherri’ll be there too,” Your eyes turned back towards the spider. You could nearly feel the tenseness in Alastor’s shoulders heighten, and that radio frequency of his tuning up ever so slightly, but still noticeable.

“That bar is no place for my lady,” Alastor responded in a snap before you could even open your mouth. You whipped your head in his direction with a frown.

“She isn’t your anything, Smiles,” Angel shot back, also interrupting your own attempt at defending yourself.

It was almost comical, the way your head twisted back and forth with each remark the two made at each other. The tension was rising quickly, and you were getting more agitated with how many times you got cut off from saying a single word.

You were distracted from your own mental anguish when Alastor abruptly stood, hand gripping his cane with more force than usual. There was a dangerous look in his red eyes as he grinned down at Angel.

“She is mine,” Alastor stated with finality. “And what’s mine stays with me.” He reached down and gripped your hand, tugging you up with him. As angry as he seemed he was still gentle with you, at least.

You’d be lying if you didn’t find the possessiveness attractive. Heck, it would probably be impossible to date the Radio Demon if you didn’t want to be obsessed over and practically owned. You were only slightly embarrassed at the heat on your cheeks when you felt the almost desperate grip of his on your hand, to which Angel pointed at with a defeated “what the hell.”

He basically dragged you away from the situation, ears slightly pressed back. He refused to look at you as you caught up to his steps and walked beside him. He didn’t have to look at you, though, because you already knew the turmoil that was going through his head.

“Don’t be so embarrassed,” You tried to comfort as he opened the door to your shared bedroom. “I think it’s very becoming of a gentleman to protect his property.” You enjoyed the way his eyes glittered with pride when you referred to yourself in such a manner. You didn’t truly consider yourself property, of course, but you simply enjoyed seeing that look in his eyes and the way his chest involuntarily puffed up.

What a different being Alastor was during his rut. More expression than ever with the way his affections and frustrations were so visible in his body language. He pulled you closer to him, squeezing you against his body as he let the two of you fall into the bed. You lifted yourself off of his chest with an elbow and looked down at him.

He met your gaze with his own wide, needy eyes and quivering smile. To put it simply, he looked… pitiful. Endearing. You loved it. He hated it. You knew if anybody saw him in this state he would go on the attack immediately without a single thought. You briefly glanced back to make sure the door had been locked. Just in case.

You smiled at him and peppered kisses on his chest and up, finally nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. He sighed pleasantly at your motions, swooping his arms up to position you on your side in front of him, wrapping himself protectively around your body.

“I crave you, my love,” He stated in an incredibly forward way. His voice lacked the typical radio effect as he spoke, and you realized your skin was also not prickling with the sensation that usually accompanied his presence. You responded by layering your hands over his own, which was resting comfortably against your waist. “I never want you out in such a… dirty place with that overly sexual spider.”

“I know, Al,” You said with a sigh. “Too many ‘hungry eyes’, you’ve told me this.”

He remained quiet, and you could barely feel the way your hair flicked every time he exhaled against the top of your head.

You also remained quiet, opting to just enjoy the moment. These three months went by so, so fast, so you didn’t want to waste time speaking and bickering over meaningless things. You didn’t care to go to bars, anyway; you weren’t much of a drinker. You also hoped to get Alastor’s mind off of his disdain for Angel. While you trusted him to know better to attack one of your friends—more importantly one of Charlie’s friends—you didn’t want to take any chances. He was somehow even more unpredictable during his rut.

You leaned your head back, tilting up slightly to meet Alastor’s gaze. He placed a feather-light kiss against your forehead in response.

He was in for a long three months, but you were going to enjoy every second of it.

#ohdeerfully #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #fluff #alastor x you #im sorry imm taking one million years to write anything #ive been so lazy

828 notes · View notes

moonlinos · 8 months

Text

Invisible string (pt. II)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: Minho is even more determined to make you see the good in love after falling for you, while you’re too preoccupied with thinking you’re not good enough for him.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, smut, friends to lovers, pining

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), hand job, fingering, like two seconds of nipple play, slut shaming, swearing

♡ Word count: 13.2k

♡ A/N: I got such a great response on the first part 🥲 thank you to everyone who left feedback. It means a lot more than you realize. I researched what to do on a trip to Japan so extensively just to write this part that I got sad I’ve never traveled there 🫠

← part I ♡ part III →

The night after you and Minho watched the light show, you stayed awake until four in the morning with your roommates as Eunha cried about her ex-boyfriend. You’ve never been the type to hope for someone’s misery, but that guy is deserving of every terrible thing that could happen to him.

After she calmed down, you fell asleep together on the couch. You only managed to check your phone in the morning, finding it thrown on your bed along with your bag. Minho’s string of messages put a smile on your face. You could use the time away from everything, even if it was only for a weekend.

You agreed to his strange invitation without thinking twice. You did, however, insist on paying for your hotel room. Chan was already being far too generous in offering you his place on a trip he had paid for.

Soon enough, two weeks flew by and the Friday of your trip finally arrived.

You’re already waiting outside of your house when Minho’s car arrives. He greets you with a hug, taking your backpack from your hands and placing it on the backseat. He opens the passenger door for you, waits until you’re settled in your seat, and only then closes the door and walks around the car. It’s something he does every time you go out together and it always makes you smile, even though it’s such a minor detail.

“You know, you’re my first friend who can drive,” you comment as he enters the car. “You shot up a lot of spots on my favorite friends’ list just by saving me from taking the bus.”

Minho chuckles. “And here I foolishly thought you liked me for my personality,” he feigns offense, shaking his head. “I actually only know how to drive because of my mom. I was moving to the countryside, and she got really worried I was gonna be stranded there, so she gave me a car when I graduated.”

You raise your brows. “You lived in the countryside?”

“Yep, I moved to Gurye right after graduating high school,” he explains simply, starting the car.

You nod slowly. Truthfully, you wanted to ask more questions but didn’t want to seem intrusive. Minho had never told you a lot about his life before starting university — the only things you know are that he has three cats back home in Gimpo and started college late for some reason. You figure he’s a private person who will hopefully open up to you once he’s ready. You couldn’t blame him either; you also desperately pretended as if your life before university didn’t exist.

As you two sit in the car, moving slowly through the awful Friday night traffic, you feel the familiar thoughts of panic overflow your mind. This trip felt almost romantic; just you and Minho in Japan for an entire weekend. You should be running away from shit like this, should be shutting him out before anything more than friendship blossoms between the two of you.

Your fingers pick on the fabric of your sheer tights, pulling and pinching apprehensively as your mind races. Because, at the end of the day, Minho is still a guy. He’s still capable of breaking your heart in the same ways it was broken before, and maybe even in new ways. He could still cheat on you, fall in love with someone else, treat you like nothing more than an object or a nuisance in his life, wake up one day and simply decide he’s had enough of you.

But he’s also Minho.

Your heart quickly countered every single reason your brain came up with on why you should run away from the situation.

How could Minho, who believes that love doesn’t allow you to hurt the person you love because it feels like you’re hurting yourself, cheat on you?

How could Minho, who told you that love makes it so that you can only see the one you love, fall in love with someone else?

How could Minho, who does stupid romance movie shit like opening car doors and pulling out chairs for you, insisting that he should walk on the street side when you’re together, reading classic novels, learning how to cook so his mom doesn’t have to, all while having three fucking cats, possibly break your heart?

Part of you hates how you have to do mental gymnastics to even consider allowing yourself to feel something more for a guy, but a bigger part knows the hurt that inevitably comes with love isn’t worth it.

You hear a soft chuckle beside you, and you lift your gaze to find Minho smiling at you as you stop at a red light.

“Is that a style thing?” He asks, gesturing toward your thighs with a nod. You furrow your brows. The light turns green, and his attention is back on the road, a grin spread across his lips. “Ripping holes in your tights. Is that a style thing?”

You look down toward your legs and grimace as you realize you had mindlessly torn two holes in your tights while overthinking. You mentally curse yourself.

“I’m cold,” you lie with an awkward giggle. “Was trying to warm myself up.”

Minho hums, stepping on the brakes as you encounter another traffic jam. He unbuckles his seat belt, turns his body toward the back seat, and retrieves his jacket before draping it over your thighs. He shoots you a small smile and turns his attention back toward the road.

The side of your brain that was against Minho and anything romantic with him just a few moments ago is completely swallowed up, dissipating as you ultimately admit to yourself that you don’t hate the prospect of this being a romantic trip as long as it’s with him.

God, you really don’t hate it one bit.

You two finally arrive at the airport just in time to board your flight with no issues. You’re not big on flying, but the flight is just a little over two hours, and Minho is such a calming presence next to you. He quietly read you some harlequin romance he picked up at the airport bookstore, and you two laughed a bit too loudly at the over-the-top plot and theatrical writing. The two of you were taken aback as the book turned out to be erotica, but hearing Minho dramatically read to you in a whisper about the hunky love interest and his manhood made you laugh until tears formed in your eyes.

After that, you two somehow end up talking about your lives back home. Minho shares how he always cooks Christmas dinner for his family, and his favorite part of the night is always the praises his grandmother throws his way. He explains that although he started cooking simply to help his mother, he found that he genuinely enjoyed it. He said he missed doing it every day, having stopped because his roommates had begun treating him as nothing more than a personal cook. You listen to his every word with a smile on your face that you can’t hide. It feels like he’s slowly opening up more to you about his life outside of university, and even something as small as this detail about his home life makes you feel closer to him.

The flight is so pleasant that you only realize you’ve landed once you see Minho unbuckling his seat belt.

You two take an Uber to the hotel, arriving in thirty minutes — you insist on paying since you’re basically here for free. You stare out the car window in awe the entire ride, Minho fondly laughing at your amazement.

As you arrive, you struggle with your backpack, pulling it out of the backseat with such force you would have fallen backward had it not been for Minho’s hands holding your shoulders. He asks if you’re okay with a chuckle, and you groan about how heavy your backpack is. Packing light wasn’t your forte.

As you two walk toward the hotel entrance, the weight on your shoulders disappears suddenly. You furrow your brows and look behind you. Minho had nonchalantly picked your backpack up by the handle and lifted it off your shoulders, carrying all the weight in his arms. You bite back a smile, murmuring a thank you. He just nods, like he hasn’t just done yet another thing you thought only happened in books written by women.

You feel that damn pinwheel return to your chest, making you feel a kind of thrill that you haven’t felt in a while. A good kind.

The hotel is relatively small, clearly on the cheap side, although it’s still quite charming. Minho mutters an apology as he catches you looking around the place.

“It was the only place I could afford being a broke college student,” He explains with a sheepish chuckle, and you shake your head.

“It’s lovely. I’m so happy to be here, I think I wouldn’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

Minho is the one who checks you in, speaking in near-perfect Japanese to the front desk clerk. You focus on the wood chipping on the table and bite the inside of your cheek as you inwardly berate yourself for finding it so damn attractive. It was different from your classes or your small study sessions. You had never truly grasped just how good Minho was until right now. You didn’t understand a word he said. All you know is that he sounded too sexy for his own good while saying it.

Minho hands you the key and tells you the room number, and you finally make your way up the stairs. He walks beside you the whole way, and you wonder if his room is on the same floor as yours or if he’s just doing this so he can hold your backpack off your shoulders.

As you reach your room on the third floor, he stops you before you can insert the key into the door.

“Before you go inside…” He trails off, pursing his lips before letting out a sigh. “I — we could only afford to pay for one room, so this is actually our room.”

Your eyes widen for a second before you nod slowly. “Oh. It’s… okay,” you assure him, although there’s very little confidence in your voice. The prospect of sharing a bed with Minho makes you nervous, but not for the reasons you thought it would.

“There are two beds! Of course,” He assures you, and you mentally slap yourself on the forehead for feeling disappointed at this information.

It’s because you’ve exclusively been having sex with Hyunjin for so long, you reason with yourself. Your hormones must be making you stupid, making you want something more with someone else who isn’t him.

Yeah, that’s it.

Minho’s your friend, after all. It wouldn’t make sense for you to want anything more with him.

It’s just your stupid hormones.

You turn the key and open the door, stepping inside the tiny room with Minho. The two beds were so close together due to the room size that they might as well be just one. The only other piece of furniture is a bedside table, which basically connects the two beds.

It’s only once you slide your backpack straps off your shoulders that Minho lets go of the handle, and you toss it on the plain white sheets of the bed to your right by the bathroom door.

Feeling a chill run through your body, you let out a groan. The heater in your room is clearly not the best.

“Tights and a skirt weren’t the right choice for this weather. This shitty heater also isn’t helping,” you grumble.

Minho chuckles behind you, and you hear the sound of the bed springs as he all but throws himself onto the bed. “Poking holes in your tights probably didn’t help either,” he jokes, and you force out a chuckle.

It seems you chose today to act like a complete idiot.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom to change into your warm sleep clothes. The first thing you notice as you walk out into the room again is Minho’s bright orange sweater with a cat knitted on the front. He’s lying down, his back resting on the wall since the beds don’t have a headboard, and the color of his sweater might be a bit offensive to the eyes, but it’s quickly forgiven once you take in the kitten adorning the fabric.

You giggle, and he looks up from his phone, his eyes meeting yours.

“Your sweater is really cute,” you tell him as you sit down in your bed, crossing your legs in an attempt to warm yourself a bit more.

Minho grins. “I know,” He says smugly, “It reminds me of two of my cats because of the color.”

“You know,” you hummed, “You never showed me any pictures of your cats.”

You watch as his eyes light up at your words. He locks his phone before quickly turning it to face you, showing you his wallpaper. Your lips stretch into a fond smile as you analyze the picture: Minho holding an orange and white cat close to his face with a grin, a butterfly filter cutely adorning his nose.

“This is Soonie, he’s the first cat I got,” He explains, turning his head so he could look at the screen as well, “I was thirteen when I adopted him, and I remember begging my parents for almost three months until they agreed. In the end, they loved him so much they allowed me to adopt another one.”

Minho unlocks his phone and opens his gallery, flipping through his pictures like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You purse your lips. It feels like you’re intruding, even though he’s the one who hasn’t moved the screen an inch. You couldn’t think of one person you’d trust enough to so freely view every single picture you had on your phone like this. Minho really was something else.

Most of his gallery is composed of blurry food pictures mixed with pages and covers of books and computer screens filled with codes. Until he reaches a point — before he started university, you assume — where the only thing you can see is pictures of cats.

He stops scrolling and clicks a picture of the same orange cat, this time wearing glasses and a hat. You snort because, of course he dresses his cats in clothes.

“Soonie is adorable,” you beam. Minho furrows his brows and shakes his head, looking at you like he’s offended.

“This is Doongie,” he states like it’s obvious, “The second cat I adopted.”

Your brows furrow as well. “Minho, that’s the same cat.”

He clicks his tongue, closing the picture and scrolling before opening another one; two orange and white cats lay together on a cat tree. Your lips fall open.

“See? This one is Soonie, he has a white nose. And this one is Doongie, his nose is orange,” He explains, and you nod, knowing full well you’d be dead if your life depended on distinguishing these two cats. “Doongie is the middle child, so he’s more temperamental.”

You stifle a giggle at him talking about his cats like they’re his children, much like you do.

He closes the picture once again and scrolls down further. His fingers hover over a picture for a couple of seconds, like he’s hesitating before he ultimately opens it. The screen fills with the image of a younger Minho smiling while holding a gray cat. His wire-frame glasses were round, unlike his current ones, and his black hair used to be shorter. The picture has clearly been cropped, only half of the cat’s body still visible.

“This is Dori. He’s the last cat I got, and he’s actually the only one I call my son.” He lets out a breathy chuckle. “I adopted him with my ex-girlfriend. She wanted a dog, but I fell in love with Dori as soon as I laid eyes on him on the website, so she had no choice but to accept him.”

You watch as he smiles at the picture and the memory. You absentmindedly fiddle with your fingers on your lap, an all too familiar ugly feeling bubbling inside you. Jealousy. Not because Minho mentioned a girlfriend — you wish it was as simple as that. Jealousy consumed you when you were forced to face the reality that people have healthy relationships, where one partner sacrifices their own desires just to please their loved one. Where you make plans to adopt a kitten together just so you can call it your son. You know damn well you were never even close to having something even remotely similar to that.

You shake the feeling off, forcing out a smile. “He’s really cute,” you tell Minho, “And he’s my favorite, ‘cause at least I can tell him apart from the other two.”

Minho chuckles, scrunching his nose as he locks his phone and rests it on his thigh.

You two settle into bed after Minho walked you through the day he and Chan had planned for tomorrow. He had organized everything neatly in a travel planning app — from where you would be going down to an estimate of how much you would be spending. You always preferred roughly planning things out mentally whenever you traveled, mostly enjoying going with the flow.

Among all your coincidentally similar little incidents, you finally found something in which you two are complete opposites.

That should, in theory, annoy you, but you can’t help but find his meticulousness endearing. You can just picture him searching tirelessly online, crunching numbers and jotting everything down. The image is too adorable for you to be mad.

“Guess we finally found somewhere we’re different,” you mention with a smile as you tuck yourself into your sheets. Minho remains sitting on his bed, putting his glasses on their case.

He hums. “Rather than different, maybe we just complement each other in this case? You hate organizing, and I fucking love to do it, as you just saw,” he chuckles, “We’d be a great team. I plan everything, and all you have to do is show up.”

You nod with a smile, going over the places he chose in your head. You were excited for all but one: the very first one on the list, Inokashira Park.

“You know,” you start with a sigh, Minho’s eyes finding yours in the dimly lit room. “I never talk about this, but I weirdly feel like I can tell you anything. Nobody from our friend group knows this but…” you trail off, gripping the scratchy fabric of the comforter. “One of my ex-boyfriends cheated on me during a family trip to Japan when I was seventeen. I found out ‘cause the girl he hooked up with tagged him in pictures on Instagram. They were together in Inokashira Park.”

Minho hums, his eyes studying your face. After a beat of silence, he shrugs.

“We can skip that if you want to. I just—” He purses his lips, shifting on the mattress. “I just don’t think you should deprive yourself of the experience just because of a bad memory. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

You nod, taking in his words. He was right. You were positive none of your exes ever deprived themselves of going back to places where they cheated on you, so why should you? They were the ones in the wrong, the ones who hurt and betrayed you, so why should you be the one to bear the trauma?

Minho rests his back against the wall, playing with the drawstrings of his sweatpants. “Is that why you don’t believe in love anymore? Don’t feel like you have to answer! I just… I wondered…” He faltered, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “I wondered what could have happened to make you feel that way.”

“Well, that was just one of five times when love proved to kind of hate my guts,” you chuckle. You didn’t understand why, but the words you held back for so long were bubbling at your throat, ready to spill out. And you were willing to let them. Even if only to a certain extent, you were ready to talk about this pathetic side of your life. You would rationalize it all later. Right now, you simply wanted to talk.

“I’ve had five boyfriends in my life, and they were all terrible in some way. I know, it’s a lot of relationships considering my age.” You scrunch up your face, cringing when you voice out the number.

Minho chuckles, and you’re ready for him to agree.

“It’s really not. There’s no right or wrong number of people to date during your teenage years or your twenties.” You open your eyes to find him leaning on his side, looking at you dismissively. “Some people date more, some date less, some people don’t even date at all. Either way, it’s fine.”

Your lips open and close, then open again. You had always expected people’s reactions to be the same as the ones you heard during high school. From your classmates to your ex-boyfriends, even your friends at the time, they all seemed to be in unanimous agreement that you were at fault for having dated so much in such a brief period. You never thought that maybe people with different opinions existed. And that, maybe, those people would be the ones who you care the most about.

Thinking about it now, after hearing Minho’s words, you were certain neither Eunha nor Soojung — or any of your friends, for that matter — would ever think badly about you or shame you simply because you’ve had five boyfriends. It seemed silly even to think that way now.

It was sad how much your teenage traumas undeniably affected your perception of reality.

Minho is the one to break the silence, his soft voice pulling you away from your thoughts.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. I promise you, the memories we make on this trip will be good enough that they override this lousy one,” he vows with a small nod. “And, more than ever before, I truly hope I can change your view of love.”

You smile at his words. “I surprisingly feel my thoughts about many things changing. Love is one of them.”

“I’m glad,” he hums, finally slipping under his covers. “Y’know, love isn’t only romantic. You say you’re closed off to love, that’s really a lie,” he states matter-of-factly, a smug grin spreading across his lips. You bite back a smile and raise your eyebrows at him. He continues, “The love you feel for your family and your friends, platonic love, that’s also love. I’ve been around you long enough to know just how much you love your friends.”

To say you loved your friends almost didn’t seem sufficient. After graduating high school, you left behind all the judgmental and toxic friends you had. You are immensely grateful to have found such good people at university. Eunha and Soojung were the housemates of your dreams, the three of you so different that it truthfully shouldn’t work, but it simply did. Hyunjin becoming your best friend was also a surprise; he was younger than you, and you had never been friends with a guy before — in part thanks to your jealous boyfriends — but he carved out a space for himself in your life and refused to leave. And you were so thankful for that.

And then there was Minho, who had come out of the blue into your life and just as suddenly became such an important person to you. From the way you two first met to your little similarities and how well you got along in such a short time, it was as if fate pulled you toward him.

You smile.

“I do love them,” you tell him, fiddling with your fingers under the white comforter. “And I love you, too, Minho. You’re my friend, after all. In a way, you’re already succeeding in changing my view of love just by being you.”

Minho’s eyes blink rapidly as he looks at you, his parted lips making him look like a confused child before they close. He hums, nodding as a small smile spreads on his lips, which quickly grows bigger and bigger until he’s basically giggling. He hides his face behind his hand, clearing his throat. You feel warmth spread across your chest at the sight. You’re sure if the lights were brighter, you’d be able to see his ears turning red.

You shake your head with a chuckle. The mood has suddenly become a bit too emotional, and you still find yourself running away from these things. However, you were proud of your progress tonight. Talking about love and your past — especially regarding your ex-boyfriends — was already a huge step for you.

You hope Minho knows he’s part of the reason you’re able to take this step in the first place.

“Okay, your turn.” You sit up on the bed, the white comforter pooling on your lap. “I’m curious too, y’know. You’re such a love enthusiast,” you tease him with a grin, earning you a chuckle from Minho, who throws his head back. “Tell me about your romantic experiences.”

He mirrors you and sits up on his bed. “Experience. I’ve only had one girlfriend,” he corrects you, “We met on the first day of high school and began dating the year after that, when we were sixteen. We were together until I was just about to turn twenty-one, so…” he trails off with a deep sigh. “Yeah, it was quite the long first relationship.”

“My five relationships combined didn’t last as long as that.” You click your tongue, and Minho lets out a breathy laugh. “Why did you two break up after being together for so long?” You blurt out before you can process the words inside your head. Annoyed with your own self, you scrunch up your face. You really chose today to be an idiot. “If that’s okay for me to ask! Sorry for being nosy, I’m just— I guess I’m curious.”

Minho smiles at you, a fond smile he always shoots your way whenever you are word-vomiting. Much like your other friends, he had quickly adapted to your habit of spilling out words before thinking about them.

“It’s a bit of a long story. Basically, she wanted a quiet and simple life in the countryside, so I did that for her,” he explains, shrugging dismissively. So that was the reason he had moved to Gurye after finishing school. “I began saving up money at eighteen with my job at the convenience store while she gave piano lessons to the kids in our neighborhood, and we moved on her twentieth birthday. I figured I could just do programming jobs from home, anyway, so I completely gave up on my plans to attend university…” Minho trails off, his voice all but a whisper at the end of the sentence. He shakes his head, a bitter chuckle leaving his lips as he continues, “I kind of wanna kick myself in the face for that now. It fucking sucks to have started university so late, but it was my own decision. I guess you say stupid shit when you’re nervous, and I do stupid shit when I’m in love.”

You had never met someone who would abandon so much of themselves for the person they loved. It made Minho even more admirable to you. However, even though it was his own decision, he clearly came to regret it. People often say love is all about compromises, and you couldn’t help but feel like Minho had been the only one to give up anything in this scenario.

“Were your parents okay with you two making such a drastic move?” You question, your curiosity bubbling inside your chest.

Minho scoffs. “Of course they weren’t. Especially my dad. But we were nearing our twenties, so there wasn’t much they could do to stop us.”

He drums his fingers on his thighs, and you wonder if this subject brought back sour memories — or maybe even good ones he just didn’t like remembering because they had become part of the past. You want to tell him it’s okay if he doesn’t want to talk about it any longer, but he’s continuing his story before you can speak.

“We adopted Dori and left a week later. We were pretty much broke. All we could afford was a small cottage that hadn’t been renovated in over a decade, but we were happy,” Minho’s voice is soft as he speaks, a smile forming on his lips as he stares ahead, almost as if he’s reliving those moments in his head. “We talked about growing old together and raising our kids in that cottage. And we — god, looking back, this was so stupid it’s fucking funny,” He chuckled, shaking his head and raising his gaze to meet yours. “We were actually trying to get pregnant. We barely had money to feed Dori and ourselves, yet it still crushed us every time that test read negative.”

You feel your expression change, a blend of astonishment and admiration washing over you. They must’ve truly been in love. You felt a slight pang of hurt and envy run through your body; it truly was so easy for other people when it came to love.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” you lament, although you’re not sure if you’re talking about the pregnancy or the entire relationship.

Minho shakes his head, scrunching his nose. “Don’t feel bad, it was a blessing in disguise. I can’t imagine how the fuck we would ever manage to raise a baby at that time.”

“It seems like you two had the perfect relationship.” You force out a smile, waging war against your bitter jealousy.

“It was perfect, until it wasn’t,” Minho shrugs dismissively, “We began to fight a lot after a while. Haneul would always get upset at me for not doing things the way she thought I should do them, down to replying in a way that didn’t fit with what she had hoped I would say. And I was the same, always getting frustrated when she disagreed with me, even if it was about something silly like what to have for dinner. We used to be able to talk it out and come to an agreement in the past — it wasn’t for nothing that we were together for so long — but being in that little cottage, just us two all the time, it became suffocating.”

“Is that why you two broke up?”

Minho nods. “We realized we were merely playing house. Neither of us was happy anymore,” he explains, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “It was like we each had a script inside our heads of what the other should say or how they should act. It wasn’t healthy anymore, so we mutually decided to end things before they got worse.”

Your fingers fiddle with a loose thread on the white cover. You had always been envious of this type of relationship, but you never thought to think about the fact that they can also come to an end. It always seemed to you that your relationships never worked because they weren’t perfect, like the relationships you saw in books or movies — like the one Minho had described with his ex-girlfriend.

You never once rationalized that even perfect things can ebb away. That nothing lasts forever, even if it seems utterly ideal.

“I know how terrible breakups are,” you tell him. “I can only imagine how much worse it must’ve been to you two after so many years together.”

Minho shakes his head with a smile. “I never really felt hurt by it. It was such a perfect breakup she even let me keep Dori without going through a custody battle,” he jokes, raising his eyebrows at you.

“How can it not have hurt you?” You let out an incredulous laugh. “You were in love, planning to start a family, and you tell me it didn’t hurt when it ended? That’s bullshit, Minho.”

He looks up at the ceiling, like he’s trying to find the words to explain to you. He hums. “Well, I loved Haneul. I loved her so very much, with every fiber of my being. She was my first love. My mom once said we were probably a couple in another life as well, and I fucking loved that,” He chuckles, “The idea that someone was destined for me and I was destined for them, that we were fated to find each other and be together across lifetimes.”

“Like soulmates?” You ask.

He nods. “Soulmates, yes. That’s what we were. And, after we broke up, I realized maybe people’s understanding of soulmates is wrong. At least to me,” He shrugs.

You let out a chuckle. He really turned a terrible situation into a chance to reevaluate his beliefs. It was the most Minho thing you had ever heard.

“How are people understanding it wrong, then?” You question him, resting your chin on the palm of your hand and looking at him. Minho mirrors your actions, a grin etched onto his lips.

“Well, for starters, you can have many soulmates in one lifetime.” You furrow your brows, opening your mouth to ask him more questions, but he quickly adds, “For example, Haneul was my soulmate and there’s no doubt about it in my mind. But it ended, because it was time for it to end. I learned everything I had to learn with her, and she did the same. We couldn’t grow together anymore, so there was no point in staying together.”

Biting your lip, you nod. “I never thought of it that way. You ask anyone and they’ll tell you that a soulmate is unique.”

“It may be so to some people, but I find that way of thinking a bit unfair,” he shrugs. “Haneul found someone new. Wouldn’t it be unfair for me to say her new relationship is inferior to ours simply because we were soulmates? We were soulmates, but our time to be together has passed and she’s with the soulmate she’s supposed to be right now.”

You hum, tapping your fingers against your cheek. “I guess it does make sense.”

He shrugs, feigning smugness. “I am quite the smart man.”

“What about you?” You question, smiling at him, “Have you ever found a new soulmate after that relationship?”

Minho clears his throat, his gaze shifting to look at where his sock-clad feet poked out from underneath the comforter. You could swear you see a tiny smile on his lips.

“I think I did,” He answers with a questioning lilt. “There were some signs, and a lot of things that aligned.” His gaze lifts once more to meet your eyes as he continues, “Makes me think maybe I’ve found her.”

As you take in his words, jealousy rears its ugly head, the feeling almost swallowing you whole. You gnaw on your bottom lip. The way Minho made you feel at times was questionable at best, but you chalk it all up to your jealous nature. You’d always gotten jealous when your friends found new friendships or when they started relationships.

However, that feeling was a bit different from the one currently making you want to bite your lip until it bled out of sheer and petty jealousy.

You let out a heavy sigh, pushing all those thoughts into a neat little box inside your head and locking them up.

“You’re really lucky,” you tell him, and Minho cocks an eyebrow. “That’s why you think love can only be good, because your only experience with it was long-lasting and good until the very end. I’d much rather have love fizzle out than have it end in a way that ended me as well. That’s how it’s always been with me, and I guess that’s why I came to hate love a little bit.”

Minho smiles at you, a genuine smile that reaches his brown eyes. “Well, sometimes love lasts forever,” he asserts, “So you shouldn’t think about how it’s going to end.”

You can feel the pinwheel inside your chest spinning, causing your heart to skip a beat and your cheeks to blush pink. Forcing out a chuckle, you lie on your bed and pull the covers up to your nose.

“You’re back to your hopeless romantic ways.”

“I never stopped,” He corrects you. He lies down as well, facing you, his hand reaching out to turn off the lamp that sat on the bedside table. “Even when I thought you had a boyfriend,” Minho continues, “I was still able to be a hopeless romantic.”

You feel your eyes widen at his words, thanking the darkness that covers you both as confusion and shock swim in your eyes. Did Minho subtly admit he liked you? Were you reading too much into things? Why did this not scare you? It should scare you, should make you terrified, as this is the very thing you’ve been running away from.

You were probably over-analyzing his words.

But why did you hope that wasn’t the case?

The two of you wake up early, hitting the streets of Tokyo immediately after getting dressed. Minho’s list definitely made things easier, with you two hopping from place to place before crossing them out one by one on his phone. Your favorite so far had been the cat café you two went to for breakfast, where you spent the entire hour watching Minho petting and playing with the kittens, the smile on your lips so fond that it probably made you look stupid.

But as you walk around Inokashira Park, that quickly drops to second place on your mental list. It was a beautiful place, especially in the late afternoon sun. As soon as you arrived, Minho took your hand in his without a word. It was unexpected, to say the least, but you were even more surprised to find yourself liking the gesture. You squeezed his hand, smiling at him, before lacing your fingers together.

Your heart was racing so fast you were certain that damn pinwheel brought along a friend today.

After walking around for a bit, Minho abruptly stopped, letting go of your hand and moving to stand behind you. You furrowed your brows as his hands came to cover your eyes. With his lips incredibly close to your ears, he whispered, “I have a surprise. It’s a place that wasn’t on the list. A museum I think you’ll like.”

You felt goosebumps rise all over your body at the sound of his low voice coupled with his breath tickling your skin. You silently thanked the cold weather — had you not been wearing long sleeves, Minho would have seen the effect he had on you, and you would’ve had no other choice but to throw yourself in front of a taxi on the way back to the hotel.

The two of you waddled awkwardly, Minho still standing behind you with his hands over your eyes. He giggled the whole way to your destination. You were too immersed in not focusing on how his body brushed up against yours with every step you took to even think about laughing.

His broad chest so warm against your back, his arms wrapped around you, his lips grazing your neck once as he bent down to whisper something about the museum being just around the corner, and his lower body continuously brushing and rubbing against your ass as you two walked. You had to fight the urge to push your body against his every time that happened, wondering if that would be enough to get him hard.

After Minho’s supposed confession last night, your mind had truly thrown every bit of worry and shame you felt about being attracted to him out the window.

It felt almost liberating, being able to say fuck it and simply feel.

So you were attracted to Minho; why should it be a big deal? You shouldn't deprive yourself of these silly experiences just because love scares you.

Maybe being scared was okay sometimes. Maybe it was worth it for the right people.

Just as your mind was running wild with thoughts of Minho’s body pressed up against yours, his voice whispered in your ear again. You had arrived, he announced, removing his hands from your eyes.

As your eyes adjusted to the light, you made out the words on a wooden sign before you. Minho had taken you to the Ghibli Museum. Before you could stop yourself, you were throwing your arms around his neck with a gasp.

You could just kiss him at that moment. That was how happy you were.

After walking around the museum with a smile engraved onto your lips, your cheeks hurt in the best way possible. Minho hurried you as you looked through the overly expensive gift shop, reminding you that the swan paddle boats would be closing soon. You whined but ultimately had no choice but to leave the shop as he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the exit. Mourning the loss of a Soot Sprite plush perfect for your collection, you grumbled to Minho about how he had no heart as you two ran across the park.

You made it just in time, being the last ones in line on the pier. Minho insisted on paying for your tickets, and you agreed only after he explained it would be your compensation for the loss of your precious plushie.

And now you sit beside him on a swan paddle boat, failing miserably at containing your giggles as Minho adjusts his life jacket.

“You know,” He starts with a dramatic sigh, “You’re not gonna be laughing if we crash and you drown.”

You poke his arm, making him look at you just as a smile spreads across his lips. “I’m only laughing ‘cause you look real cute.”

You begin to paddle, and it is surprisingly easy — especially because Minho is the one guiding the boat with a steering wheel. The scenery is quite dull because of the cold season, with most trees already bare of leaves and the sky a blend of pale blue and white.

“I wish it was spring,” Minho speaks beside you as if he’s read your thoughts. “The cherry blossoms are fucking gorgeous.”

You look over at him, his eyes fixed ahead as he steers the boat around the pond. His glasses reflect the pale sky and obscure his eyes, but you’re sure he’s blinking rapidly like he usually does whenever he’s focused.

“Did you come here with your ex-girlfriend in spring?” You blurt out.

Minho’s lips stretch into a grin as he turns to face you.

“No,” he answers simply. “But I want to come with you.”

It’s only then you realize he had been doing most of the work paddling, as he easily controls the speed at which the boat glides across the water, slowing down until you two are stopped at the edge of the pond.

Your mind races, but not as hard as your heart does.

“With me?”

“With you.”

His eyes are fixed on yours, and his left hand grips the steering wheel tightly. You part your lips, but only silence is stuck in your throat. Drawing yourself out of the impromptu staring contest the two of you had gotten into, your eyes shift down to stare at your purse which lay across your lap.

You softly utter the only two words your mind can conjure up. “Why me?”

“Because I like you,” Minho’s voice is also quiet. You hear him shuffling beside you, turning his body so he fully faces you. “I know you’re scared, and you feel like you’re protecting yourself, but I’m—” He cuts himself off abruptly, and your eyes shoot up to find him biting his lip, his brows furrowed. He lets out a sigh. “I like you so much I think I might implode if I do nothing about it.”

Your breath hitched audibly. There is still a part of you that’s screaming out run away, this is terrifying, you’re on your way to another heart-wrenching breakup — but that part has become so minuscule, so insignificant now, it feels like nothing but muffled background noise inside your head. Because a much bigger part of you is begging for you to just say, “Then do something about it.”

And he does.

Minho’s hand leaves the wheel and gingerly touches your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin before he closes the distance between you. It isn’t the first time you kiss Minho, but it is certainly the first time your entire being is fully enveloped in only him; from the way his slightly chapped lips still felt so soft against your own to how his strong hand finds your waist and pulls you closer to him.

And his taste. Minho coaxes your mouth open with his tongue and licks into it, your senses being taken over by the taste of the watermelon candy he’d been eating all day until you’re positively drunk on him. Your heart racing and your hands shaking like a teenager having their first kiss.

You go to grab his shirt, desperate to pull him even closer to you, but your hands collide with the damn life jacket he’s wearing. You whine into the kiss, annoyed, and Minho only chuckles against your lips. He bites your lower lip, pulling softly before releasing it and pressing another kiss to your pout.

“I take back what I said, the life jacket isn’t cute,” you mumble against his lips. His smile grows, and his lips crash against yours again, his hands tangling in your hair.

He groans into the kiss, barely pulling away before whispering, “Don’t wanna stop kissing you.”

You hum. “Well, you can kiss me anytime now.”

Minho’s lips spread into a grin, and he closes the small distance between you for one last kiss before he pulls away, your noses brushing. His eyes are dark yet soft, as if longing and affection had melted together.

“I want to be with you,” He says, “But I want you to think about it before you say anything because I know how scared you are of love. And if by the end of our trip I haven’t given you enough reasons to give me a chance, I’ll let you go and move on with my life. If you want to stay friends, I’ll happily do that. And if you never want to see me again, I’ll also respect that.”

Your heart swells with his words because Minho is the complete antithesis of everything your ex-boyfriends taught you that men were.

And, for the first time in so long, you feel the kind of nervousness that’s nothing but good. The kind that leaves you with trembling hands, a racing heart, and a dizzy head. The kind that only love can provide.

Despite his request, you’re eager to answer him right then and there, but just as you’re about to speak, the sky roars and dark clouds gather above. You jump in your seat at the sound, and Minho’s hands instinctively wrap around your shoulders and squeeze. You smile, simply nodding your head and giving his lips a small kiss.

Minho struggles a bit, but he’s eventually able to turn the paddle boat around, and you two begin to paddle back toward the pier. The light rain quickly becomes heavy raindrops drumming on the roof of the boat, and you dread the walk back to the hotel as neither of you thought to bring an umbrella.

“Y'know,” Minho starts. “There’s a myth here in Japan that says if you ride this boat with a girlfriend, then you’ll break up soon. I kinda always believed that.”

You let out a chuckle. “Really?”

He hums, nodding his head. “So I’m choosing to also believe that if you ride it with someone you like, they will become your girlfriend soon.”

Minho turns to look at you with a smile as you stop at the pier, removing his life jacket and exiting the boat without another word. You bite the inside of your cheek in a failed attempt at holding back a smile. Minho helps you out of the boat, his hand taking yours and pulling you toward him gently.

You two run back to the hotel, Minho holding you close to him with his hand around your waist. The streets are mostly empty as people squeeze under bus stops and shop awnings to shelter from the rain, and it almost feels like you and Minho are the only people in Tokyo that night.

You two giggle the whole way to the hotel. Even when you are struck with the realization that the power has shut off on the entire street upon arriving, you simply turn to each other and laugh even more.

You clumsily manage to take a brief shower in the darkness, changing into your sleep clothes as quickly as you can. You realize with a grimace that if your room was cold before, with the shitty hotel heater on, it’s basically turned into an icebox now.

Wrapping yourself up in your comforter, you shiver with a groan just as Minho walks out of the bathroom.

“Bet you miss that shitty heater now, huh?” He jokes, and you faintly make out his silhouette in the dim light of the moon coming from the window.

You let out another groan. “I'm gonna freeze to death tonight. I've made peace with that. Thaw me with a hairdryer in the morning, please.”

Minho chuckles, sitting on his bed as he checks his phone. You make out his features in the moonlight coming from the window, and he’s wearing another sweater, black with more cats printed on it.

Such a cozy, warm-looking sweater. You curse yourself inwardly for only packing t-shirts to sleep.

As he locks his phone, an idea hits you, and your words are faster than your thoughts — as they always seem to be whenever you’re around Minho.

“Can I lay with you for a bit?” You ask, “Just for a bit, until I get warm? My bed is right under this damn window, and I don’t have any sweaters I can sleep in, and I know I joked about making peace with freezing but—”

Minho cuts you off by calling out your name with a chuckle. “It's okay. You don’t need to make up a thousand excuses. I'm cold, too,” He says simply, scooting to the side to make room for you in his bed. “Come here.”

You smile, ripping the covers from your body quickly like a band-aid and all but jumping from your mattress to his. Minho instructs you to lie on the left side of the bed, facing the wall. You furrow your brows.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “It’s like the sidewalk thing. So I can protect you if a serial killer comes into our room.”

“Oh, so a serial killer’s gonna come into our room?” You ask, a teasing lilt in your voice as you scoot on the bed and slip under the comforter.

“Well, I—” Minho stammers, pausing with a sigh. He removes his glasses and places them on the bedside table before he continues, “I don’t know, okay? I just… wanna take care of you in every way possible. Even in this weird scenario that my mind made up.”

His words slip out of his lips quickly, much like yours do when you’re nervous and can’t make yourself stop talking. You wonder if your habit is rubbing off on him, and you can’t help but smile.

As Minho settles into bed, you feel your body stiffen up. The two of you lay on your backs next to each other in the cramped bed, and you feel like you can’t move. Hyunjin was the first guy you ever slept next to, and even then, it was after you two had already had sex, so there was no room for feeling awkward. With Minho, everything feels so new. If kissing him had made your hands shake, laying next to him makes your whole body tremble.

You lay like that for a while, watching as the thunder lights up the ceiling until Minho turns to lie on his side.

“Wouldn’t we get warmer if we cuddled?” He trails off in a whisper, clearing his throat after his words leave his mouth.

You open your mouth to answer but know you’ll only end up word-vomiting again with how nervous you feel, so you simply nod, turning so you’re facing Minho as well.

His arms quickly find your waist, pulling you closer to him until your noses are touching, and you feel his breath on your lips as he lets out a sigh. Before you can make sense of what’s happening, Minho presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your lips, making your mind go hazy. You two stare at each other for a beat, your lips agape and eyes wandering through each other’s features until he breaks the silence.

“You make me nervous,” he whispers, taking your hand and guiding it towards his chest. You feel his heart beating quickly through the thick fabric of his sweater. “In the best way possible.”

You smile, whispering back, “You make me nervous, too.”

Clutching at the fabric of his sweater, you pull him closer to you, slotting your lips together once more. Minho’s hands hesitate, his left hand barely touching your back before he changes his mind and grazes your shoulder with his touch, only to settle for cupping your cheek. You smile into the kiss, taking his hand and placing it firmly on your waist. He grips the fabric of your shirt just as you did and brings your body flush against his.

The kiss is hurried, as if you two will be forced apart tomorrow and this is your only chance to feel each other. Minho licks the seam of your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you gasp. His firm grip on your waist, his body pressed against yours so tightly that you can feel his heartbeat thumping against your chest, and how with every stroke of his tongue, he devours you almost greedily — it’s downright impossible to keep the whine that forms in your throat from slipping out, Minho’s mouth swallowing the muffled sound.

And then he’s pulling away, and you’re left chasing his lips. He lets out a breathy chuckle at that.

“Let’s go to sleep, hm?” He suggests, his voice breathless. You can’t help but wonder if you practically moaning while simply kissing him had made him uncomfortable, and you inwardly berate yourself, mortification washing over you.

So you only nod, turning to face the wall so you can properly cuddle this time. Minho wraps an arm around your waist, and you wait for him to pull you closer, but he never does. You furrow your brows. Was it that bad? You can’t be faulted for reacting like you did, especially with how he kissed you. So you take it into your own hands to shift closer to his body. Your lips part as you feel his hard member pressing against your lower back.

Oh.

So that’s what’s going on.

You bite back a grin, feeling Minho tense up behind you.

“And here I thought you were like a romantic lead in a PG-13 anime,” you joke, smiling as he chuckles, clearly more at ease.

He uses the hand that had been resting against your stomach to pull you even closer to him, pressing his body against yours. “I am romantic,” He whispers, lips close to your ear. You only then realize he’s hovering over you. “But I’m still human.”

You fight back the urge to shudder at how his voice drops an octave, all low and soft, and, god, how his breath grazes your neck.

You search your brain for something to say but come up empty. Being nervous has rendered you speechless for the first time in your life.

“Let’s sleep now, okay?” Minho presses a quick kiss on your cheek. “I’ll lie far—”

“I can help you,” you blurt out, turning to face him. Going to sleep is the last thing you want right now. “If you want.”

His eyes wander across your face as he pulls on his bottom lip. “I don’t want to rush things.”

“There are ways to do this that aren’t… rushing.”

Minho hums, but his eyes are now fixed on your lips. You move to lie on your back, and he slowly climbs on top of you.

“As long as it’s okay with you, I don’t care what we do,” he whispers. You smile, pushing his black hair away from his face with your fingers.

“It’s more than okay with me,” You answer simply, using your hand on his hair to guide him down into yet another kiss.

You can feel him still hesitating, so you grab a fistful of that silly sweater of his and pull him closer to you until your bodies are flush against each other.

“Can I touch you?” You ask, breaking the kiss. Minho nods hastily.

“Yes, please,” he groans, “I’m gonna die if you don’t.”

With a breathy chuckle, you move your hand between your two bodies, cupping him through his sweatpants; he’s even harder now, and you subconsciously bite your lip. He closes his eyes, his left hand resting on your waist before squeezing lightly as he hides his face in the crook of your neck with a shaky sigh. It might simply be because it’s your first time being intimate together, but Minho’s timidness is genuinely endearing to you.

Your palm grinds against him gingerly, and his body trembles under your touch. His hand travels from your waist toward your lower stomach, and you let out a quiet gasp as his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt. He lifts his head off your neck, his face so close to yours you can feel his unsteady breathing on your lips.

“Can I touch you, too?” He whispers, and you nod a bit too eagerly.

“If you don’t, I think I’ll die too.”

Minho grins, his head dipping lower until his lips are pressed against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. You’d be lying if you said finding Minho so hard after only kissing you hadn’t turned you on — kissing him alone also made you more aroused than you were willing to admit. But you were more than ready to go to sleep without doing anything about it after offering to help him, so the fact that he wants to do the same for you makes your head spin. This was not on your bingo card of things that could happen during this trip.

He pulls your shirt up slightly, only enough for him to slip his hand inside your sweatpants. He hesitates twice before cupping you through your underwear. His dark eyes meet yours, whispering against your lips, “You’re fucking soaking through your panties, and you weren’t gonna tell me?”

You gasp at his words, clenching around nothing. Wasn’t he shy just two minutes ago? Your mouth opens to answer him, but your brain is far too cloudy to form any coherent sentence, so you settle on a nod. He hums, pressing a kiss to your agape lips.

Once you feel his thumb tentatively brush against your clit through the thin fabric, you find the courage to slip your hand inside the waistband of his sweatpants, your fingers immediately brushing against his member. Minho shudders at the touch, his eyes still fixed on yours.

Your brows shoot up at the fact that he had foregone wearing boxers, and he chuckles lightly at your reaction.

“I never wear underwear to bed, so don’t think I was trying to seduce you,” he jokes.

“Too late,” you hum, “I was seduced the moment I saw your bright orange cat sweater.”

Minho grins, sucking your lower lip as he pushes your panties to the side painfully slowly, his middle finger gliding from your entrance toward your clit and spreading your arousal. With a sigh, you bring one leg to wrap around his waist, and he adjusts himself so he’s properly hovering over you. You take this opportunity to slide his sweatpants down his hips, his hard cock finally free from its confines. He groans low in his throat, his tongue suddenly licking into your open mouth as his right hand intertwines with your left, your fingers locking together. He presses your clasped hands onto the mattress beside your head.

Your hand now glides through his length, the palm of your hand beginning to rub at the head of his cock and Minho sucks in a breath, breaking the kiss, his eyes remaining closed. Pressing your thumb to the slit, you gather as much precum as you can and spread it through his member. You quickly find that it’s not enough, wanting it wetter and messier and—

Minho whines as you stop touching him, eyes shooting open. Bringing your hand to your lips, you lick a stripe on your palm and let a glob of spit fall on it before finding his cock again, wet both with your saliva and his precum as you begin to stroke him gingerly. With a quiet moan, Minho’s hips buck up at the touch and he kisses your lips again. You giggle into the kiss, inwardly thanking Hyunjin for teaching you that guys love sloppy shit like this and, in turn, making you realize you do too.

You avert your eyes from his intense gaze as his finger moves to find your entrance, pushing in slowly before moving at a steady pace.

He squeezes your hand. “Look at me,” his voice is all but a whisper, low and hurried. You turn to lock your eyes on his once more, immediately biting your lips to stop a moan from slipping out of your lips as his thumb begins to rub your clit in circular motions, and he slips another finger inside of your aching cunt. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep yourself from vocally begging him not to stop.

You focus on your own hand as you stroke his cock, your steady pace gradually quickening. Minho’s pace mirrors yours, and soon the small room fills with the noise of his finger swiftly pumping in and out of you mixed with the sound of your hand stroking him.

“What do you like?” Minho asks suddenly, his breath hitching as you tighten your fist around his cock. Your mind is far too clouded by desire and pleasure to fully comprehend, so you hum, your brows furrowing. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours with a quiet moan and curling his fingers inside you, causing your eyes to shut tightly and a whimper to escape your closed lips. “Look at me, baby,” he repeats himself, his voice firm and his shy demeanor having completely shifted. You slowly open your eyes. “What do you like? I — fuck,” He curses as your hand twists on the head of his cock. “Wanna make you feel good, tell me.”

You’re definitely not used to being vocal about what you want or like during sex; your ex-boyfriends always too selfish, and Hyunjin too confident for you to even have had the opportunity to do so. Coupled with just how good you felt, you know you won’t possibly be able to speak a word without moaning the way you’re trying so hard to avoid. You settle for guiding his hand, which was tangled in yours, under your shirt. Minho immediately massages your breast, his thumb caressing your nipple as his eyes find yours once more.

You feel as if his gaze is setting you ablaze, his eyes boring into you. It felt as if all his desire was accumulated in his dark eyes, clearly visible in how he watches you like he’s drinking in every last drop of you through his stare. You’ve never had someone look at you like this before; it makes you feel so wanted, so desired, as if the only thing Minho could ever need in this moment is you. That alone makes your body tremble, your left hand holding onto his shoulder for purchase as you feel you might float away at any second.

If you were told a couple of hours ago that something as simple as having Minho’s fingers inside you would have you so euphoric, you most definitely would have laughed.

Minho groans into your open mouth, his breathing heavy and his brows drawn together tightly. You force your lips shut once more as his thumb rubs your bundle of nerves more hastily. Your hand leaves his shoulder to tangle in his black hair, futilely attempting to tug him even closer to you before you kiss his agape lips that spill out groans and sighs like a mantra.

It’s almost all-consuming. His fingers inside of you, the warmth of his hand on your breast, his cock pulsating beneath your touch, his hot breaths that fill your lungs as he sighs into your kiss, and his eyes — his damn eyes that look at you as if he wants to eat you whole.

You finally allow yourself to moan as you feel your orgasm building up, whimpering his name against his lips as your strokes on his cock turn messy and desperate among the copious amounts of precum. Minho growls, pulling your hand from his hair — his grip on your wrist so firm it stings a little — before he pins you down to the mattress, fingers messily intertwining with yours again.

This time, you’re unable to restrain your whimper at his actions; Minho had always been gentle and sweet, something as simple as him pinning you down to the bed has you clenching around his fingers. This duality of his you just discovered is something that stirs up curiosity inside of you.

“I’m gonna come,” He announces with a sigh, his hand squeezing yours. You can only nod as you melt around his fingers, your whole body trembling. Minho soon follows, his cum spilling into your hand and your shirt, a low guttural sound leaving his throat.

His eyes only leave yours as he leans down to connect your lips again, giving you small kisses before a stifled laugh escapes him. You furrow your brows, and Minho grins.

“Sorry for getting your shirt dirty,” He mumbles against your lips, the two of you unwilling to move for the time being.

You shake your head with a chuckle. Although you cringe slightly as you feel the fabric of your shirt stick to your stomach.

“It’s okay.”

Minho shifts on top of you, and you only then realize his fingers remain inside of you. Your body jolts faintly at the stimulation, his name falling from your lips in the form of a whine. He grins at you again, all lopsided and handsome, before bringing his hand to his lips. You watch with agape lips as his tongue flicks out to lap at his fingers before sucking on them with a hum, his eyes locked onto yours once more.

Once again with this newfound duality of his. He’s pure romance and gentlemanly behavior, but seemingly so alluring and shameless in bed. The way he looks at you alone makes you clench around nothing as if you didn’t come mere minutes ago. And it’s such a simple act — you can’t count on one hand the number of times you watched as Hyunjin licked his fingers clean after being inside of you — but the contrast of his calm and endearing everyday personality and him suddenly pinning you to the bed or licking your cum off his fingers while looking into your eyes makes this entirely different.

You would’ve never expected this from Minho, and it makes your brain stir up with thoughts of what he would be like while eating you out or while fucking you. Would he pin you to the bed again or pull your hair, or maybe—

The sound of him clearing his throat interrupts you from your thoughts, and you only now realize you had been staring at the ceiling while fantasizing about Minho fucking you. Great.

Once your eyes meet, he’s quick to avert his gaze. “I will, uh, pay to wash your shirt when we — when we get back,” Minho stumbles over his words, his eyes now fixed on your shoulder. “If you want. But, like, I got it dirty, so…” He trails off, and you purse your lips to muffle the giggle that bubbled up your throat as it seems all the confidence he had only minutes ago had dissipated into dust and left his body.

He was back to his usual self. You can’t help but smile as you realize you adore any version of Minho.

He pushes himself off of you, muttering that he’ll be back before disappearing into the small bathroom. You remove your soiled shirt, wiping your hand on it, only to blanche at the sight of the logo printed on the fabric. It’s one of Hyunjin’s shirts that you had stolen ages ago. You mumble a string of apologies to him as you pull the covers off your body. After discarding it on your bed, you change into the first t-shirt you fish out of your backpack, worried Minho might come into the room and see your naked chest — as ludicrous as that was, seeing as he was knuckles deep inside of you less than twenty minutes ago.

Minho returns to the bedroom just as you’re closing the zipper on your bag. He silently takes your hand in his and wipes it with a towel, his head lowered as his eyes focus on his actions. You let out a breathy chuckle.

“There’s really nothing there anymore,” you inform him. “I wiped most of your cum on my shirt.” You nod toward the crumpled-up fabric thrown across the bed. Minho’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. He lets out a small noise, nodding his head slowly before ultimately pressing his lips together. Under the faint moonlight that lights up the room, you almost miss how his cheeks dust a shade of pink. You smile, pressing a kiss to his nose. Minho hums, smiling back at you and dropping the towel on top of your shirt.

Soon, you find yourself back in bed with him, Minho pulling you into his chest, his hands now offering you pleasure by gingerly massaging your scalp. You are almost asleep — listening to his heartbeat through his sweater, smiling at the soft snores that escape his parted lips — when it dawned on you.

You notice just how different being with Minho had been. How kissing him alone made your hands shake, how even without being fully intimate, the way you felt with him tonight was incomparable.

Minho’s words from months ago about how sex with someone you love eclipses the feeling of sex with any other person linger in your memory. You hum, a smile on your lips as your eyes flutter closed again.

Before they shoot open.

Because holy shit.

If it felt that way with Minho, it can only mean you’ve fallen for him.

Awakening to the sound of the heater’s soft hum, you feel Minho’s arm tightly around your waist, keeping your body pressed against his. His gentle breathing brushes against the nape of your neck, and you cautiously turn your head, careful not to wake him, only to be greeted by his tender eyes already gazing at you with a soft smile. Cuddling with Minho is another thing that feels different. You feel safe, adored from how he holds you to the way his eyes look at you.

As he realizes you’re also awake, he suddenly turns to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling as his ears slowly turn a light shade of red. You frown, chuckling a bit at his actions, before settling yourself across his chest.

“The power came back a while after you fell asleep,” he explains.

You giggle as you assume maybe he’s shy because of what happened last night. But your smile fades as your mind begins to overthink, your subconscious screaming that maybe you should feel shy, embarrassed. Weren’t you too easy? Letting him touch you like that after just a few kisses. Does Minho think you came into bed with him for that reason?

You think back to the last boyfriend you had, who berated you for how ‘whorish’ it had been when you asked to have sex with him instead of waiting for him to initiate it. And how your first boyfriend would tell you — every chance he got — that you acted like a slut, touching him as if you knew it would make him have sex with you. How, at the end of your relationship, he told you maybe you acted that way because you knew that sex was all you were good for. How another ex had laughed as he told you that even though you went through so many guys, you still managed to be a terrible fuck, and that was the reason he had to cheat on you.

There were also the murmurs around your school whenever you started a new relationship. Another one? She’s boy hopping so much she’s gonna get through our entire class in less than a year. Some girls just can’t stand to be alone, it’s kind of sad.

At some point, you had detangled yourself from Minho, now lying on your side and looking out the window. You never understood why so many people thought that way. You had five boyfriends from fifteen to eighteen, and in each of these relationships, you were either cheated on or broken up with in a less-than-pleasant way. But you did have the awful habit of jumping into relationships with little thought, often because you felt incomplete without a romantic partner — as romantic as high school relationships can be, anyway. Being single and content for almost four years now, you were proud to have worked on that.

But you still can’t shake off the feeling that maybe you were a bit too… forward. You were single, sure, but you were quick to jump at the opportunity to have Hyunjin as a fuck buddy. Perhaps people were right about that.

“Is everything okay?” Minho’s voice pulls you away from your racing thoughts. You offer him a tight-lipped smile, nodding.

“Yeah, I just zoned out.”

Sitting upright on the bed, you stretch with a sigh. Minho takes your hand before you can realize it, placing it on his chest and gently playing with your fingers, his eyes still glued to the ceiling. You gnaw on your bottom lip, pulling at the skin until it stings.

“I’m sorry if I was too forward last night,” you blurt out. Minho’s gaze shifts to focus on you, confusion swimming in his brown eyes and his hands halting around yours. Oh god, why did you say that?

“Forward?” The question trails off his lips, his eyebrows coming together in a frown.

With a sigh, you grimace at your own words. “Yeah, forward, like I was throwing myself at you. I’m sorry if it came off that way. I swear I’m not…”

“You’re not…?”

“You know what I mean, Minho,” you mumble, but his eyes remain swarmed with confusion.

“I really don’t.”

You roll your eyes in exasperation, annoyed not at him but at yourself for having brought this up in the first place.

“You know, Minho,” you groan, “Forward, like, slutty. Like I asked to come to your bed just so you would fuck me.”

His expression softens, his eyes widening. He sits up as well, his hand still clutching yours.

“Why the fuck would I think that?” He asks matter-of-factly. “What happened last night was completely natural. We made out, we got horny, we took care of it together. You didn’t even ask me to touch you, I did it because I was dying to do it. You weren’t forward — you weren’t slutty.”

You feel the heavy veil of worry lift off your shoulders at his words. It was definitely going to take a while for you to work on that aspect of your trauma. This had never been an issue with Hyunjin since you were pursuing nothing more than a sexual relationship with him — things were different with Minho.

Minho was the complete opposite.

After countless moments of your heart racing and your hands trembling because of him, you finally confess to yourself that your affection for Minho extends well beyond platonic feelings.

With a small smile, you slowly nod your head. “Sorry for bringing this up, I just… didn’t want you to think badly of me.”

Minho smiles, placing a kiss on the back of your hand. “That wouldn’t have made me think badly of you. I’m not some Victorian man who thinks women should be burned at the stake for showing their ankles,” he chuckles, and you bite back a laugh. “Even if you had been slutty, so what? I’d like that just as much.”

You playfully hit his shin under the comforter as he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

Minho was unquestionably different.

“We gotta get to the airport soon,” he says with a sigh, stretching his arms over his head, carrying your hand along the way. “I had to book the earliest flight I could to save up some money.”

With a frown, you retrieve your phone from under your pillow and check for the time: seven-thirty a.m. You feel a pang of guilt as you recall how you are essentially on this trip for free.

“Why didn’t Chan help with the tickets?”

Minho bites the inside of his cheek before his lips stretch into a barely-there grin. “Chan was never coming to this trip,” he blurts out. You feel your lips fall agape.

“What?”

“I… planned this trip by myself. Only for you and me,” he explains. “I wanted to get far away from everything that distracted us so I could concentrate on showing you the good side of love like I’d been trying to do with all those fruitless attempts at taking you on dates.”

You take in his words and find yourself smiling at the gesture — the white lie Minho told pales in comparison to everything else he has done for you, both during this trip and since you met him. Truthfully, you didn’t even realize he had been taking you on dates. You mentally slap yourself in the head for that, believing he simply wanted to spend time with you as a friend.

“I’ll pay you back for my part of the trip as soon as—”

Minho’s voice interrupts you with a drawn-out ‘no.’ He smiles as you stare at him, puzzled.

“This entire trip must’ve been so expensive, Minho.”

But he’s unrelenting, shaking his head with a squeeze of your hand.

“I told you,” he says simply. “I do stupid shit when I’m in love.”

♡ taglist: @notevenheretbh1 @malunar28replies @jazziwritesthings @finchyyy @bloom-ings @linocz @minhochaos @lastgreatamericandynasty1

615 notes · View notes