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moonlinos · 8 months

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Invisible string (pt. III)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: After so many years of being closed off from the idea of love, you finally allow yourself to feel it freely with Minho.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, smut

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), oral sex (female receiving), protected sex, swearing

♡ Word count: 16.4k

♡ A/N: A part of this chapter was almost shamelessly inspired by the song that inspired the plot in the first place, Invisible String by Taylor Swift. Also really inspired by my favorite Minho vlog, Lee Know Log 4 🩷

To those who have asked to be tagged in this story: would any of you be interested in being tagged in any new work I post later? Let me know! And thank you for reading and giving me such a great experience posting my writing here for the first time 🩷

← part II ♡ ⟳ part I

You spend the entire flight home processing everything that had happened during the trip; from Minho’s words, to your kisses and touches, to you ultimately acknowledging your own romantic feelings for him. Although it all felt sudden, it had been a long time coming.

As his car stops at the front of your house, Minho steps out and walks with you, your backpack in hand.

“I know you’re scared. I understand that even more now that I know about your past relationships,” he speaks softly as the two of you stop at the front door, “And I want you to know that I’m gonna be patient.”

You nod slowly, although the desire to answer him is still so prevalent in your mind, the words lodged in your throat and yearning to spill out. But you’ve made the mistake of jumping into relationships far too often, always driven by your emotions, and every time, the outcome has been disastrous. You don’t want that to happen with Minho.

So, you settle on a question that has been eating away at you.

“Why do you like me, Minho?”

His face twists into a deep frown before ultimately softening. Carefully placing your backpack on the step leading to the front door, he sighs.

“You shouldn’t have to ask me that,” he assures you, his rough hands touching your shoulders before moving down your arms to entwine with your own. “You don’t even realize how fucking amazing you are, do you? I’d move mountains, fight anyone and do anything if it meant I’d have the privilege to see you smile.”

And, just like that, you feel your lips stretch out into a small smile at his words. He grins at you.

“Just like that. I’d do anything to see that,” he says. “And you take care of your friends simply because you love them, never asking for anything in return. You collect plushies like me, you appreciate the criminally underrated flavor of lemon cake, and you worked at the same convenience store as me, and spilled coffee all over my notebook on the day we met. That’s why I like you; because you’re you.”

Tears threaten to well up in your eyes, so you quickly avert your gaze, focusing on your shoes. With a nod, you wrap your arms around Minho, taking in his scent and reveling in the comforting warmth of his body. Little did he know, you were just as willing to do whatever it took to keep him near you. He plants a chaste kiss on your forehead as you break away from his embrace.

“I’ll call you later, okay? Thank you for the trip.”

As soon as you step inside your house, Eunha is quick to come running towards you, her hands dirty with flour as she abandons her unbaked cookies on the counter and pulls you into a hug.

“I missed you so much,” she whines, “How will I survive living without you next year?”

You chuckle, watching as her lips turn into a pout.

“I’m sure we’ll suffer equally, if that makes you feel better.”

She fakes a sob, turning on her heels and heading toward the kitchen.

“Oh, Hyunjin is in a crisis, apparently,” she tells you, wiping her hands on her apron. “He called me three times just today to ask if you were back already.”

You let out a sigh. Hyunjin was more often than not either glum or vexed due to his trials and mishaps in finding love. He once joked that you two would end up having to marry each other with how things were going. You dreaded his reaction to the news of Minho soon entering your life in a new way.

“The hotel’s Wi-Fi was a joke, but I honestly didn’t even think to check my phone,” you tell Eunha, who giggles as she cuts her cookies into heart shapes. “What? Why are you giggling like that?” You ask her with a grin, approaching the counter.

She shrugs. “Nothing. I didn’t even think to check my phone,” she playfully mimics your voice, looking up at you, “I’m guessing you had fun, then?”

“I did,” you beam, “It was everything I thought it would be and even more.”

She raises an eyebrow at you. “Even more?”

“Even more,” you reiterate. “I had so much fun with Minho. I forgot how good it feels to just let go and allow myself to feel what I want to feel.”

Eunha’s lips curl into a small smile. She hums, lowering her head in a feeble attempt at pretending to focus on the cookies in front of her. “And what did you want to feel this weekend?”

“Like maybe I can finally fall in love again.”

Your friend lifts her head, her eyes wide. “Love?” she exclaims, “You, the girl who has spent every day since I met you talking about how love isn’t important, is wanting to fall in love?”

You chuckle at her reaction, shrugging dismissively. “In my defense, I had my reasons. Plus, some things made me change my mind.”

“More like someone,” Eunha teases, and you roll your eyes at her, but a smile spreads on your lips unwittingly. “I’m happy for you,” she beams, “and I think you should definitely fall in love again — not maybe.”

You sprint across the small kitchen space, circling around the counter to wrap your arms around Eunha and squeezing her as she lightly pushes you away, warning you about flour getting all over your clothes, but you don’t mind.

Because you love her, as you’ve learned this past weekend, and you don’t mind the mess when it comes to someone you love.

It’s only as you enter your room that you check your phone, which is filled with notifications from Hyunjin, much like Eunha had said. After ten missed calls, it seems he resorted to simply texting you.

Hyune: hey I know you’re in japan but can you answer the phone? Hyune: I promise I’ll be quick. just wanna talk to you Hyune: hear your voice idk I feel really alone rn and really bad idk lol Hyune: mingyu has his girlfriend over. can you believe they’re still together? Hyune: can you believe he has a girlfriend and I can’t even find someone to give me the time of day lol Hyune: can you believe every date I go to ends with me crying lol Hyune: sorry I’m being annoying and the messages aren’t even being delivered, you’re clearly having fun sorry Hyune: sorry Hyune: guess that’s why nobody can endure me for more than two dates Hyune: have fun 🤍 I love you

You feel your heart ache as you read his messages, answering with an apology. But before you can hit send on your second message, Hyunjin has already replied.

Hyune: it’s okay. I’m sorry I even sent those in the first place

Me: Stop apologizing Me: You know I love you and I’ll always be here for you Me: Where are you?

Hyune: at my dorm Hyune: staring at the ceiling

Me: I’m coming over

True to his words, Hyunjin is lying on the floor of his dorm’s cramped living room once you open the door. There’s a small canvas propped up against the wall, a myriad of shades of blue forming the shape of a face. Your best friend’s talent never ceases to amaze you, and you have to fight the urge to stand still by the front door for a few seconds simply admiring his new painting.

“Look at this sulking Pisces,” you click your tongue as you approach Hyunjin, who only opens one eye to shoot you a glance.

“I’m in a fragile state and this is how you greet me,” he all but pouts before sitting up as you sit cross-legged beside him on the floor. “How was the trip?”

You shrug. “It was fun. We only had one day to explore the city, so we didn’t do much,” you say simply, tapping your fingers on your thigh.

You don’t want to sit and talk about how much fun you had during a trip when Hyunjin’s puffy, bloodshot eyes are staring directly at you. He was sad, and his sadness was palpable throughout the entire living room — his bitten lips, his painting, his hands covered in dried-up blue paint; everything was dripping in sadness. This was a constant with Hyunjin, but lately it had become even worse. He has an overwhelming desire to love and be loved, but his every attempt at fulfilling this desire is futile for reasons you cannot wrap your head around.

“I like the new painting,” you smile, focusing on the saddened blue face. Hyunjin scoffs beside you.

“It’s fucking terrible,” His hand shoves the canvas face down on the floor. You bite your lip. “Can’t even paint shit I like anymore. Every time I try, it always turns out muddy and sad.”

“What happened?”

He lets out a bitter chuckle. “Well I’m pathetic, so it’s still the same old reason. I had a date with this girl on Saturday, but she canceled at the last minute. Texted me something about me being too clingy after she agreed to go out with me, about how she knows she would feel suffocated if we dated.”

You furrow your brows together, anger bubbling up inside your chest. “What the fuck?”

“Oh, but don’t worry!” Hyunjin gave you a forced smile. “She made sure to remind me that it was her, not me, and that lots of women out there like guys like me. Whatever the fuck that means.”

Hyunjin shakes his head, turning his attention toward his hands before scratching some of the dried paint off. You sigh.

“Hyunjin, she isn’t wrong about that. You know that, right? You’re not the one at fault.”

He scoffs. “Sure seems like it when every date I’ve gone to since starting university has ended up with me being rejected for the same fucking reasons. It’s always me. Too clingy, too sentimental, too emotional,” his voice is almost a whisper as he speaks. He turns to face you again. “Remember how I would stop sleeping with you whenever I liked someone? Wanna know why I stopped doing that? ‘Cause I know it’s not gonna go anywhere anyway, so what’s the point? It never goes anywhere, and then I’m left alone again. Maybe I should just accept it, y’know? Some people are just meant to be alone, and clearly I’m one of them.”

Your anger has now morphed into sadness. You hate the way Hyunjin talks about himself, hate it even more how it seems nobody can appreciate the amazing person he is. Being caring and sentimental is not a flaw, and you pray that he never allows other people’s opinions to sway him into thinking that way. You pray he finds someone who can appreciate these qualities in him the same way you do.

“You’re not alone, Hyune,” you assure him, taking one of his hands in yours. “You’re surrounded by friends who love you so much, and while I know that’s not the type of love you yearn for, it’s still love.”

Hyunjin smiles softly at you before pulling you closer and pressing his lips to yours. It’s sudden but not entirely unexpected; the way you and Hyunjin dealt with shitty things in life and unpleasant feelings together had always been through sex, and you knew it always made him feel at least a little better afterward. And so you let him, returning the kiss even as part of you felt wrong doing it when your entire being was consumed with thoughts of only Minho.

As soon as he kisses you, he swiftly pushes you down onto the hardwood floor and hovers over you. Hyunjin’s fingers undo the buttons of your cardigan before slipping under your shirt, caressing your skin as his lips trail kisses down your neck. Soon enough, his body is pressed up against your spread thighs, and you know where this is going — but as much as you want to make your best friend feel better, you cannot bring yourself to do it.

“Hyune,” you softly call out, and he hums against your throat. “We can’t do this.”

He chuckles, squeezing your waist. “Mingyu always comes home late when he goes out with his girlfriend. Don’t worry.”

“It’s not that, Hyunjin. I just—”

“Do you not wanna fuck on the floor?” He asks, coming up to look at you. He cocks his head to the side. “We can just do it on the couch then, I really don’t wanna have sex with all those pictures of Mingyu and his friends staring at us in our room.”

“Hyunjin, no—”

“It’s not like we never did it on a couch before, stop being dramatic—”

“I’m in love with Minho.”

It comes out before you can fully comprehend what you’re saying, the word love slipping past your lips effortlessly. Hyunjin stills on top of you, his body rigid and tense.

“Oh,” is all he offers you. You nod slowly, fingers picking at a drop of paint that stained the collar of his shirt.

You whisper, “I really am just as surprised as you are, believe me.”

Hyunjin shrugs. “I’m not surprised. I just— now you’re leaving me, too.”

You shake your head. It’s ludicrous to you that Hyunjin could imagine that you would ever even entertain the thought of leaving him. Running a hand through his messy hair, you pull him in and press a kiss to his nose. Hyunjin hides his face in the crook of your neck with a groan.

“Sorry, that was pathetic. I shouldn’t have said that,” he apologizes. “You know I don’t mean it like that. I just love you so much. I thought we would…”

You furrow your brows as he trails off his words. You thread your fingers through his long hair. “We would…?”

“End up together somehow,” he speaks slowly, his voice muffled, and your heart drops.

Hyunjin harboring these feelings about you was something you would never have imagined. You were certain he was content being your friend and having sex with you only until he found the right person. He went on several dates, after all. Your heart feels like it’s been shattered into a million tiny pieces upon learning about his hidden desire for the future he used to so often joke about: you two ending up together simply because you were each other’s only choices.

“Hyunjin,” you start carefully, “I love you, too. So much. You’re my best friend, and that’s never going to change. We don’t have to be together romantically for us to be in love, y’know? I realized that just recently.”

You feel him nod his head, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers.

“I’m just sad I won’t have you anymore. I’m gonna miss us so much,” he places a small kiss on your collarbone. “Whenever I felt like I was in a dark pit with no way out, every single time you were there to bring me out of it and make me feel okay again. I love you so much for that.”

And you can only softly smile at his words before your heart shatters all over again as you hear him quietly begin to sob in your skin.

“Hyunjin,” you call out, although you know he won’t reply. “You’re the most beautiful soul I’ve ever met. My love for you goes beyond us having sex — that wasn’t even important to me in our relationship. It was just something good on top of something already amazing.” With a slow nod, he lifts his head and gazes at you with red, teary eyes, causing your heart to ache even more. “I’ll never leave you. Ever. I’ll still answer your four hundred three a.m. texts, still let you hide away in my house, still happily listen to you complain about your days, and still hold you when you cry.”

Hyunjin pouts like a child, and your heart swells with fondness.

“Really?” He asks, and you chuckle with a nod.

“Really,” you assure him. “Me being with someone will never change our friendship, or my love for you. I mean, we won’t have sex anymore, of course, but I’ll still talk shit about your roommate with you so I’m sure you’ll forgive me.”

Hyunjin’s tearful expression vanishes, replaced by a small teasing grin. “I am gonna have to jerk off significantly more, so I don’t know about forgiveness,” he jokes.

You push him off you with a chuckle, sitting up as he tries to regain his balance.

“When did this whole thing with Minho even happen?” Hyunjin asks, setting his painting back against the wall. You shrug, buttoning up your cardigan. He hums. “So, are you already together?”

“Not yet,” you say, “but I’m gonna answer him after our class this week. If he fucking lets me, that is. He says he wants to be patient, but I don’t want to be patient. The only thing I wanna be is with him.”

Hyunjin’s whole body contorts as he groans. “Ew, what the fuck? When did you become such a sap?”

As you shove him back once more, you both burst into laughter while Hyunjin stumbles back and spills a mug filled with dirty paint water all over his floor.

The rest of the day goes by with you and Hyunjin painting together, a much broader array of colors and a much happier end result on the canvas: beautiful flowers painted by him standing alongside clumsily drawn hearts, stars, and other doodles painted by you. After signing your name above his elegant signature, you inform him the painting is leaving with you — it’s hanging up on your wall as soon as you arrive home.

Hyunjin is your best friend; it’s been this way for the last two years, and it’s indisputable to you that this fact will remain no matter what happens. As you watch him hunched over your painting, insisting that his flowers could be more detailed — even after you assured him a thousand times that they were perfect — you curse yourself for not realizing how beautiful this love between you two is. You hope he cherishes this love as well, in spite of his desire for the two of you to be together in the future. You know deep down this idea stemmed from his fear of solitude.

You’re not worried about him at all, though. He’s a precious soul, and anyone who fails to recognize that doesn’t deserve him. He’s simply getting rid of the wrong people in order to find the right person, someone who sees him as you do.

The love you feel for Hyunjin is unchanging, and if you had any say in it, it would be everlasting.

Your next Japanese class with Minho comes too soon, and you find yourself unprepared. Every trace of resolve you had after returning from your trip dissipated bit by bit every time you saw or talked to him. As soon as you saw his figure step into the coffee shop on Monday to pick up his usual order, you realized that every single scenario your mind had conjured up fell flat. Minho was beautiful, amazing, breathtaking — he deserved something grand and earth-shattering, not a simple answer from a girl who wasn’t even half as good as he was.

It certainly did not help that he, always true to his words, respected your time. Not once during his coffee trips or your never-ending talks through the phone did he mention the topic. And it was slowly but surely driving you insane.

You bite your lips so much on your way to university you’re sure your lipstick is gone by the time you enter the building, and you’re surprised your poor bag isn’t riddled with holes in the cloth from your insistent picking. You shouldn’t feel this nervous — Minho is the one waiting for an answer, after all. For all he knows, you could be simply building up the courage to let him down gently. But you are nervous. You’re terrified he will listen to your clumsy words and decide he deserves someone better. Or, worse yet, will only realize how undeserving of his love you are once you’re in a relationship.

And you don’t think you can face another heartbreak where you’re left to mend your gashes all alone.

You enter the building with shaky hands, fiddling with the strap of your bag and walking toward your classroom on autopilot as your mind is too busy running over all the ways in which this could go wrong.

All faded, however, once you saw Minho waiting for you in front of your classroom. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he looked down at his phone, his body wrapped in a cozy-looking black sweater and sweatpants, a keychain of a cat plushie hanging from his backpack matching his phone case. You stop a few feet away from him. He deserves the world, and that terrifies you. Still, his presence alone melts away every ugly word of doubt and every piece of worry inside your body until the only thing you can feel is the swirling of that familiar pinwheel spinning inside your chest.

You greet him with a long hug, hoping he can’t feel your heart beating through your own sweater.

After class, he walks you to work, enthusiastically telling you about the progress he, Chan and Seungmin have made on their game. You nod and hum along to his words, but you can’t, for the life of you, focus on a word he’s saying. All you want to do is tell him you like him — god, you like him so much — but every time you’re close to doing it, the ugly words return and scream that he deserves more than an underwhelming confession on a gloomy, empty street.

You stop walking as you two reach the bench located just far away enough from the hustle and bustle of students on campus, the one where no one bothered you when you sat here by yourself for three years, the one that had oddly become your favorite bench among all the other identical ones scattered throughout your university.

Because it was here that you and Minho had your first real conversation, it was here where you two laughed and gasped at all the little coincidences between your lives, and it was here where you began to build a friendship with this wonderful guy who would unknowingly change you for the better.

It was the perfect place, and you berated yourself for not realizing that sooner.

Minho’s voice calling out your name pulls you away from your thoughts, his hand wrapping around yours and pulling you gently toward his body. You hum before colliding against his chest as he chuckles.

“You just stopped walking,” he says, a lilt of confusion in his voice. “I know you hate work, but I didn’t think it was this serious.”

And when you properly turn to look at him, Minho is smiling so beautifully under the somber sky of winter, as if he is the embodiment of sunshine — always glistening and radiating such a comforting warmth no matter how glum the world around him is. And, at the sight of him, you just can’t stop your words. Never mind how gloomy this campus seems or how lackluster your words are — Minho’s presence alone makes everything become golden.

“I like you because you’re you,” you mirror his words at you, “Because you laughed in my face for spilling coffee all over your notebook when I didn’t even know you, because you love coffee just as much as I hate it, and because you believe in silly myths about riding paddle boats together,” You blurt out, words completely unbidden by your brain. Minho’s eyes widened for a beat before slowly turning into crescent moons as a smile spread across his lips. You take a deep breath before continuing, the words flowing out of you so quickly you’re worried he won’t be able to understand you, “And you opened my eyes to the love I feel for my friends, which I was so fucking stupid and blinded to. But, most importantly, you taught me that love isn’t bad. It can never be bad because you’re love, Minho. You’re full of love, and there’s not an ounce of anything bad in you. And you make me feel deserving of this love, even though I still don’t understand how I can be deserving of something so beautiful.”

Minho’s arms are pulling you into an embrace before you can process everything you said, and by the time you seem to come to your senses, you realize tears have welled up in your eyes. He holds you close to him silently for a while, his left hand delicately massaging your scalp as you clutch onto the fabric of his sweater as if he might be taken away from you if you let go.

“I like you, too,” he whispers against your hair, and you feel your lips contort into a pout.

“You already told me that,” you grumble. “I just word-vomited my feelings to you and this is all you have to say?”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head. “What else is there to say? I like you so much I don’t think I can put it into words. I might just say something stupid if I talk about it too much.”

You furrow your brows, pulling away from his embrace to face him. “Something stupid like what?”

“Like saying I love you.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. Yet again, Minho has rendered you speechless. He shakes his head dismissively, a smile still etched onto his lips.

“No need to say anything. I told you it was stupid,” his eyes drift over to the bench beside you two, and his smile grows. “Guess this has to become my favorite bench too.”

You let out a laugh, but it’s cut short by your tears spilling out again. Minho quickly turns to look at you again, his expression shifting into a mixture of happiness and worry for you as he wipes your tears away with his thumbs.

And as the sun begins to set, the street lights flicker on, casting a warm, yellow glow over everything around you. You cup Minho’s face and press a chaste kiss to his lips, then to his nose, before wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into an embrace once again.

“I don’t think I’m ready to love you yet. I’m sorry,” you apologize, both to him and yourself.

Minho simply hums, kissing your cheek. “I told you I’m patient, because love is patient. I would wait an eternity for the privilege of hearing you say you love me.”

You and Minho have officially been together for almost two months by the time winter break arrives. You’ve done everything couples do, except for two things: say I love you and go all the way. You’ve done every other possible thing — well, Minho has done every other possible thing to you, with you discovering that Minho particularly loves eating you out, often laying on your lap on your couch after work and rubbing his head against your thighs like a cat, humming and sighing until he has your attention before all but begging you to let him go down on you. Whenever you offer to do the same to him, in any way, he immediately turns the offer down, saying he’s satisfied just pleasuring you. It always leaves you with a million questions, as you notice him have to adjust himself in his pants or coincidently go to the bathroom, but you don’t question it.

The two of you also found ways to get around the whole L-word situation. I missed you becoming your go-to phrase for when you want to scream out that you love him, but are still unable to, while he usually just makes you swallow both your words and his own that are lingering inside your mouth with a kiss.

You had fallen into a routine quickly, with you visiting Minho most evenings after your shift to just lay on Chan’s stiff leather couch and watch him work. You two always hang out with his co-workers slash friends for a while before leaving for the night — Seungmin becoming like the pestering but loveable little brother you never had — and you head to your house in Minho’s car before you sneak him into your home so Mrs. Choi remains none the wiser.

Her ‘no boyfriends spending over two days at the house’ rule can’t possibly apply if she doesn’t even know Minho is there in the first place.

And so, he’s been basically living alongside you and your housemates. This outcome was almost inevitable since Minho hates his roommates while you love each other’s company.

You’re now packing your things with Hyunjin, who’s been sitting on your bed for the last half-hour rather than helping you as he’d promised. In the past month, he’s been able to come to terms with the fact that his ideal future with you was nothing but a coping mechanism after a month of sulking every time Minho was around. He deleted every shitty dating app on his phone and now focuses on finding love naturally, recently going out with a girl he met in one of his classes. The first time they met was the epitome of a meet-cute, with her accidentally bumping into him and spilling black paint all over his shirt. It brought back memories of when you first met Minho, and you had high hopes that this time things would work out differently for him. But, judging by the scowl on Hyunjin’s face and his nonstop complaining, you were wrong.

“But, be for real, why did it take her six dates to realize she doesn’t think we’ll work out?” He grumbles, spinning one of your necklaces around his finger like it’s a toy. “I paid for every meal, made sure she got at least two orgasms every time we went out, and she just suddenly decides we won’t work out? Fuck off.’’

You chuckle, closing your suitcase after triple-checking that you packed Minho’s Christmas present and walking over to where Hyunjin is sitting, snatching your necklace from his hand.

“Maybe she liked the free food and orgasms too much to let them go.”

Hyunjin scowls. “You’re saying that’s the only reason she went out with me?” He feigns offense, shaking his head. “I hope Minho’s parents hate your guts.”

“Hyunjin!” You exclaim, watching as he bursts out laughing. “Don’t even joke about that. You know how nervous I am.”

“There’s no way they won’t like you,” He assures you, “You’re fucking amazing, not to mention their son loves you. That’s more than enough reason to love you too.”

You clutch the necklace in your hand, humming before turning on your heels to check your drawers for anything you might have missed. Hyunjin using the word love makes you a bit anxious, an unwelcome reminder that you still haven’t been able to overcome this stupid emotional blockage preventing you from telling Minho you love him. The first and only time you’d ever said you loved Minho was that evening at Hyunjin’s dorm, and it hadn’t even been directed at him. Without saying a word, you both understand the love that exists between you — it’s unspoken, but deeply felt — and you’re aware of that, but the fear that one day he’ll grow tired of waiting is painfully tangible inside your mind.

When Minho invited you to spend Christmas with his family, you hesitated at first. Meeting your ex-boyfriends’ families had never been so significant. You were a teenager at the time, the implications were different and the stakes didn’t seem as high. This time, it feels as if getting Minho’s parents to like you is indispensable. How will he go on dating a woman his parents deem unfit for him? Especially with how highly he speaks of his mother, you’re sure her opinion of you will weigh on his mind.

You can only hope they love you half as much as you love their son.

The car ride to Minho’s parents’ house was around half an hour.

Half an hour you spent picking at a loose thread on your skirt and overthinking so much your head ached by the time he parked the car. You hated how nervous you were, but Minho’s parents liking you was a non-negotiable.

After insisting on carrying your own suitcase — just in case his parents might think you’re an overbearing girlfriend if they see Minho carrying your bag for you — the two of you walk up the stairs and into his home. The first thing you notice is how cozy-looking everything is; from the family pictures neatly placed on coffee tables and on the walls, cat furniture and toys mixed in with their actual furniture, down to the fuzzy blankets thrown over the couches.

The second thing that catches your attention is the quietude permeating throughout the house, as well as the fact that the first family member to greet you two is an orange cat.

“Oh, did you miss me this much?” Minho asks in a sweet, singsong voice, similar to how you would speak to a baby. He crouches down to pet the cat, who is now entangling himself between his legs. He introduces you by your name, because Soonie is truly just another family member to him. You chuckle, kneeling next to him and carefully extending your hand toward the orange ball of fur.

“Hello, Soonie,” you speak quietly, afraid you’ll spook him. He eyes you carefully before sniffing your fingers and, ultimately, rubbing his head on your hand. You sigh in relief, petting his fur with a smile.

Minho’s cats liking you was also a non-negotiable.

You place your suitcases in Minho’s childhood bedroom, his parents letting him know they will arrive a little late after going Christmas shopping. Looking around his small room, you smile at all the small things that scream Lee Minho. The pictures of him and his friends back in high school are the first thing you notice, glued to the wall in front of his door lopsided. His thick-rimmed glasses and bowl cut make you smile as you analyze one of the pictures, where he and four other boys hug and smile widely in a karaoke room. Then, of course, his extensive plushie collection sat against a wall to your left — all stacked on top of each other like a mountain — which he proudly shows off to you.

“Y’know, I had to basically fight a little girl at the Sanrio store for this one,” he says, a bit too smugly, while holding a plush of Kuromi dressed in a ladybug costume. “I was sixteen, though, so I think that excuses my behavior. I would never do that nowadays.”

You narrow your eyes, humming skeptically. “Sure you wouldn’t.”

Minho just chuckles, meticulously placing the doll back in its place beside the cherry on top of a rather large Pusheen pudding plushie.

“Oh! You have to see my books.” He takes your hand in his, dragging you toward the wall facing his bed. A bookshelf expanding from the floor to the ceiling makes your mouth drop. You hadn’t noticed it before, with it being hidden away in the corner of the room. The bookshelf is decorated with fairy lights — which Minho promptly switches on — and filled with beautiful books, from intricately designed hard covers to intricate sprayed edges, every single book in his collection has something special about it.

He uses a small metal ladder to reach the top of the shelves before handing you a book so thick your wrist almost bends upon grabbing it. It’s a collection of seven Jane Austen novels, all in a gorgeous blue and golden hardcover. You eye the book like it’s a precious jewel, carefully running your fingers over the details engraved on the cover. Beside you, Minho lets out a breathy laugh, stepping down from the ladder and bumping your shoulder lightly.

“You can open it,” he tells you, but you’re still too mesmerized by the book to look at him. “It’s what books are for, whether they’re pretty or not. You have to open it and read it, otherwise they lose their purpose.”

You nod slowly, but remain unmoving. Minho’s hand suddenly rests on top of yours, and he opens the book for you. The page is entirely annotated, with highlighters and thoughts jotted down on pencil in messy handwriting. Looking up at him, you are met by his smile.

“See? The book is fine, the world didn’t end. I have these special editions because I enjoy collecting pretty things, but I always read them,” he explains, “I like when books reflect the emotions I felt while reading them. I annotate, scribble, highlight — I once threw a special edition Stephen King book across the living room and into a wall. There’s an indentation on it till this day.”

You gasp. “Minho, what the fuck?”

He shrugs dismissively. “I know, I know. All book sins in the eyes of many people. But, like I said, that just reflects the emotions I felt while reading that book. I look through any of these pages and I know exactly what I felt at that time of my life.”

You nod, your lips absentmindedly curling into a smile. Minho truly is something else. You skim the page opened before you, reading some of his annotations and laughing quietly to yourself as he wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

As you close the book, he speaks again, “They’re a bit like people, aren’t they? Pretty and put-together on the outside, but once you really dig in, it’s all a mess and cluster of feelings and passion.”

You and Minho spend an hour lounging around the living room, with you meeting his other two cats during that time. Soonie and Doongie’s adoration toward Minho is clear, with both orange cats always rubbing against his leg or tangling themselves in his sneakers by the door as you two cuddle on the couch. Dori, however, remains laid on his cat tree, barely sparing the two of you a glance. Minho jokes that Dori hates him after he left his first mom, even showing you further proof in the form of a video where the gray cat bites his nose while he sleeps.

Upon hearing the key turn on the front door, your heart is quick to jump. Minho’s parents have arrived.

Sitting up on the couch, you gently push Minho away from you. He shoots you a questioning look.

“What? I don’t want them to think we were doing something indecent.”

“Indecent?” Minho repeats with a chuckle. “We were cuddling, not consummating a marriage on this couch.”

You grumble incoherent words under your breath, shrugging. “I know. I just want them to like me.”

“They were more than okay with seeing me cuddle my ex when I was a teen. We’re both adults, I’m pretty sure they won’t think you’re a filthy harlot.”

You gasp, hitting his chest and hissing through your teeth. “A harlot?”

Minho lets out a long, hearty laugh just as his parents walk through the door.

“Oh, there you are!” You hear his mother’s voice call out as soon as she steps inside the living room. You turn to face her and you’re greeted by the same smile you see on Minho’s face every day — they look so similar you have to hold back a gasp. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

You stand up from the couch and smooth down your long skirt, smiling while she walks toward you. You’re caught off guard when she pulls you into a hug as soon as she’s in front of you, her arms squeezing you as she sighs happily into your hair.

“Mom,” Minho calls out, “You’re scaring her.”

His mom pulls away with a chuckle, her left hand pinching her son’s cheek before resting on your shoulder again. “He’s the one who’s scared I’ll embarrass him,” she refutes. “And, god, you’re so pretty! Minho told me you were beautiful, but I just assumed it was the infatuation speaking.”

You feel your cheeks flush at her words, biting back a smile. Minho had talked to his mother about you — had said you were beautiful. You swear if you died tonight, you would die a happy woman.

As his mother steps away from you and into the kitchen, rambling on about how crowded the shopping mall had been, a man comes into your field of vision. He nods courtly before extending his hand, which you shake a bit awkwardly.

“I’m Minho’s dad,” he simply says. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Minho has been very happy on the phone since meeting you.”

And with that, he’s off into the kitchen, following his wife. You’re left a bit dazed. Minho truly was a perfect blend of his mother’s appearance and his father’s calm personality.

Beside you, Minho pulls you into a side hug, his chilly hands caressing your arms. “See? It’s impossible not to love you.”

You freeze for a moment, before relaxing as you realize he’s talking about his parents loving you. You curse yourself inwardly for being so damn emotionally constipated, but let out a sigh of relief nonetheless.

You were worried for so many different reasons — that you wouldn’t measure up to Minho’s first girlfriend, that your personality would be scrutinized until your flaws finally emerged, and that this would be the catalyst for Minho to realize you’re not worth it. Not worth waiting until you can tell him you love him, not worth waiting until you feel like sex isn’t going to just ruin everything between you, not worth the hassle and the chore that is loving someone like you.

But as he walks into the kitchen with you, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, like he’s proud to show you off to his parents, the level of reliability he radiates is enough to melt away all the annoying little worries you had inside your head.

Christmas eve comes two days later, and you’re rudely woken up in the morning by the sound of Minho’s voice cursing under his breath as he drops something on the floor by his bed. You groan, rubbing your eyes, and he turns to face you with an apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry,” he whispers, kneeling down next to the bed and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Good morning.”

“What time is it?”

“Eight, I think.” His fingers brush your hair away from your face. “I didn’t set an alarm ‘cause I didn’t wanna wake you up, but guess my inability to be quiet did that anyway.”

You chuckle lightly, scrunching up your nose. “Why are you up so early?”

“Gotta start cooking dinner soon,” he explains.

“Already?” You ask, perplexed. You knew he cooked Christmas dinner all by himself every year for his family, but you never conceived just how much work that would be for a single person.

Minho is unyielding despite your best efforts at persuading him to stay and cuddle you for a few more hours, and watching him cook is always oddly attractive to you, so you find yourself joining him in the kitchen, wrapped up in one of his many cat print sweaters.

At first, you simply sit up at one of the counters and watch him, mesmerized and all but drooling at the way he rolls up his sleeves, the prominent veins making his arms look so sexy while doing such a mundane thing like chopping fucking vegetables. Not to mention his hands, so beautiful and big as he rubs the seasoning on something you don’t even care to identify because you’re just too busy thinking about those hands all over your body. Only now do you notice how no real sex for almost two months has really taken a toll on you, what with the way you have to cross your legs just to try and relieve some tension because your mind won’t stop thinking about Minho’s veiny arms caging you against this counter and his big hands—

Minho calls out your name, and you snap out of your fantasies, humming as you reluctantly turn your attention toward his face with a dazed expression. He seems to find it funny, as he chuckles before repeating himself, “I asked if you would like to help. I can teach you some of the easy stuff. Must be boring just sitting there and watching.”

Oh, but it isn’t boring at all.

But you’d never tell him that, so you nod before hopping off the counter and awaiting further instructions. Turns out you’re worse at cooking than you had thought, so you’re relegated to chopping duty, which you hate for two reasons — firstly, chopping vegetables is boring, and secondly, you’re now deprived of your view of Minho as you stand with your back turned to him while he cooks.

It’s around five p.m. when Minho’s mom joins you two in the kitchen, and by that time you’ve done all you could, so you’re back to your spot on the counter. She smiles at you before ruffling Minho’s hair as he closes the oven.

“My baby is such a wonderful cook, isn’t he?” she praises, and he shrugs with a smirk.

“I am very boyfriend material, aren’t I?”

You chuckle as you watch his mom carefully fixing his hair which she had messed up, Minho scrunching up his face as she then fixes his wire-frame glasses on his nose.

“I’m so glad you’re wearing your glasses again,” she comments, cupping his cheeks and squeezing before letting go. “You look so handsome.”

“You should thank her,” Minho smiles, turning to look at you, and you shoot him a puzzling look. “Remember on your birthday, when you told me I looked good wearing glasses?” He asks, and you nod slowly. “That’s why I stopped wearing contacts.”

Your mouth opens, but you can’t find the words to answer him. You can feel your cheeks dusting pink as his mom coos at the two of you, saying something about young love that has you gnawing on your lips to hold back the silly smile you want to let out.

Minho’s mom leaves the kitchen shortly after, his father calling her from the living room. He takes this as his chance to approach where you’re sitting, hands resting on your thighs before he presses his lips against yours.

“I wanted to look handsome for you. It’s kinda pathetic, isn’t it?” He chuckles against your lips, and you simply shake your head, tangling your fingers in his black hair that has now grown past his eyes.

“It’s actually fucking adorable,” you assure him, pulling him into another kiss, one much deeper than the last.

He quickly uses his hands to spread your thighs apart, pressing his body into yours as you wrap your legs around his waist. The effect this man has on you is mindboggling; the mere slide of his tongue against your lips has you shivering. It certainly doesn’t help that you are now in the exact position from your imagination earlier today.

Minho always tasted like your own personal favorite flavor, always deliciously swirling on your tongue whenever you kissed him. He always renders your mind fuzzy and silly as bliss consumes the entirety of your being. You can only imagine how sex with him will feel like, and you don’t think you can wait any longer. Your worries be damned. You needed him more than you could handle.

But just as Minho pulls you closer to his body — your core dangerously close to his crotch, and sucking on your tongue in a way that has you mewling against his lips — his mother calls out your names, and you two quickly separate, startled as if you were burned. She informs you his grandmother has arrived and you two walk to the living room to greet her. You silently thank the universe for her not walking into the kitchen; the last thing you want is for Minho’s poor grandmother to catch you two making out on the counter like two teenagers.

She is a sweet lady, certainly not as old as you expected her to be, and she always has a smile etched onto her lips stained with red lipstick. You don’t even have to ask to know she is his mother’s mom, as the three of them share the exact same smile you grew to love so much.

You find yourself even more comfortable today, as you help both women set up the table for dinner — his grandma meticulously placing a beautiful lace cloth over the table while telling you about how this was one of her late husband’s first gifts to her when they first moved in together.

It felt as if you were part of the family.

And as you turn on your heels to grab the fancy silverware from a cabinet, your eyes meet Minho’s gaze. With a smile on his face, he stands by the kitchen door, watching you, and your heart swells with joy.

This was everything you never thought love could be.

Christmas dinner was amazing — as you knew it would be. Minho’s cooking is always fantastic, and pure happiness is written all over his face whenever he was complimented. The way he offers to serve everyone, watching intently as each of you took the first bite before he finally allowed himself to eat as well, his lips upturned into a grin and his ears red as you all hummed and gasped at how tasty everything was. It’s his love language; from the way he carefully and methodically prepares the food, to the way he enjoys watching other people eat more than eating himself. He shows his love through his cooking, you realize, and you smile as you think back to numerous times you woke up in the morning with a beautiful table set with breakfast for you after he spent the night at your house.

You haven’t put it into words yet, but he has unquestionably been showing his love for you through his little actions.

And that’s what you want to do tonight as well.

After watching a cliche Christmas movie with his family, you two are now the only ones awake with you drying off the dishes Minho’s washing. He looks beautiful even now, with his hands clad in neon green dishwashing gloves.

“Minho,” you call out, poking his rib with the plate he just handed you. He squirms with a giggle, warning you to not tickle him. You simply hum, continuing as nonchalantly as you can. “Do you wanna have sex tonight?”

His hand stills, dropping a knife on the sink as his head turns abruptly to look at you, eyes bewildered. “What? What, and you ask me this now? While we’re doing the dishes?” He sputters, and you grin with a shrug.

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, placing the plate on top of the counter. “I just… really wanna do it. Really want you.”

Minho turns off the tap — at least five knives left ignored at the bottom of the sink — removes his gloves and lets out a heavy sigh.

“Okay, not what I expected to happen on Christmas night, but I’ll take it.”

You both stare at each other for a beat, before inexplicably bursting out laughing. Maybe it’s the sheer suddenness of your request, or the absurdity of the situation you were in when it happened, but you can’t help it.

As you both calm down, Minho pulls you into his arms and informs you that he will have to go out and buy condoms, since he truly wasn’t expecting anything to happen. You don’t fault him, the two months you’ve been together were filled with you all but running away from sex. You couldn’t help it, your brain always dragging you back to that night in Japan, and the way he avoided your gaze in the morning. Although you knew it was irrational, and that he was simply shy, your self-sabotaging skills were too great, and your mind insisted that if you had sex with Minho too soon he would think you were nothing but a slut. That’s what you were told most of your life, anyway, so you couldn’t be blamed for the way your brain was almost conditioned into assuming the same.

But Minho had proved time and time again that he was not like the awful guys before him, and that all your worrying was unwarranted and foolish. You were depriving yourself of something you wanted badly out of sheer insecurity and attachment to experiences so far in the past it was almost masochistic at this point.

You insist on joining him on his impromptu trip to the convenience store, only throwing one of his sweaters over the dress and tights you wore for Christmas dinner.

Minho holds your hand as you two walk down the empty street, Christmas lights from the houses and stores making everything seem almost like a movie. You spot the familiar logo from across the street, and Minho bumps his shoulder with you while you head toward the convenience store chain where you both once worked.

“This is actually the exact one I used to work at,” He tells you as you look through a fridge hidden away in the back of the store. “I loved working the graveyard shift. I rang up so many couples awkwardly buying condoms like they were buying hard drugs.”

You chuckle, settling for some pudding you two could share later. “Will that be us tonight?”

He shrugs. “We’re adults, it’s normal to buy these things. Unless you want me to act like I’m buying crack cocaine, then I’d be happy to indulge you.”

You stick your tongue out at him with a light shove, turning to look through the rather lacking options on the condom shelf.

“Grape flavor?” Minho makes a face as he eyes one of the boxes. “Who the fuck would want the artificial taste of grapes when fucking?”

You shrug. “Could be worse, imagine banana-flavored condoms. I think I’d throw up all over your dick.”

“That’s sexy,” He jokes, and you let out a loud chuckle, earning you a look from the only other person at the store this time of night on Christmas eve.

Among your other options are a green glow-in-the-dark condom — which would only make you think of Shrek while Minho fucks you — and a strawberry-flavored one. You decide to play it safe, grabbing a box of plain, thin condoms and placing them in the basket Minho’s carrying.

“Let’s just go for the safest option,” you tell him, “We’ll have plenty of time to play around later if you want, though I’ll go on birth control once we’re back home so we won’t even need them anyway.”

You watch as Minho’s eyes widen for a second, his eyebrows shooting up almost comically.

“Sure, yeah.”

“Don’t short-circuit now. I need you functioning to fuck me.”

“Keep saying shit like that and I’ll be broken before we even make it back to my house,” he states matter-of-factly, and you chuckle, shaking your head at his words. But Minho’s expression remains unchanged. “I mean it. It’s been over a year since I’ve had proper sex. I’m surprised I didn’t combust the second you said those words to me in the kitchen.”

With a chuckle, you pull him to your side and walk toward the cashier. It’s a poor teenage boy, no older than eighteen, clearly bored out of his mind and wishing to be anywhere but here. As he rings up your items, Minho points to his phone that’s resting on the counter.

“That’s Ahri from League of Legends, right?” He asks, and the boy looks up, his eyes sparking with interest. He nods. “I don’t play, but I’m a game programmer, so I know a little bit about it. What’s your rank?”

“Grandmaster,” the boy answers proudly, his face lighting up with a hint of joy, probably for the first time since his shift started.

“Oohh,” Minho gasps loudly, basically hyping up this random boy at the convenience store. You watch the interaction with a silly smile on your face. “And you’re still young, wouldn’t be surprised to see you at World’s someday.”

The boy shakes his head dismissively as Minho hands him his card, but smiles nonetheless. Once he hands you your things, he speaks again, “Are you from around here, hyung? Let me know when you have a game out, I’d love to try it. See if you’re any good.”

Minho raises his brows at the obvious teasing lilt in his voice, lips upturning into a grin. “How about this? I’ll give you the beta code and you can start your career of testing games for money.”

“You’ll pay me?” The cashier marvels at the words, and Minho simply nods. He jots down a code from his phone into a scrap piece of paper on the counter, the boy’s face now a complete shift from the expression he wore when you first walked in, all because of Minho and his ability to be kind and sweet no matter the person or circumstance.

As you head back to his house, only the two of walk along the shy streets as the clock hands turn past midnight. Among all the bad people in this world, you’re indescribably happy that a man as good as him is the one walking beside you down this street, firmly holding your hand.

You arrive home and quietly head straight into Minho’s room. You thank any higher power that might exist for the fact that his room is the only one on the first floor, as you would have to endure your desperate need and desire for him until you got home if it wasn’t. Any of Minho’s family members walking in or hearing you two have sex would make you want to flee the country and change your name.

He joins you after storing your puddings in the fridge, making you jump with his arms wrapped around your waist while you were blankly staring at the pictures on his wall. You sigh, the realization of what was going to happen only really dawning on you now that you stand in Minho’s bedroom, and your mind starts to wander and doubt everything all over again.

“I kind of ruined the mood by asking to have sex, didn’t I?” You ask as Minho places a chaste kiss on your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder.

“There was really no mood in the first place,” he lets out a breathy chuckle. “We were washing the dishes.”

You roll your eyes, once again more annoyed at yourself than at him. You could only hope that your awful propensity of bringing up these irritating thoughts of yours at the worst possible moments didn’t drive Minho away from you. Could only hope you were worth it in the end.

“I know, it’s just…” You trail off with another heavy sigh. “This guy I dated hated that. Said I should just initiate it instead of asking like it was a business transaction.”

You feel Minho shake his head. “That’s stupid. Why would I think that?” He sounds incredulous, and hearing him say it makes you realize just how asinine that thought really was. “We had to buy condoms, anyway. It’s also good that you’re comfortable asking me that. It’s as it should be.”

And you can only smile, biting back a giggle because of course he thinks that. It’s as if Jane Austen came back from the dead simply to write Lee Minho.

His arms tighten around your waist, and you turn your head to look at him. “You should really stop thinking about… them,” He hesitates, “Your exes, I mean. Stop comparing, assuming everything will be the same and have the same sad ending. You need to let go of that in order to truly heal. I hate how every time I’m good to you, or do the bare fucking minimum, your mind spins it into something being your fault. I hate what they did to you so much.”

You feel your breath get caught in your throat, tears threatening to spill much like they do every time you are faced with this topic. But you hold them in. You don’t want to cry, not right now, not when everything is so perfect with Minho. So, instead, you take in his words. He’s undoubtedly right, and you must force yourself to face this uncomfortable truth.

Slowly, you promise yourself. You smile at him, a silent promise to him, and you know he understands you when he smiles back, his lips pressing a kiss to your lips.

He lets go of you and rummages through his drawers, and you look around once more. His plushie mountain, the pictures of his childhood and high school days. You scrunch up your nose.

“Will it be too weird to have sex in your childhood bedroom?”

From where you’re standing, his back turned to you, you can faintly make out the tip of his ears turning red as he runs a finger through his hair.

“Well, not really…” He trails off, “I had sex with my ex-girlfriend here all the time when we skipped school together.”

You let out a gasp. “Lee Minho skipped school?”

He chuckles, closing his drawers and immediately wrapping his arms around you. He’s a lot more touchy since you brought this whole topic up, you notice.

“My parents were always at work, though, so this is my first time doing it while they’re right upstairs,” He explains, bringing his finger up to your lips and lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “So we’ll have to be quiet.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, nodding. You know all too well you’ll probably be too quiet. Once again your trauma playing a part in this, the words an old boyfriend harshly spilled about you being too loud and vocal have always been present in your head. Now that you think about it, all these moments and words are like post-it notes stuck to your mind, and you skim through like a student cramming for an exam every day in search of one that applies to your current situation. It was excruciating.

Hyunjin tried his best to change this about you, always assuring you he liked to hear you during sex when he noticed your pursed and bitten lips, and that you should be vocal about what you want and like. But you always settled for nods and quiet hums instead.

Minho presses a quick kiss on your forehead then. “I’m gonna shower ‘cause my hands still smell like onions and garlic after washing them a thousand times,” he tells you. “I’ll be right back.”

As you’re busying yourself looking through Minho’s extensive collection of books, a meow pulls your attention toward the door. It’s Dori, the gray cat you’ve decided is your favorite since it’s the only one you can easily recognize. He stares for a beat before approaching you, and you kneel carefully to stroke his soft fur. You soon find yourself sitting down by the bed with Dori on your lap, purring away as your mind travels to a future in which you and Minho adopt cats of your own, all while living together and making plans for the rest of your lives. It terrifies you slightly to allow yourself to have these thoughts because if things were to go wrong with Minho, this would only be another ‘what if’ that would haunt you.

Another post-it note to your already cluttered-up mind.

But his words from earlier come back to you just as you begin to panic. You have to let go of the past and stop assuming only the worst outcomes are attainable. And so you simply smile at the imagination, letting your mind run wild while Dori falls asleep on your lap, his gray fur all over your red dress.

You and Dori both jump as Minho all but slams the door when he returns, a towel in his hand drying his damp hair. He cringes at the sound, cursing under his breath. Dori leaves your lap, and you stand up with a pout. He definitely is your favorite cat among the three.

“Sorry,” Minho whispers, as if that will compensate for the loud noise. You take in his appearance; a green Christmas sweater and bright red sweatpants. You bite back a smile, because that’s so him.

“Your outfit is doing a great job of seducing me,” you jest, and he shrugs with a cocky grin.

“I know no woman can resist a Christmas sweater.”

He pulls you into him with a hand around your waist, his lips crashing into yours in a deep kiss. You notice he’s more frantic, less careful than he usually is, his fingers digging into the fabric of your dress as his hands slide up your back. He pulls away, breathless and flushed, and just looks at you for a moment. You can see the shift in his eyes, yearning swimming all over his brown orbs.

Clumsily, he shuts off the lights behind him then switches on the fairy lights adorning his bookshelf, his left hand still firmly clutching your body. Until it suddenly loosens, and you cock your head to the side.

“Okay, you gotta leave,” he says, and you follow his gaze, landing on Dori, who stares up at him almost defiantly. Minho lets out a sigh, opening his door before walking toward the cat and motioning toward the exit as if he will understand him. “Come on, I’ll give you treats later, hm? But you need to leave now, Dori.”

You fail to hold back a chuckle. “Why does the poor baby have to leave? He looks so comfortable snuggled up on the floor.”

“I can’t have sex while Dori watches,” he deadpans as if it were an obvious answer. “It’ll be weird.”

“Minho, it’s a cat. He doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“It’s still weird! And I…” He trails off, running a hand through his hair. He’s still facing the door when he blurts out, “I told you, I’m already really fucking nervous ‘cause it’s been a while since I’ve had sex. I might not be the best.”

You shake your head with a smile, crossing your arms over your chest. “Minho, that’s not possible.”

“Yes, it is!” He finally turns to face you. “Remember back in Japan? I came too fast, it was embarrassing. That’s why I never let you touch me.”

You jokingly pout at him. “Thought you just liked eating me out.”

“I fucking love eating you out, but I’m not exactly refusing that you do the same because I want to,” he explains, “I’m just scared I’ll be bad at it.”

You furrow your brows. “Bad at… getting a blowjob?”

Minho’s ears are dusted a light pink, and he throws his hands up. “Well, yes! Back in Japan I didn’t even know what to do with my hands. I don’t know what you like, and I haven’t been with anyone else to know what most people like so…” He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fuck, I was so nervous that night, you have no idea.”

“You were nervous?” You let out a huff, recalling Minho’s clear shift in demeanor that night. “Looking into my eyes the entire time and pinning me down to the bed, that’s you being nervous?”

His entire face now flushes red, and he returns his gaze toward the door, where Dori paddles out of the room graciously. He promptly shuts the door, locking it this time.

“I was nervous,” He tells you, taking a step toward you. “I kept looking at you ‘cause I couldn’t believe that was actually happening. Felt like you were gonna disappear if I looked away,” His hands cup your face gently, and your lips unknowingly curl into a smile. “And when you looked at me in the morning, all I could think about was how awful I was the night before.”

You have to fight the strong urge to laugh because god, that’s why he was acting shy and avoiding your gaze. You berate yourself for even thinking otherwise, for ever assuming Minho could be like your ex-boyfriends. His words ring even more true than before.

You let out a groan, realizing you two have been putting off having sex for such mindless reasons. When he shoots you a questioning gaze, you simply say, “Minho, we’re both fucking idiots, d’you know that?”

And before he can say anything else or even entertain the idea of overthinking any more, you pull him into a kiss. With a surprised hum, Minho gently pushes you back, and your knees meet the softness of the mattress causing you to fall back into his bed. He climbs on top of you, pulling away from the kiss.

“You still gotta tell me what you like,” he repeats, his lips all but pouting at you. You smile up at him.

“No,” you say simply, pushing his hair back with your fingers as it fell into his eyes. “It’s better if we figure that out together, isn’t it?”

Minho chuckles, promptly pressing his lips to yours, your hand tugging at his hair gently as his tongue glides across your lips, causing a soft whine to slip from your throat before you can stop it.

“I like that,” he says between kisses, “When you make these pretty noises.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at his words and take that as your chance to take the first small step in healing, adding a post-it to your mind, reminding you not to suppress any noise that Minho coaxes out of you tonight.

The atmosphere in his room feels perfect — like heaven, as he would say. The soft yellow glow emanating from his bookshelf made everything seem dreamy; his honey skin looked stunning, and his eyes gleamed like the stars in the sky every time they met yours.

It was undoubtedly so much more intimate and passionate than any other time you had sex before, and you were both still fully clothed.

It was just like what Minho had told you many months ago.

His hands travel through your body until they rest on your back, finding the buttons of your dress, slowly opening each one as his lips trail down your neck, softly sucking on the skin. As he gingerly slides your dress down your torso, you realize that this will be the first time you two see each other naked. Yet, you don’t feel nervous. You want nothing more than to be close to him, with no barriers between you, to finally be tangled with him like the roots on the ground.

Minho unclasps your bra, his gaze unmoving from your chest as he slips the garment off of your skin and drops it on the floor. It’s almost as if you can feel his gaze burning you, your chest tightening and your breath hitching in your throat. He licks his lips, leaning down to wrap them around your nipple, his hand promptly finding your other breast and softly massaging it. You let out a choked gasp, tugging at his hair.

You feel his lips stretch into a smile before he softly bites the bud.

“So you like this,” He mumbles, pressing a wet kiss to your nipple. “Duly noted.”

You giggle at his words, your hands tangling in his hair once more. His kisses travel up again, from your chest to your neck, until he’s back to kissing your lips. Both of his hands now massage your breasts, alternating between rolling your nipples between his rough fingers and pinching them lightly, causing a rush to spread across your entire body. You feel your arousal trickle down your slit as you grow more desperate.

“Minho,” you call out between kisses, and he hums against your lips. “Do something,” you all but beg him, yearning for some release as you feel the small, unrelenting pulse between your thighs grow stronger with each stroke of his finger across your chest. Your hands now grasp at his sweater, tugging it over his head, the fabric also discarded somewhere on the floor of his room.

Your hands travel over the expanse of his chest, fingertips taking in every inch of his soft skin. Breaking away from his lips, you push him back softly so you can revel in the sight of him; his delicate collar bones, his strong arms, and soft stomach. He’s beautiful, breathtakingly so, and you don’t know what you did to be deserving of him.

“Enjoying the view?” He jokes, and you breathe out a laugh, your gaze flying up toward his face — his lips swollen, and his cheeks flushed a pretty red.

“Minho, you’re so beautiful,” you whisper absentmindedly, and he smiles at you, softly pressing his lips to yours.

“You should see how you look,” he whispers.

His left hand soon slips underneath your dress skirt, fingertips grazing your skin over your tights. You feel goosebumps trickle along your thighs following his every touch, so eager to feel his hands on your skin you’re sure you’ll rip your tights in half yourself if Minho doesn’t get rid of them soon.

He seems to grow as impatient as you, lifting your hips with a strong grip to slide down your dress, tights, and panties off of you all in one go. In no time, you are now laid bare before him, and Minho is swift to trail kisses down your stomach, sloppy and messy, painting your skin with his saliva as his mouth waters at the mere prospect of tasting you.

With a heavy sigh, he stares at your glistening wetness before promptly wrapping his lips around your clit without a warning and sucking, ardently, vulgar sounds filling his small room much like they do every time he eats you out. Always messy, always eager, humming against your pussy and sighing as his eyes glaze over with pure want.

You squirm like lighting has shocked through your entire body. No matter how often you experience the satisfaction of Minho’s lips on you, it always leaves you trembling like it’s the first time. His right hand slides up the expanse of your stomach until it reaches your breast again, his thumb lazily circling your nipple. You purse your lips as his fingers tentatively trail across your folds, spreading your wetness up to your clit before lapping at it slowly, the small bud swollen and aching.

You’re quick to remember to open your mouth, letting out the heavy sigh that had stuck to your throat as his finger enters you, Minho still licking and sucking your sensitive clit, nipping harshly and making your sigh fade into a whine. Hand tangling in his hair and tugging, you elicit a low groan from his throat, which you feel reverberate through your slick folds.

Your thighs shake as he adds a second finger, and soon a third, thrusting them inside of you and stroking your walls more vigorously than he usually does, as if he somehow also feels your pleasure and needs to lead you to your high as quickly as possible.

Minho’s hand leaves your chest, and you bite back a pout, his fingers now gripping your hips before pushing them up so he can reach deeper. It isn’t long before his fingers drag across the spot inside of you that has your muscles tensing up, a strangled moan falling from your lips at the sensations coupled with the unrelenting feeling of his tongue on your clit. You come undone around his fingers and lips with a harsh tug of his black hair, rutting your hips against his face desperately, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as you do.

He laps up your juices as you slowly come down from your high, tongue flicking inside of you and sucking hard before he presses a long kiss to your cunt. Your entire body jerks in response to the overstimulation.

His kisses travel toward your inner thigh, your lower stomach and breasts until he reaches your neck, where his teeth nip at the soft skin, sucking harshly before his tongue soothingly licks at the spot. As Minho positions himself between your thighs again, you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Your mind goes hazy for a beat as you feel the thick outline of his cock press against your bare core.

“Minho,” you call out again, your voice significantly more whiny this time around, shaky and breathless, “Wanna taste you.”

He groans against your skin, pressing small kisses up your neck until he ultimately stops against your open lips. He breathes out a heavy sigh.

“Really want that, too,” he rasps out, voice hoarse as his dark eyes travel across your face. “But I really wanna fuck you. Shit, I need to fuck you so badly you have no idea,” He groans. You feel his length jump at his words as he presses your foreheads together and locks his gaze with you. “That’ll be hard to do if your pretty lips go anywhere near my cock.”

You breathe out a chuckle, pressing a small kiss to his lips. “Then get to it,” you simply say.

Minho’s lips curl into a grin. “Will you remember to be quiet for me this time? My baby sounded so pretty coming around my fingers.”

Your cheeks flush, just how loud you were before only now dawning on you. Fuck. Your words get stuck to your throat, your mouth opening but making no sound, so you settle for a nod.

He chuckles. “Good,” he replies with a kiss to your agape lips.

Minho sits up, detangling himself from your body briefly. He reaches for the box on his bedside table, scrambling with the cardboard before clumsily tearing it open and retrieving a condom. It’s only then you notice how his hands are trembling, from nervousness or pure lust. Either way, you find yourself smiling at the sight.

You reach out to run a hand along his arm soothingly, watching with hungry eyes as he tugs at his drawstrings before freeing his cock from the confines of his sweatpants. Minho hisses as he rolls the rubber over his length, shaky hands stroking himself one, two, three times, all while you eye him, watching greedily as if you were his own personal captive audience.

He lowers himself once again, hand now sliding across the length of your thigh before gripping the flesh, nails digging into your skin as he eyes you with an almost pleading gaze.

“Can I—”

“Please do,” you answer, almost frantically, before he even has the time to assume you might say no. You inch your thighs apart even more so Minho can slot himself perfectly between them.

Your mouth waters as you catch sight of him gripping his cock once more, tapping it against your swollen clit and eliciting a whine from your lips as your hands scramble to find purchase in his strong arms. Minho’s eyes then find yours much like they did back in Japan, and you know you are done for. His dark gaze once again felt all-consuming — desire and adoration swimming along his brown eyes, looking at you as if he were in a daze. Your grip on his arms tightens as he lazily slides his cock up and down your soaked slit, coating himself in your arousal. Minho’s lips fall open as he continues his movements, the blunt head of his cock gliding along your folds almost painfully slow.

He leans in to close the small gap between your lips, before whispering something you can’t quite understand against them.

“I fucking love you,” he repeats himself more clearly, and finally pushes forward, his girth pushing into you as you gasp, feeling as if all the air has been stolen from you.

You aren’t sure if your reaction is due to his words, or the way his cock is working you open so good, or maybe it was a delicious blend of the two. All you know at the moment is Minho, Minho, Minho, your mind foggy as his name rings inside your head like a mantra.

“Don’t gotta say anything back,” he tells you in a breathy voice, “Just want you to know I love— Fuck,” he groans as he is now fully sheathed inside of you, and you clench at both the feeling and the words spilling from his lips. Of course he would choose now to tell you he loved you. “Love you so much, so much I’d do anything for you. Would wage a war with the world if you asked me to…” He babbles, words slipping past his lips like they were the easiest thing for him to say. Like he meant it so deeply, he didn’t have to put any thought into it. His words only die as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

Minho pulls his hips back in one swift motion, hands lifting your thighs around his body as he thrusts into you, evoking a rather loud noise from the back of your throat which is smothered by his kiss.

“You take me so well,” he growls against your lips, “We fit perfectly.” He breaks the kiss to look down at where your two bodies are connected. It felt as if you were one, melting into each other little by little the more Minho thrust his cock inside of you. You simply nod, mind even more dizzy with the way he’s already pulling out again before slamming back into you, his pace quickening as he presses you into the mattress.

Your nails dig into his skin, crescent moon shapes blooming over the expanse of his honey skin. His eyes still bore into you, hips now thrusting at an unrelenting pace, his small room filled with a cacophony of wet sounds, whines tumbling from your parted lips and curses that almost silently fell from his.

“Gonna come soon,” Minho chokes out, his eyebrows furrowing, “I’m sorry, I—”

You silence him with a press of your lips, hands now tangling in his messy hair.

“You’re always so good to me,” you tell him, feeling his cock pulse inside of your walls. “Wanna be good to you too, make you feel good.”

And he simply leans down before kissing you reverently. The sound of his skin slapping against yours mixed with the creaking of his bed likely much too loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. At least not at the moment. Not with the way his hand snakes along your hips, rough fingers now rolling delicious circles around your clit while his other palm presses down onto your abdomen, and his cock continuously hits a spot inside of you that has you all but crumbling apart underneath him.

Your mouth falls open, breaking the kiss, his cock twitching inside of you as his body stills on top of you. With furrowed brows and agape lips, Minho comes mere seconds before you reach your high as well, toes curling against his back as you melt onto his cock.

You stay that way for a while — a few seconds, maybe minutes — simply looking at each other as your labored breaths intertwine.

You finally reach up, brushing his dampened hair away from his beautiful eyes that now look at you as if you were the sole reason why the stars sparkle. Minho’s fingers soon find yours, tangling together as he brings your hands to his lips and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

You smile.

You love him.

It’s not a realization but rather a confirmation of something you’ve already known all too well and for far too long. You still can’t put it into words, but somehow, you are certain that he knows just as well.

Minho accidentally awoke you in the morning with his habit of slamming his door shut, apologizing as you grumbled at him and insisted you would only accept his apology if he let you give him a blowjob. He laughed, simply pulling you closer to him on the bed as he sat up and you finally gave the most beautiful man you had ever met the head he deserved.

Minho’s parents and grandmother had left to eat at a fancy restaurant, and after lying through his teeth and telling his very distraught mother that you were feeling too sick to leave the bed, you two stayed behind. They didn’t have to know the real reason you couldn’t leave the bed — Minho and his apparent insatiable hunger for you. It was as if something had been awoken inside him now that he had a taste of you, and he had to make up for all the lost time.

You two only leave his room late in the afternoon, the sun setting on the pale winter sky outside his bedroom window. His family would arrive soon, and you needed to get ready for their tradition of opening Christmas presents while watching bad holiday movies.

When Minho followed you when you headed toward the bathroom, you thought little of it. It was only when he began undressing alongside you that panic truly set in.

“We literally had sex, why do you sound so horrified?” Was all he offered you when you asked what he was doing before entering the steamy shower with you.

It was your first time showering with someone, and the fact that it made you so nervous felt almost pathetic. Minho was right; you had sex, and you saw each other naked and sweaty and vulnerable. This shouldn’t be any different.

Except it was.

You found yourself too awkward to wash yourself, doing a terrible job at pretending to scrub at your arms as you watched Minho shower like a normal person. He let out a chuckle after rinsing his hair, shaking his head.

“Are you seriously shy? Seriously?” He asked, turning your body around so your back faced him. “The girl who begged to suck my cock just this morning is too shy to shower in front of me?”

You opened your lips to refute him, but your words died in your mouth as you felt Minho’s hand spread shampoo all over your hair. His fingers gently massaged your scalp before placing his hand over your eyes to shield them from the foam as he rinsed your hair. He repeated the process with conditioner, then moved on to wash your body with his almost sickly sweet watermelon body wash. He did it all while humming, making you so relaxed and comfortable that all your silly insecurities dissipated in the air along with the steam from the hot water.

Suffice to say, showering without Minho would now be a sad affair.

You are now sitting on the floor before the television, his family exchanging gifts. Dori purred on your lap, and Soonie bit Minho’s socks, trying his best to remove the fabric from his feet. It’s finally time for you two to exchange gifts, and you’re a bit glad his family seemed to be so immersed in the movie because you know you would combust if you had to explain your gift to them.

“Here,” you hand him an orange box with a black bow. “It’s stupid. Now that I think about it, it’s probably such a fucking dumb gift. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and Eunha even made one for her sister. I almost stole hers ‘cause it turned out much better than mine—”

“My god,” Minho interrupts you with a hearty laugh, taking the box in his hands and inspecting it. “It’s been a while since you word vomited so much. What the hell did you get me that made you so nervous?”

He pulls on the bow, unraveling it before taking the black fabric in his hands and tying it around your head. He laughs once more, and you roll your eyes.

“Minho, just get to it before I snatch this box from you.”

With one last chuckle, he finally opens the box. He stills as he takes in the notebook, sitting on top of far too much wrapping tissue paper. The cat print cardstock paper was a pain to find, but it’s worth it now as you watch Minho’s lips curl into a smile as his fingers gingerly travel through the cover. It was crooked, a bit too small, and still reeked of bookbinding glue, but it reminds you of the day you met Minho, and that was all you thought about when you decided on this gift.

“You fucking bound me a notebook,” he says, still bewildered.

“Took me a while, but I did say I was gonna do it. I’m a woman of my word.”

Minho looks up at you, his smile reaching his eyes and turning them into the pretty crescent moons you love so much. “I love it,” he beams, hands now squeezing your cheeks as he pulls you into a small kiss. “This and that coffee stained notebook are going on my bookshelf back in my dorm, displayed in all their glory.”

Minho pulls away and reaches toward two small boxes on the coffee table. He clears his throat, handing you one box as he settles the other on his lap.

“I thought of you when I saw this on my Instagram feed,” he simply says, fingers toying with the misshaped bow on top of the box — one very similar to the one on your birthday gift many months ago. “Thought about what we talked about in Japan, y’know, about soulmates.”

You raise a brow at him, quickly undoing the bow on your box as curiosity washes over you. You pick up a bracelet made only of red thread, eyeing it curiously.

Minho retrieves the same bracelet from his own box, putting it on before asking, “Have you heard of the red string of fate?”

“That myth that a thread connects two people meant to be together?” You question.

He nods. “Exactly. I feel like that was us,” He explains, taking the red bracelet from your hands and slipping it around your wrist before gently tightening the thread. “Feel like all our little coincidences were little threads tying us together until we met.”

You feel the tears well up in your eyes, but you don’t bother trying to hide or stop them this time. Grabbing Minho’s hand that stilled around your wrist, you lace your fingers together, admiring your matching bracelets. It could only be fate. Every small detail that aligned and every road you two crossed to reach the place where you are now could only have come to be because fate wanted it to be that way.

Out of every city you could have lived in, every different university you could have chosen to attend, down to every other seat that could have been empty on the day you met Minho — everything fell into place like a puzzle piece, exactly as if a long, invisible string tied you to him and finally decided it was time to pull you together.

Minho’s gentle touch brushes against your cheek as he silently wipes your tears — no words are needed between you two at that moment as he smiles softly at you while you feel your eyes burn from the cry you had held back for so long. And, as if you’re his mirror, you feel yourself smile as his lips upturn into a grin when his gaze shifts to the open window.

“It’s snowing,” he beams. “It’s the first snow of the year, and our first snow together.”

You stand in front of Minho’s house, the light snow falling softly and covering your heads in white as he kisses you, only stopping to grumble against your lips.

“Your phone’s going crazy in my pocket,” He pouts, and you furrow your brows. You had already sent your family holiday messages, and your friends were all busy with their own Christmas celebrations, so you were clueless about who it could be.

“Can you check it for me?”

Minho nods, untangling himself from your embrace just enough to reach into his pocket and grab your phone to unlock it.

“There’s like fifty new messages from a group chat. Best Fucking Five?” He chuckles lightly at the name, his chilly breath tickling your cheek.

You, on the other hand, immediately frowned as you heard the name. It’s a long-forgotten group chat with your old friend group from high school. You had all stopped talking a little before graduation, with you especially distancing yourself from them upon realizing their toxic words and reactions to your relationships only served to make you feel worse about yourself. No one bothered to leave or delete the group since it quietly died and had stayed that way for over three years now.

Minho hands you the phone, and you click another notification that pops up as soon as you unlock the device.

The conversation began with your former friend sending a screenshot of one of your ex-boyfriend’s newest Instagram post. You skim through the caption and blanch at the words accompanied by a sonogram picture. His girlfriend is pregnant, and he’s over the moon about it.

And you, for some reason, find yourself laughing so much you have to clutch onto Minho’s shoulder as your stomach starts to hurt.

He shoots you an understandably puzzled look, but you can’t stop the giggles that spill from your lips, so you settle on showing him the screenshot.

“I got the best Christmas gift tonight,” Minho reads from the screen. “I'm going to be a dad, and the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known is the mother,” he trails off with a questioning lilt, brows furrowing as that had only confused him more.

“It’s one of my exes,” you manage to tell him after catching your breath.

Minho hums, taking your hands and shoving them in his overcoat pocket along with your phone.

“And why did that make you lose your mind laughing?” He asks with a small smile.

“I guess it was the shock, really. It also made me realize just how little I care about him now. All of them, actually. Every time I was broken up with or had my heart broken in some way, it honestly felt like the end of the world,” you explain, “Like my heart would never recover and like I would hate them for the rest of my life. For years I had such a strong ax to grind with them, and that hatred and grudge only caused me harm. It made me hate love, and it made me blame myself.”

Minho nods, pressing his forehead to yours. Around you two, the snow got thicker, and only the distant sounds of children laughing from neighboring houses could be heard throughout the quiet street.

“But it’s different now?”

You smile up at him. “It’s different now, and I only just realized that. These people are no longer people I hate. They’re simply their words and their actions toward me, but they, as people, mean nothing to me.”

Minho smiles and wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. This realization makes you feel lighter, like a small part of the weight of healing has been removed from the equation. It’s only you and yourself now; none of them has any power over your emotions anymore.

“Maybe we should send the baby a present,” you joke, and Minho buries his head in the crook of your neck with a chuckle, and you jump as his cold nose brushes against your skin.

“Maybe we should.”

At that moment, in the arms of this amazing man who has helped you more than he will ever know, you realize that love truly isn’t bad. People can be bad, circumstances can be catastrophic, and wrong timing can destroy nearly everything. But love is, at the core of it all, good.

“Minho,” you call out, feeling him hum against your skin before lifting his head to look at you. “I love you,” you say simply.

His smile rivals every pretty thing around you. The first snow, the gleaming Christmas decorations, and even the moon herself pale in comparison to the smile that Minho gives you.

“I love you, too,” he replies, a tangible sense of bliss in his voice, as if he has yearned for a lifetime to finally be able to say those words to you.

You wrap your arms tighter around Minho, and your fingers brush against the red thread that adorns your wrist. It truly feels as if fate had led you to Minho, leaving little clues along the way to make sure you both knew when you finally met. His journey to you had been relatively easy, while yours had been heart-wrenching, but in the end, it had brought you heaven.

If soulmates really are a thing, there is not an ounce of doubt in your being that Minho is yours. More than anything, he taught you that love is present in everything around you. Love is being kind to others like Minho is kind to his family and strangers in convenience stores at midnight. Love is staying up with your best friend while she cries on the couch, not expecting anything in return. Love is the laughter of little kids on Christmas night echoing throughout a neighborhood. Love is also going out on your own, doing something simply because it will make you happy, and being kind to yourself. All this time, you held onto the belief that love is destructive and only leads to sadness, oblivious to the fact that it has surrounded you every step of the way.

Love is everywhere and in everything.

In the end, Minho had always been right.

Love is the most amazing thing in life.

♡ taglist: @notevenheretbh1, @malunar28replies, @jazziwritesthings, @finchyyy, @bloom-ings, @linocz, @minhochaos, @lastgreatamericandynasty1, @missminhoe, @jungkookies1002, @meanergreener

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astrecium · 7 months

Text

Plush boy!

c. wanderer x reader

cw. None, no pronouns mentioned to reader as always. Fluff only

summary. Wanderer never thought he would be jealous of anyone, but the disappointment he felt in himself when he got jealous of the plush you were cuddling with was unbearable.

You were the light of wanderer's life, at this point everyone knew, even if he tried to hide it so bad. But he was just a downbad simp, everyone knew..

It was shocking to him when you invited him to your room, so you trust him enough to let him in your personal space? It might be just a simple thing to you, but to him, being invited in the space you went through your best and worst times, and you having no care about it, he was just so happy. Not like he would tell you, he would just scoff at you.

Honestly, he expected nothing. He wouldn't care if your room was a mess, or the most organized thing ever, he just wanted to be there.

And it was a bit of two. There were.. plushies everywhere! How do you sleep here? The bed is almost 100% plush, it's like it's their's to sleep and not yours..

You got almost ever plush he could imagine, you..named them? You gave them nicknames. Why not he though? This was where his jealousy started.

You even had a "favorite" plush you cuddled with everyday! (It was an Osaka one) why would you cuddle with that damn dumb looking plush instead of him? He bets he would be much more comfortable, and much more warm !

But he just laughed at you, hiding all of his inner thoughts.

"hah, you sleep with toys?"

He laughed at you, even tho he was thinking of buying you more. If you liked them that bad, he could give you every plush on this plant. It would be worth every cent. But you spoke again.

"yeah, they keep me warm. It's actually very good to sleep with, just so you know."

They are more comfortable to sleep than him!?????? How could you.

"sometimes i need to put them on the floor since I want to sleep correctly, it's not as warm when they are with me."

"you could just call me."

Oh noo. He spoke too much. Now you'll think he's a cuddle addict and weak boy who is jealous of goddamn TOYS. But instead you just greeted him with a warm smile! You would actually sleep with him WHAAAT.

Wanderer was actually more warm than your plushies! But you couldn't say anything about anything of it, if you tease him about buying you more plushies he'd just throw them at your face and walk away, red faced.

He's so silly i love him

Two posts on a single day!! Now I'm entering a 100 years hiatus

Short sorry

#wanderer headcanons #wanderer #wanderer x reader #genshin headcanons #Scaramouche x reader #scaramouche fluff #Scaramouche #kabukimono x reader #Kabukimono #ⓘ made by mecpencil on tumblr #ike and subsribe

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misserabella · 2 years

Text

bad idea

+18 eddie munson x fem! reader

synopsis; whatever you do… don’t you ever take an aphrodisiac with your best friend (who you secretly love), or do… We all have good bad ideas.

REMINDER: english is not my mother language so i apologize if there are some mistakes <3 ! either ways, i hope y’all like it<3

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<3

cw; no use of y/n, use of pet names (angel, sweetheart, gorgeous, baby…) cursing, dirty talk, daddy kink, aphrodisiac (as a drug and drug mentions!), teasing, throat/mouth fucking (w fingers too <3), cum eating, breeding kink, dacryphilia (kinda??), a lil’ tiny bit of perv! eddie, smut, p in v sex, cock warming, overstimulation, squirting, choking, non protected sex (GUYS STDS ARE REAL, WRAP THE DONG UP), cream pie, finger fucking, oral sex (f and m receiving), hair pulling, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms… MINORS DNI!!!

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

a/n; THANKS FOR THE 1K FOLLOWERS, Y’ALL MADE ME SO HAPPY IT’s INSANE

this was so fun to make! hope you all love it!<333

‘You need to open up wider, sweetheart.’

Eddie was really stupid. You loved him, and he has been your best friend your whole life. But he was stupid. The biggest idiot in the world… But if he was the biggest stupid in the world then you were the second.

When Eddie started to sell weed you were scared at first for him in case Hopper ever caught him, but he never did and never will. Eddie was cautious. Knew what he was doing and how to do it. And he did it great. He was sly, and had a lot of clients. Clients that he did everything to try and please, so much that he tried every new type of drug that fell into his hands to make sure he was giving no shit. He took pride on his quality.

And you swore to try every and each of one of them. You had your good trips and bad trips. Took care of each other and always stood safe. You knew your limits. Or that’s what you thought.

‘Cause you should have known that this was a really bad idea. You knew that it was dangerous, and crossed a line a little… sensitive. But once again you were stupid. Really stupid. And you liked your best friend too much to think straight.

“You want me to take an aphrodisiac…, with you.” you tried and clarify as Eddie stood there, all wide eyed and smiley with two pink little pills on his hand.

“Yeah.” he nodded.

“…” “Okay.” you shrugged, not thinking twice to on swallowing the pill along with him.

If only you knew what of a great mistake that was…

Or maybe not.

You were horny, so horny that you couldn’t stop your thighs from pressing against each other, trying hard for your best friend, which stood seated on his bed next to you, to not notice. You were listening to some music, waiting for the drug to take effect. It was fast. Too fast.

Your whole skin grew on goosebumps, your cheeks flushing and body running hot, so hot you were melting. You tried not to. Not to think about how nice he looked, the way he licked his lips every few seconds as if his mouth were dry. You tried not to stare too much at him, not to breath too hard or you’ll inhale his perfume, which seemed to be everywhere. And you surely tried to not let your mind get filled with scenarios in which your best friend shouldn’t be participating with you. But it was no luck, you failed the very moment you noticed the bulge that had grown under the sweats that he wore to stay comfy on his house.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Eddie was suffering. His eyes away from you as best as he could. He couldn’t stop too much to stare at your bare legs and plushy thighs or he’ll for sure burst on his pants like a complete 13 year old virgin who just found out what porn was. And your tits… God, he always tried and avoid thinking about your nipples pressing against his tee-shirts —which you borrowed every day—, and the way you just casually stopped wearing bras around him. But now was impossible, since you were wearing his Hell Fire shirt and he could see just how erect your nipples were through the white of it. He wanted to lick them, wanted to suck on them so bad, kiss your chest and leave you full of marks, fuck his cock in between your tits and paint them on his cum…

Shit. Shit. Shit.

His dick was incredibly hard, leaking on his thigh and twitching in need of attention. His breath hitched when he tried and reposition it inside his pants, biting down on his lip to not let out a groan due to the pressure.

You were seating one next to another, shoulders almost brushing, hands almost touching. And you needed to touch him so bad… So bad, oh god.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what he had told you about his sexual encounters. About what he had found he liked the most.

It was no big deal. You and Eddie didn’t keep secrets from one another, and somehow along the way, the theme had just… came up. So you had talked about it. A lot. And it was no big deal, ‘was’, or so you tried to convince yourself. But now… Now it was a big deal.

You couldn’t stop wondering if he would treat you as he treated all of those other girls. If he would choke you, spank you, praise you… You wondered what position would make you feel him the best. How far would his dick go down your throat? You would love to suck his dick. You wanted to call him daddy too. Knowing that he would probably fuck you harder, like he once told you he had fucked a girl after it.

You needed to know, needed to know how he would eat you out. Needed to know how big he was.

Shit.

You were breathing heavily, your eyes on the veins of his arms and hands, those hands that you’ve dreamed with so many times, those fingers that you had pretended and were the ones fucking your cunt when you touched yourself.

The tension inside the room could be cut with a knife. And you were the only ones in the trailer since Wayne was working a double shift.

You couldn’t look at each other. Or at least you did as if you hadn’t caught the other staring… ‘Cause Eddie’s mind was getting too fuzzy and his attempts to stop staring at you slowly started to be less and less effective. He just couldn’t get the image of fucking you right there and then, with his tee-shirt on, and fill you up with his cum over and over again until you couldn’t stop crying due to how full you felt. He couldn’t stop thinking about playing with that little button that he for sure knew would make you scream, the tightness and wetness of your pussy…

God, he shouldn’t be feeling this way about his best friend, the one that he had grown up with… But he did, and always had.

“It’s…” he jolted when your voice suddenly filled the room, taking him by surprise. “It’s good.” you awkwardly smiled, still not looking at him.

It was good as fuck. So good that it had you soaking through your short jeans.

“Yeah…” he breathed out, feeling his cock stir just by hearing your voice on his pants as he scoffed and repositioned himself on the bed. He wanted to know how good you would sound moaning his name.

You gasped when your skin made contact, both your hands brushing the slightest, but still enough to make your skin grow on goosebumps.

Eddie looked at you and then at your hands. His cheeks were flushed, and his lips looked all red and swollen, as he hadn’t stopped biting on them.

You thought he would move away then, but surprisingly enough he made your hands brush again, getting the same reaction out of you.

You were shivering when he turned your hand on his own. You stared at him with furrowed eyebrows, confused. But he simply looked into your eyes and started caressing your palm. Slowly, teasingly…

He knew what he was doing. You could see it in his eyes. In the little smirk that was trying to appear on his lips.

Your breath hitched, wherever his fingertips touched felt like your skin was mixing up with his.

You only could look into his eyes, into his stupidly beautiful dark brown eyes which pupils were blown.

You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t. Your throat was tied in knots and your stomach was burning with suck need that was making you feel dizzy. Maybe that’s why you did what you did, but before you knew it you were taking his teasing hand and slowly raising it up to your lips.

Eddie’s breathing was heavy when your lips parted and you nipped on his fingertips, your cheeks hollowing around two of his fingers when you pushed them inside your mouth. You never stopped staring at him as your tongue started to swirl his fingers, teasing, inviting…

He groaned, and your pussy clenched around nothing, gagging when he suddenly thrusted his fingers deeper inside your mouth. “Uh-uh…” he clicked his tongue. “You need to open up wider, sweetheart.” you did as he told you, this time feeling his fingers down your throat. “That’s it, good girl.” his praise was low, his voice making you shiver and moan around his fingers. He smirked when you took his wrist to push his hand closer, his fingers deeper. You needed more. You needed him to fuck your mouth, use your throat and make you gag all around him. “Oh, well isn’t that pathetic… Look at you. Why so needy, hm?” you whimpered, and his dick twitched so hard he had to breath in the best he could. Shit, you looked so pretty. “My girl just needed something to suck on, isn’t that right? Your mouth was feeling empty, huh?” he inquired and you nodded, your teary eyes staring into his own. He wanted to make you cry. On your mind his words playing over and over again. ‘My girl, my girl, my girl, my girl…’ “Poor baby, having such a hard time…” he shook his head. “Maybe I should help you, what do you think, hm?” his heart skipped a beat when you pushed his fingers out of your mouth, still connected by a string of spit that he so badly wanted to lick.

“Please, Eddie, please, please, please…” you begged, and even if you didn’t ‘knew’, you knew you were in too deep now. Your brain was completely disconnected, you couldn’t think straight, the only thing in your mind being your oh so pretty best friend, and his lips, and his eyes, and his…

You gulped when he smirked, his hand guiding yours towards his crotch, his dick reacting to your touch with a tug that you felt through the sweats. He was hard, so hard your mouth was watering.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” he said, and you had never been so fast in your life at tugging someone else’s pants down. The boxers disappeared just as fast, and your eyes widened when his cock slapped his stomach when it was finally freed. It was so big…, so big that you couldn’t stop the moan that left your lips, making Eddie groan. His tip was the most beautiful pink you have ever seen, fully leaking and all pearly with his pre-cum. He was long, and a couple of veins popped on his shaft. You could only imagine how good it will feel dragging up and down your walls. You were salivating, with your knees tucked below your butt for him, kneeling on the bed. “Here, let me help you, baby.” he said before taking your hair in one of his hands, collecting all of it in some kind of a ponytail that would allow him to fuck your throat harder and see those beautiful eyes of yours tear up as you took him in your mouth. He had been dreaming about this moment since he could remember, and he sure as hell was going to fully enjoy it. He was going to take it all in.

He groaned when your lips took his head, your tongue tasting the musk and saltiness of the beads on the slit, which made you hum. Eddie had to try really hard to not cum right there and then, his balls so full it was painful.

“There you go.” he sighed, watching as you slowly started to fuck his cock into your mouth.

You could almost cry of happiness and relief. He felt so heavy on your mouth, so warm and so big… You only wanted to choke on it, wanted him to leave your throat sore and swollen from thrusting on it. You didn’t care, you just needed it, even if that made you unable to talk tomorrow morning.

“So greedy…” he chucked when you took too much of him and gagged, pulling yourself off of him to take a deep breath, your hand on your base, which pooled with your spit. “I know what you want.” you let out a little shriek when he suddenly pulled at your hair towards his cock, making you take him once again in your mouth, fucking your throat. “Been wanting me to fuck this tight throat of yours, huh? Isn’t that right, doll?” he panted when your nails dug on the flesh of his thighs, your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to contain your gagging and breath through your nose. “Been wanting me to use you like a simple little toy, hm? Fuck your mouth full of my cum.” you moaned, making him do it as well at the feeling. “Shit. You look so pretty taking me so good, choking on my cock and letting me use you like a fucking slut. Fuck, been thinking about you sucking my cock for years.”

Eddie moaned when one of your hands took his balls and rolled them in between your fingers. They were heavy and full for you, ready to stuff you up with his cum and get you all fucked out and pretty for him.

“Yeah, that’s it. Good girl, shit, you’re gonna make me cum so hard…” he groaned, struggling to maintain his eyes open, getting too lost on the squelching of your mouth, on the feeling of your tongue and throat, of your hands on his balls, on the tears on your eyes and the whimpers and moans that you were letting out only for him to hear. “Fuck.” he was close. He could feel it, the drug making him impossible for him to hold it much more due to how turned on and sensitive he was. “I’m gonna cum.” he moaned, and before you knew it, he was filling your throat with his white, heavy and creamy seed. You sighed in pleasure, milking him with your mouth as he rode out his orgasm with a groan.

He let go of your hair, and you let his dick fall out of your mouth with a pop, not before having cleaned his head with your tongue and having swallowed his seed just like the good girl he knew you were.

“Fuck.” he groaned before he harshly pulled you in, crashing your lips together in a searing kiss that had you moaning in his mouth and left your legs shaking.

Your hands found his hair as he pushed his tongue inside your mouth, humming when he tasted himself in it. He needed to drink you up, needed you to ride his face and leave him tasting of you, needed you to leave his face all soaked with your juices.

“Now it’s my turn.” he said, and you didn’t argue when he popped the bottom of your shot jeans open. “God, angel.” he groaned when he saw the little lace pink panties that you were wearing, which now stood completely soaked with your slick. “Is this for me?” you moaned when his fingers touched you over the lace, pushing the slightest between your wet and warm folds. You nodded, whimpering a ‘yes’, feeling blissed by his touch. It was everything you had ever dreamed of. Like biting the apple of Eden under the eye of god, like drinking water after days in the sun, like breathing after almost drowning in the sea… Eddie was everything you had dreamed of. Everything you wanted. Everything you needed. “So good for me…” you cried out when he pushed you against the sheets, his mouth latching at your thighs to leave marks that you’d proudly wear tomorrow with your oh so short skirts and dresses. “Why don’t you pull your panties off for me and let me take a look, hm?” you nodded, using your legs to raise your hips and pull your underwear down your thighs. Eddie took care of it, once they were completely off, throwing somewhere on the room’s floor, still taking a mental note to make sure to steal them before you could notice.

You were burning up and dying at the same time.

It was like his touch didn’t exist but filled your senses altogether.

“Oh god.”

Just the simple act of touching, of him kissing you, holding you… Was just so intimate that your bones were breaking in half. It hurt, but hurt so good .

You felt everything ten times stronger.

And you swore your heart was about to stop when his hand disappeared in between your legs. His touch felt like freezing, but burning at the same time.

“Fuck, angel.” he groaned and you moaned at the sleek that pooled between your tights. You were soaked. You could feel it flowing down your lips to the sheets. “So wet…” Eddie‘s fingers shone with your arousal, which he tasted when he inserted his fingers in his mouth, moaning at the taste. “So sweet…”

Suddenly his head was now inches away from your heat, and you screamed at the first drag of his tongue, lapping at your slick with his eyes closed in pleasure, separating your lips —which hardly stood connected with strings of your arousal— and circling your clit. You could see stars. Even if you had your eyes closed.

“Eddie.” you cried out as he ate you out like a starved animal, devouring you, tasting you as if you were his last meal.

He groaned when your fingers laced in his curls, tugging on them due to the pleasure.

He hummed when your hips rocked against his face when his nose bumped against your clit, his tongue harshly pushing against your hole. “Please…” you didn’t know what you were begging for, but he seemed to understand. He always did.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he plunged two of his fingers on your warm and wet pussy. You couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help the way your grip tightened on his curls, the way your hips rose or the word that fell of your lips in a needy moan.

“Daddy.”

And then he suddenly stopped. He stopped his thrusting, his kisses… Everything stopped. And your gut clenched in need.

“What did you just call me?” he said below a whisper, his dark onyx eyes heavy on you, so heavy you felt crushed.

Your cheeks heat up, but even if you had heard him, you couldn’t listen. “No!” You whimpered, one of your hands reaching to circle his wrists in hopes that he would touch you again, that he would help you subside your thirst for him once again. “Please don’t stop, please!” you were at the verge of tears, you felt so close to cumming, so close that you swore it physically pained you. You needed him, needed him so bad your bones shivered and your whole body trembled.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he pouted, mocking you, although you didn’t care since he was back to curling his fingers inside of you and making pants fell from your lips. “You’re about to cum?” but again, he had stopped, and again, you found yourself pleading him. “If you want to cum, then you’d have to say it.” you knew what he was referring to, but you still found yourself so embarrassed that you could bring yourself to say it. “Come on sweetheart, use that pretty mouth of yours to call me ‘daddy’ again, would you?” your whole body flushed at his smirk, your cheeks so red and hot that you could feel them burning.

But again, even though you were embarrassed to the marrow, it only took a single curl of his fingers to make you dissolve on his hands. “Daddy, please, daddy…” you whimpered, and he smiled.

“That’s my good girl.” you moaned, probably due to his praising, or probably to the fact that his lips were back on your clit, sucking on it ‘till your thighs were shaking on the sides of his face. “Daddy’s good girl.”

You clenched around his fingers with a moan so high that you swore the whole trailer park had heard you as the tension on your lower stomach finally snapped, your pussy gushing on his mouth and fingers, slick that he made sure to lap at to as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

You could feel tears swelling in your eyes at the overstimulation. It was too much, but at the same time not enough.

You needed him, needed his cock, his body, his mouth…

“Eddie, please…” you begged for him with a new tug and he looked at you, his chin and lips completely bathed in you. “Please it’s not enough…” you whimpered. “Please, daddy…”

He groaned, ‘cause he felt the exact same way than you, he could eat you out day and night, he loved it, from your taste to the little sweet sounds that you let out… But he couldn’t stop thinking about stuffing you full, filling you up until he could see his dick bulging in your lower stomach, fuck you so raw and rough that you couldn’t stop screaming, leaving you voiceless the next morning. He wanted to make you cry.

“Fuck.” he was quick to pull his boxers down and get on top of you. “I know baby, I know…” you whimpered when he took place in between your legs, the head of his huge cock gliding through your folds in ease, circling your clit, pushing against your entrance… “Gonna let me fuck you raw, sweetheart? Let me cum inside and fill you up? Get you all round and pretty for me?” you moaned, sensing your whole body shake. You shook your head ‘yes’, crying out a ‘yes please daddy, pleasepleaseplease’ and he almost could cum right there and then.

You let out a quiet scream when he got balls deep inside you in a quick and harsh thrust. You went breathless. He stretched you out like no one would ever do, fill you to the brim, his head abusing your g spot with every new snap of his hips.

“I’m sorry baby.” he moaned as he moved ‘till only the tip stood inside. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to control myself. I need to fuck you so bad…” you nails dug on his back when he thrusted in again.

“EddieEddieEddieEddie…” you cried out over and over again, the squelching sound of his dick fucking into your wet hole making you so horny that you couldn’t stop the need to move your hips against his, what made him groan and grip your hips to do it for you, but harder. Much much harder. “Shit!” your voice cracked. He rose you up as if you were as light as a feather, making you sit on his cock.

You choked on just how deep it got, it caressed places so deep within you that made breathing harder.

“That’s right baby, fuck, moan for me, you sound so sweet when your voice breaks with every scream.” your jaw was slack, lips parted as he rose you up and down his dick, using you like he could use a toy. You couldn’t stop moaning, moans that came out broken due to how hard he was fucking you and how high and loud your voice was.

Tears were falling from your cheeks with every new thrust, you felt so overstimulated by the drug that it was too much. Too much, but your body desired so much more.

You wanted Eddie to break you, fuck you brainless, make you sob…

The grip on your throat silenced your screams as he choked you, his tongue licking the tears out of your face just to later on lick into your mouth. Spit dribbled out of your lips and painted your chest due to how messy it was. You were a babbling mess. ‘Daddy, daddy, ah, Eddie, shit, ah…’

Eddie groaned and moaned, his eyebrows furrowing when your walls started to clench around him. “Are you gonna come for me, princess? Gonna come on my cock? Gonna come on daddy’s cock?” you nodded, your breathing ragged as you whimpered slurred ‘yes, yes, yes…’. Your g spot was being abused with every new jump, your clit, being caressed by two of his fingers. Your nails dug on his shoulders, your head falling backwards and a scream leaving your lips. You rode him in need of a release and he knew that, his lips on your neck, sucking bruises that made you lose your mind. “Then come.” your whole body seemed to die and come back to life then, your high hitting you so hard your ears rung and your sight went white. Eddie moaned when he felt it, the warmth of your cum surrounding his dick, painting his cock in white, and he almost came when he watched it pool at the base of his cock like a white ring.

He had you back on your back, taking your legs and pushing them agains your chest, fucking into you so hard that hit your cervix over and over again.

You though that your high would go down, but instead, you found yourself screaming when it only seemed to go higher and higher.

“Eddie, I’m gonna, I’m gonna…” you found yourself coming again, right after your first.

“Oh shit sweetheart, did you just came twice?” you where digging your nails on his biceps as tears rolled down your cheeks and onto the pillow, soaking the sheets. You were letting out cracked and short moans that got cut with every thrust of his. “Fuck, you drive me insane.”

And yet you felt like you were gonna die.

“Eddie, stop, stop…” you cried out due to the overstimulation, still feeling your body scream for more, your ‘o’ slurred and dragged. “Something’s gonna—“

Before you could finish your sentence, your back was arching and your pushy gushing as it’s walls fluttered around Eddie’s cock, which now stood soaked with your squirting.

“Fuck.” he moaned when he saw it, his hips snapping harder and harder against you, following the amazing feeling for your tight, warm cunt. You kept squirting over and over again as Eddie praised and teased you under his breath. “Are you feeling good, princess? Look at you, all messed up on my dick. So pretty soaking my sheets.”

He was close, so fucking close that moans started to fall from his lips, his hips stuttering as his high reached him. “Gonna fill you real nice, gorgeous. Gonna leave you so full your pussy’s gonna be dripping. Gonna look so pretty when I fuck it back into you.”

And with a final grunt he came, his load creamy, hot and heavy inside you. You moaned at the feeling, pushing him deeper inside you. You needed him deeper. He let go of your legs, which fell around him, trembling and twitching, as he fell on top of you, his lips on your neck.

He stood there for a couple of minutes, just kissing you, hugging you. But you could feel it, you could still fell the burning feeling that the drug had left you with, feel his dick growing inside of you. When you least expected it, he had turned you over, pushing your body against the duvet and starting to fuck into you once again.

“Sorry angel, just one more.” you couldn’t say no, not when he was fucking you so good and nice, not when you needed him so bad you felt like drowning.

Your nails dug in the bed sheets, your moans and screams being muffled by his pillow, which was getting wet with your drooling and new tears.

“Good girl, taking me so good… Pussy so tight and wet for me, sucking me in so nice…” you screamed when one of his hands sneaked in between your legs and under your stomach to start circling your clit, in just a mere seconds slowly starting to build another orgasm, as strong as the rest. “Can feel you clenching, sweetheart. Are you gonna come again? Gonna soak my sheets for me once more?” before you could even answer, you were falling apart, droplets falling down your tights. “Fuck.”

This time it only took a couple more hard and deep thrusts for Eddie to cum, overstimulated by the recent orgasm and the incredible feeling of your own.

You whimpered, feeling so full your stomach would bulge with his cum.

You felt boneless when he slowly and softly took you with him to your side, cuddling you with his cock still buried deep into your full cunt. You sighed at the feeling, so drunk on him, so in love with the soft kisses that he left on your shoulders, the sweet words that he whispered in your ear. ‘You did so good for me, angel.’ ‘You’re so beautiful, so, so beautiful sweetheart.’ ‘Such a good girl for me…’

“Gonna let me keep it inside you all night like the good girl you are, huh? Gonna let me fuck you up all pretty tomorrow morning too, isn’t that right baby?” you nodded, letting out a little whimper that made him hum.

Eddie was stupid, and you were stupid too. And you two were stupidly in love with each other.

Stupid, isn’t it?

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kiwiikato · 2 months

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Ken sato brainrot is real and im here for that, i saw that request are open, and i want to make one if thats okay? Bassically hcs o of kenji with a high school friend reader that is a very shy/meek person, they where inseparable as kids and kenji was always very protective of reader, even in their high school years when reader started dating a very cuestionable guy that ended up being a cheater with her toxic ex best friend(that send her a lot of hatefull texts and calls with threats and slut shaming comments bc she wanted to date her boyfriend), due this reader moved on to japan when she and kenji where teenagers and they keep contact by texts and zoom calls.

When kenji comes to japan is determinate to make reader officially his girl, it can include headcanons of them as a couple!

If this is to much you are free to not do this request! I dont wanna bother you

masterlist

this is my first time doing a headcannon ever so i hope you like this! <3 it was honestly really fun writing! thank you for waiting! sorry if it’s not what you expect but i hope you still enjoy >:3

kenji sato headcannons!

kenji who was excited to find out that you lived in japan when he moved back

kenji who couldn’t help but want to protect you the same way he did before you left the states

kenji who watches you keep to yourself, scared of attachments

kenji who feels bad for you, knowing the hate you experienced for trusting someone

kenji who invites you to watch movies with him just to be closer with you

kenji who goes along with you wanting to go to the park to be more childlike

kenji who ends up growing a plush collection cause of your gifts

kenji who finally admits to himself that he wants to love you after seeing the way you smile at him

kenji who ends up daydreaming about all the cute stuff you’d do together if you were his

kenji who is absolutely surprised when you silently confess to him while sitting in silence

kenji who ends up panicking internally since he wanted to confess to you

kenji who gives you a peck and runs out of the house

kenji whose gone for about fifteen minutes, only to burst through the door with your favorite flowers, balloons, and a plushie of your favorite animal

kenji who panics seeing you slightly sad since you thought he ran away from you, not for you

kenji who quickly pulls you into his arms and comforts you while rubbing your back

kenji who confesses his feelings, telling you every moment he found himself admiring you since you were children

kenji couple headcannons!

kenji who hums you to sleep every night while your head lays on his chest

kenji who gets you a bouquet of flowers every two weeks, or till the recent one he got you starts to wilt

kenji who absolutely spoils you with compliments

kenji who gives the best reassurance while holding you, making sure to ease every insecure thought

kenji who kisses your whole body while saying why he loves each part

kenji who loves the way you cook food, always asking for more

kenji who introduces you to his dad, absolutely proud of being with you

kenji who calls you pet names like sweet thing, pretty girl, or baby

kenji who comforts you that he’s not going nowhere and that you’re safe and will never be hurt again

kenji who one day, with your permission, pulls you into a kiss on tv only to flip off the camera and say “fuck you _____” to your ex bf and best friend for the way they hurt you

kenji who loves posting you on his private instagram, usually taking about two hours just to perfect each post

kenji who loves taking photos of you sleeping since you look so peaceful

kenji who loves assaulting your face and lips with kisses and nibbles

kenji who loves taking showers with you and says “it’s to save water” even though his hands never let go of you, making you both waste more water

kenji who begged you to move in with him for a while hour cause he swears he “can’t live without you”

kenji who can’t wait to marry and have a family with you

kenji who loves you for you, no matter what

#ken sato #ken sato x reader #kenji sato #ultraman #ultraman rising #kenji sato x reader

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ox1-lovesick · 1 year

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✶ ─── TOMORROW X TOGETHER AND WHEN YOU LOOK MOST BEAUTIFUL TO THEM

pairing(s). txt x gn reader genre fluff warnings. none(?) wc. 100-200 each

type. headcannon , reaction

a/n. guess who wrote something *everyone applaud* please enjoy this I forced myself to write it because I haven't posted anything since queen elizabeth graduated high school 🥰

★ YEONJUN could already stare at you for hours on end — you always looked so effortlessly beautiful in his eyes, they can't help but wander back to take you in every now and then. You're the prettiest thing he's ever seen, but there's something different about you right now. About your furrowed eyebrows and small pout, about your fleeting gaze, stuck between your laptop screen and notebook as you read over the problem for the nth time hoping it will all magically make sense soon. You look outrageously adorable to him right now, laser focused on solving this equation of letters and numbers so you can move onto your next set of notes. He'd pull out a chair and sit next to you every time, resting his head against the palm of his hand as he watched while you busied yourself with whatever you needed to get done. Sometimes he'd sit and stare in silence, others he'd fondly brush the stray strands of hair away from your eyes so you don't have to, but every time without fail, his eyes would be trained on nothing but you.

★ SOOBIN loved taking care of his skin. It felt like a checkmark in his day, the last task at hand before he could melt into his bed and forget his worries until morning. He instantly felt lighter after taking all his make-up off and gently applying his moisturiser, but doing it with his favourite person makes just that much better. He especially loves when he doesn't have the energy to do it himself, leaving you to do it for him. Fingers gently tapping the products into skin with care, with the occasional kiss on his nose, but what he loves most of all is the sight of you, bare faced and sleepy. Some days he'd feign exhaustion just to stare into your eyes and hold your waist while you massage serum into his skin. He loves you no matter how you look of course, you're always beautiful to him. But being barefaced with each other is intimate, especially when he has to look his best everyday

★ BEOMGYU was never fearful about the sun exploding in 70 something million years, why would he be when he had the replacement right in his arms. Your smile was more than enough to sustain life and light up the solar system. His theory may not be scientifically correct, but in his eyes, it was simply the truth. What a heinous crime it is that you don't own multiple peace prizes for this sight alone—it never failed to make his heart beat out of his chest every time you graced him with its presence. He gets teased to no end by the guys for being horrendously down bad and staring at you with 'goo goo' eyes whenever your lips curl upwards, but how could he help himself? He's sick in the head, mind stuffed full of you and that pretty smile. It's his kryptonite, his one and only weakness, and no one knew it better than you after walking home hand in hand with your brand new jigglypuff plushie and -62837 won in Beomgyu's wallet.

★ TAEHYUN was so weak for things like this. Even under all those muscles he spends hours perfecting at the gym, he's rendered completely and utterly powerless. Weak for holding you closer, weak for pressing a kiss to your forehead, weak for you nuzzling your head further into his chest, weak for falling asleep with the person he adores more than anything next to him, safe and sound in his arms. He always fell asleep much later than you, because he has no self control and can't help but stare. Ever since he'd met you, he's become a morning person. Not because he enjoys starting his day early to be more productive (or to spend another 86 years in the gym) but because he gets to wake up like this. Your limbs tangled in each other, soft breaths against his neck, covered in the warmth of his duvet and comfort of each other. And if you'd allow him to, he'd spend every morning like this for the rest of his life, and die a happy man.

★ HUENINGKAI is a fan-favourite. And while his band mates make it well known who their favourite maknae is, for the sake of their feelings he tells them he loves them all equally, and keeps his favourite a secret. A secret from everyone but you, who just so happens to be said favourite. And his favourite sight on his favourite person? The face you made when he revealed his secret to you. The way your eyes widened, the knowing smile that crept its way onto your face, your nose scrunching in delight, if he could have that moment tattooed on the inside of his eyelids, he'd probably forget what the world looks like from having his eyes closed all the time. He loves this look on you, how excited you get when talking about the drama going on with your classmates or your masterplan to take over the world. Your eyes twinkling and hands flying all over the show because your emotions are just too strong to keep them confined. It might just be his favourite sight of all time, and while he's itching to screech about how adorable you are, he'll keep it his little secret for now

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verstappen-cult · 6 months

Text

WAVE OF YOU, C. LECLERC.

PROLOGUE — NEXT CHAPTER. [ SERIES MASTERLIST ]

PAIRING. charles leclerc x female reader.

CHAPTER ONE SUMMARY — It looks like any other shift at the coffee shop until the presence of a brown haired boy with dimples changes everything. The same boy you meet at the beach several days ago — the one who stood you up.

CONTENT WARNINGS. female reader, use of Y/N, alcohol use, fluff & friends being a menace.

GWEN’S RADIO MESSAGE. OH MY GOD! i'm so sorry it took me so long, but i was in the worst writers block of all times and couldn't get out of it :( but i forced myself to finish this today and ta-dah! i really hope you like it, your comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. remember that if you want to be added to the taglist, you can reply to this post, send me a dm or leave it in my ask box!

“Come on, girl! We can’t be late today.” You groan in frustration, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you watch Daisy shake the sand out of her fur. She sits and looks up at you with her tongue out, head slightly tilted to the side. “Good girl.” You say, giving her one of her favorite dog treats. You put the collar on her and she happily starts walking by your side.

It’s a short walk, around ten minutes, from the beach to the coffee shop you started working at just two months ago. You like it so much that you probably spend more time there than in your own apartment. It’s cozy and family owned, and there is always a pleasant atmosphere even though there are always people coming in and out, one of the perks of having the shop so close to the beach.

And everyone loves Daisy too, so you’re allowed to bring her with you. While you work behind the counter, she chills by the door in her bed with her favorite bunny plushie. She brings joy and bright smiles to every single person that visits the coffee shop.

You can’t believe this is your life.

It wasn’t easy at first but making the decision to drop out of school and travel around the world wasn’t as difficult as breaking the news to your parents. And after everything you went through in these two years you deserve the good things and peace that is coming your way.

It was all worth it, missing your family, waking up in the middle of the night wondering if you made the right decision, the good and the bad… it was all worth it. You wouldn’t change a thing because it brought you to this; to Australia and to the wonderful people you’ve met.

“Good morning, Fred.” You say to the owner of the flower shop right next door to where you work. He smiles, waving goodbye to a client, before walking out to meet you.

“Hello, sweetheart.” His smile is contagious. You like to pass by him before going to work everyday because seeing someone be so happy and positive every single day is exactly what you need. “How was the beach today?”

“I had to drag her out of there before she got into the water.” He laughs, crouching down to pet Daisy and, in return, she licks his face.

Fred laughs and stands up, grabbing a bouquet of tulips. “These are for the shop,” He says before turning around and grabbing a single sunflower. “and this for you.”

Fred is a French man in his fifties that came to Australia following the love of his life. He didn’t have a plan, he just left everything behind; they’ve been married for thirty years.

“Always so sweet, Fred.” You place a kiss on his cheek, waving goodbye with the promise to bring some coffee for him later. He watches you walk away with that same big smile on his face.

You open the door of Brew’d Awakening, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked pastries welcoming you, as well as the bulldog resting next to the door.

“Hello to you too, Roscoe.” He huffs like telling you to hurry up. You let Daisy go and she immediately finds comfort next to Roscoe.

There aren’t many people — it is still pretty early — just a couple of regulars that like to grab their first cup of coffee before heading to work or the beach.

As you make your way to the counter, you find Kika sitting at one of the tables enjoying a cup of coffee while typing away on her laptop.

“What are you doing here so early?” You ask, plopping down on a chair next to her.

“Lewis wanted to discuss some things about the social media content,” She leans slightly to give your cheek a kiss. “and you’re meeting my boyfriend today.”

You gasp, turning to look at her with wide and surprised eyes. “What do you mean I’m meeting him?”

“I told you he’s gonna spend the summer here.”

“Yes, but I also remember you telling me that he had to go back?” Daisy nudges your leg with her nose, and you immediately know what she wants. “So, he’s back then?” Kika hums while you look for Daisy’s plushie in your bag.

“He’s coming because I left some things at his apartment.”

“So that’s why you didn’t come home last night.” She blushes, sticking her tongue out. “Whore.” Kika gasps, hitting you in the arm.

“Hello, pretty ladies.” Your co-worker, who practically lives in your apartment now, leaves an iced latte in front of you.

You take a sip of the drink, looking directly into his eyes. “I’m surprised I didn’t hear you sneak out this morning.”

“What do you mean? I wasn’t there this morning.”

“Alex, I literally heard you and Lily laughing at three in the morning,” Alex groans, sitting in front of you.

“In my defense,” He points a finger at you and really tries to think of something, but comes out with nothing. “Whatever, you like me too much to kick me out.”

“Unfortunately, you’re right.” You stand up when the door opens and a new customer enters.

“Good morning, kid.” Lewis gives you a pat on the back when you join him behind the counter, you kiss his cheek in return.

You spend the morning taking care of the customers while Alex and Lewis are responsible of preparing and serving the orders. It is a quiet and nice morning, like most Saturdays are, and you love it. You owe Kika everything, because if it weren’t for her you wouldn’t have found the coffee shop in the first place. She recommended you and it was all Lewis and Nico needed to hire you.

Lewis and Nico are a gay couple that, just like you, decided to settle down in Australia after traveling to different parts of the world. They opened Brew’d Awakening just five years ago but it’s going so well they have the opportunity to expand, but refuse to do it, knowing that the warmth and coziness of the Brew’d will be lost. You respect them for that.

You’re about to swap shifts with Alex when Kika shows up in front of you, a shy smile on her face.

“He’s here. I like him, okay? So, be nice.”

“I’m always nice!” You exclaim a little offended.

“I know, sorry. It’s just — I’m nervous.” She looks around before leaning closer. “He brought his friends because apparently we’re doing this ‘trade’ thing where I meet his friends and he meets mine.”

You hold your laugh, “Cute.”

“Stop making fun of me and come here or I’ll go mad.”

“I’m taking my break, is that okay?” You ask your boss, at which he nods, giving you a thumbs up.

You take off your apron as you walk around the counter. Kika is waiting for you in the middle of the shop, looking like a nervous wreck.

“I’ve never seen you so nervous before.” You place a hand on her shoulder, massaging to help her relax a little.

“Meeting the friends is a big deal.”

Well, she is right. You just didn’t realize how serious her relationship actually was until now.

Daisy wags her tail as she makes her way to you. And you immediately lean forward to scratch behind her ears.

You’re too busy to pay attention to the guy wrapping his arms around your friend and kissing her lips as a greeting. It is only when Kika clears her throat, kicking your leg to draw your attention, that you force yourself to let Daisy go.

“This is Pierre.” She says as you straighten back up. “Pierre, this is my friend Y/N.”

You look at the guy in front of you for a couple of seconds. His blue eyes are a little too familiar, but the more you try to remember from where you know him, the more you think that is probably just a coincidence.

“Oh my God, you’re Y/N!” Pierre laughs, making you and Kika frown. “This is fantastic.”

“What is fantastic?” A voice draws your attention, making you look behind Pierre.

Your heart skips a beat the second you see a pair of green eyes.

The green eyes of the surfer boy you met a few weeks ago at the beach.

Charles; who you never saw again.

It turns out that Charles wasn’t at the beach the next morning. You sat on the sand longer than necessary, thinking that maybe he was running late. But he never came. You didn’t see his friends either, so you simply picked up what was left of your dignity and walked back to your apartment with Daisy by your side.

The morning after that you decided to confront him, but he wasn’t there.

He never showed up at the beach again. And for a minute you thought it was all in your head, but that option was discarded when you bumped into the group of teenage girls sitting on the sand, wondering why the hot guys weren’t there.

At least you weren’t the only one looking for them.

You hadn’t thought about Charles in several days.

And now he’s standing in front of you with a big smile on his handsome face.

Ugh, you had forgotten the dimples.

“Y/N?” He asks, taking a step forward. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here.” You mutter bitterly, not wanting to engage in a conversation with him.

It’s childish, you have to admit it, but why is he gonna ask to see you just to not show up? And, okay, you were going to the beach the next day either way but you got all excited for nothing. You really wanted to get to know him, maybe even ask for his number. He seemed like a nice guy and his accent made butterflies erupt in your belly. But that was before he stood you up.

Kika looks between you and Charles with a confused expression on her face. You make the mistake of making eye contact with her because the next moment she’s gasping, her eyes wide as she finally puts the pieces together.

“Charles is the boy you met at the beach?!” You want to cover her mouth with your hand but you can barely move. You love her, you really do, but right now you want her to shut up.

Even from a distance, you can see the way his blush spreads over his cheeks. Charles runs a hand through his hair. You would pay a million dollars just to tangle your fingers in it to see if it is as soft as it looks.

You’re dragged back to the present when the doors open and Charles’ friends walk inside.

“Oi look who’s here!” One of his friends says — the curly-haired one — and they wave in your direction before walking to a nearby table. Daisy recognizes them, even though they were barely a few minutes in her presence, and she walks over to them.

“Nice to meet you, Pierre.” You plaster on a smile, turning to face him and Kika. “I wish I could stay and get to know you better, but I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.” Pierre smirks, nodding along. “Now, if you excuse me, I need to get back to work.”

You walk back to the counter without looking at Charles again. Lewis looks at you with a raised brow and you shrug, that must have been the shortest break of all times.

You’re putting on your apron in front of the cash register, a line of customers ready to order, when you see Charles joining the line and waiting for his turn.

“Is that Kika’s boyfriend?” Alex whispers next to you while making an order. You look at where they’re sitting, the same table where all of Pierre and Charles’ friends are. They’re actually cute, unable to keep their hands to themselves.

You nod, busy writing the last order. “Hi, welcome to Brew’d Awakening, what can I get for you?” When you look up you’re met with Charles' blushed face, a small smile directed at you.

“Can we talk?” He looks genuinely nervous, and you feel a little guilty for making him feel that way. He’s the last one in line, so you nod. “I’m really sorry,” Charles breathes, closing his eyes. “I really wanted to be there the next morning but Pierre had to fly back to France and I couldn’t leave him alone.”

Your expression softens. He didn’t mean to stand you up then.

“We came back literally two days ago.”

You feel really bad now.

“Oh my God,” You let out a laugh, feeling embarrassed and so, so guilty. “I’m sorry. I guess I was a little hurt because I thought you stood me up — not that it was a date and we explicitly agreed to see each other.” You feel blood rushing to your face.

“I wanted to text you but I didn’t have your number,” Charles frowns, a nervous smile dancing on his lips. “and I couldn’t find you on Instagram.”

Your entire body shivers and the corners of your mouth curl up. “You really looked me up on Instagram?”

“Yea’,” He chuckles, shrugging. “I wanted—no, I want to know you. You are really pretty—cool, I mean.”

“So you don’t think I’m pretty?” You lean forward, hands resting on the counter and supporting your weight.

Charles' cheeks heat up as he tries to think of something to say, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.

You take him out of his misery by giving him a little push on the shoulder.

“I’m joking.”

Charles looks at you for a second, and then says, “You are. Pretty, I mean.”

It is your turn to blush furiously. You have to look away if you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him.

“Are you gonna order or not?”

You both turn to look at the person standing behind Charles, clearly annoyed for having to wait too long. He apologizes before turning back to you.

“I’m gonna,” He points to the table where his friends are, and you nod, disappointed for being interrupted.

It’s a little awkward because he stands there for a whole minute just looking at you before waving goodbye and walking away.

The customer clears his throat and you’re dragged back to the present one more time.

You hear Alex and Lewis laughing behind you.

“Hey, we’re going to the club tonight.” Kika says as you clock out.

“Who is we?” You ask, grabbing your purse and the iced latte you made for the ride home.

“Pierre and a couple of his friends,” She takes a sip of her own matcha latte and sits on the counter. “You, Lily, Alex.” Kika pokes Alex’s ribs, who’s cleaning the counter next to her.

You chew on your bottom lip, the question is hanging from your tongue but you’re not able to voice it out. Kika must see the struggle on your face.

“Charles is coming too.” She has a knowing look on her face, but doesn’t make fun of you or ask what is going on with his boyfriend’s best friend. “So, are you coming?” She knows you’re going even before you nod your approval. “Someone left this for you.”

Kika hands you a napkin with a number written on it, a “Charles x” underneath a phone number.

Your heart starts hammering in your chest and you waste no time in pulling your phone out of your pocket to save his contact. You hesitate whether to message him or not when, suddenly, your screen lights up with a new message.

If you can’t stop smiling on the way home from the coffee shop and while you get ready for a night out, nobody (besides Kika) needs to know.

On the way to the club you think about every little moment and decision that has led you here, to this uber with your friends ready to spend a good night with new friends, and a pretty guy who’s clearly very interested in you. If someone would’ve told you two years ago that this was going to be your life, you would’ve laughed.

You feel nervous, getting out of the car and walking into one of your favorite clubs in the city.

The first thing you notice is the mass of people dancing along to the loud music. You think you’re gonna make your way to the bar as you always do the minute you walk inside but, instead, Kika guides you to where all the VIP booths are, near the back of the club and the DJ.

“Baby!” Pierre shouts over the music, drink in one hand. “And baby’s friends!”

“Oh my God, I think he’s already drunk.” Kika groans, making her way to her boyfriend and kissing his cheek before whispering something in his ear that makes Pierre blush. Okay, gross.

There are a lot of people in the booth. You recognize some of Charles’ friends and a few other people you’ve never seen before. Everyone’s talking with everyone and you’re wondering what to do when someone places a hand on your back.

“I was waiting for you.” Charles whispers with a low voice, and you feel weak in the knees immediately.

You turn around to face him and are blinded by his bright dimpled-smile.

“Hi.” You say, looking into those two green orbs you’ve missed. Just a little. “All my friends dumped me,” Looking behind Charles’ shoulder, you see Lily and Alex making out in the middle of the dancefloor, while Kika is sitting next to her boyfriend and talking with some of his friends. “so you’re stuck with me for the whole night.”

“Ugh,” Charles says, bringing his hand to his heart and pretending to be affected. “that’s horrible. Stuck with a pretty girl all night? I’ll just have to deal with it.”

You lean your shoulder into Charles’ side playfully and he moves a little closer, his hand still on your back. Apparently, blushing comes like a second nature to you ever since you met Charles.

“Wanna grab a drink?”

He doesn’t need to ask twice.

Charles guides you to the bar, keeping you close with his hand that has dropped from your back to your waist. His closeness is intoxicating and you can’t help but lean closer. Charles seems comfortable with the proximity, so you stay glued to his side as you walk to the bar, where you’re forced to pull away.

He asks the bartender for your drinks — after asking, very politely, what you’d like to drink — and leans against the counter with you by his side.

You tilt your head and observe him for a little while, Charles too busy grabbing your drinks to notice the attention. It is only when he turns to hand you the glass that he notices your gaze on him, his cheeks heating up immediately but his eye contact doesn’t waver. He just stands there with two drinks and people bumping into him, looking at you as if you’re the only person in the world.

You shake your head, grabbing your drink. “Thank you.”

You don’t really know how much time you spend at the bar chatting with Charles, but you don’t want it to end. Charles tells you about his life back in Monaco, you learn that he came very close to the racing world before his father passed away and he decided to quit — not his younger brother though, who is currently racing in Formula 1 — and dedicate his life to his other passion: architecture. And in return you tell Charles more about your decision to travel the world and not going to college, he shares some of your opinions and you’re surprised how easily you’re able to share things about your life with him.

“I don’t know where life would take me,” You take a sip of your second drink, resting your elbows on the counter. “but I’m happy where I am right now.”

“You should think about visiting Monaco, I’m sure you’ll fall in love with it.” Charles has a strange glint in his eyes that forces you to look away.

“Hey, lovebirds!” A guy throws his arms around yours and Charles’ shoulder. You recognize him as one of his beach friends.

“Dani.” Charles groans, but relaxes against his friend’s chest. “Where are Max and Lando?”

“With the DJ,” You both turn to look at the DJ booth, and right there next to him is Lando and, to his other side, the blonde guy you remember as Max. Both of them look very drunk. “Oscar wants to take them home but I said that as long as neither of them throws up, we’re good.”

Dani asks for a couple of drinks and makes small talk. He’s absolutely hilarious and doesn’t stop making fun of Charles.

“He kept asking us if we’d seen you. Every. Single. Day.” Charles pushes him away but that doesn’t stop him. “And sent like a thousand selfies pouting and trying to bribe us to look for you around the city.”

“Daniel!” Charles exclaims, mortified. He squeezes his eyes shut and drops his head forward.

Dani just laughs and, once his drinks are ready, walks away. Still making fun of his friend.

“It’s cute.” You confess, feeling brave enough to lift his chin up with your hand. “I’m glad you were trying to find me, even though I thought you had forgotten about me.”

“How could I?” He smiles, his dimples on full display. “Afraid of sounding like a complete psychopath, I’m gonna confess that the only thing on my mind while I was away was our interaction at the beach.” His cheeks are blushed as he plays with the buttons of his shirt. “And how sorry I was for not asking for your number.”

You’re one second away from falling to the floor and melting onto it.

Charles is definitely not helping with the racing of your heart and the need to be a normal and a functional person.

“I’m sorry,” Charles’ voice is gentle.

“Don’t be,” You place a hand on his forearm and squeeze softly before letting go. “Afraid of sounding like a complete psychopath,” You repeat his exact same words which makes him laugh, his whole face lighting up. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it either. Well, until I was beginning to get angry at myself for thinking about it even after you stood me up.”

Charles groans, putting his face in his hands.

“I’ve a lot to make up for.”

He looks back up and you make eye contact until Charles glances down at your lips, then back up at your eyes. And the room suddenly feels too crowded and too hot.

“You’ll have plenty of time for that.”

𓇼 — WAVE OF YOU, TAGLIST: @lovrsm @itsjustkhaos @evie-119 @sadbeautifuleva @c4tc0re @sargeantdumbass @brune77e @arian-directioner @lavisenri @starsnxva @a1leexxa @therealcap @anniee-mr @kakorrhaphiophobia @madd1115 @toxicdreamer296 @coffeebae0 @tempo-rary-fix @luca-is-a-pengu @charleslover24 @vettelsbees @iienstein @mehrmonga @ferraridepartment @fictional-l0v3r. 𓇼 [cursive means i couldn't tag you]

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#𓇼 — series: wave of you.#f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fluff #f1 grid x reader #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc smau

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absotivelyplushilutely · 2 years

Text

Posting a Plushie Every Day

Day Nine

This is my biggest plushie! I wanted a Djungelskog bear for years and recently I finally got one since I had to order shelves anyway and I love them. I've not picked a name yet and I'm tempted to embroider some little hightlights into the eyes, but I love plopping them on the bed on top of my pillow and leaning against them it's in red cozy!

#plush #plushes #plush collector #plushie #plushies #soft toy #soft toys #stuffies #stuffed animal #stuffed animals #ikea plushies #djungelskog #djungelskog bear #posting a plushie every day #posting a plushie every day for a year

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hoeforhao · 1 year

Note

hi !! if it's alright may i request svt with a fem/gn reader with massive tits? like just how would the boys react (nsf/w or sfw is upto you :D) to a reader with the big naturals, which if you do this request tysm!! :D

well well y'all will never see me again after this post, cuz am literally embarrassed asf!!! also me writing about something i don't have??makes me sad ;(

Masterlist

Seungcheol: This man is a huge sucker for asses. Like he lives to bend you over and fuxk you deep. But little do people know, boobs are his secret weakness, and having someone with big naturals? You just know that he'll be using them as stress balls, pumping them like his life depends on it,everytime he's stressed from work; bury his face deep down into the pillows and fall asleep on his personal plushies.

Jeonghan: I somehow feel like he'll be more into smaller breasts, but that doesn't mean he won't be relishing your mounds to the max while his dick is buried deep inside of you. He is of the type to circle your clothed nipples with his slick fingers as you cook, only to end up enjoying the view of them all perked up as he eats his meal.

Joshua: He's such a softie when it comes to sucking the life out of your breasts. Like he would literally worship you while saying things like "I've never seen such full and gorgeous boobs angel. Ydk how badly I wait everyday to come back home and adore them". Also I feel like shua will have a slight mommy kink only when it comes to your breasts and doze off on your bosom like a child, if he's too tired and snore like an absolute baby.

Junhui: Another huge tease. But unlike jeonghan, he would be totally showy of how much he loves your big tits, cupping them at every chance he gets, buying you all white lacey lingerie with several slits, so that he can keep on getting a show of your bouncy cream pies all throughout the day, while brushing his cold fingers against the perked up buds every once in a while.

Soonyoung: I've got only one thing to say. He would literally run home to rub his sweaty face all over your bust, as soon as he finishes the group dance lessons; latching onto your nipples the whole time while you make his post practice smoothie.

Wonwoo: He would have you seated on his lap the entire time while he plays his silly little online games with his friends, squeezing your boobs for emotional support and twisting the stubs everytime he is even slightly close to losing ; earning low muffled moans from you that in turn act as his fuel to win.

Jihoon: This man is not at all that soft as he appears to be. He would have a separate space in his studio where he would tie you up with button vibrators on your nipples ; setting them to the highest speed as he creates his new masterpiece with your ecstatic moans as the bgm. After finishing his demo, he would come to your limp body drained from cumming multiple times, and roam his pale digits over the overly sensitive stumps while nurturing them with soft kisses.

Minghao: You're his biggest muse. He would call you anytime he feels artblocked; lathering the paint all over your breasts as he presses them onto the canvas to paint his brand new piece. What's a brush???!! He doesn't consider buying brushes and sponges for his art supply!! Why would he even, when he has your big milky tits for a sponge and the two perks as his brush.

Mingyu: HE IS SIMPLY OBSESSED WITH YOUR BOOBS. THAT'S IT!! Filling up your closet with blazers two sizes smaller than your bust, only so that he can see your breats pressed tightly against in each other in nothing but the long blazers, forming the most ravishing cleavage anyone has ever seen; as he takes you on a home dinner date and sucks onto his personal pacifier as the dessert later.

Seokmin: Would be pretty shy to admit how he loves the sight your boobs bouncing up and down as he fuxks the life out of you every night. It would literally take him an entire year worth courage to ask to play with your butter soft breasts,for the times he is out of you and once you agree, he would latch onto your skin like a slug.

Seungkwan: Again, a very coy boy, absolutely terrified of letting you know how crazy he is driven by your big pillows. Would love to peek at them while you take a shower, the droplets gracefully dripping down the bumps, wishing that it was his tongue slowly gliding down your nipples, instead.

Vernon: If you ask me, I feel like he would have a huge mommy kink. Pining to suck onto your milky teats everytime y'all go out, having you rush home early only to let your big baby play with his favorite toy, is a compulsory routine for him.

Dino: Don't even get me started on how much Chan loves the fact that his s/o has such big naturals. People would die to have such supple, juicy tits to feast onto every night and he gets it for free? A gift he would cherish his entire life. He might treat you like a whore in bed, but your boobs?Well, they're only his to worship and making sure he paints them red every night, is his biggest duty!!!

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nofingjustaninchident · 6 months

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Hi, I just read your two Jason fics and I love them. Could you write a daughter of Poseidon x Jason and maybe Percy being a overprotective brother. Thanks. Love you

⛧° jason grace x daughter of poseidon! reader hcs °⛧

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

content: jason grace x daughter of poseidon! reader, platonic!percy jackson x reader

warnings:

a/n: guys, i reached 100 likes with just two posts omg you're amazing!!! so, i kinda got a few other requests waiting, but they’re TOO good to make just headcannons or to be poorly written, so they’ll take a little while longer to be posted. nothing much, tho (i hope). enjoy!

Protective is an understatement.

Percy is literally the most protective brother ever, even if you're just one year younger than him.

He feels as if he's job to protect you from everything and everyone that could possibly think about hurting you.

So when you started hanging out more with him and his friends, he couldn't have made it more clear to all of them that you were completely and totally off limits.

But did this silly little rule stop Jason to date you?

Of course it did!

My baby is just too obedient and such a rule follower... poor boy

Anyways, you had to make the first move.

Even with that, he was pretty hesitant to do anything such as holding hands in public.

In reality, he wasn't afraid of Percy, he just didn't want the other boy to get mad with him.

So, one day, you called both Percy and Jason to have a very serious conversation in the Poseidon cabin.

Percy was, as usual, completely clueless about anything, so he just babbled with Jason.

Who, by the way, was a complete mess of blushing and stuttering.

You obviously thought it as endearing, cause it really was.

"You're probably wondering why i called you here today." you said, a wicked smile on your face.

Percy was hugged with his plushie (you had matching shark plushies, Dory and Nemo) while Jason wanted to dig a hole in the floor and never come back from it.

"What's up, sis? If it's something to do with missing chocolate, i have nothing to do with it." The dark haired boy said, smiling.

Little did he knew that smile was gonna fade in three seconds.

"Me and Jason, we're dating." You said, quickly.

Percy's face fell.

"W-what?" He asked, his eyes darkening.

"We're dating. Like, boyfriend and girlfriend."

"So... you're dating Jason. Not Leo?" Percy asked.

"No, why would i date Leo-" You were cut off by a grateful sigh coming from your brother's mouth.

"Thanks the gods. As long as it's not Leo, i can handle it."

Jason turned to him for the first time, as if he wasn't even believing the words he just heard.

"Just... break her heart and i'll break your neck." Percy said with a threatening smile and patted Jason's back, leaving the cabin.

Alright, enough of the Jackson drama, back to Blond Superman.

He's the literal sweetest person alive.

He👏🏼learnt👏🏼 how 👏🏼to 👏🏼swim👏🏼 for👏🏼 ya

Bro's whipped

And he took Percy's words as his life rules

He made his best to make you happy whenever you're with him

Like, literally anytime

Once you cried next to him cause a fish didn't talk to you (it was a plastic fish, but you were on ur period, okay?)

He literally took you to the beach so you could chat and gossip with the real fishes

And you were so happy he nearly melt at that sight

That's when he knew he had fell in love with you

Romantic dates EVERY WEEK

He bribes the Demeter kids to give him your favorite flowers every once in a while

He always keeps some sort of physical touch, doesn't matter if he's holding your waist, your hands, touching pinkies

You got the point

He's just too madly in love

For him, you're the most beatiful, unique, hot, perfect, powerful, hot, smart, hot, strong, HAVE I MENTIONED HOT, person in the whole world

Literally, he would kiss your feet if you asked him to

He's glad you don't, actually

He stopped eating anything that comes from the marine animals after you got together.

Like, absolutely anything

Oh, and i've mentioned this on a previous hc, but he literally pays for absolutely ✨everything✨

Like, honey, don't even come near your wallet

Oh, and he buys you lots of gifts constantly

From plushies to books to makeup to sketch books in case you like drawing

And he's totally a languages guy

And with your ADHD and dyslexia, he helps you a lot

And you help him with maths.

Of course, he always has a nickname for you.

"Hey, mermaid?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

#postcards from leah #jason grace x reader #jason grace #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #pjo hoo toa #pjo

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syluscore · 1 year

Text

Every Version of You (2)

A reverse harem with three variants of Leon Kennedy and feminine reader.

~ Masterlist ~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

SONGS: Daylight - David Kushner and Linger - The Cranberries

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR PART TWO: depression, grief, suicidal thoughts, death idealization, yearning for childhood, reminiscing on girlhood, paranoia, nightmares, monsters, dead looking bodies, time travel, the unknown, denial, trauma, PTSD, hugging, embracing, kissing, first kiss, mentions of readers death

TAGLIST: @growingupnrealizing , @weneewinnie , @delulusimps , @yoonbabe-d , @missjoenowhere , @cassiecasluciluce

!!!!!MINORS DNI! THIS BLOG AND POST ARE 18+ ONLY!!!!

PART “CHAPTER” TWO:

Your eyes are puffy and stinging. You’ve always hated how weak you are; how easily you fall apart. You thought that you were getting stronger. You truly believed you had hardened from all the adversity you’ve witnessed and endured the past couple of miserable years.

But seeing Leon’s limp body fall into that machine, watching him disappear right in front of your eyes, you feel like that young, terrified little girl again.

The girl who didn’t like scary movies, covering your eyes anytime you thought something even remotely scary was going to appear on screen. The girl who didn’t like to be alone, feeling safer surrounded by others. The girl who relied on a night light and leaving the closet light on because nothing was scarier than the dark.

You want it back. God, you want your girlhood back. You feel physically ill from the pain coursing through your veins and chipping away at your soul. You want your sweet and naive innocence back because regardless of how strong you wish you could be, you’re incapable of it and you can’t endure this. You weren’t built for this. How could you ever fool yourself into believing you could be strong in the face of incomprehensible pain.

You close your eyes tight and will yourself to go back in time. To be in that tiny bed underneath some frilly blanket, comfy in some nightgown with a cartoon character on the front. You’d pull the blankets up to your chin, plushies on either side of your small frame and by god, you’d not just be, but you’d feel fucking safe.

Your blanket would tuck under your feet, protecting your toes from the invisible monsters of your overactive and colorful imagination. And that would remain your biggest concern in life. The only danger to you would be the shadow coming off of some stray jacket, illuminating from the little bit of moonlight shining in through your sheer bedroom curtains.

And you’d squeeze your eyes shut real tight. You’d think about running outside after lunch with your classmates to the playground. Your friend would push you on the swing and you’d wait in line for a turn on the slide. You’d finally accomplish skipping some of the monkey bars as you crossed them.

Your happy place would have you slowly relaxing and unwinding until sleep took you. The imaginary monsters would fade away along with your consciousness.

The morning light would greet you through your bedroom window and you’d sit up. You’d stretch real big and crawl out from under the covers. The fears that stewed within you in the dark would be long forgotten. They’d vanish in the daylight and you would be free of them.

You wouldn’t think about how inevitably night will return and so will the monsters. You’d only think of the present as you got dressed and ready for school. You’d be confident, well rested, and most importantly: peacefully and irrevocably happy.

When you’re young, your monsters don’t chase you into the day. The entire world could be falling apart around you and you wouldn’t even know it. Because when you’re young, you're exempt from the world’s cruelty.

You never anticipate the day it’s all stolen from your fragile arms as it approaches. One day, something that means nothing to everyone else in the world will change everything for you. Your girlhood is stripped from you and the world comes crashing into you. You can beg and plead for that innocence back, but once it’s gone it can’t be undone.

Maybe you weren’t meant for this world, never meant to live past your cherished girlhood. Maybe you’ve lived past your expiration date and that’s why you suffer so deeply.

The world is trying to form a life around someone who shouldn’t be here. People will tell you it’s better to have loved and have lost than to never have loved at all. But they never tell you none of it would’ve ever mattered had you never been at all.

You feel broken to your core. You’re not the little girl running barefoot through the grass chasing fireflies anymore. You’re the woman who just watched the man she never got to love die in front of her, who can only think of the relief she’d feel to just follow after him, join him somewhere better than here.

Anywhere is better than the concrete floor as the world goes on around you while yours feels as if it’s coming to an end. How can no one else feel the complete utter loss?

“Hey, please listen to me,” the man with his arms wrapped around you tries to get your attention. You’ve been ignoring every attempt he’s made since Leon died. But his grasp on you has never wavered. As you fell apart, the man held you and your pieces together, keeping you from self imploding and becoming nothing but a stain on the floor.

“He’s going to be fine. Just be patient.”

Your eyes finally dart up to his face. “Fine? What part of any of this gives you the impression that everything will be just fine?” Your voice wavers, weak from sobbing and screaming.

“I wish it was easy to explain, but I think you have to see it for yourself. He’ll be right back here soon, I promise. You have my word, I swear to you,” his voice is completely sincere, but you can’t help but huff out a laugh at his words. You did see whatever this was for yourself. You don’t think this man can defy the laws of physics, so how the fuck can Leon be okay?

“Let me show you something.” He stands up and reaches his hand out for you to grab. It’s not like there’s anything else for you to do, so you let him pull you up and guide you to the other side of the room.

He stops in front of the body on the floor. The man is on his side, facing away from you so all you can see is his limp form.

You look up at the man next to you with confusion.

You’re finally able to take in his appearance. The man has dark brown hair and a beard to match, both tidily trimmed. His dark eyes are complemented by his dark, prominent eyebrows. His broad shoulders match his large presence, his arms damn near the size of a person’s torso. The man could crush your body within the palm of his hand and not break a sweat. It’s intimidating, no matter how gentle he seems.

“You see him breathing, right?”

You look down at the body beneath you and see a slow heartbeat. At least he’s not dead, but it doesn’t change how weird it is that he fell at the same time that… Actually you’re not going to think about that right this second. If you want to properly process any information at all, you have to focus on what’s in front of you and not the tsunami growing inside of you.

You nod slowly, prompting the man to continue.

“Walk around to his other side and get a good look at his face.”

You raise your eyebrows in confusion, not following with what this has to do with Leon being somewhere in a tank allegedly alive and well.

“Go ahead, it can’t hurt to look. Just don’t touch him. What he’s going through right now is still super new and we don’t know how outside forces on his body will affect him.”

Sighing, you give in and slowly walk around the man on the ground. His face is tucked against the floor so you have to squat down to see it properly.

You take in the man's features and immediately recognize him, or who he looks like more accurately.

“Um,” you pause as your brain tries to formulate words while it still feels like mush, “He looks like Leon.”

“He does?”

“Well, yeah, he does. He looks like Leon maybe, I don’t know, 5 or so years ago.” You look up at the man, searching his face for answers but not finding anything. You’re not even sure what you’re looking for and it’s starting to irritate you how he isn’t actually explaining anything.

“It is.”

“Come again?” You question.

“It doesn’t just look like Leon from 1998, it is Leon from 1998. That’s where he’s from.”

You laugh as the man jokes with you. Now isn’t the time for stupid jokes, but it feels good to laugh. Maybe he knows you need to laugh after the breakdown of the millennia.

“I’m serious. And the man up above the tank?” He points up at him and your eyes follow. “That’s Leon from 2014, from the future. He’s the reason we’re all here, but he’ll explain that to you more when you’re ready.”

You just stare up at him, waiting for him to drop the bit but he doesn’t falter.

“I know we’re far away from him, but doesn’t he look like an older Leon? And it’s pretty crazy that the man on the floor looks exactly like Leon used to. I wouldn’t lie to you, especially at a time like this. You may not believe me now, but it will start to make more sense. Well, as much sense as it can make.”

You continue to stare at him, the face crack has to be coming soon. Much to your surprise, his face remains deadass serious.

You rub your eyes, trying to relieve the ache from the dryness. Willing them to refocus and make things make sense.

You look back down at the man on the floor with the dirty blond fringe, the soft jawline with supple but plump lips. He’s so goddamn beautiful and unmistakingly Leon, just as you remember him from Racoon City.

“R-Rookie?” Your voice breaks. You feel the need to cry but there’s just no more tears left for you to cry. The rivers have run dry.

Your body aches with the need to reach out and touch him. To feel his soft skin and confirm he’s real and right here in front of you. Something to assure you this isn’t some twisted dream you need to wake up from.

But that’s wishful thinking. Your emotions and deep rooted pain is too intense for it to be a dream and you know it. Your brain could never concierge up something like this. Your brain could never allow you to stay asleep as your heart breaks. You always wake up when the nightmare gets too bad, and it’s been beyond terrible since the moment these men showed up.

“We’re ready to wake one of them up now. Which one do we pull out, Chris?” The man at the functions panel calls over to us.

“Rookie.” The man that you now know is called Chris answers almost immediately.

“And does the senorita agree?”

Your head darts up and your eyes connect with the other mans.

“Please.” Your voice is barely a shaky whisper.

He nods his head, his shaggy dark brown–almost black hair falling back over his shoulder as he focuses back on the panel.

You look back over the sleeping Leon, you can’t help the small smile that slips out as you admire the sweet rookie. Maybe you’ve gone crazy and this is all a delusion, a way for your brain to cope with trauma, but you’re so happy to see his younger self. He still has that boyish look to him, a hopefulness about him even while fast asleep.

A bittersweet feeling creeps up on you. You watched as the light in his eyes slowly dulled out. As the horrors he’d seen and people he’d lost slowly chipped away at his mental health. It’s so sweet to see him and remember the happy go lucky rookie he once was, but it’s such a bitter pill to fucking swallow knowing how it’s all ripped away from him quicker than he can even process it.

He still hasn’t had that time to process everything that’s happened over the past few years. You’ve always encouraged him to go to therapy and come to terms with it all, but he isn’t ready to cope with the trauma. If he can push it away, maybe, just maybe it’ll be less real. He wouldn’t need to cope with it if he just never allowed himself to get into it.

Leon groaning on the ground beneath you pulls you from your thoughts. You fall to your knees as you fight to keep your hands at your side. You don’t want to hurt him and no one has told you if it’s safe to touch him yet.

His eyes twitch as he rolls onto his back.

“Leon?” You speak quietly, hesitantly. His eyes finally snap open as he looks over at you.

A smile breaks across his face despite him wincing in pain against the unforgiving concrete floor. “Funny seeing you here.”

“Yeah,” you speak on a huff of air. Because of course he’s joking and spouting out some bullshit one liner at a time like this.

You reach your hands out in an offer to help him up and he slowly obliges. His eyes widen as you actually use your strength to help pull him up.

“Okay, muscles. When’d you get those?” He says with amusion filling his voice.

“Well, I’m not just some archivist for the police department anymore.”

“What happened?” His concern and confusion is clear as he tilts his head slightly. Did they pull Leon from before the outbreak? Does he not know of the horrors you faced through those dreadful late September nights?

“What time is it, like, where you’re from?”

“Um,” he closes his eyes as if deep in thought. “September 1998. Like the 20th was when these assholes showed up.”

So he hasn’t lived through the outbreak yet. Interesting.

He started with the RPD in early September, before everything went to shit. You didn’t start much earlier than he did–some time mid summer. You two only talked briefly when you would run into each other throughout the station. You didn’t form a bond until after that night. A zombie apocalypse and killing the rotting shells of your former friends and colleagues will do that to you. The giant fucking tyrant and monsters didn’t help either.

“Do you know why you’re here? Why either of us is here?” You ask, finally feeling like maybe you’re ready to talk about it. You trust Leon more than anyone else. This is still your Leon, just from the past you suppose. It’s still weird to think about, but there’s bigger issues at hand currently.

“Hardly. They’ve explained some stuff to me but I don’t understand any of it. Guess I’m just here for the ride.”

Your heart sinks at his response. The one person you trusted to be honest and explain things to you doesn’t know what’s going on either.

Chris speaks up, “He’s here to help you. Sure, you could recognize an older Leon but you’d know a younger Leon. We could’ve left him out and just came back here to your current Leon, but Leon wanted you to be comfortable. He wanted to do everything he could to help you understand and just believe us in general.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “But why? Let’s say this is time travel or whatever the fuck, why are you doing any of this? What’s the end goal?”

“I think it’d be better for Leon to explain it to you.” You whip your head towards the Leon standing beside you, but Chris shakes his head and continues, “Not that one. The older version. We’ll call you Rookie, you know, just to make things clearer.”

“I don’t know how this could ever be clearer.”

“Maybe we should put you back to bed, Rookie.”

“Maybe we-”

Rookie is cut off by the man at the control panel speaking again. “I’m going to wake up the big boy now.”

You and Rookie go silent as Chris joins the other man at the panel.

“Do we really need to wake his grumpy ass up yet, Luis?”

“Don’t you worry. She’s here now so he’ll be in better spirits.”

“You’re so sure?”

“No,” Luis turns to face you. “Hey if Leon is being an asshole, feel free to put him in his place for us. You’re the only one who might be able to.”

Leon on top of the platform shoots up from where he’s laying with a loud gasp. He massages his temples as his chest heaves.

“Fuck, that’s the last time we have to do that right? Shit’s fucking painful.”

Luis speaks in a taunting voice, “Good morning sunshine. Wake up on the wrong side of the bottomless vat?”

Leon doesn’t speak, only shooting daggers at Luis with his eyes. Luis just shakes his head as Leon climbs slowly down the ladder.

“It’s the last time,” Chris does his best to assure Leon.

“Fantastic.” Leon marches over to the control panel, before crossing his arms over his chest.

“We’re doing this all for you. You remember that right?” Chris arches an eyebrow at Leon.

“Doesn’t make it any more comfortable.”

Luis and Chris shake their heads at Leon’s attitude before quietly talking amongst themselves. Leon just stands there, staring off into the empty vat of liquid.

“Leon?” You speak quietly, but Leon instantly hears it. Almost as if he’d be listening and waiting for your voice.

He whips around and looks over at you. He doesn’t move a muscle once his eyes meet yours. His eyes well up with moisture and unspoken emotions. You can see his chest rapidly rising and falling. He looks like his body is vibrating purely from intense thoughts and feelings, raging inside of him until his body is left paralyzed, unable to feel anything besides the deep, dark ache.

In an instant, something snaps inside of him and he’s taking long strides directly in your direction. Your breath hitches in anticipation as he reaches you in a mere seconds, taking you into his arms and wrapping his biceps around your neck. You’re pulled against his chest before your brain can even catch up, before it can even process that he’s hugging you.

Despite the anxiety of being in such close proximity to him, you’re also overcome with an overwhelming calmness. You melt beneath his touch and allow yourself to relax completely within his arms. You’ve never felt anything quite like this before. Nothing has ever felt so perfect in your entire life. Nothing’s ever felt this fucking right.

He nuzzles his face into the top of your hair, breathing in so deeply, as if you are his life support machines and he’d cease to exist without you against him. And you hadn’t realized it until today, but it’s the same way for you. Who are you without him? You’d be the first to admit it’s super unhealthy to feel this way, but it was never intentional. You feel like you belong right here and it makes your heartbeat stutter to think that maybe he feels the exact same way.

He releases his grip on you and pulls back just enough to look down at your face. His hands cup your cheeks as he takes you in, looking as if he’s in an absolute trance. As if he can’t believe you’re right here in front of him. You’ve never felt so adored or appreciated as you do while he stares at you with this bewildered look on his face.

Your eyes instinctively close and your brain is slow to catch up with what’s happening. Your eyes dart open again once you process the fact that his lips are against yours. He’s kissing you. You’ve never kissed Leon before.

Of course you’ve thought about, fantasized about him in ways you could never speak out loud. It feels better than you ever imagined and it has your eyes falling shut once again. Before you realize it, you’re wrapping your arms around his waist tighter, pulling him even more closely into you. You cling to him as if you’re an open wound and he’s the pressure keeping you from bleeding out completely. You’re the wound and he’s the fucking suture.

You know it’s fucked up to have never admitted your feelings for Leon out loud before, and yet, you’re here lip locked with his older self. None of it makes any fucking sense but somewhere deep inside of your soul, it’s the only thing that’s ever made any sense at all.

When he deepens the kiss, you welcome him into you without any objections. You let him piece you back together with nothing more than his touch.

He releases your face and slides his hands down your body until he reaches the back of your thighs, pulling your feet off of the ground so you’re forced to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his midsection.

You know somewhere in this room are three other people, or rather two other people and another version of Leon, but you can’t find it within you to care. To even allow yourself to focus on having any sort of shame when he clearly has none. You’ve never needed anything more than you need this man right fucking now.

You know the fact you’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster all fucking day is amplifying your need, but it feels so good. You just want to feel good, you want him to make you feel good.

Your lips finally separate and your foreheads press into each other. You stay there perfectly still as you breathe each other’s air. Your breath is his and his breath is yours.

“Le-Leon,” you stutter out breathlessly but he just shushes you. His lips grazing yours as he continues to hold you so close, unable to withstand even a centimeter existing between the two of you.

He pulls back so he can look directly into your eyes intensely.

“I’ll never let anything happen to you again. You’re not dying on me this time. I don’t want to live without you anymore, I can’t fucking do it, okay? A life without you isn’t a life worth living for me.”

Dying? What the fuck is he talking about?

#leon kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #resident evil 6 #resident evil fanfiction #every version of you #EVOY #ghostkennedy

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