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quin-ns · 6 months

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Eventually (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

Word count: 6.7k

Summary: Coriolanus could appreciate irony, but the one person he desires more than anything wanting nothing to do with him pushes him to new territory

Tags: (18+), cw: noncon, dark!coriolanus, deeply implied stalker!coriolanus, unreliable narrator coriolanus (boy is delusional tbh, no one is doing more mental gymnastics than him), pre-mentor era, obsession, unprotected sex, choking (only for like a second), virginity status undisclosed but as I was writing I began to imagine this being the first time for both of them—it’s not even implied tho, so do with that what you will

A/N: a character as evil as him I couldn’t conceive writing fluff for. he’s bad and guess what I’m not gonna fix him, but I also can’t make him not-hot so… hehe. please read the tags and proceed with caution <3

hunger games masterlist

You wanted nothing to do with him, and that made him crazy.

No, if anything, you were the crazy one. Coriolanus hadn’t done anything but try to be your friend, but you snubbed him without reason.

Coriolanus did a good job at keeping the financial situation of his family a secret. No one knew, and he doubted you were an exception. Yet, it was as if you looked down upon him.

Although, you’d grown fond of Sejanus, so even if you did know, status wasn’t a concern of yours. It was something he admired, yet questioned all at once. There had to be a reason for your dismissal. A reason you couldn’t bring yourself to even offer a smile back. It’s not like he was asking a lot.

It’s not like he wasn’t trying, either. He’d gotten used to trying to make people like him, to see him as better than he was, but it was never this hard. It would’ve been so much simpler if you just told him to his face what your problem was, but whenever he came around, mostly when you were talking to Sejanus—they were friends, it was the perfect excuse—you just went quiet. You’d greet him, make no effort to continue the conversation, then excuse yourself.

All Coriolanus wanted to know was why.

“You’re watching her again,” Clemensia whispered to him, eyes flicking between him and the paper in front of her.

They were class partners, but Coriolanus was beginning to think he spent too much time with her.

“Who?”

Clemensia let out a small chuckle, mocking him. The professor at the front of the class looked up, and Coriolanus quickly looked down at his paper, taking his eyes off of you.

“You’re too obvious,” she muttered, a smirk in her voice. “Maybe that’s why she doesn’t like you. Because you stare at her too much.”

She didn’t get a response—it didn’t deserve one. Coriolanus questioned why he ever told her anything. She made him sound like some sort of stalker. Which, for the record, he was not.

His eyes managing to find you frequently wasn’t a crime, and neither was crossing your path. Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence most of the time, but it’s not as if he was harming you by watching you. He doubted you noticed anyway.

Seeing you nearly everyday had been enough to keep him sated, but then Sejanus started talking about you. Through no fault of his own, Coriolanus learned things about you. What he came to know made him curious to discover more. Even if you did not seem keen to let him.

Being content with what he had didn’t keep its appeal for long. Not when you were right there, your presence taunting him. Making him want what you would not let him have.

“You just need to talk to her, Coryo,” Tigris told him one evening, when he revealed everything to her. “Not in class and not with Sejanus. Just you. Let her know the real you and I promise she’ll like what she sees.”

Coriolanus took his cousin’s advice to heart. She was much more empathetic than him, she had to be onto something, right?

Everything changed when Coriolanus sat across from you at a study table in the library.

As beautiful as you were from a distance, being up close was something else entirely. He could admire you for hours and never get tired.

You looked up at him, he smiled and said hello just like Tigris advised. The smile you returned seemed forced, and you ignored that he had spoken.

It upset him, but not as much as when you got up and walked out. It was the last straw. Coriolanus was following you into the hall before he could think better of it.

He caught up to you, dropping his hand to your shoulder to make you turn around and face him. When you did, you looked surprised. That wasn’t what made Coriolanus hesitate, but the realization that he had never been this close to you before. Not even sitting across from you compared to touching you.

His heart skipped a beat.

“What do you want?” you questioned, a level of annoyance he thought to be unearned in your voice.

His heart started again.

“Have I done something to you?” Coriolanus confronted you, feeling a familiar sense of agitation creep over him. He had to know. “To make you feel such distaste for me?”

“I don’t dislike you, Coriolanus,” you replied, calmly after recovering from your initial shock. “I’m just… indifferent to you.”

The answer confused him more than it did enrage him. He smothered the latter feeling as he observed you.

“You’re… indifferent,” he stated, not asking. His feet shifted beneath him. It hurt, for some reason. “Why?”

Your eyes narrowed ever so slightly, studying him. It was the same way you’d look at your books when you were struggling with a subject, lingering behind in class or the library until a triumphant smile crossed your face.

Only, that smile never came. Your expression just faded back to normal.

“You shouldn’t put so much weight on what other people think of you,” you advised, stepping closer to him. His breath caught in his chest. You smelled sweet, like flowers. “Especially not someone you don’t even know.”

It was then, he realized, you hadn’t moved closer to him with purpose. You’d been on your way moving past him. His eyes focused on your back as you walked away, figuring out what to say.

“I’d like to know you,” he announced earnestly, verbally trying to pull you back. “If you’d only give me a chance.”

You slowed to a stop, looking over your shoulder. Coriolanus felt as if he was on display as your eyes raked over him, determining for yourself his sincerity.

“You’re friends with Sejanus, aren’t you?” you wondered. It wasn’t what he expected, but Coriolanus nodded. You sighed, which irked him to think it was pity. “If you’d like to join us for lunch I wouldn’t be against that.”

“I’ll see you then,” he said, but you were already turning away. He kept to himself that he had already tried in the past.

His friend was nice. Too nice for his own good, truthfully. It wasn’t as if Sejanus completely abandoned him the moment he befriended you. It was more like he split his time, attending to both friendships. The only thing Coriolanus held against him was that he never tried to reintroduce the two of you. Maybe even put in a good word.

At lunch Coriolanus found you and Sejanus quickly, he knew where you liked to sit.

“Hey, Coryo,” Sejanus greeted, smiling. “About time you decided to join us.”

Coriolanus put on a smile as he sat down. “Well, I would’ve sooner, but I wasn’t sure I was welcome before.”

The comment made you smirk, in on the joke as Coriolanus looked at you.

“Who’s to say you are now?” you sarcastically replied, as if you hadn’t been the one to invite him.

Well, “invite” was being generous, but he still seized the opportunity nonetheless.

“Ignore her, she can’t help herself,” Sejanus said with a chuckle, used to your humor.

This time, when he tried to talk to you, you engaged. In between discussions of classes and assignments, Coriolanus had to dodge your quick wit.

He liked the challenge, and the next day, he went back for more. Even walked right past Clemanisa and Arachne, who tried to invite him to their table with Festus. You were waiting for him.

He noticed you and Sejanus already talking.

When he sat across from you, you raised your brows. “Seeking refuge?”

Before he could ask what you meant, you nodded your head towards the girls he’d left behind.

You knew about his friends?

“You could call it that,” he replied, a smile starting to appear.

You nodded and hummed.

“Well, what are your qualifications?”

“Excuse me?”

“You joke too much, Y/N,” Sejanus lightly scolded you, interrupting whatever path you were going down, which made you laugh. “He’s going to think you don’t like him.”

“He knows I don’t mean anything by it,” you assured, looking at Coriolanus. “I’m just trying to figure him out.”

Your tone was filled with confidence, but your face… Coriolanus wasn’t sure how to place your underlying expression. You had a shield up, he knew that much, but what did that have to do with him? Were you trying to figure out if you could let it down for him? Or something else?

“Of course,” Coriolanus answered, not taking his eyes off of you. “I’m an open book.”

“Are you, now?” You folded your arms on the table. “Your friends love to gossip, and I don’t think I’ve heard that about you.”

“It’s not my fault if they don’t know how to read,” Coriolanus quipped, proud of himself for being so quick.

None of his friends had wronged him, but the joke at their expense was worth it for what followed after.

He made you laugh. Not just smile, but truly laugh. It was exactly what he wanted, and it actually worked. Awe didn't begin to describe how it felt.

Joining your table for lunch became the best part of his day. Sometimes he forgot Sejanus was even there, far too eager to see you. He saw you all the time, of course. Watching you was a habit he had yet to break, but this was different. You were aware of his presence, and he was able to speak to you. It didn’t matter that you still seemed weary, it was enough.

Even if you didn’t like him, you still had conversations with him, so that was something.

Sometimes, if you were deep in a discussion, debating ethics—your favorite topic—it would continue beyond just the table. He’d walk you to class, wanting to hear your voice just a second longer.

“I want to meet this girl,” His grandmother declared one night, after Coriolanus drifted to the topic of you over dinner. He’d been doing it more recently.

Tigris gave him a look, a light frown. There was no way to do that without you coming to his home, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Let Coryo decide that, Grandma‘am,” Tigris insisted, patting the older woman’s shoulder.

“Well, he has feelings for Y/N,” she argued, looking at Coriolanus. He used your name enough that she remembered it. “And she likes him too—doesn’t she?”

Coriolanus gave a tight smile. “Yes, she does.”

Keeping up appearances.

“Well, that settles it, then,” Grandma‘am decided.

“I think it’s time you get to bed,” Tigris intervened, getting their grandmother up from her chair.

Later, when they were alone, Tigris asked him, “Does she even know how you feel about her?” She knew him too well. He took too long to answer. “You should tell her. From what you’ve told us, you two should be together. But it won’t happen unless you make it known how you feel.”

Coriolanus’s dreams were filled with you, as they usually were, but something was different the morning he woke up after the conversation with Tigris.

All he had to do was prove himself to you, and he knew that now.

Coriolanus found you in the library a lot, often pretending to stumble upon you. This time, he didn’t put on a facade.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he acknowledged, sitting down beside you. Often he’d sit across, but he was testing the waters. Seeing if you were put off by the proximity. “Studying for Featherly’s class?”

“I’m terrified for his test,” you confided, rubbing your temples as you hunched down at your book. “I feel like my mind has no room for anything else. I’ve memorized nothing.”

With a sigh, you sat up and pushed the book away.

“I can help you,” Coriolanus insisted, reaching for the book. He read over the page you were on, knowing he’d already perfected the subject. “You should’ve asked for me sooner.”

Maybe it was a little spiteful, but he hadn’t purposely meant it to come out that way. You still noticed it, taking your book back.

“I’m not asking for your help now, Coriolanus,” you muttered, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

You were the last of his friends to still call him that. Most everyone else called him ‘Coryo’. Not you. But you were stubborn in many ways. This too, apparently.

“I didn’t mean anything against you,” he said lightly, even chuckling a little. It was forced, but he wanted to show he wasn’t being that serious.

Using your own words on you did not have the desired effect.

“Mmmhmmm,” you hummed.

Coriolanus tilted his head down, trying to get you to meet his gaze. You gave in, facing him, looking unamused.

He wanted to wipe that look away, but didn’t know how. If he could just make you like him—

Suddenly, your watch began to beep.

“Test time,” you grumbled, taking back your book and getting up.

Coriolanus followed you down the hall and into class. The tests were already on the desks, waiting. You two were early—he noticed that because of the clock on the wall.

He walked you to your seat and wished you good luck. To his surprise, you offered the same in return. Then, he went to his own. Other students filed in quickly after, professor Featherly being the last to enter the room.

The professor declared, “Begin,” then sat at his desk in the middle of the room and began to read.

The test wasn’t easy, but Coriolanus knew what he was doing. One look around the classroom and he saw that wasn’t the case for most other students. He felt a sense of pride, until his gaze landed on you. You were one row down and four seats to the left. He’d counted before. You were fiddling with your pencil, struggling to come up with what to write down.

While he could’ve been the first to finish, Coriolanus let other students turn their tests in before him. An hour passed by, but it moved quickly.

There were only a few students left when you finally got up. You radiated an anxious energy, much like the others, but Coriolanus didn’t care about the others.

Clemensia stuck her hand up in the air, waiting for the professor to notice her, distracting Coriolanus briefly. When the professor looked up and noticed her, Clemansia got her wish.

Coriolanus considered himself lucky, convincing himself with his own mantra frequently. As he watched you leave your test on Featherly’s desk and rush from the room, he realized how he could help you.

He quickly marked down the rest of his answers, having stalled so he could leave when you did. The professor was making his way away from the desk, while Coriolanus got up and went in the opposite direction.

With a swift, hard kick to the leg, the professor's desk wobbled and papers spilled off on the other side. It looked like an accident.

Featherly looked over his shoulder at the noise.

“Sorry,” Coriolanus apologized, kneeling down behind the desk to collect the papers.

Without anyone watching, he found your test. He had no time to change the written questions, but he made quick work of erasing and re-doing the multiple choice, with his own test and knowledge as reference.

He had to give you credit for getting a decent amount correct, but not enough for a passing grade.

When Coriolanus fixed that, he stacked together the papers and placed them back on the desk and exited.

Everyone was waiting in the hall. Against tradition, the professor graded tests directly after and would call students in to give the results. It was time consuming, and kept everyone on campus after hours, which was against the rules, but perhaps he’d gotten some kind of exception.

You were leaning against the wall opposite of the classroom, talking to some girl from the class—Coriolanus didn’t bother to learn her name. He wanted to go to you, but Sejanus got to him first instead.

“How do you think you did?”

Coriolanus shrugged, looking down at his friend. “Fine, I think.” That was the humble answer, right? “How about you?”

“Not perfect, but I passed.”

Clemensia trotted out then, a confident look on her face.

“What was so important you had to ask during the test?” Coriolanus couldn’t help but wonder. She’d unknowingly helped him, after all.

“Just clarity on a question, wanted to make sure I got it right,” she answered with ease.

“And did you?”

She gave Sejanus a look.

“Yes, of course.”

The last person exited the class, and professor Featherly closed the door. And so the grading began.

One by one, the professor called people in. There was no method to the order, it seemed likely he shuffled the papers or chose which one to grade next at random.

Time passed, Coriolanus didn’t know how much exactly, but it was beginning to get dark outside. Tigris would be worried until he got home, but she’d understand. His studies came first.

Eventually, Coriolanus realized it was dwindling down to be just you and him left. He was lucky today.

The third to last student was in the classroom, leaving you across the hall from one another.

You pressed your lips together before speaking.

“Do you think you did alright?”

The corner of Coriolanus’s lip twitched up at the sound of your voice.

“Yes, I think so,” he answered humbly. “What about you?”

You let out a self deprecating laugh. “When I said I was terrified, I wasn’t being dramatic.” You sighed, accepting your fate. “I’ll have to do perfect on the next one, I guess.”

“I can help you with that,” Coriolanus offered.

The smile he gave you spawned a mirror reaction. He knew he was charming, he had to be, and this time you actually seemed receptive to it.

“Maybe you can.”

The sound of a door opening made Coriolanus turn. Arachne was leaving, a smug look on her face as she thanked the professor.

Then the door closed, and the professor graded another test. There were only two left.

“I wish he wouldn’t do it like this,” you filled the silence. “The others don’t make us wait like this.”

“It builds suspense, I suppose,” Coriolanus mused. “Keeps us on our toes.”

“That’s not something I need right now.”

“At least you have good company,” he noted flirtatiously. He couldn’t help but grin at his own words, especially when you bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling.

“Could be worse, I supposed,” you retorted.

More time passed. The door opened again.

“Coriolanus Snow,” the professor addressed him next. “Your turn.”

As expected, Coriolanus did close to perfect. One answer off. Best in the class.

Back in the hallway, when he was done, Coriolanus waited with you. He didn’t announce he was staying, he just returned to his spot against the wall.

“Don’t keep a girl waiting. How did you do?” you asked, departing from the wall.

Coriolanus wondered where you were going, but then, you stood next to him, leaning back against the wall. There was still an arms length between the two of you, but it was something. You’d gone to him for once.

“You’ll think I’m full of myself if I tell you,” he teased lightly, which made you roll your eyes.

“Maybe I already think that, so just tell me,” you insisted.

The comment made him falter.

“Best in the class,” he divulged.

You almost looked impressed. “Good for you.”

The door opened.

“Y/N L/N, you’re up.”

“Wish me luck,” you said under your breath before following Featherly in.

“Good luck.”

Coriolanus waited for you, just like before. He tapped his foot. The professor didn’t actually go over the answers, he just told you the grade. You’d have no way of knowing what he did for you, but he’d be there to share in your excitement when you discovered how well you’d done.

Or, how well he’d done for you.

Not long later, you and the professor exited the class together.

“Wasn’t expecting you to still be here,” Featherly addressed Coriolanus. “You should get going. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

Then, he left you and Coriolanus alone in the hall, presumably leaving the building.

“So,” Coriolanus began with a smile. “How did you do?”

“He asked if I’d been studying with you. Apparently we had all the same answers,” you told him, crossing your arms. “Except when I asked him to show me my exam—which I did great on, apparently—I saw answers circled that weren’t mine.”

Coriolanus hadn’t expected you to find out so quickly, but a part of him was relieved you did. It meant he got to take credit, and he could show you that he really did want the best for you.

Or, he could always lie.

“You weren scared of failing,” he finally admitted. He offered a sympathetic smile. “So I helped.”

“No, you cheated!” you accused, causing his eyes to go wide. “You’ve implicated us both. If anyone finds out…”

“Don’t be so loud,” he hissed out in a whisper, stepping closer to you. The professor could still be in the building. He doubted anyone else would be. “I just wanted to help you, okay? You needed it, so I—“

“You helped, I get it. But I didn’t ask you to do that for me, Coriolanus. I have never asked you to do anything for me,” you sneered, somewhere between offended and betrayed.

He saw the way you scanned his face—his eyes. The pleading was beginning to seep through.

A wave of realization washed over you before he even opened his mouth.

“You didn’t have to ask me to,” Coriolanus said meaningfully, stepping closer to you. “I wanted to. I wanted to help you.”

You back hit the wall. The hallway was so empty it seemed as if the subtle sound still echoed.

“I’d do anything for you, don’t you get that?”

The sound of a large door closing carried from a distance.

Coriolanus reached for your face, wishing he could take away the concern that riddled your expression. Instead, he brushed a stray piece of hair from your face.

You swallowed. Why did you look so nervous around him? You were friends now, weren’t you? You never looked scared around anyone else. Why him? Why now? His own questions frustrated him.

“We’re not supposed to be on campus after hours,” you said calmly. It was the same tone you used when you first described your indifference to him. Coriolanus thought about that moment a lot. “Featherly already left. We should leave before we get caught.”

The corners of his lips twitched down.

“We’re still talking, though, aren’t we?”

You let out a shallow breath. You had no reason to look as scared as you did.

“I think we’re done.”

Coriolanus thought back to his cousin’s advice. He could’ve followed it better if she’d written it down, perchance.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Coriolanus pondered, smiling to himself at the sight of you. “You caught my eye from the beginning and I—I couldn’t figure out why you wanted nothing to do with me.” You watched him carefully. He wondered if you could sense the dejectedness brewing. “Did you see something in me? Is that it?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted under your breath. “People like you, and you’ve been making an effort to be my friend, so I don’t know what told me to stay away from you, but something did. I’ve tried to ignore it, but I still…” you swallowed. “I don’t know.”

The confession should’ve been a relief. That’s what he imagined it would be. That you would admit the truth, and he could fix whatever misconceptions you had.

Coriolanus did not know what to do with “I don’t know”.

Staring down at you, Coriolanus noticed your back was against the wall. Literally. He hadn’t meant to put you there, but he had.

It got you to listen, didn’t it? He’d gotten an answer?

“Can we start over?” Coriolanus suggested, even throwing in a smile that would charm most anyone. It worked on you before. “We can forget all this mess.”

You blinked. You didn’t believe him.

For most people, he wouldn’t simply let numerous slights go, but for you, if it would fix whatever this was, if it meant the two of you could have a real chance, then he’d overcome his instincts—old and new.

“I’m afraid my memory is too good for that,” you finally said, looking up at him with defiance.

Defying what, was the question. It wasn’t as if you were enemies.

The thought made his jaw clench. He let out a laugh that was sharp. It lacked any sense of humor.

“Why can’t you just accept my apology?”

Your brows arched up, questioning him.

“That was supposed to be an apology?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “But it’s not as if I owe you one.”

“I never said you did. I never said anything. You took it upon yourself to insert yourself into my life and now you are not happy with your place in it. You’ve overstepped, and you need to let me leave.”

Coriolanus frowned.

“You act like I’m keeping you here by force.”

You look up at him, silently telling him you believed he was.

That frustrated him further.

In an act that jarred even him, Coriolanus pressed his palms against your shoulders and pushed you back against the wall when you tried to move away.

“This is force,” he declared sternly, leaning down, making you maintain his gaze.

Everyone liked control, but he hadn’t used it in such a physical way before. It thrilled him in an odd way.

“Get your hands off me.”

“Why should I? You already think so poorly of me, why not let you be right?”

You moved again then, trying to catch him off guard and squirm away. But Coriolanus was quick to shove you back against the wall.

“We can still start over. If you would give me a chance, I think we can be good together.”

He let one hand rise to rest on your cheek. Your skin was so smooth. He inhaled deeply, resolve slipping further as his eyes fell to your lips.

If Coriolanus could just prove it to you, he was sure you’d understand what he meant.

He leaned in cautiously, gauging your reaction. You didn’t flinch away. You tilted your chin up, even. That familiar skip of his heart returned.

Coriolanus’s lips only just brushed against yours before you reacted. He had a second of relief before you brought your knee up, jabbing him in the lower stomach, although he doubted that was where you were aiming. It was still enough of a shock to throw him off his game. He stumbled back, and in a flash, you were gone. You were running down the hall—trying to get away from him, like usual.

Only this time, he didn’t feel like letting you go.

Something he had slowly come to learn was when he wanted something, it wasn’t just going to be handed to him. Vying for the Plinth Prize highlighted that, alongside his childhood.

He caught you easily, hand snapping out like a snake to grip your arm and yank you back to him. You collided with his chest. It was like you weren’t even trying. Not really. Just toying with him.

“Am I a game to you?” Coriolanus hissed into your ear, wrapping you in his arms. “Something for you to play?”

“I haven’t done anything to you! I hardly even know you!” you defended, but it just made him hold you tighter.

“I know you,” he implored, fighting against your squirming. He lost balance and when you fell to the ground, you took him with you. Coriolanus got you onto your back, sitting on your thighs, gripping your wrists in his hands to keep you from swinging at him. You let out panicked breaths, staring up at him. “I know more than you think.”

Something about the position made the front of his pants begin to feel constricting.

“Coriolanus, you’re frightening me,” you enunciated, as if trying to reason with him.

“I’m not being unreasonable,” Coriolanus grit out, working to maintain his composure.

“What?” you questioned, brows pinching together, a deep frown on your face. Confused and scared. Coriolanus used to feel that way. “Just let me go.”

“And then what? You go back to ignoring me? No I can’t… I can’t go back to that. If you just give me a chance I can show you.”

Coriolanus didn’t know what happened next.

Tigris told him it was like he left his own head, sometimes. She said he’d get so caught up, he wouldn’t notice things. At the time he had laughed. If anyone stayed aware, it was him.

It wasn’t that he left his head, but got lost in it. Lost in his own inner monologue to realize what he was doing.

In this case, what he’d done.

Far too busy thinking of ways to convey everything he wanted to say to you, how to make you understand, visualizing your reaction, he’d already acted.

Maybe there were two people living in his mind. One with a conscience, one without. Or perhaps that was just something he used to justify his less than decent actions. An excuse. He’d never let himself know the truth. Not really. Not yet.

What he did know was what he could see. You, beneath him, clothes torn from your body. The only thing left was a shirt. Too much effort, apparently. Your wrists were snatched together in one of his hands.

The power stirred something within him.

One might say he was out of excuses when he reached for the zipper of his pants, but no one else was here, were they?

Your mouth was moving. Speaking. Maybe even yelling. Looking at him, looking around the room. He couldn’t hear a sound but his own heart thumping in his ears paired with his own eager breaths. Was that normal?

He moved, wedging himself between your legs, nudging them apart to make room for himself.

“It’s just us,” Coriolanus spoke, loud enough to hear himself. You flinched. “No one’s here.”

He gripped himself, stroking his cock, lining himself up with your entrance. His patience was running incredibly thin.

Tears pricked in your eyes. You stopped struggling at his words, accepting it for what it was. Good.

“Why are you doing this?”

He heard your voice clearly, that time, despite the strain in your tone.

Coriolanus observed you carefully, squeezing your wrists together in one hand and lovingly caressing your hip with the other.

He finally understood the answer you’d given before. He found it fitting now.

“I don’t know.”

To him, it was the truth.

The moment Coriolanus pressed himself inside of you, it was as if the rest of the world disappeared. After so long of wanting you in every way, shape, or form, this was long overdue.

“You’re perfect for me,” he breathed out. Coriolanus gave a shove of his hips, his gaze falling to your mouth as an unwilling yelp slipped out. “I knew you would be.”

You were tight, too tight, even. Unwelcoming. Yet still, you felt like home.

His hand—the one that was on your hip—drifted between your legs. He found your clit, running his thumb in small circles, trying to ease the pressure you must’ve been feeling.

Coriolanus did not want to hurt you.

He looked into unfocused eyes. Where were you? Were you trying to be somewhere else?

He let your hands go. You didn’t move to slap him or shove him or anything. You were learning.

He leaned over you more, reaching for you face with his now free hand, and ran his thumb over your cheek, encouraging your gaze to actually meet his. He smiled softly when you did. You got more beautiful every second he looked at you. It was even better when he could see you were present.

Coriolanus found himself unable to resist it, so he gave into the urge to press his lips to yours. A real kiss, this time.

Your lips were softer than he’d imagined. You made a noise when his tongue tasted your mouth. His kiss was hungry—aggressive, even. But he’d waited so long he didn’t know how to contain himself.

Your body reacted to his touch. Your bent knees inched up his hips to accommodate him, and your walls were becoming slick, accepting the invasion.

A deep moan escaped him, cock throbbing inside you at the feel. The sound was muffled by his lips pressed to yours, but he still felt vulnerable, giving himself to you in this way.

Coriolanus pulled back from the kiss, only to rest his forehead against yours and breathe out a small puff of air from his lips.

“I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you. Not even the Plinth Prize,” he confessed in a whisper.

“What’s the difference?” You finally spoke, voice wavering. “You have to earn the prize?” The accusing tone felt like a slap.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Coriolanus muttered, eyes boring into yours. “You’ll see.”

He gave you one more searing kiss before moving his hips.

A gasp that morphed into a moan clawed its way up your throat. The sound was like music to his ears. He wanted to hear it again.

He began to move more consistently, finding a pace that suited him. Rough enough to keep you present, but not so harsh as to hurt you. He wanted you to enjoy yourself, even if you were trying to avoid it.

Still figuring you out, Coriolanus found your sweet spot with a hard thrust, causing you to wince. Instinctively, you tried to push him away, just like you had before, not wanting to surrender.

You stilled when you felt his hand. He hardly realized how he’d reacted until he felt your throat bob beneath his palm.

Coriolanus retracted his hand, like your skin and shot a volt through him. His movements slowed to a stop.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized earnestly, brushing the hand through your hair gently. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Your chest heaved as you breathed shaky breaths through your nose. Your lips pressed together in a line.

You weren’t going to dignify him with a response. In a way, he understood.

Coriolanus locked his arms under your body and in a surge of strength, pulled you from the ground and into his lap. He hugged you against him, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Forgive me,” he requested softly.

You shifted in his lap, adjusting yourself to find comfort in the new position. You did not speak.

He slammed his hips up, forcing a gasp from your lips. That was something, wasn’t it?

You pulled back, and he did it again. And again. And again.

You fell against him, jarred by the change in his movements as he thrust into you. He liked it, feeling you in his lap, your chest against his, leaving you no choice but to hold onto him.

His lips latched onto the skin of your neck as he moved, barring his teeth and nipping the skin. You reacted as if he were venomous, straining away from him, but he’d left his mark.

You could pretend all you wanted that you didn’t like him, but Coriolanus could feel your body reacting to his. He could feel the way your walls squeezed around him, drawing him in, and how your body quivered as he pushed you closer to your edge.

“Just let go,” Coriolanus whispered, holding you tighter. He cradled the back of your head against him as he moved inside of you. Soothing and rough at the same time. “It’s okay, I know you want to.”

“Shut up,” you hissed into his neck, hands finding his chest.

Were you really going to try and get away from him? It was a bit late for that.

Coriolanus moved his hand between your bodies, finding your clit with the pad of his thumb, speeding along the process.

“What was that?” he taunted, feeling your legs start to shake.

A moan tore from your throat as you came around him, body slumping against his as he shoved himself deeper inside you. He wanted to feel your body tensed around him.

“That’s it,” he drawled, pressing his face to the side of your head. He inhaled, letting your scent flood him. Every sense was overwhelmed by you and if anything, it made him hunger for even more.

You became more pliable in your daze, going easily when Coriolanus laid you back down on the cold ground. He planted one hand on the ground near your head, where he held most of his weight, while the other rested on the base of your neck. Not squeezing, just resting. Reminding you of before.

Now that he’d taken care of you, made you realize the pleasure he could inflict upon you, it was his turn. Coriolanus was relentless with the thrust of his cock inside you, stretching you around him, groaning with nearly every movement. You felt so good, he never wanted to leave the warmth of your body.

You shifted beneath him, squirming as the intense feeling. Coriolanus was tempted to drag it out, to watch your face as the pleasure became too much for you to handle.

If it wasn’t for the desire to fill you, to claim you, he would’ve. There would be more times after this, he’d ensure it. He didn’t own a lot, but he treasured the things that he did.

“I can’t let you go, not now.” He meant to keep it inside his head, but the words spilled out. “You’re the only thing I want.”

At that moment, it was true.

Coriolanus gave one final shove of his hips before spilling inside of you. It crashed over him in an unexpected wave. His whole body shivered with pleasure at the feel of your body milking him. You wanted him. Your denial would eventually fade. He was sure of it.

Coriolanus let out a heavy sigh of your name as he watched your face. You’d turned your head, wincing as he filled you to the brim.

“Hey,” Coriolanus said when he finished, voice low. He ran a delicate hand over your face, persuading you to open your eyes. “We’re okay.”

As much as he didn’t want to, Coriolanus withdrew from you. You’d given up fighting against him, so he took the opportunity to help you redress. You were so pliant, it was like dressing a doll.

You rested your arms on your knees when he made you sit up. He wasn’t keeping you from moving from the floor, you chose not to.

Coriolanus watched you cautiously, searching for the same fire in you before, trying to figure out if he’d somehow snuffed it out.

There was a nagging in his gut. It was only for a brief second, but his confidence wavered.

“Can you talk to me?” he pressed, laying a hand on your shoulder and he knelt across from you, pants readjusted.

It was as if nothing happened, but you both knew that was untrue.

“Why should I?” You wrinkled your nose as you focused on the ground.

“Because, I care about you,” Coriolanus replied without thought, gaze softening. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I don’t think you care for me,” you said in a tone so hushed, Coriolanus wasn’t sure if you even meant for him to hear. Then, you met his eyes. The fire had only been dulled, not put out. “I think you’re a liar, Coriolanus Snow.”

His hands fell to clasp yours. He brought one to his lips, pressing a small kiss to the back of your palm. You eyed him as if he were some sort of predator, but he managed a smile nonetheless.

“Let me prove it to you, and you’ll come to learn you’ve been wrong about me all along.”

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow #yandere coriolanus snow #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #quin-ns writing

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gyuzgrl · 22 days

Text

sixth sense //jww//

anon req- yandere/stalker Wonwoo

summary- when watching you wasn't enough, he'd sneak into your house to get himself off. what happens when Wonwoo realizes he might be able to get something more tonight?

wc- 6k

Wonwoo swore this would be the last time. As his feet carried him further and further, across the street into private property, he promised himself that this was it.

No more.

You see, no matter how hard he tried, Wonwoo just couldn't stop watching you. Where you walked around on campus, the way you spoke to just about everyone so sweetly, how you secretly drifted off in class- he saw it all.

He'd spend hours and hours staring at your face, observing the way your features would morph into all sorts of expressions- so much so he now knows them by heart.

What started as something innocent, however, turned much darker when he realised that you lived in the house opposite his.

Night upon night, Wonwoo would sit by his window, watching, observing as you went about your life, completely unaware.

Your curtains were open- always were.

He knew when you studied, when you slept, when you touched yourself. You were so naive, so innocent, he really just couldn't help himself.

You made it so easy.

And now he's here, inside your house- with an hour to spend and a filthy, filthy imagination.

He's been here a couple of times before. Once when you'd left to go study at the library, another time when Somi and you went out for brunch, last week when your mother and you went shopping.

This time was different, though.

This time, you'd left him a little present on your bed.

As he walks into your room with practiced ease, Wonwoo's breath catches at the sight of pretty pink lingerie and a matching vibrator, laying exposed on your duvet.

'oh you have plans tonight, don't you?'

His thoughts show so clearly on his face- that signature Wonwoo smirk, corners of his lips just barely tilting up, head tipping to one side as his eyes linger over the pink lacey fabric.

Tentatively, he takes hold of the toy, clasping it in his palm, feeling the smooth, shiny plastic against his skin. Wonwoo's thoughts drift to how you'd use it in a few hours, completely unaware that he's been touching it- in turn, indirectly touching you.

'didn't know you liked this kinda stuff,'

'dirty girl'

Your room's mostly clean, usually is, save for the tangle of wires under your desk and a few odd clothes tossed at the foot of your closet. The laundry bin's full; a lid keeps it under control, but fails to hide the silky red fabric of your panties- the ones he saw you take off earlier this morning.

His eyes light up. The vibrator is long forgotten.

Time is of the essence here- there's not a lot of it left- so he grabs the red fabric in a haste and holds it to his face, inhaling deeply to take in your scent.

"fuck-" he groans softly, knees weakening at how goddamn good you smell. There's a hint of that fabric softener you use, clean and floral, but there's also the intoxicating scent of you.

The most intimate part of you.

Wonwoo settles on your duvet, nose still buried into your panties, and his eyes flutter closed as an evil hand snakes it's way into his sweatpants.

His cock jumps at the contact, and he hisses, taking his lower lip in between his teeth. Thoughts of you flood his mind, and he replays the image of you from two nights ago, with your naked body on full display as you lay in this exact spot, touching that pretty cunt of yours.

Slowly, Wonwoo begins to pump himself, squeezing hard around his girth, trying to satiate that red hot pit of desire screaming within.

He takes in a shaky breath, letting you flood his senses, and he feels himself grow in his fist, now moving faster.

Wonwoo thinks of you- of your voice, of your face, of your body. How you'd sound, whimpering, sobbing under him, how your features would settle so perfectly into utter bliss, how your skin; soft to the touch, would jump under his fingertips.

Within minutes, he feels his cock throb. It's hot and heavy in his hand, the tip burns a fiery shade of red as he works himself up to his release pumping faster as he takes you in desperately.

"f-fuck y/n" he chokes out, head falling back into your pillows.

His fist tightens around the width of his dick, trying to mimic what he thinks you'll feel like, and in seconds he tips over the edge. Hot, white ropes stream out of his cock, dribbling out of the tip, and he hunches over quickly to your nightstand to pluck out a tissue or two.

As he cleans himself off, the guilt hits, like it always does.

This is wrong, he knows it is, but he really just can't bring himself to stop. It's as though you've cast a spell on him and now he's become your very own moon- chasing after you, endlessly.

Wonwoo tidies up the bed, fixing your sheets, fluffing up your duvet, and he deposits- albeit reluctantly- your panties back to their assigned spot in the laundry bin.

15 minutes till you come back home.

He heads to your kitchen and discards his soiled tissues into the garbage shoot, destroying all the evidence that he was ever here.

There's still a bit of time left for him, so he looks through your pantry, face falling when he sees the endless sea of instant-meal cartons and ramen packets.

'you really should take better care of yourself,'

Just as he's about to close the cabinet, something catches him eye.

A hand blender- rather, the hand blender you borrowed from him last week. In a sudden burst of genius, Wonwoo comes up with a plan.

It's hasty, definitely reckless, but he has a shot at getting to touch you.

step 1- hide the blender inside the highest shelf of your pantry.

check.

step 2- head back home, shower, put on the cologne you seem you like, change into loose grey sweats and a fitted white wife beater.

check.

step 3- wait till you get home and watch as you settle into bed, ready to play.

check.

step 4- once you begin to work yourself up, almost on the verge of release, that's when he'll strike, ringing your doorbell to ask for his blender.

Wonwoo's heart thuds against his chest as he presses your doorbell. The sound echoes around in his head and he swears he can feel his heart in his throat. Scuffling footsteps draw his attention back to you, and he smirks, imaging what you look like right now; scrambling around to cover yourself up, frustrated that you've been interrupted.

The distinct slap of your house slippers against wooden floors grows louder and louder, in time with Wonwoo's speeding heart, and he feels his mouth go dry.

This is happening.

Creaking your door open, you pop your head out, eyes widening when you see Wonwoo at your doorstep.

"this a bad time?" he asks, tilting his head to the side as his eyes rake over your body, observing the loosely tied robe you've covered up with.

"uh n-no, what's up Won?"

Fuck there was that petname you used all the time. He hated petnames, hated when people called him stuff like that, but with you? God, there was something so cute about it when you said his name like that. Makes him want to push you down and fuck you senseless right here on your doorstep.

"you remember that blender you borrowed? I kinda need it right now," his voice is deep as he speaks, and you notice his apperance.

Tight white vest, baggy grey sweatpants, wet hair- fuck he's your very own wet dream, delivered right to your doorstep. A deep blush spreads across your cheeks and you wonder if he knows what you've been up to.

"y-yeah, come in I've got it around here somewhere," you stutter, stepping back to let him in. Wonwoo steps forward, his long legs closing the distance between your bodies, and you gasp, eyes flicking over to his as he towers over you, barely an inch between your frame and his.

Once again, he let's his eyes skim over you, taking note of the way your cheeks heat up under his stare.

'oh? you like this, don't you?'

There's that smirk again, the knowing twitch of his lips, the condescending look in his eye. He's assured, you're far too desperate to turn him down when he makes his move.

Despite the rambling thoughts inside him, Wonwoo appears composed. He quirks a brow at you, looking almost unimpressed, and you scramble around for words..

"you w- you walk really um, really fast,"

"you don't," he states, bemused, "I really do need that blender, though."

Embarrassed, your skin burns crimson and your lips part, forming an 'o' shape.

"o-oh uh yeah that. it should be in here," you mutter, sauntering your way over to the kitchen with him trailing right behind.

Wonwoo has to physically restrain himself from reaching out to run his palm over the curve of your ass, swaying enticingly as you walk.

'fuck you made this so hard-'

You slip behind the kitchen island, throwing a quick glance his way over your shoulder, before opening up the first cabinet- the one that originally did have Wonwoo's blender.

Clumsy hands, pat around the surface of the shelf in vain, and you turn around, pouting. Wonwoo thinks this is his breaking point (it isn't, but still).

"not here, sorry this might take a while Won"

His heart swells at the petname, and inside he's got fireworks going off. On the outside, however, he remains unmoved.

"yeah take your time, baby, I've got all evening"

You flush.

He called you baby.

Turning to face him, you offer a watery, nervous smile.

"m'sorry Wonnie"

'oh fuck me-'

You turn back around pulling open another cabinet, and then another and another. Moving from the ones at eye level, you kneel down, digging through the shelves under your counter top. The angle makes Wonwoo dizzy.

'you're doing this on purpose, I swear'

On your knees, eyes a little teary from embarrassment, you look up at him, shaking your head. This is the sixth shelf.

"sorry-"

"you're good, here- I'll help you look"

Wonwoo's voice soothes through you, it's low timbre running along your nerves like guitar strings. He steps beside you, eyes scanning over the counter top as you stand up and open your highest cabinet.

You stand on your tip toes, arm fully outstretched, and you begin to search around; this time in the right cabinet. As your fingertips glaze over something that feels like a blender, your eyes light up, and Wonwoo, standing behind you, takes notice.

"think it's here"

The only issue now, is that you can't reach it. It's too high up for you to grasp properly. You stretch as far as you can, straining your body as you try to reach the little plastic device, and before you know what's happening, you feel a presence directly behind you.

Wonwoo.

His chest pushes flush against your back as his arm extends out far beyond yours, and you let out a surprised squeak.

He grins.

The hard muscle of his torso has your mouth watering, only adding to your desperation. Sure, having your orgasm so rudely ripped away is one thing, but to have Jeon Wonwoo of all people, dressed the way he is, pushing up against you, all while you're defenseless and unable to satisfy yourself? Oh this is just pure torture.

"found it" he whispers right above your ear, his breath tickling the shell of it. You shudder.

Wonwoo brings his arm back down, setting the item down on the counter. You turn around, caged between his arms, and your knees go weak at the sight in front of you.

The thick muscles of his arms are on full display, veins jutting out deliciously right beside you. Wonwoo's eyes stay trained on your own, a dark desire, a hunger, running wild in them.

Suddenly, you realise, your little bullet vibrator won't be enough for you tonight.

You gulp noticing the proximity of your bodies, of your faces, and Wonwoo smirks.

"you're all red,"

"s-shut up"

"but you are, I mean look at these" he grins, bringing his fingers up to press your cheeks together. "so fuckin' cute when you blush,"

You're stunned into silence.

"and this-" he motions to your robe, now loose, falling apart at your cleavage, revealing the delicate pink lace of your bra, "who's this for?"

Your eyes almost double in size when you glance down, and you scramble to adjust yourself.

"it's nothing! I was just- I was just um,"

"just what?"

Your brows scrunch up as you bite your lip, suddenly conscious of your surroundings, and you avoid his gaze, opting to look down at the fabric of his vest.

"were you playing with yourself?"

You shake your head furiously, tears welling in your eyes. God, this is embarrassing but for some reason, you find yourself growing hotter, wetter by the second, with your body pressed up against his.

"dirty girl,"

Wonwoo's voice is sultry and low, he's practically purring at you, eyes glazed over with desire. The way he calls you has your cunt clenching down around empty space, and you know you need this. You need him.

"if I was t-touching myself, would you be upset?"

'hook, line, and sinker.'

"oh princess, you were just trynna feel good, of course I won't be upset" he coos, stroking your hair.

"a-and if I say that I was thinking of y-"

"hm?"

"if I say that I was thinking of you, while I was... y'know, would you be mad?"

Oh he wasn't expecting that.

Not one bit.

The stoic, unmoving persona dissipates within seconds and Wonwoo let's out a shaky breath, bringing his face closer to yours, leaving barely an inch of space.

"not at all,"

There's a short pause as you both share understanding glances- a wordless confession.

"this is my mess to fix, isn't it?" he whispers, breath fanning over your face, burning hot against your cheeks.

You nod, desperately, and he leans his forehead against yours.

"and you want me to fix it, baby?"

"please," you whimper, pressing your thighs together helplessly.

Wasting not a second more, rather, unable to wait a second more, Wonwoo pushes his lips to yours, enveloping them in a hungry, needy kiss.

Hot, wet skin greets your mouth, cradling your lower lip as he sucks feverishly at the tender flesh. Wonwoo slides a hand up to your chin, tilting your face up between his thumb and forefinger, and you gasp when he prods his tongue into your mouth.

A pathetic whimper escapes you, and you give in to his body.

"you want this?" he pants, his breath hot, meshing with your own.

"I do- fuck I really do Wonnie"

Your voice is whiny, your eyes gloss over, Wonwoo curses under his breath.

Without warning, he slides his hands under your thighs, and hoists your body up, moving you to sit on the counter. You gasp at how easily he manages to lift you- like you're a fragile little doll, completely at his mercy.

As your thighs spill out from under the robe, they make contact with the cool, hard marble below, and you jump at the sudden sensation.

The fabric of your robe rides up, giving Wonwoo access to the hem of your panties, and his eyes flick down, darkening considerably when he looks at your pink lingerie.

"oh? what's this you're wearing?" There's a smirk in his voice, plain as day. His hands smooth over the front of your thighs, stopping right at the edge of the robe.

"may I?"

His eyes draw back up to yours, and he looks at you, the question genuine in his gaze.

"yes," you breathe, swallowing at the thick lump in your throat.

Eager hands slide up, disappearing momentarily under your robe to feel you first, before pulling the loose fabric apart completely.

Wonwoo slips the silky fabric over your shoulders, letting it pool around your thighs on the counter, and it's as though life presses pause for a while.

He stares at you in awe, in wonder, eyes tracing over every curve, every contour of your body and the lace against it.

"you're so beautiful-" he shudders, unable to stop himself from looking.

"I am?"

Wonwoo rolls his eyes.

"what, you didn't know?"

"uh uh," you shake your head, staring up at him through thick lashes, "nobody's called me that before"

There's a pause. You can practically hear the gears twisting and turning in Wonwoo's head, with his brow set in a frown.

'you really didn't know'

'how do I show yo-'

His lips twitch up, revelation written all over his face.

"as much as I'd love to fuck you into this counter, there's something better in store upstairs,"

"u-upstairs? but how do-"

"shh, princess, don't bother your pretty head about silly things, hm?" he cooes, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

In a swift motion, you feel the surface beneath you shift away as Wonwoo lifts you into his arms, hands hooked under the flesh of your ass.

You yelp, eyes wide with panic, but the adoring grin painted on his face calms you down. He walks up the stairs, turning to the right, unlocking your door.

"but how do you kno-"

"patience, pretty- we'll talk when I'm done with you" his voice takes on a darker tone, and you feel your arousal seep through the flimsy lace of your panties. Feeling the tip of his fingers dampen, Wonwoo smirks knowingly.

"someone's eager"

You blush, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, but Wonwoo's quick to pull you back.

"don't you dare hide from me."

The familiar, plush mattress of your bed greets your thighs as he sets you down gently, eyes practically glued to your face, scanning for discomfort.

"if you wanna stop you're gonna tell me, kay? if you can't use your words, tap twice" he says, bringing your hand to his bicep.

"uhuh" Your eyes are hazy, staring into his, as you marvel at how breathtaking he looks crouched down towards you, watching, observing.

Your hand smoothes over his muscles, dipping into the ridges, feeling how firm and strong he really is. Wonwoo shivers under your touch, revelling in how soft your fingers feel tracing over his skin.

"keep touching me and this is gonna go a lot different than how I planned,"

"oh yeah? what did you have planned?"

"you see that mirror there?" he tips his head to the side, angling it toward the mirror standing opposite your bed,

"I'm gonna make you watch."

Wonwoo crawls his way up the mattress, shifting himself to sit up against the head board. His legs are folded at the knees, spread just enough to fit you in between, and he smirks.

An arm moves to rest on his knee, and he crooks two fingers at you, a dangerous smirk playing at his lips.

"c'mere"

Wordlessly, you obey, moving shyly into his embrace, facing him so innocently, Wonwoo can barely bring himself to tell you that you need to turn around.

You shuffle onto your shins, awaiting his next command, and he sighs.

"so fuckin' eager- god I bet you're soaking"

Bashfully, you nod your head, eyes lowered.

"turn around for me, hm?" he ushers, his voice gentle yet firm, and you comply once again, turning in between his knees.

The sight before you has your face flaming. Right there on the wall sits a painting of you and Wonwoo, exposing your most intimate moments, bringing them to view. Your eyes meet in the mirror, and his own shine knowingly at the blush searing across your cheeks.

"keep your eyes on us, sweetheart" he mumbles into your ear, breath ghosting over the sensitive flesh, leaving a trail of goosebumps spreading over your neck and shoulder. "don't you dare look away"

A soft whimper escapes you as Wonwoo's lips attach themselves to the skin just below your ear, kissing so gently it raises the tiny hairs on your neck. Your eyes narrow in on the spot connecting your bodies- his lips, your neck- and you feel yourself grow hotter, needier, just from the sight alone.

Leaving wet, dull red marks as he moves to the side, Wonwoo reaches a sensitive spot just above your collar bone, grinning against your skin when you gasp.

"see how pretty you look right now? all marked up for me- all mine,"

"a-all yours," you breathe, head lopping to the side, giving him better access to your neck.

His hands grasp your shoulders, smoothing down your arms slowly before settling at your stomach, essentially caging you into himself.

The sharp sting of his teeth nipping at your skin, the way he holds you so secure, how his voice- sensual and deep like the ocean- resonates deep inside you; it's simultaneously soothing and exciting.

While one part of you wants to melt into him, let yourself drown in the ebb and flow of his voice, the other part is on fire, raging within you, begging to be quenched.

"can I take this off?" he murmurs into your skin, hands grazing over the hem of your bra.

"please,"

Tantalisingly slow, Wonwoo rakes his nails lightly along the width of your bra, until they find your clasp.

Deftly, he clicks you free, ridding your body of the fitted fabric.

"oh would you just- just look at yourself, christ-"

Feverish hands slide under your arms, cupping your breasts, toying with your nipples, as your eyes remain trained on yourself and on the way he handles you.

Wonwoo kneads the flesh of your breasts, squeezing the supple flesh in his grasp, feeling how you fill up his palm so perfectly.

"Wonnie-" you whimper, watching how he manhandles your body, doing as he pleases with you.

"that's right, baby, Wonnie's right here"

His lips resume their work on your neck, pressing sloppy, heated kisses along your skin, occassionally nibbling at a particularly sensitive spot.

The hardened peaks of your breasts poke out enticingly, and Wonwoo knows it'll be criminal to leave them untouched. He pinches each one between his forefinger and thumb, rolling, tugging, squeezing the dark nubs, giving you a different kind of pleasure.

"oh my god-" you gasp, back arching when he tweaks one of your nipples with more pressure than before.

The motion sends a jolt of light all over your body, and you feel yourself yearning for more.

"didn't know you were such a dirty girl," he mumbles into your skin, "letting me touch you like this- must've needed a cock inside you really fucking bad, yeah?"

"uh uh- wanted you for so long Wonnie, just you"

Your voice is embarrassingly whiny and breathy, but Wonwoo hears you loud and clear. He looks at your reflection, meeting your eyes.

"just me, huh?"

You nod, biting your lip, suddenly embarrassed of your sudden confession-

"I- I like you,"

Wonwoo let's out a quivering breath, hands leaving your chest to pull you into a hug. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, taking in your scent as he leaves you with a muffled- "I like you too, god I really like you"

He sighs into your skin, relaxing as he doesn't have to hold his cards so close to his chest anymore. His feelings, your feelings, were out in the open. You feel for him the way he feels for you and that's enough.

The moment you share is almost sweet enough to let you forget the ache deep in your cunt.

Almost.

You need him.

"Wonnie,"

"yeah baby?"

"need you to touch me" Your voice is a mere whimper, you sound pathetic, but you can't bring yourself to care.

The corners of his lips turn up into a sly smirk, and you feel it against your skin. Wonwoo lifts his head, eyes finding yours, and you note a dangerous fire dancing behind his gaze.

His ankles hook over your own, trapping your legs under his as he spreads you open, completely at his mercy. You gasp, feeling your limbs move without your command, and Wonwoo mimics you, mocking your naive surprise.

"oh look at how pretty-" he mirrors your gasp, your wide-eyed expression, "all spread out for me, hm?"

For some reason, you can't bring yourself to bite back. Insults and snarky remarks flood your mind, and you chastise him internally, calling him an asshole, a cocky, arrogant idiot; but the sight in front of you brings you back to reality.

You like this- you like being mocked and ridiculed. You like being at his mercy, unable to control your body. The flush on your cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, tells you all you need to know.

Curse him in your head all you want, your body likes this.

Wonwoo let's his hand trail down, snaking past your collarbones, your tummy, just above the hem of your panties. You watch, transfixed, as his touch raises the tiny hairs on your body, creating a path of goosebumps.

A thick lump forms in your throat when he reaches where you need him most, and Wonwoo notices how your eyes are narrowed in on his hand.

"good girl, keep looking at yourself baby-" he breathes into your hair, sending a shudder down your spine.

Your heart swells at his praise, and you look at him, wide-eyed.

"hey," he warns, sliding a finger along your clothed slit before pressing down on your clit, "here. keep your eyes right here- you're gonna watch me fuck you,"

Your hips jerk up, jolting at the sudden stimulation, but his legs force you back down, pushing your body further against him.

Words escape you, your mouth feels dry, and your eyes snap back to the image of your clothed sex. The way his finger toys with your clit, teasing just enough, has you growing so desperate, you're willing to do just about anything to get him to touch you.

"Wonnie p-please," you shudder as his finger presses into you again, "please just- oh," Your voice breaks off into a broken moan when Wonwoo begins to rub firm circles into your clit.

The textured fabric of your lingerie adds an additional layer of stimulation to your nerves, sending sparks flying all over your skin like scattered fireworks.

"please?" he echoes, his tone mocking your own.

His fingers move faster, pushing down on your most sensitive spot, and you can't help but stare shamelessly at how effortlessly he plays with you.

Wonwoo reads the silent language of your body like no other, watching each crease in your forehead, each stutter of your hips to see what you need. Those long, slender fingers flick at you so easily, so deftly, it's as though he knows you better than you know yourself.

Soon enough, your clit throbs under his touch, and he knows you're close.

"oh sweetheart-" he coos, "I haven't even touched you yet-"

Your cunt clenches down at his condescending tone, anticipation building to a shocking crescendo. Just how far is he going to push you?

"m'gonna- fuck m'gonna cum-" you moan, head tipping back. Your legs twitch under his, and your thighs work tirelessly to press together, but in vain.

You're trapped.

"aw baby look," Wonwoo brings his free hand up to clasp your neck, forcibly turning your head straight. "so pretty like this- fuck you're shaking,"

Your eyes flick over your reflection, hazy as ever, and you feel your orgasm coming on. There's something so sexy about watching yourself come undone, watching Wonwoo spread you apart and use you like a little toy.

A wave of pleasure, approaching fast, washes over you as he works you up to your orgasm. The rough texture of your panties has you drooling, and soon enough, you're nerves ache from overstimulation.

"that's it, princess- so good for me,"

Wonwoo pushes the crotch of your panties aside, without warning, and dips two fingers into your cunt, pushing deep inside to collect your essence. Your body jolts in his embrace, thighs tensing with effort to squirm away from him, but again, there's no escaping.

"oh you taste like heaven," he groans, slipping his fingers into his mouth, licking up every drop he collected.

You find yourself entranced by the sight, watching him clean off his fingers, slipping his tongue so deftly between each digit, you can't help but wonder what it would feel like inside you.

Noticing the fascination with which you observe him, Wonwoo shoots you a sly smirk, letting your legs slip free.

'I know what you're thinking,'

"turn around,"

Your body moves on its own, following his voice, and you shift in his arms with your back to the mirror.

"now c'mere," he licks his lips, moving his hands to your waist, pulling you onto his thigh.

Within seconds, his lips are on yours, pressing needy, hungry kisses to your mouth. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you dizzy, in dire need of more.

Air escapes you quicker than water in a broken dam, and you find yourself growing light-headed, pulling away for breath despite Wonwoo's grumbling.

When you draw back for the third time, he's beyond frustrated, groaning as his lips chase yours.

"get back here." he seethes, hands gripping the flesh of your waist, "right. fucking. now"

Your body, unfortunately, is slow to respond.

Wonwoo curses under his breath before flipping you over, arms straining as he lays you down as gently as he can.

You yelp, clutching onto his biceps like your very own safety belt, and your eyes widen at how easily he moves you.

"what are y-"

"can't have you running away," he smirks, tongue running along his lower lip.

Balancing his weight on one arm while bringing your hand to touch the other, Wonwoo repeats himself-

"if you want to stop, tell me. if that isn't possible-"

"tap twice, got it" you interrupt hastily, impatient as ever. He smiles fondly at you, a soft huff of laughter spilling past his lips.

"that's my girl,"

Your nails run over a thick vein jutting out from under his skin, and he swallows thickly, Adam's apple dipping low into his throat.

"you're really fucking distracting, y'know that?" he tuts, grabbing your hand and pinning it up above your head.

Before you can respond, Wonwoo captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, shoving his tongue past your lips, and exploring the expanse of your mouth fervently as if he's trying to memorize the way you feel, the way you taste.

The hand on your wrist loosens its grip and Wonwoo runs his fingers down the inside of your arm- ghosting a feathery touch over the sensitive skin.

"Won-" you whimper into his mouth, desperate for air, but he doubles down, pushing his lips closer to yours. Your helpless, muffled whines fill his ears and he can't help but grin against your lips.

'you make the prettiest sounds,'

Finally showing mercy, Wonwoo lets you breathe, moving from your lips to your chest, kissing his way down to your soaked panties.

"made a mess of these-" You can practically hear the smirk in his voice and you want nothing more than to smack it off, but you know he's right.

"you'll clean me up though, won't you?"

Silence.

Wonwoo sucks in a deep, composing inhale. His eyes meet yours, and your breath hitches. There's a deep, dark desire, an untameable lust behind the browns of his eyes, one that sends a shiver down your spine.

His fingers hook into your panties, tugging them off firmly, and his jaw clenches at the sight of your bare cunt.

"fuck-"

As if under a spell, Wonwoo finds himself drawn to you, placing his lips to your sex. He sticks a kiss to your slit before running his tongue along your folds and you know you're done for when your legs begin to twitch.

"oh please-" you whimper, hips bucking up into his tongue, and his lips twitch up. He brings his tongue to your hole, prodding it inside you, flicking in and out as his hand splays over your lower belly, thumbing your puffy clit.

Your jaw falls slack, hanging open, and your head lolls over to the side in pure ecstasy.

Wonwoo moves inside you with ease, pressing into every spot you need, rubbing lazy circles into your sensitive nerves. A choked moan claws its way up your throat, flooding the room, and Wonwoo knows he's doing something right.

All those nights studying you, the way you touched yourself, the things you seemed to like- they paid off in the end.

Your breathing grows unsteady and rapid, and he moves faster, pushes deeper into you, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

"f-fu- Wonnie m'gon-" you stutter, breathlessly, and he hums an affirmation, his voice sending waves reverberating through your nerves. The added stimulation of his voice, buzzing through you, is just enough to send you over the edge, and you cum on his tongue, back arching off the bed.

Unable to control the sounds escaping you, you're a whimpering, moaning jumble of nerves.

"that's it, baby-" he soothes, easing his tongue over your cunt, lapping up the remnants of arousal as you shudder uncontrollably. "taste so fuckin' good,"

Wonwoo kisses up your torso, settling on his knees to take his clothes off.

The white tank goes first, revealing his chiseled upper body, and your jaw drops. He looks unreal. The sweatpants are next, leaving him in a pair of fitted black boxers that cling to the width of his thighs and do little to hide his size.

"you're still okay with this?" he asks one last time, fingers halting at his boxers.

Stunned by the view, you nod dumbly, lips still parted in surprise.

"baby- I need wor-"

"yes! yes- yes I'm o-okay with this" you blurt out, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"do you hav-"

"I'm on the pill" The boxers are shucked off.

Oh my God.

The mattress dips under his weight, dimples forming under his knees and elbows as he hovers over you. Wonwoo places a chaste kiss to your forehead, aligning himself with your entrance before easing into you.

"you-you're so big-" you breathe, feeling the wind knocked out of your lungs. "Wonnie- oh my god"

Your eyes widen, brows knitting together as he pushes further and further, until he bottoms out inside you.

"shi-shit that's it- takin' me so good-" he hisses, clenching his teeth.

The girth of his cock has your walls stretching wide, trying desperately to accommodate him, and your eyes roll back. Wonwoo finds himself in a bit of a dilemma, unable to figure out whether to keep his eyes on your face, contorting in undeniable pleasure, or on your cunt being stuffed full by his cock.

With each thrust of his hips, you feel him move further, reaching deeper inside you until his tip nudges your cervix, coaxing out strangled moans on your part. The thick, pulsating vein running along the underside of his cock drags against your walls, and you feel him grow inside you- getting even bigger than before.

"W-onnie-" you mewl, words cut off by sharp gasps every time he slams back into you. "too big oh my g-"

"shh, you're takin' me so good doll, doin' so fucking good for me-" His voice is tainted with effort, each consonant ringing sharp and breathy as his lips ghost over yours.

Every fiber in your body buzzes with electricity, sweat glistens off of you like gold- you're on top of the world right now. The pleasure you feel in this moment is simply unparalleled. Nobody has, or ever will, come close.

Wonwoo's motions pick up speed, as he hooks his arm under your thigh, pulling it over his back- angling himself deeper into you, reaching spots you don't even know exist.

The first thrust with this newfound angle has both of your lips parting, breathing out shaky "oh"s against each other. Tears well in your eyes and you shake your head, breathing ragged and fast.

Wonwoo lets out a huff, smirking like he isn't gasping for breath the same way your are-

"that's it- I know you're close baby"

His hand leaves your thigh, rubbing zig-zag patterns into your clit, just enough to steal that orgasm out of you. The calloused pads of his fingers show no mercy, pressing directly on your nerves, and your hole spasms around him. You're certain you can feel your heartbeat where his finger presses, you can feel his too with the way his cock throbs inside you.

"so goddamn tight-" Wonwoo seethes, now feeling his own high approaching. He continues his motions on your clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves from left to right, until you finally give in with a sob.

"m'cumming oh fuc- oh fuck"

The muscles of your thighs tense momentarily, cunt clenching down hard around his cock, before you let go completely. A warm, prickly relaxation washes over you, and Wonwoo grunts, releasing himself inside you.

His thrusts slow to a halt, and he lets out an airy laugh, in disbelief. He stares down at your disheveled frame- flushed, sweaty skin, blown pupils, hair tangled up around your head.

"you're beautiful," he breathes, unable to hold his tongue, and you giggle, turning away bashfully.

Wonwoo tilts your chin back, pulling you to face him-

"I really like you, y/n,"

You smile, eyes shimmering up at him. "I like you more"

There's a brief pause as you gaze into each other's eyes, before you realise something.

"wait- how'd you know wh-"

"sixth sense" he grins, eyes carrying just a touch of madness. "I know everything."

#seventeen #seventeen smut #svt smut #smut #anon ask #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #yandere wonwoo #stalker wonwoo #send help #seventeen wonu

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nereidprinc3ss · 3 months

Text

baby fever

in which reader and spencer discuss having a baby while at work

fluff warnings/tags: fem/AFAB!reader, bau!reader, BOYFRIEND!SPENCER or husband if u so desire, discussions of pregnancy/having a baby (obviously), reader wants a baby, so does spencer a/n: god i need him so badly. should i write follow up smut?? mwahaha evil emoji......

The coffee finished brewing minutes ago, but you’re still standing by the pot, watching Anderson’s daughter toddling around the bullpen on chubby legs. She’s not very adept at walking, but her spirit is indomitable—every time she tips a little too far forward, she catches herself and gets right back up. It’s not like she’s doing anything particularly impressive or even interesting, but you can’t take your eyes off her. Every movement makes your heart twinge, every giggle or curious quirk of her head is so adorable it physically hurts in your chest.

From your peripheral vision you see Spencer approaching, bearing his own empty mug, but not even he can draw your attention away from the adorable little pixie and her tutu and her pigtails.

“That is the cutest kid I have ever seen in my life,” you whisper to Spencer, hoping the quiet tone of your voice will help hide how much you feel like cooing and squealing.

He smiles to himself as he pours his coffee.

“That’s Rosie. Have you said hi yet?”

“I’m afraid if I talk to her I’ll try to keep her.”

“She is pretty adorable.”

You turn to him as he leans next to you on the counter, sipping his coffee casually.

“Adorable? Spencer. Puppies are adorable. You’re not understanding the magnitude of what I mean right now. I can’t explain to you how much adorable doesn’t cut it. I’m not kidding about the child abduction thing.”

HIs eyes slide around the room as he chuckles into his mug.

“Let’s maybe not joke about kidnapping a child in FBI headquarters.”

“I’m not joking,” you hiss. “I feel like I’m going insane. I just—”

At the last second you stop yourself, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“You just what?” Spencer asks, adjusting the hem of your shirt with his free hand. You glance down, watching the care he takes in the tiniest detail that you wouldn’t have given a second thought to.

“Is something wrong with my shirt?”

His eyes flick up to yours, hazel tinted with mild surprise.

“No. It just was sliding up your waist a little bit.” As he says it, his knuckles brush the bare skin of your torso. You suppress a shiver, studying his profile once he pulls his hand away and goes for another sip.

“Can we have one?”

Your inopportune timing results in coffee dribbling down Spencer’s chin as he quickly attempts to wipe it away, wide eyes torn between you and trying to assess the mess he’s made.

“You--you mean like a baby?”

“Yeah, like a baby,” you say, grabbing his shoulders and squaring them to you before dabbing the coffee from his face and jacket. He watches on as you clean him up, completely still except for his wandering eyes.

“I thought we were waiting on that.”

“Waiting for what? A better time? There’s never going to be a good time with this job. And it’s not like we’d have to quit. Look at JJ. She has two and still does it.”

“First of all,” Spencer begins, quickly recovering from your surprise proposition, “I don’t love the idea of either of us being in the field with you pregnant. And secondly, JJ also has Will and her mother to take care of the boys. We don’t have that. We’re both here all the time.”

“I don’t care,” you groan, trashing the paper towels once you’ve done the best you can with his clothing. “We’d figure it out somehow!”

“Mhm. It sounds like you’ve really devoted some careful consideration to this.”

You drop your head to your shoulder, giving him your best puppy dog eyes and pulling lightly on his shirtsleeve.

“Oh, come on. You haven’t thought about it at all? My perfect brain and your pretty face fusing to create a future Nobel-prize winner? Imagine how cute she would be, Spencer, we could put her hair in little braids and pigtails and we could dress her up and she could be in soccer and ballet and—”

“She?” he smiles, studying your face intently. You roll your eyes.

“Yes, she. Obviously we would have a girl. You—”

The idea of Spencer as the father of your daughter hits you like a tidal wave, stopping you dead in your tracks. The images materialize in your mind’s eye so clearly, it’s like they’re already memories, so real and tangible you have no doubt it must come to fruition someday. But if before, your ranting was mostly a silly fantasy—now it’s become a bit more intense.

He seems to sense your shift in mood. The big smile thaws slightly as he subtly grabs your hand on the counter.

“What? What’s wrong?”

There he goes again. Being kind. Being perfect.

Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t let them fall.

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I just... didn’t realize how badly I actually wanted that until I said it out loud.”

The concern in his eyes softens to pure affection as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand.

“I want it too. And whenever you decide you’re ready I’ll drop everything for you.”

His words are like compounding pressure to the deep heat within you—forming something so solid and perfect you don’t have to wonder if it’s real. A ten on the Mohs scale, a concept that gets closer to actualizing by the minute.

Your voice is quiet, revelatory as you admire the amber facets in his eyes.

“You’re ready?”

“I’ve been ready for quite some time,” he admits. And at once you feel the certainty of him paint your past and your future with one broad brushstroke. One day you will look back on your life and remember the time before Spencer, and that will be it. There is before Spencer, and with Spencer, but never an after Spencer. He wants to create something utterly permanent with you. “Come here.”

He sets his mug down, carefully pulling you forward so you’re toe to toe with your back to the rest of the BAU; so that only he can see you. Despite how good the two of you are at avoiding PDA, occasionally an exception is made. He tenderly wipes away the few tears that have sprung from your waterline and accepts your arms around his waist, mirroring your embrace and completely enveloping you.

“I love you,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, quiet enough that nobody in the office has a chance of hearing it. You sniffle.

“I love you too. Also you smell really good.”

He chuckles, hand roaming up and down your back for a moment.

“And that is why we are holding off on this at least for a while.”

“What do you mean?” you whisper indignantly as he gently peels you off him. His hands remain a steadying force on your waist as he smiles down at you beatifically.

“I mean let’s give it two weeks and see if you still want a baby when you’re not ovulating.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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cordyce · 1 year

Text

ao’nung is frustrated.

at least, that’s what you’ve deduced from watching him sharpen his knife for the past ten minutes straight. if he keeps going, it might get as thin as a wish bone; threatening to snap at the slightest bit of pressure. as much as you’d find amusement in the sight of that, you’d rather not be in the crossfire when it happens.

“what’s got you caught in its net?” you ask, finally, as you drop the gear you’ve been mending while ao’nung simmers.

“funny,” he mutters, but mirth is not something found in his tone. another scrape, another grating. he does not look over at you.

“i know. i’m the funniest person alive. you should be grateful you have the opportunity to bask in my presence.”

it’s a ploy—a tease. like waving fresh bait in front of a young ilu but never tossing it into the water for them to eat. your tactic with ao’nung is always the same. push and pull and prod just enough that he bites back with less venom and more demure. because sarcasm is better than spite, in all regards.

except now, he doesn’t take it. now, he simply keeps his head tucked down, his lips pressed in a hard line. whittling at his knife and spouting invisible steam out of his ears.

you stand up, make your way over to him and bend slightly at the waist to slide your hands along his sloped shoulders. his muscles go taut—just a bit—at the initial contact of your palms, but relax a second later. not to their resting state, no, but leaving the field of caught off guard at the very least. you hum, lean down further as you dip your hands over his clavicles, across the upper half of his sternum.

“what is wrong, ao‘nung?” its sincere, this time. your question. because despite the dynamic between the two of you, you really do care—jokes and jabs aside.

this silence is different. you can tell by the twitch of his ears that he’s thinking; mulling something over on his tongue before he decides whether to spit it out or swallow it down. you can never guess which one it will be, not with him. he acts on whims, never strategy. there is no speculating his next move, so you simply don’t try to.

“there has been talk among the reef.” it’s all he says; all he gives. such a shell of a man, forcing you to pry open his jaws to reach the pearl within.

it is good that you’ve always been so skilled with your hands.

“there is always talk among the reef,” you chuckle, begin to fiddle with the necklace that’s strung around his neck. hooking your chin over the top of his head, you look down to watch as he grinds his knife once again. “you know they like to keep their minds busy with silly things.”

“it isn’t a silly thing.”

“oh? then tell me, what is so dire that it could have the great ao’nung this tense, hm?”

his hands falter for the first time, a pause in his rhythmic grazing. your brows furrow at that, create a hairline crease in the middle that only smooths out as he resumes his motions. scrape, scrape, scrape again. it’s like he’s doing it in sync with his heart. if you shifted your hand over just a tad, you suppose you could test that theory.

“it is talk of you.”

quiet. a mere grumble under his breath. if you were not leaned over him like this you would not have even heard him. such an odd twinge to his tone; laced with something you can’t quite decipher. can’t quite pick up on. it isn’t necessarily anger, but something flirting along the lines of it.

“me? don’t tell me you have went around spreading rumors that i am possessed by eywa’s evil sister again. i thought you stopped that when we were kids.” you laugh through it, because the jagged edges of his timbre are making your fingers itch. “you’re going to ruin my reputation.”

he scoffs. condescending, dismissive. normally you’d take that as a good sign; a call back to his regular grating demeanor. at this specific moment, however, you find annoyance in it.

“your reputation is fine,” he tilts, gives a particularly harsh press of his knife that makes you think this just might be the time where it snaps. miraculously, it doesn’t. “so completely fine.”

“then what could they possibly find reason to speak of me for?” you press, rubbing your thumb over the cord of his necklace, twisting it around your fingers. “i have not caused any trouble lately. haven’t set fire to any maruis. why, there’s nothing that i can think of that could possibly warrant—“

“they speak of your lack of mate.”

his hands are working harder, less refined. jaw clenching, deltoids growing stiff below you. it’s all starting to air itself out, his jaws have cracked open just enough that you can finally see the pretty pink pearl that rests on the bed of his tongue. but it is not enough, not yet.

“then all they speak is the truth,” you shrug over him, keep your gaze locked on his movements. you want to be sure, before you jump to the assumptions that are creating hurdles in your mind. “there is no harm in speaking of public knowledge.”

“they—“ he hitches, twists his face up like his next words are sour on his tastebuds, “they are voicing their thoughts on potentials for you. they think.. rotxo is the best option.”

“oh, yes. rotxo would be a fine potential mate.”

and, ah. there it is. the coup de grace.

ao’nung snaps his head around towards you so fast you hardly have time to lean back to avoid getting smacked in the chin by his skull. there’s a fissure between his brows, his eyes have widened past the aggravated slits they were before. his mouth is cracked open in disbelief, of the fact that you agreed with him or another matter, you aren’t sure. either way, it is clear now what has been getting under the heir’s skin.

he's jealous. and you can't help but find that the slightest bit amusing. it's not often you have ao'nung in the palm of your hand like this; akin to a bug squirming under the pad of your thumb with no clear route of escape. you think you can play this up, just a little.

"you do not think that," he states, like he needs to speak it into existence. like if he says it then it will ring true, change your mind.

(he doesn't need to change your mind, but he doesn't need to know that right now).

"why would i not?" you hum, tip your head like you're truly contemplating it. "he is sweet. has a tender heart. and he is always so quick to help me. he doesn't even complain. i think taking him as a mate would be a good decision."

"the only thing good about rotxo is his hair," ao'nung spouts, rolls his eyes at you as his face fills up with indignation. "stupid, pretty boy goody two shoes."

"oh, you're right! and he's nice to look at," you agree, nod your head right along with it, "how could i forget?"

his cheek dips; he's sucking it in between his teeth. you've really done it, you think. setting him off has never been so easy. sure, it’s never too hard to get him riled up in the middle of a bickering match. but like this? aggravated over, what, exactly? the thought of you with someone else?

maybe you’re enjoying this a bit too much.

“he is not your type.” a bold proclamation, ao’nung spits out. grasping for straws; searching blindly. “you would not go well with him.”

“i think he is my type, actually,” you dispute, and he’s stopped all his movements now. knife long forgotten as he seethes over every word you speak. “kind. loyal. good morals. easy on the eyes. yes, definitely my type. that checks off the list.”

he purses his lips, knots up his brows. “that cannot be the list.”

“no?” you peruse, play into him. he makes this too easy, really. “what do you think is on the list, then? moody? messy? long hair? a tendency to be mouthy? being the chief’s son?”

that earns you a shove off of him; a click for him to realize you’ve been fucking with him this entire time. biting back your shit eating grin would be impossible so you don’t even try to. nor do you stop the laughter that bubbles out of you as he goes back to his knife work and curses you under his breath.

you reach for him again except this time you walk around until you’re in front of him. one hand on his shoulder, you lean down to shove the knife and sharpener out of his hands and plop yourself right into the slot his crossed legs have made. his gaze is narrowed at you, his lips jutted. you simply smile—innocent, sweet—as you slide your hands around to cup the nape of his neck.

“i don’t think rotxo could handle me,” you murmur, sickeningly saccharine in such a direct contrast from seconds before. ao’nung doesn’t budge. “and the good ones are always so boring. if he was my mate, when would i ever get the chance to get up to trouble?”

“you are trouble,” ao’nung scoffs; acting annoyed, fed up. but his hands give him away as they meet the dimples of your lower back, as they slide up your spine to hold you secure so you don’t fall backwards.

his facade of pretending to not care has never been too full proof. there’s been cracks in that glass since day one.

“your trouble,” you grin. your fingers begin to draw circles along the back of his neck, tease at his hairline. “you made me this way, you know.”

“i made you nothing,” he rebuts. “you are the one who always comes up with the pesky ideas that get us scolded.”

“ah, you’re right,” you agree with a faux sigh. “humor and brains. i guess i’m the funniest and smartest person alive. truly, you should be honored.”

ao’nung rolls his eyes, peels his hands off of you. “forget ability, i do not wish to handle you now. rotxo can have you, for all i care.”

“oh?” you quirk, begin to stand up. “should i go see what he is up to—“

“sit,” ao’nung orders before you can rise no more than a few inches off of his lap; hands gripping your waist to tug you back down. the playfulness drains from his eyes, that annoyance—jealousy—flashes across sea foam irises for just a moment. “you are not funny.”

you bite the edge of your lip, making your grin turn slanted. he is so fun to tease, to toss around. his palms are warm on the dip of your waist. sliding your hands further back, you skim your finger along the side of the braid encasing his queue. faint, light. he tries to hide the shiver it causes but you pick up on it regardless. and that only makes you grin wider.

“they will speak of me until i choose a mate,” you hum as you lean closer to him, minimize the distance between your faces. “rotxo is not the only name that will be paired with mine. they all like to place their bets, you know.”

“their bets are stupid,” ao’nung mutters; gruff and rumbling out of his chest as his attention flickers, falters, the closer you get.

being this close is nothing new. being this touchy is nothing new, either. but it’s almost like your skin is buzzing, your energies feeding off one another in the moment that sends you tumbling into a smug streak. or maybe, that’s just the power ao’nung holds over you and you’re scared to admit it.

“you only think they’re stupid because your name is being outnumbered in the betting pool.” maybe that’s a little mean, but it’s fun. your fingertips are heavier now, more directed as you trace the divots of his braid with one hand and gauge the rise and fall of his chest with the other. “if you were winning, would they be stupid then?”

“i am winning,” ao’nung conveys, so sure and lacking any sense of doubt in the slightest; a variance from a few moments before. and that, well, that actually makes you falter—for just a second.

“and how do you figure that?” you mumble out the question into the minute slot between the two of you. bated and breathy.

ao’nung hooks an arm around your waist, his other hand sliding up to grip the hinge of your jaw. not harsh, not rough, but firm. cradling you carefully but securely; solidly. your breath hitches, your fingers pause on their skimming across his queue encasing.

“because i am the only one who gets to do this,” he says. blunt and honest and certain as he closes the gap severing you.

he kisses you full and deep and warm. he kisses you like he has not eaten in days and you are the one thing that can sate his hunger. he kisses you like the ocean kisses the shore; yearning and all consuming, and rushing back once more as soon as their lips must part.

and he does; chase your lips as you pull back to catch your breath. places one, two, three pecks there before he deems it a safe retreat. his eyes are lidded, but no longer from frustration. that signature crooked, haughty smirk of his is curved into his pale lips. and instead of smacking it off, you’re considering how many more kisses it would take to wipe it away.

“oh yeah,” he chuckles, lips brushing over yours as he’s already leaning in again. “so winning.”

and you can’t help but agree.

likes & reblogs appreciated !

#i love him your honor #this is probably like. wildly ooc #LMAO #but pls enjoy it anyways bc he’s sooooooo >.<#ugh he’s babygirl fr !!!#ao’nung x reader #aonung x reader #ao’nung x you #aonung x you #ao’nung drabble #aonung drabble #avatar x reader #atwow x reader #atwow ao'nung

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zombienarc · 2 years

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#d and I got into a pretty nasty verbal fight. I called ugly while pointing out all of his insecurities. I told him he was stunted.#I told him that no one would ever touch him or love him besides me because he is disgusting and pathetic.#I told him he was worthless and nobody cares about him. Told him what my friends said about him.#All he could say is that I was evil and struggle with mental health because I’m pretty much a god and successful in life.#Then I doubled down and said ‘Kill yourself. Grab your gun and blow your brain all over the wall. I want to-#-see your death on the news while I eat popcorn’. He was broken by this and I knew it would break him because he’s been suicidal before.#He told me that I broke his heart and he was holding a knife to his wrist and really contemplated cutting for the first time in years.#The interesting thing is after bullshitting an apology he decided to stay with me.#He told me that I’ve broken him and I believe it. He is not the same person I met at the beginning of this year. He is a shell of a man.#He takes my word over his own when determining what we should do about our relationship and what is purpose and worth is to others-#-himself and I. I’m curious to see how far he will go to please me.#His blind devotion is something I desire from my partners but it almost makes me feel disgusted by them.#I start to not want to do anything romantic/sexual and JUST hurt them emotionally and physically.#They stop being people to me and then I suck the life out of them. I rank how long it took them before they could no longer be my romantic-#-partner. I enjoy keeping them as friends so I can see them struggle and do worse then me in life.#I enjoy when they try to get back with me.#grey god #d #b #m #p #I am a true sociopath because I feel this way 99% of the time but I am so good at appearing empathic and emotional.#The amount of fake tears I’ve cried is insane. I don’t feel genuine romantic love. It’s like a show to me. If you please me you’re safe.#If you hurt me then I’m certainly… Evil.

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hannieehaee · 6 months

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18+ / mdi

content: perv!wonwoo, established relationship, afab reader, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 2215

a/n: u can assume this is pt. 2 to this or just read on its own. they're not rlly connected at all but same premise 😭

masterlist

being wonwoo's girlfriend was quite an experience. when you'd first met the boy, - courtesy of an introduction through your mutual friend kim mingyu - he had seemed like an absolute gentleman. he was even a little more shy and reserved than most other guys, something you had found adorable during your first few dates. the shy looks and touches at the beginning of the relationship made your heart soar, but they didnt last too long. it wasnt until the relationship got a bit more serious that you got to know the real wonwoo.

although he still treated you like absolute royalty in every aspect possible, providing everything you could ever need and granting every wish you could even imagine, you hadn't realized how much of a pervert your boyfriend truly was until a few weeks into the relationship.

it wasnt like it was a huge issue. and its not like you were against his very obvious obsession with touching you, no. you welcomed it, even. who would be against the constant touch of a jeon wonwoo? denying him would feel like insanity for you, but it could sometimes get in the way of things.

it had just been getting out of hand as of late. you were on a call? too bad, he's rubbing his fingers on your pussy. need to wash dishes? he's eating your pussy from behind. gotta shower? he's stepping in and fucking you against the wall. you need to leave early in the morning? he's holding you back and fucking you into the mattress. your body was bruised and sore (in all the best ways possible) because he just could not be around you without dragging orgasm after orgasm out of you. it was pure, never ending pleasure, but it came with never ending interruptions in your every day life.

like now, as you tried to innocently watch a movie with your boyfriend. you knew it was coming, but you still allowed yourself to be caught off guard when wonwoo slowly scooted closer and closer until he was able to sneak his hand into your loose pajama shorts. without even saying anything, he began to rub at you, causing you to lose focus on what was playing on screen, eyes becoming heavy.

"nonu ... the movie," you whined half-heartedly, still wanting to watch the movie but also enjoying his soft touches too much to actually attempt to push him away.

"shh, baby. keep watching the movie," he kept rubbing at you, getting you wetter and wetter by the second, up until he determined you were wet enough for him to slip his fingers in, getting you to whine his name in the way he loved. your eyes closed as his fingers toyed with you, hitting all your favorite spots as you became putty under his hands.

"didn't you wanna watch the movie, baby? what happened? open your eyes for me," he was evil when he got like this. your pleasure was his only focus, but he would only give it to you under his own terms.

you attempted to open your eyes, but your body was working against you, causing you to writhe desperately at the way his thumb had moved up to softly toy with your clit while his pointer and middle finger pistoned in and out of you at a speed your body couldn't process.

"nonu! nonu, please, fuck ..." the high pitch of your voice gave you away without having to warn him of your impending orgasm. he knew all your tells by now, being fully aware that just a few more seconds and he'd have his fingers drenched by you.

"c-cumming! non-u!"

he removed his fingers from you, not bothering to wipe them before slipping them in your mouth without warning. "tasty. right, baby?", he chuckled to himself at your surprised yelp at the sudden intrusion in your mouth.

he snuck his hand right back in your shorts and gathered a bit more of your essence to stick in his own mouth, humming at the taste, "yeah, so fucking good," he scooted to your side, cuddling against you as you still caught your breath before pointing at the movie still playing on screen, "thank you, baby. now tell me what i missed?"

you were running a bit late today. you had stayed up late with wonwoo last night, doing things you were too ashamed to say out loud. so you weren't too surprised when you'd woken up and realized you had missed your usual alarm due to your heavy sleep. but it was fine! if you rushed, you could still get ready quickly enough to arrive at a respectable time. the only issue was, you were still buried against wonwoo's chest, strong arms wrapped around you as you felt him press himself up against you. you were pretty sure he was still sleeping, yet not surprised at realizing he was horny even in his sleep.

"nonu? are you asleep?", you attempted to peek at him from your angle, but only catching sight of a fluffy head of hair resting against your back.

he simply groaned in response, snuggling impossibly closer to you, causing you to feel him even more.

"wonwoo, i need to go ..."

"no you dont," he powered through half a sentence even in his sleepy state, "you still got time, don't you baby?"

"im gonna be late, nonu."

he began to unwrap himself from you, making you believe he was moving aside so that you could get up, except he had only disconnected from you so that he could get a better angle to begin to hover his body over yours.

"you have time, though. right, baby? just need five minutes," he mumbled as he began to press kisses to your neck.

your body betrayed you yet again, as you tilted your head to the side to give him more room to kiss on you, "i ... nonu, i'm already late," you left your arms limp on your sides, trying to not indulge on the man above you, but he kept instigating you with his touches.

"don't worry, hmm? ill be quick. you wont be late. promise."

you knew this to be a lie, but the moment he started grinding his hips against yours, you were gone. there was no longer any room for rational thinking in your now-empty head. your arms had now admitted defeat in pretending not to want to seek his touch, now lifting up to grab at his back as he canted his hips down. it was all very soft and slow, very much unlike wonwoo, but you couldnt blame him considering last night's events, when he'd quite literally fucked you into the mattress until the late hours of the night.

he seemed to grow tired of the mere friction after a few minutes, preferring to find your warmth instead. there was no need to undress, since you'd both remained in your nude forms from last night. he slipped in with no problem, groaning out your name into your ear at the feeling. he expressed his pleasure in a wide array of expletives against your ear, breath warm and heavy.

"you're always so tight, baby. so perfect for me."

"cant be away from this pussy for too long or i go insane. but you know that, dont you, baby?"

"driving me fucking insane, shit. pressing up against me all night. thinking i wont just fuck you into the mattress all over again."

"gonna keep this pussy here all day. gonna make sure you can't make it out of bed, baby. would you like that?"

his words had you feeling lightheaded, scratching your nails along the length of his back as he eventually sped up, clearly in search of his climax. wonwoo was always a little extra sensitive in the mornings, something about how pretty and warm you look after waking up, he'd once said. you felt the same, finally looking up to make eye contact with the pretty boy currently hitting your cervix over and over. the softness of his features early into the morning, still tired but simultaneously full of energy to fuck you with made you shudder.

wonwoo came first, filling you to the brim as he began to rub at your clit, wanting you to climax with him. you'd only finished a few seconds later, as he was barely coming down from his own high.

you both fell limp against the bed, side by side as you attempted to catch your breaths.

"baby ..." he spoke up first, "just call in sick. you're already late. i'll make it worth your while ..."

you didn't even need to respond, knowing your body would betray you once again.

it was a regular saturday. and every saturday you had the luxury of staying home, free of work. wonwoo had a tendency of matching his days off with yours, wanting to spend the very little free time you had together. unfortunately, most days off were spent running errands and doing household chores, which is what you were doing right now.

you'd usually split the household duties with wonwoo, alternating between what each of you would do. this week it was your turn to do the laundry, while wonwoo took care of vacuuming. you usually enjoyed doing the laundry, but unfortunately for you, this week you had to wash all your towels and sheets on top of the usual load of laundry. but you did it with no complaint, knowing your also-tired boyfriend was currently helping out with his part.

you focused on the laundry for a while, separating what needed to go on different loads while humming along to the song playing from your phone. that is, until you felt something, or rather, someone creep up on you from behind. suddenly hands had appeared on your hips, and a new warmth pressed up against your back. it was wonwoo, of course. unable to keep his hands off you once again.

"nonu, did you finish vaccuming?", you asked, barely reacting to his sudden touch, being completely used to him grabbing at you at any and every possible time.

he simply hummed against you, beginning to let his hands wander, landing on your breasts as he interrupted your folding of clothes.

you sighed, seeming frustrated but not actually being so, "wonwoo, i need to finish the laundry. later, okay?"

"baby ... c'mon. you want it too, i know you," with this, he began to fondle your tits, pinching at your nipples through your clothes and beginning a slow grind against you. he was hard again, at no one's surprise.

as anyone may have guessed, it didn't take long for him to get you to open your legs for him, sitting atop the drier as he hammered into you, banging your bodies against the harsh material of the machine. it was an uncomfortable position, granted, but the pleasure wonwoo always managed to give you overpowered any discomfort.

"n-nonu! shit, right there!", the lower angle in which he was ramming himself at was making you see stars, enjoying the way his pelvis ground against your clit.

he didn't tend to be too vocal, usually sticking to low groans and dirty talk against your ear, which is what he was doing once more.

"hate doing chores baby. just want your pussy .. hate how busy we are lately. gotta fuck you whenever i can. gotta keep you nice and full."

and full he kept you. having either fucked, sucked or gagged you multiple times throughout the rest of the day. his reasoning kept being that today was your one day off that matched both your schedules, and that he'd wanted to take full advantage of it. even after finishing inside you after fucking you on top of the drier for fifteen minutes, he moved on immediately to face you against him, lowering himself to the floor in order to lick at you from behind, eating some of his own cum in the process.

"so fucking tasty. jesus, baby you're perfect."

it was insane to you how insatiable the once shy boy was when it came to your body, but now wasn't the time to think about that. not when you were too busy throwing your head back and pushing your ass against his face in order to get him to lick and suck more at your swollen cunt.

he loved how responsive you were. never denying him and always enthusiastically letting him get away with whichever perverted escapade he wanted at the moment. the thought of his pretty baby being so nice and ready for him at all times made him shove his face even closer to you, sucking at your clit in a way that made you scream out his name. cumming came soon after, having felt overly sensitive after getting no break between your orgasms. you finished with yet another scream of his name, almost dropping on top of him as he lightly licked at you through your high.

"you okay?," he asked after getting up, helping you lean against the dryer in order to not drop due to your wobbly legs.

"you need to stop fucking me every five minutes, nonu. you're gonna render me useless," you chuckled out of breath, despite not meaning your words.

"yeah? let's test that theory out."

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen #svt fanfic #svt #seventeen smut #svt x reader #svt smut #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #wonwoo smut #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo oneshot #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines

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tropicalcryptid · 7 months

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Ok so She-Ra pulled such a great hat trick with Hordak's characterization, and I LOVE it

One of my favorite things about 2018 She-Ra is Hordak's story and development (and Entrapdak cough but that's not the point of this particular post), and the cleverest thing is that so much of it is actually being set up and told to us in seasons 1 and 2 before we even realize that that's what's happening.

When we first see Hordak in the show, he's giving "generic evil overlord" vibes. Garden-variety baddie. Maybe a little more reasonable than some and clearly capable of long-term thinking, but that just serves to make him intimidating. Everything about him--the way he runs his empire, his armor, his color scheme, his minion, his Villainous Eye Makeup(TM), even his name--are all projecting to the audience "yup, Acme Bad Guy here. Move right along."

But then, backstory. And everything snaps into focus. Not only is it one of the first big oh SHIT moments of the show, where we suddenly zoom out and realize that there is SO much more going on than we realized--it's also the start of the audience seeing Hordak as a character rather than an archetype. Suddenly we realize that he's not conquering Etheria because he wants power, or hates happiness and sparkles, or whatever--he's doing it out of a desperate attempt to prove his worth to his brother/creator/god. This moment where Hordak lets Entrapta in is also the moment the show lets us in on what makes our favorite spacebat tick.

On top of that, we've also seen him bonding with Entrapta and opening up to this person that he respects and trusts...probably the only person he's ever respected or trusted apart from Prime. And she's Etherian--someone of a lower species, someone he's supposed to subjugate, someone who he has been raised and trained and programmed and mind-controlled into believing is below him in every way.

But instead she's brilliant and creative and mesmerizing. She's not afraid of him, and she's fascinated with his work. For the first time since being abandoned by Prime, Hordak finally has someone that he can talk to, who is on his level and both understands and cares about the science! (because he is a giant nerd). She's kind to him, a mere defect. And it just sends his whole worldview into a spin, and that's all before--

Bam, mans is a goner. Entrapta's "Imperfections are beautiful" comment punches right through all the toxic bs that Hordak has been steeped in his entire life. You can see on his face here--I think it's the moment Hordak fell in love with Entrapta, but this is also the face of a spacebat reevaluating his entire worldview. If Entrapta, who is amazing, believes something different from Prime...what does that mean? If Entrapta, who is brilliant, believes that he is worth something, and that she herself is a failure...

Well. We know what happens after that, and how Hordak begins to doubt, and eventually fights back against Prime (and remembers his love for Entrapta after TWO mind wipes help my heart ack). But we also get to see what life in the Galactic Horde looks like: the only life Hordak ever knew before coming to Etheria.

It's not nice.

It's really not nice.

Prime operates in a very specific way, and we learn a lot about it in season 5. Prime expects complete obedience, devotion and worship from his clones. He allows no individuality from his subjects, not even a name. Failure or deviations are punished, mind-wiped, or destroyed. We even learn from Wrong Hordak that facial expressions are considered a privilege reserved for Prime (apart from, presumably, expressions of rapture caused by being around Prime).

And once we learn all of this, suddenly thinking about season 1 Hordak becomes very interesting indeed. The time we spend with the Galactic Horde and Prime throws absolutely everything that we know about Hordak into a whole new context. Now all those traits that made him a generic villain are actually hugely effective characterization! And what that characterization is telling us is that Hordak had already moved much farther away from Prime than we (or, probably, he) had realized, even long before he met Entrapta.

Horde Prime does not allow his underlings to have names, personalities, or any differences of appearance. Not only does Hordak allow this among his own troops, he chose a name for himself as well! Season 5 tells us that his very name is an act of blasphemy against his god. And yet Hordak took one for himself, and that name is part of the core identity he is able to hold on to when rebelling against Prime.

Horde Prime cast Hordak out when he showed signs of physical imperfections. Hordak not only keeps Imp (who is by all appearances a failed clone or similar experiment) around, he treats Imp more gently than we see him treat anybody or anything before Entrapta. Imp is not simply "generic evil guy's minion," he is proof of Hordak's capacity for compassion, and evidence that Hordak cannot bring himself to cast aside "defects" as easily as Prime. Considering where Hordak came from, Imp's existence is a huge, flashing neon sign telling the audience this guy here is better than the hell that molded him, and we don't even realize it until 4 seasons after it's been shown to us!

Very cool, ND.

There's more, though. Hordak's red and black color scheme? His dark eye makeup and lipstick? Very Evil Overlord chic. But nope! Actually these are actually expressions of individuality on a level that Hordak knows would be abhorrent to Prime!

Reading between the lines, I see this as Hordak desperately trying to reconcile two diametrically opposed beliefs in his head: (1) devotion to Prime, whose approval he desperately craves, and (2) maintaining some degree of unique personhood, of Hordak, from which to draw strength. Because a failed, defective clone cannot survive on a hostile world, cut off from the hivemind and from Prime's light. A failed clone cannot create an empire to offer Prime as tribute, nor build a spacetime portal from scraps and memory to call Prime back. A failed clone cannot create cybernetic armor to keep his hurting, weakened body alive; to force himself to keep going no matter what, to fight through the pain and the doubt by sheer force of will.

But maybe Hordak can.

And so there it is. Hordak had plenty of time to gain and explore his individuality while separated from Prime, but I think the reason he did it so effectively (while still deluding himself that Prime would forgive him for these little sins, if only Hordak could prove his value) is because he had to.

Wrong Hordak gained his individuality surrounded by kind, quirky people who took care of him; Hordak was ripped from the hivemind by Prime himself and had to fight for his survival against all odds. And that produced a dangerous and damaging foe for Etheria. But it also produced the one clone with the strength of will to defy Prime himself.

This is long and rambling, but ultimately my point is that 1) I love Hordak, and 2) I love love love love that the show was so clever about his characterization. We learn so much about him and how much progress he's already made in breaking from his psycho abusive cult upbringing, and we don't even recognize it until the show wants us to. Hordak had come so far, all on his own, before he met Entrapta. She just helped push him over the edge and finally realize (at least consciously) that Prime's worldview might not be the correct one.

Idk, I just don't know if I've ever seen all the trappings of Basic 80's Villain(TM) so successfully subverted, where looking back 4 seasons later is actually a smack in the face with the "effective character building" stick. Amazing.

#spop #she ra #she ra and the princesses of power #hordak #entrapdak #entrapta #horde prime #Spacebat #Deep character analysis #Gotta love clever writing #Seriously I could go on about this show for ages #I just love the characterization for everyone but especially Hordak #Best spacebat #I mean I love Wrong Hordak too but you know

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dilf-lover99 · 1 year

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And I Love Her | J.P.

Pairing: James Potter x Female Reader

Summary: The 3 times James tries to get the girl and the 1 time he finally does. Or In which James Potter is hopelessly in love with his best friend.

Warnings: so. much. pining., idiots to lovers, miscommunication(s), a dash of angst, some heavy kissing, james potter being the literal definition of boyfriendism

Word Count: 4.8k

a/n: hi ! james potter won the poll and i am so completely okay with it. i really intended for this to be angst but he's just SO boyfriend. this may be my favorite thing i've ever written and i really hope you enjoy it too ! p.s. i missed u guys lots and i'm so grateful you've stuck around after months of crickets from me. love u love u love u<3

(y/n).

Depending on who you asked, it was only a name. The name of a classmate, or a friend, or yourself, but only a name nonetheless.

Unless you asked James Potter.

It wasn’t only a name. Not to him. To James, it was everything.

Because it was your name.

Your name that hastened his heartbeat with every mention.

Your name that sent a salient stream of blood rushing to his cheeks, tinting them a lucent shade of scarlet.

Your name that, once mentioned, seemed to follow him everywhere, as though the wind itself would begin whispering it, rustling alongside the branches of the whomping willow tree before floating its way over to his ears, sounding sweeter than any melody he’d ever heard before.

To state it simply, James Potter was irrevocably, inconceivably, in love with you.

But saying it that way didn’t seem like enough.

He didn’t just love you with his heart, for his heart could stop beating. And he didn’t only love you with his mind, for his memories could fail him one day. James Potter loved you with the entirety of his soul, with every fibre making up his being. Of that, he was certain.

What he wasn’t certain of however, was how to bare his infatuated soul to you.

After all, how exactly does one tell his best friend he’s besotted with her?

He tried the gentle approach first.

The train back to Hogwarts was filling up quickly. Stories of his peers’ summer holidays flow obstreperously through the air as James’ eyes remain glued to the door of him and his friends’ usual compartment.

“Ease off it with the evil eye, Prongs. She’ll be here.” Sirius’ teasing voice breaks James away from his thoughts, which were unsurprisingly fixated on you.

He doesn’t bother denying it, well aware he’s been staring daggers at the door since he stepped foot off platform 9 ¾, anxiously awaiting your appearance after spending the entire summer holiday apart from you.

“Leave him be, Pads. He misses her.” Remus interjects kindly, not lifting his eyes from the well-worn pages of whichever book he’s decided to burrow his attention into for the ride back to Hogwarts.

“Well he can join the bloody club then, can’t he?” Sirius starts, intent on ignoring Remus’ suggestion, “I’ve just about fallen for her myself after spending my entire holiday listening to this git recite his bloody sonnets for her,” he continues with a not-so flattering mimicry of a lovesick James, “It is the east! And (y/n) is the sun. O Romeo!” He throws himself dramatically to the floor on his knees, clasping his hands above his heart.

Peter watches the spectacle with a grin, covering up his chuckle with a cough after James sends him a look of warning. Before James can defend himself against Sirius’ melodrama, the door to their compartment slides open, revealing a beautiful and slightly out of breath you.

And suddenly you’re not the only one who’s out of breath.

You’ve gotten even prettier over the summer, somehow. If somebody had asked James before, if he thought you could possibly have gotten any more beautiful, he’d’ve laughed in their face, telling them tales of how your beauty could put Aphrodite to shame. But now? Now his heart was beating so violently in his chest he was almost certain it was attempting to escape, trying to take its rightful place upon your sleeve.

“Sorry I’m late, I nearly broke my neck out there!” You stop briefly to catch your breath, the jog on your way over winding you more than you’d care to admit. “Someone ought to tell those first-years there’s enough seats on here for the lot of us. I’ve just been walloped by a bloody eleven year old! Cheeky little-” You cease your rambling amidst your confusion at the sight before you, Sirius on his knees at James’ feet.

“Have I interrupted something? Perhaps a proposal of sorts?” You jest, your amusement growing at the wide eyed look on James’ face as he scrambles to stand, coming to greet you properly with a hug that doesn’t last nearly as long as you wish it would.

“No!” He protests instantly, amidst wrapping you in the soft embrace.

“Cor, I’ve missed you.” He mumbles after pulling away, leaving a hand on your back as he gently guides you to your seat beside him, hesitant to do so, as once you’re sat he’ll no longer have an excuse to touch you.

“I missed you more!” Your enthusiasm brings him optimism, there’s a chance she means it the way you do, he thinks, there’s a chance-

“And what of me?” Sirius and his bloody interjections. James has half a mind to lock him out of the ruddy compartment and leave him to fend for himself amongst the overzealous first-years.

“I’m sorry, have we met?” You feign confusion, though not very well, James can see the brilliant smile forming leisurely upon your lips. What I would do to those lips, his thoughts are running rampant after a summer spent away from your presence, too caught up to hear the jokes you and Sirius are trading back and forth, and that laugh! His internal monologue continues, ’s like a proper bloody song. Just ask her, right now. If she says no you can play it off as a joke. It might sting a bit, but surely it’d be better than keeping it all locked away.

“Will you go to Hogsmeade with me? Just us two? We’ll have a lovely time, I swear it.”

He knows what he was hoping you’d say, something along the lines of ‘Yes, James, I’d love to!’ but he wasn’t expecting it.

He also wasn’t expecting your given response.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Jamie, thank you! D’you see that, Sirius? A helpful suggestion. You ought to try one of those sometime.” You’re back to chatting with Sirius and Remus as Peter leans over to James, whispering an explanation to his visibly confused friend.

James had caught you mid-complaint about how you’d forgotten to bring the dittany leaves you need to make the special healing chocolates you gift Remus after a particularly bad full moon. After Sirius’ not-so-helpful suggestion to try substituting them with pot leaves, you gladly welcomed the chance to pop over to Hogsmeade with James and buy some more.

You’d mistaken his date proposal for a shopping trip.

Marvellous.

This is going to be the year that James tells you how he feels. He’ll make sure of it.

If for no other reason than this was your seventh and final year at Hogwarts together. His stomach churned at the mere idea of allowing you to slip through his fingers for good; you acting as the coarse sand to his adamant hourglass. He wouldn’t have it.

So he’d try again.

In the few weeks since you’ve returned to Hogwarts, your time’s been consumed by studying for your N.E.W.T.s. You’re also determined to acquire a spot in the internship programme at St. Mungo’s. The sheer amount of time you’ve spent there with your boys over the last few years has more than prepared you for a future as a healer if you end up enjoying the work.

“Alright, who was the first witch to extract floo powder?” James has spent the last hour and a half quizzing you on all matters Herbology, if it were anyone else he’d’ve been bored to slumber by now. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was you.

The two of you were sat outside together on a blanket, taking full advantage of the uncharacteristically sunny day. James is leaned comfortably back against a tree as you sit across from him, simultaneously taking notes and answering each of his questions without pause.

“Ignatia Wildsmith. Ravenclaw. Come ‘ead James, I’ve told you to stop going easy on me! Every seventh-year applying will know all of these.” Bloody lucky I love her so much, James thinks to himself, I thought that was a hard one.

He’d like to laugh your nerves away, crack a few jokes and tell you that you may be going a bit overboard. You’re going to get the internship, and not just because you’re brilliant and perfectly qualified, but also because your Herbology professor had written a glowing recommendation letter singing your praises.

But he can’t find it in himself to mess around when you’ve got that adorable little wrinkle between your eyebrows displaying your worry, and your lips have turned down into a delectably kissable pout. It takes nearly everything in him not to brush it away with his own lips.

“(y/n),” He starts, wetting his lips with his tongue as he desperately attempts to keep his thoughts from overtaking his voice, “It’s going to be alright, I promise. You’re more than ready for this. Why don’t we try taking a little break?” His heart feels as though it’s leapt into his throat when you glance at him and send a delicate smile of gratitude.

“I’m sorry, Jamie. We’ve been at this for hours, you must be exhausted of me by now.” You smile, more cheerful this time as you realize a break is precisely what you need.

James can’t contain the laugh that escapes him.

Exhausted? Of you?

The absurdity of thinking he could ever grow tired of you was an inherently laughable concept to him.

He’s nearly clutching his stomach when he finally manages to compose himself, making heart-stopping eye contact with his equally amused and puzzled best friend.

“Are you mad?” James’ dimpled smile sets a kaleidoscope of butterflies aflutter in your stomach, “I’d spend all my hours with you if I could.” He means it with every atom that makes up his being, he’s meant it for years but now he’s actually saying it to you.

Your smile grows wider with each word he speaks, your own thoughts matching the underlying sentiment of his articulation more than he could ever know.

“I-” He pauses, inhaling deeply and squeezing his eyes shut tightly in an effort to maintain his courage, “I love you.” You did it, he thinks to himself proudly, you actually bloody did it, Prongs! He exhales shakily, reinitiating eye contact with you as a small smile begins to blossom on his tender lips.

“James,” Your voice holds an underlying tone of sadness that causes an adorable crinkle of confusion to settle between James’ eyebrows, “I love you too.” You smile tightly, almost as though it’s causing you discomfort to do so.

“You do?” James is more perplexed now than he had been when you’d explained to him in painstaking detail the intricate relationships between each member of Fleetwood Mac the first time the two of you listened to Rumours together.

“Of course I do,” Your smile stretches intimately, the somber quality of your voice never wavering, “You’re my best mate, after all.”

Best mate? James thinks, is that really all she sees?

Had he not been so caught up in his own racing thoughts, he may have picked up on yours. He may have realized that his situation was holding a gargantuan mirror up to your own, casting a perfect reflection of the feelings within.

Best mates, you internally chastise yourself, that’s all he sees.

A proper bloody mirror.

“It was completely humiliating, Pads. She might as well’ve called me her bloody brother.” James has been yammering on about what happened that day for the past three weeks. Three weeks. Sirius is going positively mad, somehow having become James’ sounding board to rehash his complaints every time he remembers the encounter.

“I mean, how am I supposed to tell the girl I’d like to spend the rest of my life with her now?” James is pacing back and forth agitatedly at the foot of Sirius’ bed, as the aforementioned boy lays back uninterestedly, wishing his duvet would come to life and swallow him whole in an effort to escape the worlds most redundant conversation.

“She’d probably tell you that sounds lovely. Make you her future child’s godparent.” Sirius jokes dryly.

James abandons his invisible footpath, a wave of panic comically widening his warm hazel eyes substantially.

“She what?”

“For Merlin’s sake, Prongs! I can’t take any more of this,” Sirius sits up agitatedly, now far beyond his capacity for James’ lovesick commentaries, “Just go tell her. Right now.”

“Are you mad? Have you not just heard everything I’ve said?” James would normally find humour in Sirius’ lackadaisical attitude, but confessing his feelings for you was an entirely serious matter with no margin for error.

“Oh I’ve heard it, Prongs. For the past three weeks. And the entire bloody summer. And every single year before that.” He moves to stand in front of James, his agitation fading into sincerity, “I know how you feel, Prongs. But does she?” James swallows thickly as Sirius continues, “I don’t mean just telling her you love her, I mean telling her how you love her. As more than a friend. Maybe she feels the same way.”

James takes his time considering Sirius’ words. He’s tried to tell you, clearly, but he assumed that you’d only seen him as a friend. But what if you hadn’t? What if Sirius is right, and you told him you loved him as a friend because you’d assumed that’s what he’d meant when he said it?

“I’m a proper git, aren’t I?” James concludes aloud.

“Most certainly, Prongsy. It’s why I keep you around,” Sirius’ playful mood returns swiftly, “Makes me feel better about myself.”

You’re talking softly with Remus in the library, voices low enough not to disrupt your peers but just detectable enough for James to catch your words when he finds you, internally preparing his declaration of unwavering devotion for you.

“You’re not going out with him, are you?” Remus’ hushed voice holds a curious tone.

“Of course not, Rem.” You smile softly, “Could you honestly imagine that? Him and I dating?”

James’ eyebrows furrow together in confusion, he presses himself slightly against a nearby bookshelf in an attempt to hear your conversation more clearly.

“No, I guess not,” Remus chuckles faintly, “It would certainly make things awkward if they didn’t work out. Being friends and all.”

“No kidding.” You chuckle good-naturedly.

James feels like a bag of cement has been poured down his throat, constricting his lungs and settling into a block of concrete in the pit of his stomach.

Sirius had been wrong. You didn’t love James as more than a friend, in fact, you’d practically laughed at the thought of it. In his hasty escape from the scene of the melancholic crime, James neglected to hear the rest of your conversation with Remus.

“He’s a lovely lad, truly,” You smile genuinely, “Any girl would be lucky to call Amos Diggory her boyfriend. We’re just better as friends is all.” You trail off, leaving out the part where your heart already belongs to another shared friend of yours and Remus’.

It’s not like it was ever going to happen anyway. Your love for James Potter was entirely unreciprocated.

Wasn’t it?

James is avoiding you.

As painful as it is to spend each never-ending moment of spare time away from you, James can only think of how much more agonizing it would be to spend those moments with you.

To fix his loving gaze on your sparkling eyes, only to find them filled with affections one would hold only for a friend.

To accomplish the feat of bringing a luminous smile to your delicate lips, only to remember those lips would never brush tenderly against his own.

To be so close to the girl he loves, only to be denied her heart in equal measure.

It’s easier, in a sense, to push you away.

It’s only temporary, just until he can stomach the thought of spending the rest of his life as your best mate and nothing more.

But it’s been weeks, and the idea still makes his head feel like it’s underwater, like he’s fighting to reach the surface but his leg’s been caught on a viciously determined blade of seaweed.

Still, he’s convinced himself that this is his best course of action.

Unbeknownst to James, however, you’ve been going stark raving mad.

You’ve hardly spoken to him in weeks. When you think about it, you’ve barely even seen him, save for a few quick glimpses in your classes and across the dining tables in the Great Hall.

You’ve tried to talk to him, clearly something is bothering him. Maybe you’ve said or done something to upset him without realizing it. But he’d brushed you off before you could even get out the words ‘are you alright?’

You’d asked Remus, Sirius, and Peter about it, each of them giving you vague semblances of justification that fell entirely flat, a few “He’s just busy with quidditch”s and a couple of “Must be studying today”s. You’ve grown tired of the excuses and you’re determined to get to the bottom of it yourself.

You’re leaning picturesquely against the wall outside of the lad’s changing room when James finally sees you again. His curly hair is spilling droplets of water from the shower he’s just taken, successfully washing away the evidence of his quidditch practice.

You’re beautiful. That’s all he can think as he finally allows himself to take you in fully for the first time in weeks. He feels like he’s been holding his breath since he saw you last and now he can finally exhale, a sense of euphoria filling his chest as his lungs deflate mercifully.

“Hi.” You state gently, a delicate smile painted daintily across your lips.

“Hi.” James echoes once he’s relearned the inhale-exhale repetition of breathing again.

“I waited for you,” You start after a brief silence, “Which- You can see that, obviously.” You chuckle a ebullient breath that causes a small smile to form on James’ face, Merlin, I’ve missed that, he thinks as you continue. “I just, um- I thought maybe we could talk?” You’re fiddling with your fingers, a nervous habit of yours that James has long since memorized by now.

He instantly reaches for your hands, tenderly taking one in his own and carefully intertwining your fingers together with his. The action is like second nature, he hardly thinks twice about it.

You smile visibly at the act of comfort, if he’s upset with you and that’s the reason he’s been avoiding you, it makes your heart skip a beat that he’s putting it all aside to calm you down when you’re anxious.

“About what?” He tries, though you both know that’s not going to work.

“Nice,” You smile teasingly, “Want to give it a real go this time?”

James swallows something akin to a lump in his throat, averting his resplendent hazel gaze from your eyes to land somewhere along the floor as he overthinks which approach he should take.

He could try honesty. Yes, he thinks, because that would go over proper well. I’m avoiding you cause I’ve been gutted since I heard you’re not in love with me. Surely she’ll find that real mature, Prongs.

He could also try lying his arse off. And that would work, he sarcastically chastises silently, Me? Oh nothing’s wrong at all. Just tired, y’know? Practice and homework and the like. As if she’s ever believed a lie you’ve told her before.

He finally chances resuming eye contact with you, heartbeat hastening expeditiously as his hazel orbs lock onto your patently awaiting eyes. You should be looking far more frustrated, James wouldn’t blame you if you were. You have every right to be upset, and yet you’re not.

Instead, you’re you.

You, who’s calmly awaiting a response, fingers still gently intertwined with James’.

You, who’s looking at him with soft, sparkling eyes, eyes that are silently promising him no matter what he says, everything is going to be alright.

You, the girl he loves more than anything in the world.

“You.” He states after an implicit eternity.

“Me?” Your features mix together to create a perfectly darling display of confusion that, even despite the circumstances, causes a modest smile to tug upwards at the corners of James’ mouth.

“I’ve been avoiding you.” He conveys, sounding as though he’s just revealed to you a hidden secret you’d’ve never otherwise been able to uncover.

You can’t contain the short laugh that escapes you, a smile taking its rightful place on your face. “Yeah, ‘m not exactly Sherlock Holmes, but I managed to put that one together.”

James can’t subdue the traces of guilt that seep onto his face.

“I was hoping maybe we could talk about why. If I’ve done something to upset you-”

“No!” James cuts you off, “No, love, you haven’t done anything. Nothing you could control anyway.” His voice is less than half of its usual volume at the last sentence he utters.

Your face is back to holding that adorably confused expression that James so desperately yearns to kiss away.

“I have to admit, Jamie, I’ve got no idea what you’re on about.”

James sighs, finally releasing the hand that’s been holding comfortably on to your own and running it through his leisurely drying hair. He releases a sigh of distress and squeezes his eyes shut firmly in an attempt to figure out the best way to explain himself.

“If you’re not upset with me, then why have you been avoiding me?” You’re trying to put it together on your own as James is proving to be no help, “Wait a mo! Is this some kind of prank or something?” You smile, though you’re not entirely certain you’re correct yet, “Are you trying to get back at me for dying your knickers pink? Because that was an accident!”

James can’t help but smile at your incorrect deduction. Merlin she’s adorable he thinks, how am I supposed to tell her now?

“Yes!” James concludes untruthfully, “You got me. Just a prank. Might’ve gone a bit too far with it though. Sorry ‘bout that, love.”

He brings you into a hug and, after going weeks without it, it feels like home.

You feel like home.

You’re hugging James, after having just gone weeks without it. And you just know.

You have to tell him.

You have to tell him, right now, that you’re in love with him.

And so you do.

“I love you.” You state breathlessly, pulling away from the warm solace of his embrace and looking bravely into his glimmering hazel eyes.

James nods his head mechanically, as if he’s agreeing to your suggestion on what to have for dinner and not taking in the confession of eternal love you’ve just spouted.

“Yes, I love you too,” He smiles a tight, strained smile, “Mate.�� He punctuates his final word by bumping his fist gently into your shoulder.

Oh, you think, I’m going to have to spell it out for him, aren’t I?

“No, James. I love you,” You take a step closer to him, not breaking eye contact despite the nerves that are jostling around your insides like a violent sea in a raging storm, taking a deep breath before exhaling somewhat expeditiously, you continue, “Like- Like, I’m in love with you.”

The first thing James feels in that moment are his eyes widening emphatically behind his round-rimmed glasses, his dark lashes making direct contact with the top of his eyelids. He’s certain he must have heard you wrong, that or he’s understood you wrong.

The second thing he feels is hope. What if he hadn’t understood you wrong?

The third thing he feels is his heart, beating faster than it ever has before, so fast he thinks it might be ready to do him in for good. Surely a heart shouldn’t be beating that fast.

“You’re in love? With me?” James speaks disbelievingly, though he’s unable to hide the traces of optimism he’s feeling as a modest smile begins to form on his face.

You nod your head assuredly, a genial smile of your own starting at the sight of his, “Yes, I’m in love with you. Madly, in fact.”

You’ve spent months, years even, deliberating on how you would tell James, if you would tell James. You’d spent countless hours wondering how he would react and what would happen after all was said and done.

You’d planned to tell him all about that. About how long you’ve felt this way, when it started and why it’s taken you so long to tell him, how you were too afraid of risking your best friend should anything have gone wrong.

What you hadn’t planned on was what happened the second you got the last word out.

James eagerly presses his plush lips onto your own, savouring the long overdue sensation of your mouth against his. He tenderly brushes your bottom lip with his tongue once he feels you respond to the kiss with equal fervour. Enthusiastically, you grant his tongue access into your mouth, pulling him closer to you by the roots of his damp hair.

James lets out a low groan at the contact, pulling you flush against his body by your waist, his hands hungrily gripping onto you for dear life as, somehow, the kiss deepens even further.

When the need for oxygen outweighs your mutual need for each others lips, you reluctantly part the slightest of distances, foreheads resting tenderly against one another.

“I’m in love you too. So bloody madly.” James whispers contentedly with a lovesick grin.

You’re each donning smiles brighter than you can ever recall before.

The moment you’ve caught your breath you’re back at it again in full force, gripping at each others clothes and tangling nimble fingers through the other’s hair. James pulls back when your beaming smile makes it a little harder for him to kiss you, returning a smile just as wide that compels you to pull him back in for another kiss, or two, or three.

When the two of you finally feel satiated enough, James pulls back again, a noticeably farther distance. He’s still smiling but it isn’t quite as bright as it was a moment ago.

“What was all that about in the library, then? With Moony?” He asks you the question that’s been clawing at his insides for the last few weeks.

You pause, visibly confused as you shuffle through the files of your memories until you land on one a few weeks ago with Remus in the library. The two of you were discussing a friend who’d asked you on a date. You’d declined as politely as you could, valuing his friendship but knowing your heart had long since been beating for James.

“What about it?” You smile confusedly.

“Well, you were talking about me, weren’t you?” James looks down to the floor, expression now almost devoid of the happiness that had previously overtaken every inch of his face.

“What?” You laugh briefly before it registers, not just his words, but the reason he’s been avoiding you for the last few weeks.

“Wait- James!” You tilt your head into his line of vision, gently cradling his face with your hand as you turn his head to face you fully, “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? You thought.. Oh, Merlin.”

You pull him into a hug, holding him tight enough to convey just how wrong he’s been.

“I was talking about Amos Diggory.” You state with a gentle exhale, something between a laugh and a sigh, pulling back you rest your arms at your sides. “He asked me to dinner.”

James doesn’t hide the relief that courses through his body, despite the slight scoff of jealousy he lets out at your final sentence.

“But,” You wrap your arms back around him in reassurance, looking up into his eyes that are once again sparkling with happiness, “I’ve been a tad busy, being in love with my best friend and all. So I told him no. Obviously.”

“Right, obviously.” James replies with a cheeky smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You’re a git, you know.” You roll your eyes, the action a mixture of lovesickness and frustration. “You could’ve just asked me then. Instead of hiding in the books like a proper stalker. And then avoiding me. For weeks,” You’re smiling, but you know you’re still getting your point across, “You git.” You punctuate your final word with a gentle swat to James’ chest, smiling adoringly when he grabs that hand and brings it up to his lips, placing a tender kiss to it before dropping your intertwined hands back at your side.

“I know,” He admits apologetically, “I’m sorry.” He’s smiling breathtakingly, “Still love me?”

You can’t find it in yourself to be upset with him, because in some roundabout way, it’s what led you to this moment right now, where you can reach over and kiss him if you want to.

And you want to.

Pulling him into you by the fabric of his shirt, you plant another kiss upon James’ lips. The passion and tenderness in the kiss meld together just as perfectly as your lips do.

“Yes.” You mumble happily when your mouths finally break apart. “Always.”

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