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nightowlfandom · 4 years ago

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Billy Loomis And Stu Macher x Reader- Our Favorite Girl (Slight gore warning)

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Leggo!

...(Trigger warning, stabby stab)

“Hey newbie!”

You looked up from your textbook to find Stu Macher prancing up to you. With a polite smile, you greeted him.

“Hi Stuart.” you said. “How are you?”

“Hey! I said you didn’t have to be so ‘oooh hi Stuart I’m so prim and proper.’ “ he laughed out loud. “We’re friends aren’t we?”

“I guess so.” you laughed nervously. “ Um...what’s up?”

“I’m havin’ a party and you’re coming!”

“Parties?” You frowned. “I-uh...” you wanted to reject the idea. You hated parties and your parents would probably blow a fuse if they knew what was going on around town. ‘Stuart, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not, kitten?” he winked. “Afraid to be seen with little ol’ me?” there was a darkness behind his words that you couldn’t ignore. “Don’t like being out after dark?”

“I’m not the partying type is all.” you shrugged. “If you hadn’t noticed, I’m not the most popular person around here.” you stared down at your shoes. “I just don’t wanna ruin your party. I’m the last person you wanna be seen with.”

“It’d make me real happy, kitten.” he stepped forward and slipped his fingertips under your chin and made you look up. “Please? Just for a few minutes.”

Call it weakness, but you couldn’t say no to him.

“Okay.” you smiled lightly. “I’ll go”

“Great! Don’t worry, it’ll be super memorable.” he winked as he skipped off.

Later on, you were walking to your locker only to bump into Adam. Typical bully. “Hey Y/N. Heard you were going to Macher’s party tonight...you gonna wear a dress for me?”

“No.” you answered curtly. “It’s amazing how you don’t seem to have anything better to do other than shove your nose into my business.” you hugged your books to your chest. “Can I go now?.”

“Hey...is there a problem?” you turned around to find Billy Loomis stalking up to you. You had seem him a handful of times but never actually talked to him before. “You...where do I know you from?”

“I sit behind you in English. We had a project together once.” you replied sheepishly. “Stuart forces me to sit between him and his girlfriend at lunch when they’re fighting. You talk to me from time to time...”

“Stuart...” he raised an eyebrow. “You mean Stu?”

“mhm! You probably don’t remember me because I never reply...” you nodded.

“You goin’ to his party or somethin’?”

“He asked me to go.” you trailed off. “You’re going too, right?”

“ Why? Excited to meet me there?”“ he smirked, totally ignoring Adam at this point.

“I mean...” you stared down at your books. “I was hoping someone I’d know would be there.”

Billy raised an eyebrow at you. You gave off a shy aura and for some reason he was into that. He and Stu had been planning a massacre, and they were gonna blame that damned Sydney Prescott. It was the perfect crime.

“Hm...I’ll see you there.” he winked at you, then sent a death-bringing glare at Adam. “Problem, handsome?” he sneered as he passed the athlete.

... at the party

“Not even three hours in and I have to hide...” you cursed yourself out. “Damn asshole...!”

Adam was informed that you had arrived and was looking for you, shit!

You ran into the kitchen, losing your breath. “Billy?”

The suspect in question whipped around. Billy was holding what you assumed was the house phone and instantly hung it up. “Hey...”

“Am I glad to see you.” you sighed.

“Somethin wrong?”

Billy was in the middle of executing his plan, but for some reason he couldn’t help but want to talk to you.

“Adam is looking for me.” you sighed. “Could I...stay here with you? Please?”

Billy smiled, darting out his tongue to run across his bottom lip. You were absolutely adorable. “I have a better idea.” he smirked, walking up to you. “Why don’t we send him a little message?”

“You have a girlfriend.” you put a hand on Billy’s chest. “I c-can’t.”

“Not anymore...she dumped me for Randy.” he tusked. ”Figures right?”

“Well...that’s her fault...you’re pretty cool.” you bit your lip.

“So...” Billy tilted your head up towards you. “Let me-”...he gently kissed your lips. While it felt wrong, you melted into him. He held the side of your face in his hand. Sidney wasn’t your friend, not by a longshot, but you still respected her. The fact that Billy was so willing to kiss you, like this.

“For once...stop worrying about other people.” he mumbled against your lips. “Just live in the moment...shit I know what I want...you know what you want...so act on it damnit.”

“Are we still talking about getting Adam off me back or-”

“Shush...don’t think.”

“Kinda hard to when your girlfriend is in the other room”

“Shut up.” he shushed you, tightening his arms around you. You kissed him back with just as much urgency. How would the others react, seeing this...seeing you. Billy backed you up against the counter. Before it could get any farther, you both heard screaming, girlish screaming.

“What the hell was that?” you asked, feeling your heart race.

“Stay here.” Billy ran in the direction of the noise, leaving you to stand there in terror.

You could hear screams and cries for help, followed by what sounded like gleeful laughter. You were left frozen in place as a man with a mask on his face kicked open the kitchen door.

You immediately braced yourself with a kitchen knife.

“Stay back!” you warned. “I will cut you!”

“Easy kitten, I’m not gonna kill ya.”

Call it ignorance. Call it instinct, but there was something familiar about the way this stranger spoke to you.

“What did you just say?” you dared ask this man. “Did you just call me kitten?”

“You’re naive, childish...and adorable...like a little kitty cat.” the way he laughed under the mask led you to believe he was laughing with his tongue stuck out.

There was only one person that you knew who spoke like that. You slowly lowered the knife and walked up to him cautiously. The figure didn’t move in the slightest. You were standing toe to toe with him.

You cautiously raised the mask only revealing the bottom half of the strangers face...only they weren’t a stranger.

“Stu.” you concluded.

“....You said my name.” he flirted.

“Care to explain?”

“In a bit...got something to take care of.” he straightened his mask again before disappearing again.

It was only less than a minute before Stu came quite literally crawling back into the kitchen.

Stu doubled over, holding his stomach as you rushed over to his side. “Stu?” you put a hand on his forehead. “Stu, please don’t be dead!” you winced. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” That damn Sidney...she must have had something to do with this.

“Y/N...it hurts.” Stu moaned in pain. “Hold me?”

You wasted no time in gathering him to the best of your abilities. He rested his head in your knee. You hummed thoughtfully, shushing him while you used his sweater to apply pressure to his stab wound.

“Y/N, are you sure you aren’t an angel?” He shamelessly flirted, smiling through his pain.

“No, I’m not.” you giggled. ”Save your energy.”

“I’d have more if you just gave me those lips of yours...” he winked. Just to shut him up, you kissed his forehead.

“Not what I meant, but works for me.”

As you chided the poor boy, Sydney ran into the kitchen, screaming at the top of her lungs while Billy also wounded stumbled behind.

“Billy??” you gasped in horror. Seeing you must have caused him to loose his footing, because he slowed his movements. You laid Stu on his back and urged him keep his sweater over his wound.

You scrambled to your feet, eyeing Sidney with a glare no one had ever seen you wear.

“Y/N! You’ve got to believe me! They’ve been the ones doing this.”

“I find that really hard to believe that when you were just standing over Stu with a bloody knife.” you seethed. “Your own boyfriend? Really?” you dared step closer.

“Y/N! They’re manipulating you!” she began crying. “You have to see it!” She was obviously hysterical.

“Then give me the knife.” you faked calm, cautiously stepping towards her. “Give me the knife...and we can-” you stopped yourself. You looked over at Billy, praying he wouldn’t be mad. “We’ll call the cops.” you you held your hand out.

“WHAT?” Billy seethed. You avoided his gaze. Hopefully he wouldn’t sense your fear.

“Trust me...” you said, just barely above a whisper. You were mostly talking to Billy, but had to make it look like it was directed at her. “We can get out of this...”

Sidney (very stupidly) outstretched her hand, the one that was holding the knife. Once it was within your reach, you grabbed her wrist, and grabbed the blade with your free hand, throwing it to the side. You tackled to to the floor and held her down.

“Crazy bitch.” you mumbled. She began thrashing, and screaming bloody murder. You were eventually able to get the best of her. “Whoever is the least dead...COPS...NOW!” You struggled as Sidney screamed. “This bitch is out of her mind!.”

“I have a better idea.” A seemingly fine, and now very much not dead Stu rose to his feet, a sick smile plastered on his face. The knife had slid over to him and you hadn’t even realized. You were too focused on keeping Sidney on the floor.

Suddenly you were yanked back into Billy’s arms as a sharp object came down from above, plunging through Sidney’s chest.

“Oh my god!” you buried your head into Billy’s shirt, trying to block out the terrible sounds you heard the terrible sounds of skin ripping.

“Shhh it’s over babe.” He shushed you. “It’s okay.” he stroked your hair with his bloody hand. Stu laughed manically as he wiped the sweat off his face.

“Some party huh.” Stu cackled. He wasted no time in sandwiching you between himself and Billy.

“You had us thinking you’d betray us, Kitten.” Stu dug his head into your shoulder.

“Y/N would never do that to us...she’s our good girl.”

“You guys are-”

“Absolutely.”

“And this party was-”

“Smart girl.”

“And now that you know our little secret, we’re never letting you go, kitten!” Stu laughed.

“And if you tell anyone, we’ll have no choice but to take you down with us...but you won’t do that to us, will you?” Billy asked, nuzzling his head into your neck.

#slasher imagines #slasher fan fiction #imagines #slashers #slasher x reader #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #ghostface imagines #billy x reader x stu #scream imagines #billy loomis imagines #stu macher imagines #horror imagines #poly ghostface

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kyovtani · 4 years ago

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Bodyguard!Kawa who teases you and flirts with you without realising how much it affects your cute little body. Until one day you go to him, begging for him to follow through with his teasing promises.

okay nonie this lit just had my corruption kink lights go OFF pls- this is so delicious I LOVE IT HERE–

— cw: corruption kink, teasing, kawa mocks your whimpers, light hard dom!kawa, clit play

when oikawa first starts working for your father, it's not his job to look after you. he's there for your mother and most of the time he's supposed to be with your dad but after a while, he finds himself at your door and by your side.

he doesn't question it, he just knows your father wants you to be safe and trusts him the most, which is why he chose him, of all guards. and to say that oikawa enjoys being (one of) your personal bodyguard(s) is an understatement.

in the beginning, he flirts with you every now and then, knowing that none of his fellow colleagues are going to rat him out to the boss because everyone knows what a big flirt he is.

as time goes by, his flirting turns more and more suggestive and oikawa begins to become a lot bolder the more confident he gets. the only reason for this being the fact that he found out about your lack of satisfaction from your most recent little boy-toy.

he knows you're not the most experienced, only having had a couple of boyfriends before and only a few of them actually getting to touch.

but oikawa is also very much aware of just how naughty you are. he's got a few glimpses of your little twitter account which is basically filled with rather hardcore porn. who can blame him, though? it's not like you're being subtle about it anyway.

you always leave your door room open a little, as if you wanted Oikawa to hear your little moans and whiny begs as you touched yourself in broad daylight, not giving two fucks about all the security guards in your house.

and as the weeks fly by, tooru finds himself growing more and more aroused by the mere sight of your face. you're just so sweet, so kind, you look so innocent and pure but it's because nobody knows about all those little toys in your drawer, the ones you like to stuff your tiny little cunt with almost every night of the week.

but Oikawa knows. he knows how badly you want- no, need someone to fuck you properly.

and after getting to know you for quite a while, Oikawa also knows exactly what to say to get you all riled up. and even though you like to act as if it doesn't affect you, both of you are very well aware of how badly you usually ruin your little lacy panties whenever he teases you.

his favorite thing to do is annoy you with the fact that none of your boyfriend has ever made you cum, something he heard you saying to your best friend on the phone and his absolute favorite fact to exist ever since.

he wants to get you all worked up to the point where you can't take one single breath without thinking of him and his fat cock.

and it doesn't take much for him to do, either. he's got you wrapped around his finger after all.

"been starring at my cock all day, angel baby", he hums, his pretty lips stretched into a shit-eating grin as he catches your gaze drop down to his clothed crotchf for the nth time, "is it because you know it's bigger than any of the little boy toy-cocks you've had or is it because you want it inside your little pussy, hm?"

you whimper at his words. not only those, but also his attitude, his cockiness, his confidence and that stupidly pretty face- all of these things make it so much harder for you to keep your composure.

but you remain strong. most of the time.

however, after weeks and weeks of ongoing teasing, you can't keep it together any longer.

tooru, who's basically always ready to tease and annoy you, can't help but look at you with big eyes and parted lips when you come to stand in front of his door at three in the morning. tear stained cheeks, pouty lips, soft sobs and thighs tightly pressed together– a sight tooru never knew he needed this badly until now.

"p-please, 'kawa", you cry softly, your voice a mere whisper as you look up at him, "please fuck me. take my pussy, make it yours, stuff it full of your cum- i don't care, just please make the pain go away."

"does it hurt, angel girl? does your cute little cunt hurt?", oikawa whispers, taking your soft face into his big hands, the cold metal of his rings burning against your heated skin.

you start nodding hastily, sobbing even heaver when he suddenly pushes his leg in between yours, pressing his strong thigh right against your barely covered cunt.

oikawa can't stop the loud moan from escaping his throat at the feeling of your throbbing pussy, the wet spot on your little panties slowly growing in its size and before he even gets to say anything, you start grinding against him.

"i need you, 'kawa", you whisper and bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhale his heavy scent, a mixture of mint and cigarette smoke, "i'm all yours."

"say it, again, pretty girl", oikawa grunts, pushing the leaking tip of his thick cock against your throbbing clit, watching your juices dribble out of your little hole with amusement gleaming in the brown of his eyes, "i want to hear yyou say it."

you gulp harshly, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as the arousal sets your body on fire, your head spinning with such fast pace, you struggle to breathe properly.

"i'm your d-desperate little cockslut, 'kawa", you whimper, nervously wrapping your fingers around his delicate wrist in hopes of getting him to slide his fat cock into your spasming hole, "want you to fuck me stupid, just like you promised."

at the sound of oikawa's deep chuckle filling the tension-filled space of his room, you can't help but let out a choked out moan, looking at you with heavy lidded eyes.

"y-y-y-yes you are, angel baby", he teases you, pushing his lips into a fake pout as he has you look into his eyes, lining himself up with your sopping wet entrance, "and now i'm going to show you how pretty little sluts like you deserve to be fucked."

and as he slowly pushes his cock into your tight cunt, stretching your poor little hole out and basically splitting you into half to the point where the first waves of your orgasm hit when he's only halfway in, oikawa sits back and watches the way you finally cum for him and him only.

#haikyuu smut #hq!! smut #hq smut #oikawa smut #oikawa tooru smut #haikyuu x reader #💌.anons

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snackhobi · 4 years ago

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pairing: jimin x reader / word count: 9.1k / genre: smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: you wouldn’t mind your cute neighbour being such a shameless fuckboy if a) the walls weren’t so thin and b) he didn’t seem intent on adding you as another notch in his bedpost.

but there’s only so much you can resist park jimin, especially once he gets that peach involved.

warnings: sexually explicit content, Jimin being completely shameless/a lowkey ho, messy peach eating, mentions of masturbation, oral sex (m + f receiving), overstimulation, protected sex, multiple orgasms (f), dirty talk and some cursing, hmm I think that’s it?

a/n: I was so close to calling this ‘jimin and the f*cking peach’ as some terrible homage to ‘james and the giant peach’ 😂🤧 as always I would like to thank @hobi-gif for beta reading this, putting up with me having a meltdown at her, and encouraging me to write smut at work rather than doing my job, ty queen xoxo

It’s official. Park Jimin is the neighbour from hell.

He’d tricked you, to start with. With those cherubic features, those doe eyes, and his cute little smile? He looks like an angel. A sweet, innocent angel, one who’d knocked shyly on your door and presented you with a small selection of chocolates when he’d moved into the apartment next to yours. Your heart had gone boom boom at the sight of that cute smile, the slip of teeth, the way his lovely face had scrunched up.

Nowadays, whenever you see that face, you want to punch it.

Well. Not punch it. Maybe slap it a little. Because Park Jimin is a fiend.

Your studio apartment is cheap for many reasons. The plumbing is creaky and the heating isn’t exactly great but those are small sacrifices for such low rent—ones you’re willing to make. Creaking doesn’t bother you and throw blankets exist for a reason, right? You get a balcony and a parking spot, which is more than you can say for a lot of other places in this price range, so you’ll take the negatives for these positives.

But you’d give up all the things you love about this cheap flat for some sound proofing.

Because Park Jimin fucks.

A lot.

He’d been nothing but lovely for the first few weeks. You’d barely been aware of his existence, minus when you could hear him in the bathroom—your flats are mirrored, rooms sharing walls, so you’d been washing your face when you’d heard his shower start up and then the sound of his dulcet tones drifting through the wall. That had actually been really nice; Jimin can hit some high notes, and it had been a pleasant backdrop as you’d cleansed your face. It had been another bullet point you’d added to the list of things you thought were cute about him (along with his face, his laugh, his smile), and you’d stupidly started to develop a tiny little crush on this boy-next-door, thinking him some soft, kind thing.

But then he’d started to have people over.

You’ve lost count of how many days you’ve had to listen to the moans and gasps that echo through your walls. You can’t escape from it. As a freelance programmer, you’re pretty much always working from home, so it’s not like you can get away from the sounds of pleasure that shudder through Jimin’s flat and into your own.

It’s never consistent, either. There’s not a single hour of the day that’s off limits to Park Jimin. Morning, afternoon, night; the boy is always ready to go, apparently. And judging from the sounds through the walls? He never leaves anyone unsatisfied either.

Which, like, fine. People fuck. You get it. You’re not judging. You just wish it wasn’t so loud. You have to sleep, for God’s sake. But it’s not like you can knock on a new neighbour’s door and be like hey, I appreciate you have an incredibly active sex life, but can you keep it down, please?

So you’d bit your tongue. You’d gritted your teeth to bear it. You’d still smile at Jimin if you ever passed in the hallway, acknowledged him with a small nod, exchanged pleasantries, all the neighbourly stuff that you’d do with anyone. You’d just invested in some good earplugs and thought that was it.

And then Jimin had started doing his morning yoga routine outside.

You start each day with a cup of tea on your balcony, watering your hydrangeas and enjoying the dawn sun that lifts up over the horizon alongside your plants. It’s a small, singular moment of quiet in an otherwise dull day and you treasure that serenity.

Well. Treasured. Past tense. Because Jimin has invaded this part of your life, too.

The first time Jimin had unrolled his yoga mat on the balcony adjacent to yours, he’d been dressed in a deceptively unassuming outfit—a loose white t-shirt and leggings that hugged every inch of his calves and thighs and shapely ass, which you had pointedly Not Looked At. He’d tilted his head at you with a smug little smile flickering at the edge of his lips, and when he’d greeted you good morning, you’d responded in turn, even if you were still annoyed at how he’d interrupted your afternoon nap the day before with the sound of his headboard smacking into the wall repeatedly. You were still fairly new neighbours and you still felt like you had to be polite, even if he was starting to fray your nerves.

And then he’d started to bend.

Now, you’ll be the first to admit that you don’t know much about yoga. But you’d swear Jimin was choosing poses that did the utmost to display his flexibility, the flex of his muscles and twist of his limbs, balancing his body on his arms before easing into a pose that had him bent in two, head towards his toes—and with how he had his back to you this meant you got full glimpse of his ass, straining against his leggings, the way his loose shirt slipped up his body to reveal the lines of his stomach and chest, how his face was still twisted into that little smirk even if it was upside down.

Staring at you.

You’d promptly stopped watering your hydrangeas and walked inside your flat, shutting the sliding door behind you.

Jimin is relentless.

He’s pretty and he knows it. All that shy, new-kid-on-the-block innocence he’d had initially is completely gone, and all he does is flirt, flirt, flirt. He winks at you. Stands a little too close whenever you talk. Lets his eyes flicker down to your lips, trail over every inch of you, lashes fluttering when he catches you watching, unashamed and unabashed. He frequently just… hangs around on his balcony. Not topless, no, but he may as well be, his thotty muscle tees doing nothing to hide him from your eyes.

(The worst thing, though, is when you catch him unawares. When he’s tired and clearly not expecting you to be awake, too, his eyes sleepy and his hair ruffled; a little vulnerable, a lot softer than he usually presents himself. Curled up on the small seat on his balcony with a hot drink in his hand, phone in the other, his screen throwing blue-tinted light over the easing lines of his features.

You wish Jimin was like that all the time. But the second he sees you, his eyes flicker, and his brows lift, and his mouth curls, and once again you rue the day you had a fuckboy move in next door to you.)

It’s not that Jimin isn’t hot. It’s not that you wouldn’t fuck him, either. But you have no interest in being some sort of convenient hook-up for him, purely there by circumstance, fate, whatever you want to call it. You dread to think of him sending you haha wyd x texts whenever he feels like having sex and you just happen to be nearby. So you weather all of his obvious come-ons and swerve him something chronic, even if he seems intent on making his attraction to you obvious.

You’ve been managing it for months. But as time goes on, your patience wears thinner and thinner, an atom-thick layer of fortitude the only thing keeping you from grabbing Park Jimin and kissing him and/or killing him. It doesn’t help that you haven’t fucked for a while now, and you’re reminded of this every time you hear another pornstar moan through the wall (the people Jimin brings home seem to like hamming it up for effect), every time you see another mosaic of hickeys laid across the column of Jimin’s gorgeous throat, every time you see the way his yoga outfits do nothing to protect the delicious shape of his body from your eyes.

You dig your fingers into your palms. It’s fine. It’s okay. You can handle Park Jimin and his overt sexual energy, oozing out of him almost every second of every day.

It’s a little harder to handle how he still seems sweet despite his fuckboy nature. How he picks your parcels up for you. How he lets you use his laundry detergent when you run out. How he lets you keep food in his fridge when yours breaks down and you have to wait for a replacement. How he sheds that fuckboy facade whenever it seems like you genuinely need help, how you’ve heard his soft phone calls through the wall, to his friends, his family, sweet and kind and supportive.

Park Jimin is a multi-dimensional being, for sure, and maybe you sometimes wish he was actually genuinely interested in you as a person and not as a lay, so you could peel back those layers to the lovely core at the centre of his being.

But it’s fine. You can handle this stupid yearning and pining. You can handle the knowledge that Park Jimin is a genuine gentleman who just happens to like fucking, is open in his desire for it, and is apparently Very Good at it. It’s difficult, but you can do it.

You can do it.

The date you set up with someone from Tinder ends up being disappointing and lacklustre. You’d escaped before dessert, unable to put up with one more second of this asshole going on and on about stocks, and investments, and trading, or whatever, cursing the day you’d decided to swipe on him. You’re so sick of your luck (or lack thereof) with guys. (At least the food had been nice.)

Of course Jimin sees you schlepping your way back into your apartment, disappointment obvious in the line of your shoulders and lips; it doesn’t take a genius to clock your date outfit, cute as it is, makeup and hair soft. But the night has barely begun and here you are, stepping back into your flat. Alone.

“Bad date?” Jimin asks, voice gentle, and you just snort.

“Just like the rest of them,” you reply with a small sigh, before shutting your door quietly behind you, missing the look on your neighbour’s face.

Jimin, to his credit, eases off after this. You’re not sure if it’s due to a misplaced sense of pity or something, but even if he still smiles and flirts lightly with you, it’s less… salacious. Still there, still obvious, just a little softer. You hate how this has you feeling grateful towards him, because he’s still got so many fuckboy tendencies that it should outweigh this gentler side of his flirtation, but your traitorous heart still goes gooey every time Jimin smiles at you.

But then.

There’s that fucking peach.

You’re just chilling on your balcony, sipping at a glass of lemonade in the warmth of the afternoon when you hear Jimin’s door sliding open. You flick your eyes over at the sound, watching the way Jimin slips out onto his own balcony, how he throws something up in the air and catches it with ease, a flick of the wrist, a curl of the fingers each time he catches it again.

He hasn’t had any fuckbuddies over for a while. A few weeks, almost a month. It’s the longest Jimin’s gone without having sex for as long as he’s started having people over and you’d been sort of concerned. Which, yeah, you know it sounds super weird when you think about it, especially considering how much you complain about Jimin to your friends—help, my fuckboy neighbour hasn’t fucked anyone in nearly a month so I’m worried if his dick has fallen off or something.

(Well, actually, you know his dick is still attached, based off the little gasps and moans he lets out whenever he pleasures himself in lieu of fucking someone else. You’ll take this secret to the grave but those noises that Jimin lets out have been the melody you use to reach your own peaks, although you’re a lot quieter than he is whenever you touch yourself, biting your lip and muffling the wet sounds of your fingers thrusting into your cunt under layers of blankets. You’d never give Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that the mental image of him fucking into his fist and cumming over his stomach and chest is what throws you over your own edge, toe-curling orgasms that shake through your body in time with Jimin’s own.)

Anyway. He looks loose limbed and relaxed when he saunters into view, utterly unsurprised by your presence behind your window box of hydrangeas, giving you his usual, sultry smile.

He’s started to ramp up his flirtations again. This smirk is one which you’ve learned not to respond to. You just stare levelly back at him, unimpressed as you start to water your flowers, which does nothing to dissuade him. It never does. He clearly revels in the challenge.

Jimin keeps his eyes locked with yours as he lifts his hand to his lips. You catch a glimpse of what he was throwing and catching—a ripe, flush peach, tiny droplets of water shimmering on its fuzz, freshly washed.

And then he starts to eat it.

The peach yields immediately to the press of his teeth. Juice bursts out of its softness, running down his lips, his chin; he makes no moves to wipe it away, the lewd sound of his slurps as he curls his tongue into the fruit, messy and sweet.

It’s shameless. He’s shameless. His gaze is unwavering as he stares at you, his mouth glistening with the peach’s juices, the only sound the wet smack of his lips and tongue as he licks up the honeyed liquid that drips from his skin, curving around the fruit as he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing.

Water’s been trickling from your small can onto the hydrangeas, cascading over the plants; the soil is waterlogged now, but you haven’t noticed, fixated on the way Jimin is looking at you as he wantonly eats out this peach.

Drip drip, goes the watering can.

Drip drip, goes the peach.

By the time there’s nothing more than the pit in his hand, Jimin is a mess. His fingers and mouth and chin shine with peach juice, eyes dark and heavy as he watches the way you drink the sight of him in, the way his tongue slowly drags over his full lips, catching the sweetness that lingers.

The second he puts his tongue to his fingers to get the stickiness on them, that’s it. You watch the way he sucks his fingers into his mouth and promptly put the watering can down and turn on your heel to walk inside, slamming the balcony door shut behind you.

You’re done. You’re only human. You’ve spent months with Jimin parading himself in front of you, seen the way he contorts his body every morning in an unnecessarily complex sun salutation, listened to the way his voice rises when he cums; the peach is the metaphorical cherry on top, and you’re just. Over. It.

You hammer your palms against your neighbour's door, rap-rap-rapping on the wood, your blood rising and your heart thudding in your chest, every part of you tense, wound up, pent up. The door swings open to reveal Jimin, his chin still slick with sweet peach, lips curling up in a self-satisfied smile when he sees you.

“Park Jimin.” Your voice shakes and you hate yourself for it, hate the way Jimin’s eyes glitter at the sound, the little hitch in your breath. “You are a fucking menace, you know that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says. He leans against the doorframe, effortlessly gorgeous, hip cocked, head tilted. He lifts his hand, and there’s a heavy moment of tension as you watch him slowly swipe a thumb over the last remnant of juice on his chin, before his tongue lolls out of his mouth and he licks the final taste of peach from his fingers.

When you grab hold of his collar his expression shifts from something coy into something far more self satisfied, months of his brazen come-ons finally culminating in this—you, shoving him backwards into his apartment, kicking the door shut behind you.

“I swear,” you say. “I swear to God—”

“You swear? I can think of better things you could be doing with your mouth,” Jimin says, and then laughs when you scowl at him. “Damn, you’re so hot when you’re mad.”

“You are infuriating,” you bite out, and Jimin just laughs again, his whole body shaking, every part of him still loose and relaxed even as you continue to tighten your grip on his clothing, feeling every motion of his body under your hands. You hate how pretty he is, even now, utterly unafraid of your frustration—the brightness of his eyes and his smile, that undercurrent to it all, the way his hands slide so smoothly around your waist, your hips, sliding down to grope at your ass.

“I know,” he agrees, still giggling, and then he kisses you.

Jimin dives straight in, no holds barred, and you immediately melt into putty under his touch. He lets out a hum of satisfaction into your mouth as your hands go lax and slide down his chest. You can still taste the peach on his lips, his tongue, licking into his mouth.

You’ve thought about this mouth more times than you’d like to admit: the full swell of his lips, the little curve of his cupid’s bow, how it’d feel pressed against your own, and honestly? It’s so much better than you’d let yourself imagine it to be.

He nips at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue, and you bite off a gasp when he pulls you forward, grinding against you. You shudder. Jimin’s mouth is a pleased curve against your own before he pulls away, murmuring in your ear in a voice that’s equal parts sultry and sweet.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, kissing the sensitive skin of your jaw just under your earlobe, making you shiver. “Just relax. You’re always so tense.”

“Maybe that’s because my neighbour keeps me up all night,” you say, but your voice is weak, no strength behind your words, breath stolen out of you at the way Jimin starts to trail his lips down your neck, across your throat. “I find that constantly getting my sleep interrupted—oh, oh—”

Jimin sucks at the hollow of your neck, the delicate skin there so sensitive to his touch, the warmth of his lips magnified, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. Your hands have slid into his hair and you unintentionally tighten your grasp, fingers tugging at his dark locks, and Jimin bares his teeth against your skin.

It’s maybe a little embarrassing how wet you are just from a little making out. But after months of Jimin teasing you and putting you on edge, coupled with how long it’s been since you've had sex? You’re allowed to be a little desperate. All the small frustrations you were about to voice die on your tongue, slipping away from you as Jimin starts to walk you backwards with a confidence that shows just how often he’s done this—leading people to his bed, never taking his hands off you.

By the time Jimin eases you to lie down, you feel breathless. He hovers above you with that satisfied smile flickering at the edge of his lips, taking in the sight of you, finally underneath him—lips kiss swollen, exquisite, all the sharp words on your tongue softened and gone, goosebumps trailing down your skin. You tug at his collar, which catches him off guard; he sways forward and almost hits his face against yours, but before he can spend too long looking smug at your desperation you capture his lips again. You melt into the mattress, hooking a foot over his calf and revelling in the weight of him between your legs, your hips flush, and how hard he’s getting through those stupidly tight leggings of his.

When he grinds against you, the outline of his cock pressed up against your cunt, an embarrassing whine leaves your lips and trembles against Jimin’s own. Jimin goes still before pulling away from the open-mouthed kiss and when you see the expression on his face you slap a hand over your mouth, burning with shame.

“Oh.” He sounds delighted. “You’re noisy, huh?”

“Shut up,” you say, though your words are muffled against your palm. He grinds down again, a slow and deep roll of his hips that lets you feel how hard he is, and a noise shudders out the back of your throat, audible around your hand.

“It’s hot.” There’s that little smirk on Jimin’s lovely lips, every inch of him dripping self confidence. He knows how you’re entirely at his mercy, in spite of your words; your voice is weak. “You’re normally so quiet.”

“Some of us try to be considerate and think about our neighbours.”

Jimin just smiles, pulling your hand away from your mouth before gently kissing your palm, a motion that’s surprisingly tender and makes you pause.

“Trust me.” His voice is low. “I do think about my neighbour.”

Your breath hitches when he slides his free hand under your shirt, trailing his fingers over the softness of your stomach. He pulls the fabric up, letting his gaze rove over the bared skin. The way Jimin looks at you makes you feel like you’re the only woman in the world, like he’s never seen anyone prettier.

You wonder if he looks at his other fuckbuddies like this.

The thought slides away from you as Jimin dips his head and starts to kiss your throat again. You tilt your head back as his lips trail across the soft skin, his hands coming to rest under your breasts, contained as they are by your bra; once he coaxes you to sit up, it only takes him a few moments to strip your upper body, kneeling between your spread legs as he starts to trail his hands over the parts of you that are now bared to him.

“Pretty,” he says. You’d roll your eyes if he didn’t sound so reverent, and also if you weren’t distracted by the way he flicks his thumbs over your hardening nipples, your core clenching as he does, biting your lip to stop yourself from making a sound. A frown flits across Jimin’s face and he lifts one of those thumbs away from your breast, dragging your lip away from your teeth, letting his grasp linger so your lips are parted. “Don’t do that. I've been waiting for months to hear you properly.”

Before you can reply, he kisses you again, licking into your mouth and swallowing down the noise you make when he drags his hand between the valley of your breasts, down your stomach and settling between your legs, running his fingers over your cunt, the feeling dulled by layers of fabric even though he presses with intent. Your hips jolt at the sensation, and Jimin repeats the motion, dragging the fabric across your flushed lips.

“Jimin.” Your voice is a gasp against his mouth, and you can’t keep the pleading out of your tone, desperation bleeding into every letter of your words. “Please.”

He just hums, sounding pleased, and a breath of surprise escapes you as he pushes you back against the pillows. He wastes no time in getting to his prize, drawing a scattered constellation of kisses that trail across your chest, your nipples, your stomach, the line of your hip bones as you lift up so he can pull your shorts and underwear off. You’re entirely naked underneath him, bare and wet, cunt flushed and shining, and Jimin groans at the sight.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, fingers digging into your thighs as he pulls your legs wider. Your cheeks burn as Jimin stares at your pussy, but you can’t help but feel a pulse of self-satisfaction at the visible twitch of his cock in his stupid yoga leggings. “You’re so wet.”

You should probably feel embarrassed, but by now you’ve thrown all your previous inhibition to the winds. You’ve ended up somewhere you’d privately sworn you were never going to—in Park Jimin’s bed, leaned up against his pillows, laid out for him to touch and take and have, every inch of you desperate for it. There’s nothing in your brain or body but arousal and need. So instead of letting out a snip of a remark you just cant your hips towards him, another pleading sound slipping from your lips.

He gives you what you want. He dips his head and trails his lips and tongue down, down, down, wet and hot, until they press against your cunt. He looks at you with the same hooded eyes as earlier, motions of his mouth an echo of his peach eating, sloppy and messy; he’s unabashed in the way he slides his mouth over you, lips slick and tongue hot, sliding over every sensitive inch—sucking your clit, licking your folds, burying his face between your legs and drinking up every sweet drip of your juices.

You can’t help but make noise. Small gasps that slide into moans of pleasure, hitches in your breath that make your chest jump and your breasts shake; Jimin lets out noises too, muffled against your cunt, sounds that let you know he’s enjoying himself almost as much as you. It’s honestly pretty fucking hot, the way your own pleasure seems to turn him on, how he chases that feeling, eyes blown as he takes in every one of your reactions, repeating the motions that are affecting you the most.

The sight of him between your legs has you tensing. He continues to stare up at you, the curve of your stomach when you bow towards him, the fall of your breasts, which he slides his hands over, cupping them in his palms, pinching your hardened buds, layering sensation on sensation, never taking his mouth off you.

When he presses one finger inside, and then another, both thrusting firm and deep as he mouths at your clit, you tangle a hand into his hair. He watches the way your hips jump from the sensation of his tongue directly on your clit, and does it again, and again, your voice crescendoing from the explosion of sensation, how it’s too much, before he circles his lips around it and sucks messily. Your brain registering nothing but his lips and tongue against you, the hands that are trailing up and down your sides and still skimming across your breasts.

You’re not even aware of the words that are falling from your lips, oh fuck, yes, Jimin, there, oh, the way your grasp tightens in his dark hair, your hips bucking against his mouth as you can feel your orgasm approaching. The pleasure keeps building, flames fanning brighter and brighter as Jimin buries his mouth even further in between your legs, fingers speeding up as you gasp.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chant, voice getting higher. “I’m gonna cum, I’m cumming, oh—”

Your words slide into a moan as your back arches and your thighs tighten around Jimin’s head and you cum. Jimin continues to finger fuck you through it, your cunt pulsating around him as he keeps licking and sucking at your clit, his gaze fixed on your face as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth falls open and every line of your body sings of the pleasure that Jimin has given to you. Even when your legs and hips start to jolt from oversensitivity and you cry out at each ripple of his tongue against you, he’s relentless, almost cruel in how he watches you writhe from a mixture of pain and overextended pleasure.

You're sobbing by the time Jimin pulls his mouth away from your cunt, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes, body shaking as you try to suck in air. He thrusts his fingers into you one more time, slow and deep, watching the way you turn your head into the pillow and muffle a gasp against it.

“I knew you'd look and sound gorgeous when you cum,” he says, and though you feel boneless from your post-orgasm high, you can’t help a little huff escaping your lips. Jimin clearly catches the sound, quiet as it is against the linen of his pillowcase, and takes your chin in his hand to turn his face towards you. His fingers are slick with your arousal, wet against your skin.

“You sound like you’re reading off the script to a porno,” you murmur.

One of his eyebrows arches. “Oh? You don’t think I’m just speaking my mind?” Those fingers move away from your chin and trace over the swell of your bottom lip; you let your mouth fall open and swallow them down, licking the taste of yourself off Jimin’s skin. “You don’t think that I’ve been thinking about how pretty you’d look as I fucked into you, begging for me to let you cum again and again?”

Your tongue stutters against his fingers and your core clenches at his words, the dark undercurrent underneath them, and Jimin’s expression shifts as he notices.

“You really have no idea, do you?” He runs his fingertips over your tastebuds, saliva starting to pool in your mouth, the slide so wet and messy. “Who do you think I picture whenever I touch myself? Who do you think I was wishing was in my bed every time I took someone else home?”

You nip at his fingers, running the edge of your teeth along his knuckles from equal parts surprise and disbelief at his words. You find it impossible to believe that he really means that, but then you realise—recently, on the few occasions you’d bumped into Jimin in the hall when he’d had one of his lays trailing behind him, for as different and unique each of them was, each one of them had shared some sort of trait with you. Hair colour, eyes, the set of their lips, the shape of their face; once, you’d heard a girl giggling through the wall before it had trailed off into a moan, and you’d done a literal double take at how much she’d sounded like you. Similar, but not exactly the same, a slightly off-tone echo of the sound that spills from your own lips whenever you laugh.

And the emptiness in his bed had only started after the night that he’d seen the way you’d trailed into your apartment with discontent heavy around your shoulders, disappointed at that awful Tinder date.

Oh, fuck.

“You’re shameless,” you say, words a little garbled around Jimin’s fingers, but you know he understands.

“No, I’m not,” he replies, a small smirk curling up the corner of his lips. It should be illegal: the way he has such soft features that can turn so quickly into something sharper and entirely sensual, eyes hooded, lips flushed, the column of his throat so lovely and graceful as he tilts his head to one side. “I just know what I want and don’t try to hide it. What’s shameless about that? I know you want me too, but you always deny yourself the things you want. Don’t you?”

You hate that you’ve been so transparent in your attraction to him. Because the truth of the matter is that for as much as Jimin frustrates you with his entire existence, you do want him. After all—you wouldn’t be naked underneath him, still trembling from the aftershocks of a deep orgasm, if you didn’t.

“You’re not always as quiet as you think, you know,” he adds, pulling his fingers out of your mouth and enjoying the way your eyes widen at his words. You thought he couldn’t hear you through the wall, but it seems like you were wrong.

Before you can say anything in reply, though, he grinds down. Without your clothes in the way you can feel the drag of his yoga pants against your cunt, how the wetness of your cum and Jimin’s spit soaks into the fabric, his hard cock hot, and you let out a whine. He still has yet to remove any of his clothes and you want to see them off so he’s finally naked. You’ve seen enough of his bare skin over the months to have a pretty good idea of what that looks like, but you want to see the real thing.

Jimin seems just as eager to shed his clothes, yielding to your grasping hands and carelessly throwing his top aside; you end up straddling his waist and kissing down his chest in an imitation of his motions earlier, letting your fingers trail over the lean muscle from his yoga and dance. When you tongue at one of his nipples and he gasps, you feel euphoric. He’s unfairly beautiful, from the lovely collarbones to the flex of his shoulders and arms and the line of his chest and stomach, delicate and somehow entirely masculine. You still sort of want to slap him, but settle with kissing the hollow of his neck instead, digging your fingers into his ribs as you roll your hips down against him.

His own hips buck up. You can tell that he’s desperate to be inside you, but you want to taste him first.

When you slide down his body and settle between his legs, you hook your fingers into the tight waistband of those stupid leggings and tug them down. Jimin hisses through his teeth as you let the material settle just under his hips, baring the top of his briefs to you, how his cock strains against them, the patch of wetness at the head, darkening the fabric.

You don’t strip him. Not completely. You just hook your fingers into those dark blue briefs and pull them down just enough to reveal the flushed head of his cock, wet with precum. You let your tongue flick out to catch that salty bitterness, and Jimin bites off a curse at the almost shy licks you start to lave across his slit, circling around the weeping head.

Hearing Jimin’s gasps without the wall in the way is honestly an experience. Before, whenever he had people over, they usually drowned him out, theatrical wails and groans overpowering his far more natural noises, but now there’s nothing to prevent you from hearing the way his breath hitches in his throat or the way he moans. Even the smallest things have him letting slip sounds, a noise escaping him as you coax him to lift his hips so you can finally, finally peel those leggings and briefs off, dragging over the hardness of his cock as you do. You want to take in the sight of him fully naked, give it the proper attention it deserves, but then you feel his cock throb in your hand and you can’t stop yourself from immediately lowering your mouth to it again.

His whole body shudders. You let your jaw fall open as you take him in, tongue curling around him, hands touching every part of him that isn’t in your mouth, making sure there’s no part of him that isn’t receiving attention. His eyes are wide under the mess of his fringe, hair falling over his forehead as he watches the way you run your lips down the side of his cock before sucking one of his balls into your mouth, circling his length with your hands, a twisting rise and fall in the motion as you drink down the noise of surprised pleasure that drops from his lips.

Jimin’s fingers have been tangled in your hair but he lets you control the flow. The sounds of you swallowing him down into your mouth as you bob your head are obscene, wet and messy, but you can still hear how his voice starts to rise, how his fingers tighten against your scalp, and you know he’s close when he tugs you upwards and drags your lips away from his cock.

Jimin pulls you towards him and you settle against his chest as you start to kiss again, shivering at the way he rolls his tongue in your mouth. This time when Jimin rolls his hips, there’s nothing between your skin and his, dragging the underside of his cock across your flushed lower lips, the slide between your folds and against your clit making you shiver.

“Condoms?”

You’re breathless, and Jimin quirks a smile at you.

“Top drawer,” he answers. Of course they would be, in easy reach whenever he needs them.

You lean forwards to reach for the bedside table and Jimin takes the opportunity to circle a hand around your breast and capture a nipple in his mouth, ignoring the way you bite back a surprised noise, staring up at you with almost innocent eyes as he sucks at your skin in the way he’s worked out that you like best. Your hands are a fumble as you pull a condom out of the pack, ripping the sachet away from the others, a bottle of lube rolling into your grasp. You try to focus on your task and not the sensation of Jimin switching attention to your other breast, cupping the swell of flesh in his hand and drawing his teeth gently across your skin.

“You’re insatiable,” you mutter, and Jimin laughs before he kisses between your breasts.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you since we first met,” he says, utterly unrepentant. “I don't want to take my mouth off you.”

“Insatiable,” you repeat, but you’re flustered. Even if you know he’s not lying, and you’re naked and straddling his hips, the taste of his lips and cock now familiar on your tongue, it’s… kind of incredible to think that the gorgeous Park Jimin has been lusting after you for that long.

Or lusting after you at all, really.

But as you tear the foil of the condom, the look he levels at you is burning with desire, roaming over you, every inch of your nakedness, every movement of your body. His hands rest at your waist, thumbs rubbing over your skin as you hold his cock in one hand and roll the condom down with the other, letting your fingers circle his length, dragging your touch over the heat of him and revelling in the way he twitches. As much as you’ve thought of Jimin as a fuckboy, you know that he wouldn’t lie just to get someone in his bed, so as unbelievable as his words are, every single one of his actions backs up what he’s said: he wants you.

You don't notice how soft his gaze is as you take time to warm the lube in your hands, even though you’re desperate to feel him finally slide home. You've always been so considerate, even when he knows you've been frustrated at him, and that's evident now, in this small thing.

You spread the warmed lube over his covered cock, pumping it in your hand to get him slick and ready, loving the way he hisses though his teeth. He has to stop his hips from bucking up as you line his cockhead up with your entrance, his fingers digging into your sides as you hover in place.

“Come on,” Jimin urges. “Give it to me.”

“Insatiable,” you repeat, one last time, then you bend your knees.

You finally ease yourself down and onto his cock. You both let out moans; Jimin, finally feeling the wet heat of you around him, and you, falling into the sensation of him stretching you open, snug inside you, slowly splitting you open as you take him in, inch by inch, until you’re sitting on his hips and he’s fully buried in your cunt.

It’s been a while since you’ve had someone inside you. You grind downwards, rolling your hips, biting your lip at the sensation. Jimin’s chest expands as he sucks in a sharp breath, and you roll your hips again, a hand bracing on one of his lovely, thick thighs, the other resting just under his stomach as you lean back and arch your spine. You lift your hips, easy and slow, and then fall, Jimin’s cock dragging and pressing against your inner walls, a gasp shuddering out of your lips at the electric feeling.

Again and again, noises of pleasure drip from your mouth as you ride him, head tilting back at the sensations rippling through your body and across your skin, the apartment full of the sounds of your sex—the moans, the wet thrust of Jimin’s cock into your cunt, the praise that falls from his lips, months of feeling pouring from his lips. How pretty you are, how gorgeous, how well you’re taking his cock, how wet and tight you are around him; all the things he’s been thinking about, come to life, his hips snapping into yours as a sharp cry cuts through your lips at the sudden change of pace.

The pleasure’s been steadily building between your legs again, warm and unrushed, but then Jimin flips you without warning, fluid and graceful. Your eyes are wide as you end up on your back, Jimin’s hands braced either side of your head as he looks down at you with those dark, dark eyes of his. He thrusts forwards and your hands fly up to grab at him, your entire body shifting up the mattress at the force of his movements. His eyebrows are drawn together as he starts to drive himself into you, unapologetic in how aggressive he’s being, each thrust pushing the air out of your lungs in harried little gasps that shake the air between you.

The sound of his headboard slamming into the wall, a noise that’s been haunting you each time you’ve been trying to sleep or relax, is one you don’t even register. All you can think about is Jimin, Jimin, Jimin, caught up in the way there’s sweat beading across his forehead, strands of his dark hair sticking to it, the intense look in his eyes, the way his full lips are parted, small ah-ah-ahs falling from his lips in time with his thrusts, your body tightening around him each time he slides home.

You can’t remember the last time you were fucked this good. Jimin reads the language of your body with ease, knowing exactly when to lean back and trail a hand over your hips, circling his thumb over your swollen clit, the slide over that bundle of nerves messy from the mix of cum and lube and spit that’s laid slick across you. Each fluid roll of his hips is perfectly timed with the press of his thumb, your thighs going tense and your pussy clenching around Jimin’s hot cock as you start to reach another peak of pleasure.

“Cum for me, baby.” Jimin sounds breathless. “Let me see how pretty you are when you cum around my cock.”

Normally dirty talk seems so ham-handed and stuttering, but the words fall out of Jimin’s lips as natural as breathing, thoughtless. Stirring your arousal even further. He’s gripping your hips, pulling you down each time he presses up, and you circle your fingers around his wrist as his other hand is occupied with rubbing at your most sensitive part, tightening your hold as you feel another orgasm approaching.

“Jimin.” Your voice is a keen. “I'm so close, please, there, right there, theretherethere—”

You can't blame Jimin's other partners for being so noisy. The sound you let out is just as loud, maybe even louder, Jimin continuing to snap his hip forwards as you cum hard, a drawn out moan that crescendos as you pulsate around Jimin's cock, still hard inside you. He watches the way you writhe beneath him, tangling his fingers with yours when you reach for him and swallowing the end of your moan in a surprisingly sweet kiss, his lips gentle against yours as he slows to a stop before you become too sensitive.

Your voice is a quiet murmur against his lips. “How have you not cum yet?”

His eyes squeeze into a smile as he laughs, light and bright, the sound so sweet. “I've got stamina for days, darling,” he says, oozing that trademark arrogance you’ve gotten used to.

You clench as hard as you can around him and feel smug when he bites off a shocked curse, his smug facade broken. You can’t help but laugh at his expression, scandalised at it is, though your giggle cuts into a gasp when he pinches one of your nipples and then soothes it with his thumb. He seems amused by the look on your face and then laughs in turn, the two of you dissolving into laughter that’s edged with pleasure, your motions shifting his length inside you.

When the laughter trails off, Jimin stays smiling down at you. You draw your hands over his body, tracing all that smooth skin, and he touches the back of your hands with gentle fingers. There's a beat of silence but it's not an uncomfortable one, the air light after your shared giggles. It's… really nice. It's nice and soft and sweet, just like the expression on Jimin's face, tender, even if he's still buried inside you.

You feel so empty when he slips out, already missing the thickness of his cock when it seems as though he’s about to coax you to roll onto your front. Your hands are still linked with his and you tighten your fingers, making him pause.

“I want to see your face,” you confess quietly. It’s probably too much to ask of him but you feel like if you’re turned away from each other then you’ll feel like nothing more than a fucktoy. Just another warm body in Jimin’s bed. You don’t want that.

Jimin stares at you, surprise written across his features before his expression softens.

"Okay, baby," he murmurs indulgently. The small pet name sounds so sweet in his mouth. "We can stay like this."

He lets your hands go so that he can reach for a pillow that ends settled under your ass, tilting your hips up towards him. You’re not as flexible as he is—maybe you should start doing yoga too—but Jimin doesn’t push you far, hitching your legs up and draping your calves over his shoulders, leaning towards you so that the back of your thighs are warm against his chest. He's bent forward, face hovering above yours, so much skin-on-skin contact that your entire body feels warmed by him.

When he slides back in, you can feel the change in angle immediately. The head of his cock brushes over your g-spot and you suck in a sharp breath; Jimin notices, of course, aiming to hit it again, and again.

It feels good, of course. Amazing. But as much as you’d be happy for Jimin to make you cum again, you’d rather see him fall apart.

You dig your nails into his shoulder blades, turning your head so you can press kisses along the line of his jaw, murmuring into his ear.

“Are you going to let me see you cum?”

Jimin’s hips stutter as your words curl out of your mouth, warm against his skin. You’ve been picturing Park Jimin’s o-face for an endless amount of weeks and you’re ready to finally see the real thing.

“Cum on me,” you say, and then choke in a sob of air as Jimin responds with a sharp snap of his hips. “I want you to cum on me, Jimin, please.”

Your begging is shameless and you know it. Jimin’s face is so close to yours in this position and you can see how blown his pupils are, how his mouth is flushed from your kisses and how he’s been biting at them, his teeth digging into his lip as he starts to get faster, sloppier in his thrusts. It feels so good to know that you’re making him feel like this, that he’s reaching the peak of his pleasure with his body against yours, inside you, above you; he might have had other people in this position in the past, but right now it’s you who’s making Park Jimin come apart.

You urge him onwards with large, pleading eyes, rocking down on his cock each time he thrusts forward, begging the whole time. Pleading for him to cum, to give it to you, to cover you. Jimin obviously likes you loud and desperate, and you're more than willing to give him what he wants.

He slips out of you, fumbling with the condom and carelessly tossing it aside before he starts to pump his cock, hungry to reach his peak as he fucks into his fist. You let your legs fall open as you watch the way his body tenses, his brows drawn together and little breaths falling out of his mouth, barely audible over the wet slide of his cock in his hand. You run your hands over your body, across the swell of your breasts, down your stomach, dipping between your legs, trying to look as arousing as possible, anything to throw Jimin over the edge.

"I've imagined you cumming for months," you confess, words thoughtlessly falling from your lips. "On me, inside me, in my mouth—"

Park Jimin’s o-face is just as gorgeous as the rest of him.

You love how noisy he is. He paints your stomach with his cum, ropes of white spattering across the soft skin of your stomach and hips as he rides out his orgasm, moaning as he continues to milk his twitching cock. It’s so fucking hot, honestly, as is the expression on his face when you swipe your fingers through his cum and lift it to your lips, mouth filled with salt and warm.

“Fuck.” He’s breathless, panting. “You’re unbelievable.”

You let out a small scoff, but it’s edged with affection. “Says the man who was ready to fuck me six ways to Sunday,” you say. “If anyone’s the unbelievable one here, it’s you.”

“I can last longer, but you’re just so hot,” Jimin says. You respond by curling your fingers at him, beckoning him towards you, and you end up sharing a series of messy kisses.

You were, honestly, genuinely angry when you'd stepped into his apartment earlier, even if that irritation had been rounded out with arousal and desire. Now, though, you feel thoroughly boneless and content, loose limbed on Jimin's mattress, his lips and tongue moving against your own.

He leans too far forwards and smears his own cooling cum against his stomach. He doesn’t seem bothered, though. You’re the one who has to coax him to clean up, though with the way he looks at your still naked body, you know he would happily launch straight into a second round of fucking so he can add more cum to the canvas of your skin.

He really is insatiable, apparently, when it comes to you.

Even so, you wonder if Jimin’s going to kick you out now that he’s finally had a taste of you. He doesn't. He keeps you close, your body pressed against his side in a way that feels far more intimate than you would have expected.

“Are you hungry?” Jimin breaks the soft silence.

You’ve been trailing nonsensical patterns over his chest but pause when he says this. “Hm?”

“Are you hungry?” Jimin repeats, and there’s a cheeky smile flickering at the edge of his lips. “I have some more peaches in the fridge, if you’d like one.”

“That peach.” Your voice is an embarrassed hiss and your cheeks burn, but Jimin just laughs, boyish and bright as you slap halfheartedly at him. “That was just unfair. Who eats fruit like that?”

“Someone who’s trying to make it obvious that he’s imagining the peach is his neighbour’s pussy instead.” He’s so brazen. “And it clearly worked, didn’t it?”

It had worked. It's annoyingly effective, actually; thinking about the way Jimin had been staring at you as he tongue fucked that peach has arousal shooting through you, even after being so thoroughly fucked by him.

“Yeah, now you’ve had me,” you say. “What do you plan to do next?”

Jimin goes quiet. You wonder if you’ve misstepped, but then he sweeps his hand down the curve of your spine, goosebumps appearing in the wake of his touch.

“I was planning on asking if you wanted to go out for lunch,” he says, his voice so sweet, miles away from the fuckboy persona he usually puts on. This is the softer Park Jimin that you’ve caught glimpses of when he’s unaware, the side of him you wished he’d show more often—revealed to you, now. “Then, if you said yes, I was going to take you out on a date. If that date went well, then I was going to ask if you’d like to go on another one with me. And then another.”

One thing you know about Park Jimin is this: he doesn’t do dates. Each of his lays are one time affairs, no attachments made, no real connection beyond the physical act of sex. Your heart rate picks up.

“Obviously we’d fuck between dates,” he adds, raising his eyebrows at you in a way that’s so exaggerated that it makes you laugh. Of course. Jimin likes to fuck. “Unless you didn’t want to, but there are only so many peaches I can eat, you know?”

“So if I said I didn't want to fuck, and you ran out of peaches, what would you do?”

Your question seems casual and light but Jimin isn't stupid. He knows what you're really asking. Is he genuinely interested in something more exclusive, or would you just become another notch in his bedpost if he grew tired of waiting for you to spread your legs again?

"I can always buy more peaches."

You stare at him. He's looking at you levelly, a small smile on his face that's a little cocky but mostly warm. And, well, you know he's already gone without other partners for you, even before he'd gotten you in his bed. Park Jimin is serious about you, it seems. He'll wait.

You mouth at his collarbones, tasting the salt of sweat as you kiss and lick at his skin.

"After lunch, we can go back to my apartment, if you want," you whisper against his throat.

Just because Jimin's willing to wait doesn't mean you're going to force him to, especially as you're still as hungry for him as he is for you.

His hands squeeze your sides as you end up kissing again. You feel soft and ripe and sweet, easing under the touch of Jimin's hands and mouth.

"I still think you're a fucking menace, though," you add, and Jimin laughs so hard the bed shakes, still utterly unrepentant and entirely yours.

taglist: @beyoncesdragon

#btswritingcafe #jimin smut #jimin oneshot #jimin x reader #bts #bts au #bts smut #jimin fanfic #jimin #jimin x oc #bts oneshot #park jimin #jimin imagine #jimin scenario #bts fic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist

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mystic-wolf · 4 years ago

Text

first time with the boys // aoba johsai

Here's aoba johsais version for you thirsty thots. (Fun fact oikawas first time is based on my first time lmao)

Tooru Oikawa

You're his first.

This man is the king of flirting but boy kept his virginity for someone special. Aka you!!

You'd of been flirting for so long and dancing on the edge of being in a relationship, both of you two scared yo fully commit.

Got drunk at a Halloween party and he eventually just mumbled out how much he likes you and wants to be your pretty boyfriend.

Ofc you said yes.

He'd dressed as a devil with spikey red horns and you as an angel. He looked adorable tbh.

Carried you home on his back and nearly dropped you trying to climb the fence.

Stumbled upstairs smothering each other in kisses and fell onto the bed in a mound of giggles.

You were both still a little tipsy but he'd ask if he could fuck you in your costume cause you look so hot. Of course you said yes and fumbled around in your purse for a condom.

He'd gotten all cocky saying how you'd planned this and couldn't resist him so you just smacked his cheek with the packet before tugging his pants and boxers down.

This man is packing, he knows and he's proud.

Makes a joke about how lucky you are to have him before you shove his shoulders down onto the bed and he loses the attitude.

Becomes a whining mess when you slide onto his cock.

His nails scratch at your thighs, the bedsheets, tug through his hair. Anything to try and cope with the immense pleasure.

Cums super early. He's never felt anything like this in his entire life.

Calls you princess when he cums.

He'd eat you out with his cum still inside you, just wanting you to experience the same amount of pleasure he did.

Looks up at you between your legs with those stupid devil horns on and tells you to cum for him.

You two just lie there for nearly an hour kissing and cuddling before finally moving to take a shower and get rid of your dumb costumes.

Hajime Iwaizumi

You've both got experience when you finally sleep together.

Iwa's a little shit and flirts to no end for months until you end up grinding up against him at a nightclub and he loses it.

Has a hard on immediately and you'd just press your ass even harder against him, pretend you're too drunk to realise.

He'd wrap his hand around your throat to pull you flush against his body and mumble how he's gonna destroy you when you get home.

Literally all you think about the entire night until hes pulling you into his apartment and lifting you off your feet to press against the wall.

His hands grab at your ass and he digs his fingers in stupidly hard until you cry out in pain and he fucking laughs against your lips.

Tells you how hard he's gonna fuck you and how you won't be walking straight for a week when he's done with you.

Practically throws you on the bed as he starts to strip and tells you to do the same.

You rip your dress a little trying to unzip it and throw it somewhere across the room.

Iwa slides his knee between your thighs when he kisses you and you can't help but grind down against his muscled thighs. He makes a joke about you getting off just from that.

Replaces his knee with 2 of his fingers and eats up all the noises you make. You moan at how good it is, how talented he is with his fingers.

Iwa loves the praise.

He guides one of your hands to his cock and it looks so dainty because of how big it is.

You get him to full hardness and ask next time this happens if he'll face fuck you.

He's too lost in you wanting a second round to answer and just roughly presses his entire length into you.

You cry out and scratch at his shoulders a little until the hot pain starts to fade and then demand he fuck you into next week.

And this boy delivers.

He puts your ankles on his shoulders, one hand wrapped around your pretty neck as he rails you into the bed sheets.

You feel like he's fucked your brains out because all you can do is lay there cross eyed and mouth open in a constant string of moans.

You're already close but when his thumb starts to rub at your clit you lose it.

You shake against the bed and his body, tongue poking out and eyes fluttering shut as he fucks you through your orgasm.

So full of himself he'd just carry on and say how good he is and how lucky you are to have his cock. And even in your dumbed out state you'd weakly fight back and say he should be thankful he gets to fuck someone so pretty.

You just smirk and tell him to cum for you and by God does that get to him.

Squeezes your throat so tight when he cums and leaves tiny bruises against your skin.

He'd be super apologetic after and ask if you was okay and he'd be floored when you said you wanted him to do it again.

Afterwards you'd just lie in his bed in your underwear sharing a beer with him.

Issei Matsukawa

You both have experience, him moreso than you as he's older.

He'd seen you around college campus and got absolutely infatuated with seeing you everyday and what skirt you'd be wearing.

Got the courage to speak to you one day when you was sat on a bench doing work.

You'd become fast friends and spent a lot of time together and being horny 21 year olds it eventually lead to hooking up.

Brought you back to his dorm and dragged you too his bedroom before you could comment on the horrendous mess.

He hates his dorm mates right now.

He'd push you onto your hands and knees on the bed and nearly rip your thong when he pulls it to the side to stick his tongue against your ass.

You drop your head into the pillows to muffle the surprise.

He'd slip two fingers into your cunt and eat your ass until you're practically screaming for him to stop and just fuck you.

He's a tease and a huge dom though so he'd make you beg for him until he's satisfied.

You'd turn around so you're on your back and spread your legs, pushing your own fingers inside and grabbing one of you boobs through your shirt.

He'd let you have your fun for a moment and then rip your hands away and pin them to the bed.

Calls you a little whore.

He'd pull his shorts and boxers down just enough to pull his cock out and thrust in so hard he pushes you up the bed.

He's so fucking big and he wouldn't give you time to adjust and just fuck you relentless into his mattress.

You'd scratch at his shoulders and back, feeling blood catch under your nails.

He kinda gets off on that.

He makes sure you're super close before he cums so he can time it right. He really wants you to cum when he's spilling into you.

Best orgasm ever.

You'd just be a dead weight on the bed and he'd laugh and joke about you needing to leave before his roommate comes home.

Hes kidding of course and texts him to swerve for the night.

Helps you clean up and lets you pick out a movie on his laptop whilst he orders McDonald's.

You cuddle into his naked chest and share chicken nuggets.

Yutaro Kindaichi

You're his first.

Baby would be so nervous and shy whenever you touch him. He'd always ask if the lights could stay off even when you just gave him a handjob.

Definitely happened when he graduated.

He wanted it to be a special occasion when he said he was still a virgin and that he wanted you to take it.

You have to constantly reassure him and give him complements, sometimes he still feels he isn't good enough for you.

Asks if you can take control and show him what to do.

Please be gentle with him he's super nervous even though he wants it to happen.

You'd slip his jacket off and start kissing his neck and exposed collar bones so softly before stripping him of his shirt.

You spend so long just sat in his lap on the edge of the bed pressed against his chest and kissing him softly before he bites your lip and asks if you'll strip for him.

You try to put on a little show put end up tripping taking your socks off and he's just all giggles and smiles. Makes him feel less nervous too.

Asks you what position you prefer and you just push him onto his back and straddle his hips. He gets the idea.

He's ridiculously sensitive and asks if you can go slow he doesn't bust a nut in 3 seconds.

Touches you all over when you start to slowly move. He squeezes your thighs, your hips your boobs, just anything he can fit in his hands.

Even going slow he'd cum pretty quick, you just feel so good wrapped tight around him.

Tries to cover his face when he cums but you grab his hands before he can so you can see his face. His eyes are scrunched shut, cheeks flushed and hair sticking to his forehead.

He looks like an angel tbh.

You'd finish yourself off because he'd be too spent to even pull out of you let alone move.

He goes all soft and shy again when you clean up and pulls you between his legs so you can cuddle your back against his chest.

Says how much he loves you and kisses the side of your neck.

Kentarou Kyotani

You're each others first.

This boy is so blunt and clumsy he'd just be making out with you on his bed and just ask if you want to have sex.

You say you do and get a little nervous saying it'll be your first time and he's just all chill like yeah me too babes.

Kisses your fears away and slowly strips you of your clothes.

He'd just stop and stare and get lost in how gorgeous your naked body looks spread across his bed.

Kisses down your body and settles between your thighs until you start whining for him to strip too.

He wastes no time in doing that.

Kisses the inside of your thighs and traces his finger across your skin.

He loves when you start whining quietly and ask him to do something.

Saves you the embarrassment of making you say what and slowly runs his tongue across your cunt and runs circles into your hip bones.

Definitely growls against you because the noises you make are going straight to his cock.

He's already half hard and dripping.

He'd tease you a little and whisper dirty things against your ear as he gets himself fully hard to your breath against his cheek.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into a kiss as he pushes in.

You bite his lip at the sudden pain and he doesn't start to move until you say so. He's a good boy.

Fucks you so slowly in fear of hurting you because he's pretty big and its your first time.

He sucks bruises into your neck and circles his thumb on your clit until you're writhing underneath him.

Your nails drag down his back and draw blood when you cum with a cry on his name.

That just spurs him on even more as he fucks you through your orgasm saying how amazing you are and how much he loves you before he pulls out and cums onto your chest.

Licks his own cum off your breasts and nips both of your nipples slightly which gets you laughing.

You both fall asleep naked and sticky under the sheets.

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #oikawa x reader #iwazumi x reader #kindaichi x reader #kentarou x reader #matsukawa x reader #mine

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sevlgi · 4 years ago

Text

believe

requested: no

group: blackpink

pairing: jisoo x fem!reader

genre: fluff

contents: guardian angel!jisoo, near death instances, unlucky reader. [22/33].

warnings: none

synopsis: You’ve never believed in guardian angels, but that just might change when you’re saved from certain death 3 times in one week.

a/n: idk if I’ve ever seen anyone do a similar au... tell me if you have! also i’m actually hella proud of this one lmao

word count: 1.8k

Do guardian angels exist?

Well, that’s a subjective question, and there really isn’t a yes or no answer... But if yours does, they’re doing the shittiest job of the century.

The amount of times you’ve been hurt in the past, both physically and emotionally, is stupidly high. You’ve always had an aptitude for getting injured, stories of broken bones and gashes making up basically half of your entire life. Your friends and family pride themselves on having a fully loaded arsenal of embarrassing tales, practically making it a rite of passage to visit the hospital with you. And don’t even mention the heartbreaks- those just seem to follow you wherever you go.

When you move to a different city for what must be the 10th time, you vow that it’s going to be different, no matter how obvious it is that it won’t. You vow that there aren’t going to be any incidents that land you in the hospital, nor any relationships that just end in chaos.

Suffice to say, all of that goes haywire on your first day in town.

Without a car to drive you to work or any friends to hitchhike off of, you take the subway, line #224 to Solace Building. There just so happens to be a new girl group song you’re obsessed with, blasting on the highest possible volume in your earbuds, when you’re shoved from the back right into the subway tracks. “Fu-”

Time slows down as you start to fall, the dusty railways coming too close to your face for comfort before a warm hand wraps around yours, the socket of your arm straining to carry your entire weight as you’re jerked back sharply.

You collide with a warm body, soft curves lessening the impact and delicate, impossibly strong hands steadying you on either side of your waist. By all logic, you should’ve knocked your savior over, should be sprawled on the ground right now with dirty palms and a heat-flushed face. “Are you okay?”

When you step back sharply, you’re met with the sight of the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your life. Her heart-shaped smile and delicate features are framed with cascading brown hair, and she has ethereally flawless porcelain skin. She’s the kind of beautiful that makes the plainest outfit look designer, that could make you believe sea glass to be pure diamond. “Uh. Y-yeah. I’m good.”

“I’m glad,” she chuckles, smiling even wider and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Maybe she doesn’t realize the effect she has on you, humming as she dusts something invisible off your bag. “You should be more careful, Y/N, wouldn’t want someone as pretty as you being killed by a train.”

If it was anyone else, the words would sound creepy, especially with the added factor of the girl knowing your name. “How-- how do you know who I am?”

She juts her lips at the card hanging off your bag, your name written in big, bold letters. “Nametag. Y/N Y/L/N, employee in Solace Building?”

To hide the heat in your cheeks, you look to the floor and stutter out, “Well. Since you know my name, uh, isn’t it fitting that I know yours?”

It’s not nearly as smooth as you’d like it to be-- usually, the natural flirt in you would’ve made an appearance-- but the petite brunette extends a hand, tipped with gentle pink nails. “Jisoo. Kim Jisoo, if that’s helpful at all.”

Your next words are interrupted by your train arriving; when Jisoo doesn’t follow you on, you turn to look at her with your eyebrow quirked. “Are you...?”

“Not my train,” she smiles, shaking her head, even though it’s the only one arriving for hours where she stands. “Good to meet you, Y/N. Stay out of trouble!”

It’s an odd way to end a first meeting, but you don’t think much of it as you grab the nearest seat and pull out your phone to search her up. K-I-M J-I-S-O-O, you type, eyes scanning the screen fervently as the train starts.

Plenty of people show up-- after all, Kim Jisoo is not a rare name-- but none of the dozens of profiles you click through are the beautiful girl who saved your life. It’s too late when you look back out the window towards the station, the only thing you see becoming brick wall.

The next time you almost die, you’re just walking to the coffee shop across from your apartment.

The activity should be safe, considering that not many people in the area own cars. At first, you think you are safe, crossing the silent street with no problem and receiving your usual order just fine; you’re on your way back to your lonely little apartment when you hear the screeching of car tires on the road.

“Watch out!” someone screams, but you’re frozen in the middle of the crosswalk. You forget how there wasn’t a single car in the street when you were crossing as you stare at the grill coming close. The car doesn’t stop or slow down, and you scrunch your eyes shut with your arms raised up, just waiting for the impact.

It never comes. When you hesitantly open your eyes again, you find a familiar figure standing in front of you, the force of her hand having knocked your coffee onto your blouse. The car bumper is pressing into her bare leg, which is miraculously clean of a scratch or bruise, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she turns to grin at you.

“Sorry, I ruined your coffee,” Jisoo frowns, her hand coming up to almost touch the steaming stain on your chest. You stare at her mutely, following obediently when she grabs your wrist and pulls you back to the coffee shop. “Can I buy you another one?” she offers, plucking a napkin off a street-side table.

“Kim Jisoo?” you say disbelievingly, not even feeling it as she dabs the coffee away. “You again?”

“Me again,” she confirms, pulling some more napkins out of her purse with a smile on her face. “I hope you’re not disappointed; after all, I just saved you from dying. Again.”

“No, that’s not...” Taking a deep breath, you smile too, wrapping your fingers around her hand to gently brush her off. “It’s okay. I’m glad to see you, actually-- I searched for your profile to thank you, but I couldn’t find anything.”

Jisoo shrugs, opening the door to the coffee shop for you. “Oh, I’m not really on social media. If you wanted my number, you could’ve just asked.”

You laugh lightly, tossing the crushed cup in your hand into the trash. Of course it’s odd that she isn’t on social media in the 21st century-- with her face, you’d expect Jisoo to be a major influencer. “Then I’ll ask for it. Later.”

“Of course. Order what you want, I owe you one after all that,” she offers, plucking a couple loose 20 dollar bills out of her purse.

Once again, you’re faced with another weird habit of hers, but you order anyway and thank her after she pays. Before you can say anything else, though, she gets a text and frowns at her phone. “Oh, sorry, I have to go. Catch you next time?”

“Sure,” you answer, forgetting to tell her that she still forgot to give you her number. You stand dumbly on the sidewalk and watch her go, taking a deep breath and looking both ways before you set off towards your apartment for the second time that day.

Maybe next time?

The third, and hopefully last time, is the absolute weirdest of all.

You seem to have a thing for being knocked into ditches-- this time, a group of teenagers barrels into you while you’re walking by the side of the only river in your entire city. You open your mouth to tell them off, but before you can, an especially hard shove from an stocky little boy pushes you right into the water.

Luckily, the fall isn’t high, so you don’t hit the water with much force, but the boats cruising along and the recently terrible weather stir the current strong enough to pull you right under. In the icy water, you feel your fingers let go of the phone in your hand, your lungs slowly being crushed by the pressure of your surroundings.

It’s hard to tell how much time passes while you’re in the water. From what your doctors have told you, trauma is difficult to remember clearly for a while, but you vaguely feel hands linking in front of your chest and forearms bracing under your armpits to drag you out of the water.

The heat of the summer sun warms the stone under your back and you can hear whispers sounding around you as you flop onto the floor. Hands push hard on your breastbone, once, twice-

After maybe 30 pushes, fingers pinch your nose, and soft lips meet yours. It feels more like a kiss than CPR, no air really being blown into your mouth, but nonetheless, you feel water leaving your lungs, and you open your eyes in shock, coughing out loud.

To your (somewhat) shock, it’s the same girl hovering over you. Jisoo’s skirt is wet at her knees where she kneels beside you, her hands still hovering over your chest. She must’ve been the one giving CPR, then. Sitting up, you hack violently until most of the water’s out of your lungs, the other girl waving away all of the spectators. “How’re you feeling?” she asks, once you’re alone on the sidewalk.

Your hands move faster than your brain, pulling her forward by the nape of her neck until you kiss again, something about her tasting familiar in a way you can’t quite place. “Who are you?” you breathe once you’ve pulled away, searching her warm eyes for an answer.

She smiles again, handing you your miraculously dry phone instead of answering. It should be waterlogged and dead, but nothing seems to make sense when concered with Kim Jisoo. “How about you take me for dinner or something before asking the serious questions? Soup should be good to warm you up.”

Hand clasping in hers, you’re pulled to your feet with strength that doesn’t match her petite stature. You barely remember that you look like an almost-drowned rat, your lips purple with cold and your hair stringy with icy water. “Sure. Soup. But you need to answer me first.”

She exhales, hitching her bag higher up on her arm. “I’d say I’m your guardian angel, but you wouldn’t believe that, would you?”

“I wouldn’t,” you answer, eyes narrowing as you follow her down the street. “But maybe you can convince me. Over soup.”

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kalimagik · 5 years ago

Text

Pretty Gryffindor I Didn’t Know

Fred Weasley x Gryffindor!Reader

~4,900

Warnings: Talks of a rough home life (not too bad), but there is a lot of fluff!

A/N: So, I can write fics that don’t have a song as my inspiration. This one came from a dream that I had and I altered it to fit the Harry Potter Universe a little better! Enjoy the fluff and the sweet, thoughtfulness of Fred Weasley! If you enjoyed reading it, please like, reblog, comment, or even follow! <3 I love hearing what you guys think! (Also, I swear I write for more than Fred, but I just have a lot of him that I love)

*Not my GIF! Credit to owner

Y/N breathed in the London air. Her family moved around a lot and currently, they were in Greater Manchester, so they needed to stay in London a few days in order to get her new school things from Diagon Alley. Her parents were a little hands off, so most of Y/N’s life had been her raising and looking after her little brother. However, when she went to school, she was on her own.

Oh yeah, Y/N was a half-blood with who went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She would be starting her 4th year, so luckily she didn’t need to worry about the O.W.L.s just yet. She was in Gryffindor, but tended to stick with her friends from childhood, most of whom were in Ravenclaw, so she hadn’t gotten too close to her house in the past 3 years. But, it being a new year, her parents were pushing her to do this.

Y/N woke up in her bed in the Leaky Cauldron, sun shining outside and sounds of the cars from the muggle side of the hotel streaming in her window.

“Y/N! Are you ready to go to Diagon Alley for our things?” Y/N’s younger brother asked. He was beginning his first year at Hogwarts and could not wait to get started with his magical education.

“Give me 20 minutes to get ready and then I’ll be good to go,” Y/N yawned, getting out of bed after already being awake for about an hour.

Coming down the stairs, she found a breakfast plate for her with her family and noticed a loud family not too far away who seemed to be finishing up breakfast. She recognized the boy who lived, who was a year below her, and the strew of redheads. They were all in her house, but she’d never really gotten to know them.

“Y/N!? Are you ready?” Oliver asked excitedly about 10 minutes after she came down.

“Yeah, let’s go,” she smiled, ushering her brother from the Leaky Cauldron to the entrance of the magical alley. “Did you get our lists from mum and dad?”

“Yep! They’re getting us some surprises or something before we leave. You know it’s only tomorrow that we go, right?”

“Oliver, I’m very familiar with how going to school works,” Y/N laughed, tapping the brick wall to reveal an extremely crowded Diagon Alley. “You need to stay close to me, understand? Mum and dad would kill me if I lost you here. So don’t go wandering off!”

“Yes, MUM!” Oliver emphasized.

Starting at Madame Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, Oliver got new school robes and Y/N updated her ones that were too small. They then headed to Ollivanders where Oliver was able to pick out his first wand. Y/N had never seen her brother so excited.

Next was Flourish and Botts. Y/N had never seen it so crowded. She managed to get in with her brother and find their books, but getting back to the entryway was proving difficult. Oliver had gone out before her, but when she tried to squeeze out the door, another witch was coming in and her foot caught Y/N’s.

Y/N felt her balance go completely off center. She was free falling towards the cobble stone street and down the few steps in front of the shop. Y/N braced herself for impact when she felt her momentum stop. Her fall just stopped. She turned her head to make eye contact with a tall red head. And, he was pretty handsome too.

“You alright there, love?” he asked, standing her up right on the road. “It’s pretty crowded out here, you gotta watch where you’re going.”

Y/N felt a blush creep onto her face. She knew he was a Weasley twin. He was infamous at school and she’d been around a time or two for their pranks.

“I’m Fred by the way,” he smiled as Y/N straightened up to meet his deep brown eyes.

“Uh– umm, I’m Y/N. I actually think you’re in m-my house,” she stupidly pointed out.

“A cute girl like you in Gryffindor? Ridiculous! I would’ve definitely seen you,” he flirted.

Y/N felt the blush deepen and butterflies rise in her stomach. Oh how she wished she wasn’t in such a bright and public spot.

“Freddie, who are we talking to over here?” the other Weasley twin joined.

“Apparently this pretty girl is in our house. Can you believe it?” Fred quipped.

“Blimey! How did we miss her?” George countered.

“Y/N, we told Mum and Dad that we would meet them at Florean’s soon,” he urged, pointing at his watch.

Y/N turned from the twins remembering that her little brother was with her.

“Right, sorry, Oliver.”

“Can’t keep the little man waiting, now can you?” Fred smiled widely at Y/N. “Need anyone to accompany you to make sure that you don’t fall again?” he joked.

“Uhhh, I should be able to stay on my feet now. Thank you,” she blushed again, not used to the attention. Y/N quickly pushed her little brother and hushed his questions about who the boys were. Although, while she was walking towards the ice cream parlor, she swore that she could feel someone’s gaze burning into the back of her head. Not wanting to look any more like a tomato, she kept her eyes forward.

_______________________________________________________________________

Pushing the short encounter with the elder Weasley twin to the back of her mind, Y/N finished packing her trunk for school. Her parents would drop her and her brother off at King’s Cross Station and she’d have to get them through the barrier. Most years it was just Y/N who had to go through the wall, but this year she got to show her brother how to do it for the first time. She’d always loved him so much that his excitement about the new experience made it seem like her first time all over again.

“Bye Mum. Bye Dad. Get home safely,” Y/N said, hugging and kissing each before leading her brother through all the muggles at the busy station.

She stood back as they gave her brother some last minute advice and then their parents retreated to a more secluded spot to apparate back home. It was just Y/N and Oliver once again.

“Common, we don’t want to be late!” Y/N smiled as she pushed her cart, urging Oliver to follow.

Once they loaded their things onto the train, Y/N asked Oliver if he wanted to share a compartment with her and her friends, but he opted against it.

“I can’t make any friends myself if I’m with you all the time, Y/N,” he rolled his eyes.

She laughed at his antics. He really was growing up and it was weird. Y/N felt as though she had always been an adult, but Oliver had stayed a little kid for as long as she could remember.

“Okay. Make sure you put on your robes before we arrive. I’ll see you at the feast after the sorting ceremony, okay?”

He nodded and ran with his trunk down the corridor of the train. Y/N headed in the opposite direction, hoping to find some of her friends.

“Oh, hello, Y/N,” a girl the year below her waved. Y/N didn’t spend much time with her, but they’d often be the last two in the Common Room at night finishing homework. Most of Y/N’s friends were Ravenclaw after all, so she refused to fall behind in school.

“Hello, Hermione. Did you have a nice holiday?”

“Wonderful! My family traveled to France. It was just brilliant! How was your summer?”

“We moved again, but I got to help my brother prepare for Hogwarts,” she smiled sweetly.

“Excellent! I have to go find Ron and Harry, but I’ll see you at Hogwarts!”

Y/N waved as the girl ran towards the end of the train. She went back to her search for her friends, but when the train lurched, she settled for the emptiest compartment. Her friends would have to find her.

Struggling to get her trunk into the compartment, she was finally in enough to shut the door. Now she had to get it up on the luggage rails. Why was this part always so difficult?

“Need a hand there, Y/N, pretty girl who I didn’t know was in Gryffindor?”

Y/N jumped as she hadn’t even noticed who was in the compartment to begin with.

Turning, she was once again face to face with that boy that had caught her from falling.

“Fred,” she smiled, “Thank you. I guess you’re just going to keep coming to my rescue, huh?”

“I could definitely get used to that. After watching you, you seem to be pretty accident prone. You could use a strong guy like me looking out for ya.”

Once again, Y/N felt the heat rise to her cheeks and those dang butterflies moving around her stomach. Not really knowing what to say, she stood there, biting her lip and looked around. It seemed that the compartment she chose held Fred, his twin, and Lee Jordan, the boy who commentated the quidditch matches.

“Sorry, the train started and I couldn’t find my friends, so I just stumbled into a compartment. I can leave if you all need the seats,” Y/N apologized.

“Nonsense!” Fred waved his hand, “We’ve always got a spot for the pretty Gryffindor girl, right Georgie?”

Y/N’s blush deepened. It did not help that boys rarely flirted with her and Fred doing so, so freely messed with her.

“Oi, Freddie. Isn’t this the girl you saved from imminent death in Diagon Alley yesterday?”

“Just the one, Georgie!” Fred replied, not breaking his focus from Y/N’s face.

“You haven’t shut up about her since we saw her last!” George burst out laughing.

Fred dove at his twin, shoving a hand over his mouth to quiet him. Y/N couldn’t help but giggle. It was amusing after all. The sound of her laugh made Fred stop immediately, taking in the angelic sound. How had he not met this girl before?

“Why don’t you have a seat,” Lee suggested, “they may be at this for a while.”

Y/N sat, enjoying the company of the boys she happened to stumble upon. It really was a happy accident. She was making friends in her house like her parents wanted her to. Eventually, her friends did find her and ask her to come join them in their compartment. Y/N didn’t want to leave Lee and the twins, but she finally gave in.

“I’ll save you a spot at the sorting ceremony,” Fred called before the compartment door slid shut.

In the other compartment, they mostly did last minute studying before arriving at school, but when the train slowed and became icy cold, Y/N lost all motivation she had. She forgot about the butterflies that Fred gave her. She forgot about the excitement she felt for her brother to be starting at Hogwarts. All she could feel was sadness. She felt as though no one in her life loved her. She felt as though her parents regretted having children. She felt alone. It was horrible.

When the lights turned back on and the train started moving, Y/N didn’t recover immediately. She sat there, immobilized, but her friends didn’t notice. It wasn’t until a familiar redhead peaked into the compartment that she could move.

“Hello ladies, just checking in on everyone after that massive mood dropper. Y/N, are you okay? Need anything?”

The special attention returned those silly butterflies and warmth to her cheeks. Her only response was a head shake with little to no eye contact. Fred wanted to say more, but George called his attention. Apparently Draco was giving Harry a hard time for fainting from the dementors.

When asked about the reappearance of Fred Weasley by her friends, Y/N just denied anything. Responding that she had only just met the boy the other day. Luckily, they didn’t think too much of it. Realizing what had just happened, Y/N rushed around in search of her brother.

“Oliver, are you alright?” she asked when she finally found him towards the front of the train.

“I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me,” he spit back. That wasn’t like him, but she did see he was with a bunch of other soon to be first years, so he probably wanted to look cool.

“Okay. I’m just checking. Don’t forget to put your robes on, we’re almost to school…”

_______________________________________________________________________

The whole student body was a buzz with what happened on the Hogwarts Express. As she rode in the carriages, Y/N blocked out the conversations. Her mind was stuck on her brother’s attitude. What was wrong with him?

Everyone filed into the castle and Y/N made her way to the Gryffindor table. Meals were always the worst for her. She didn’t really have anyone to sit with at the large house table normally, so she’d read or work on homework. She wasn’t sure where’d she’d sit when her name was called.

“Oi! Y/N! Pretty Gryffindor I didn’t know, come over here.”

Y/N couldn’t stop the smile from growing across her face. She’d forgotten that Fred said he’d save her a seat. Plus, she could get used to the ‘Pretty Gryffindor’ nickname, but maybe not the ‘I didn’t know’ part.

“Have an entertaining rest of your train ride?” he asked as she sat down, George chuckling under his breath across the table. With one small glare from Fred, George turned to pick on their younger brother.

“Pretty uneventful. Just did some reading.”

“Love, we have got to get you some more entertaining friends. I think you ought to hang out with Georgie and I a bit. We could use your brains if you’re as smart as I’ve heard people say you are on the train.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. Who was talking about her intelligence? Catching her confusion, Fred stuttered on, “I mean, Hermione mentioned how you’re usually up late with her. You sometimes even go to bed after her. That shows brains.”

Y/N finally found her voice and was able to quip back, “oh, you’ve been asking about me have you?”

Even if the tops of Fred’s ears began to redden, he was quick to reply. “Seeing as you’re a fourth year and I didn’t know you, I had to do my research!”

Y/N laughed as the doors to the Great Hall opened, the first years all shuffling in nervously. She couldn’t help but point her brother out to Fred. “He’s that one. I’ve been waiting for him to come to Hogwarts. It’s so exciting to have a sibling at school,” she beamed.

“I’ve never been at Hogwarts without a sibling and I can say that it’s not that exciting, sorry to burst your bubble.”

Y/N laughed, but was quickly silenced by the entrance of the sorting hat. It sang its song and talked about the four houses. Y/N silently hoped that Oliver would be placed in Gryffindor, but she wasn’t sure if that was really his personality. But, no matter where he was placed, she’d be proud of him. Her father was a Ravenclaw and her mother a Hufflepuff, so intense house pride didn’t quite matter to the family.

The sorting ceremony went on and the last names were rolling through, once Professor McGonagall reached ‘R,’ Y/N began to listen again.

“Remington, Oliver!”

Y/N watched as her little brother climbed the stairs to the three legged stool and put the hat on. He seemed to sit there for forever. Much longer than the rest of the other first years. Thinking back to her sorting ceremony, Y/N realized that her sorting had taken a long time too. The hat rambled between three houses and read her thoughts and memories. It was very set on the fact that she was strong-willed, a leader, a caregiver, intelligent, but also resourceful. But obviously, it ultimately placed her in Gryffindor.

“and it will be…SLYTHERIN!”

Y/N’s jaw unintentionally dropped. She figured maybe he’d be placed in Hufflepuff because of his light hearted nature, but Slytherin? Loud cheers came from the table at the far end of the hall and Oliver jumped down the stairs to join his new house. This was weird.

“You okay, love?” Fred turned, looking concerned as McGonagall continued to read through the names.

She just nodded, looking down at the empty dishes in front of her. Had she missed something in her brother’s personality? She looked over to the table doused in green and silver. He sat there with a few other first years and the prefects nearby. However, he was sitting, facing the Gryffindor table. When she managed to make eye contact with him, he waved excitedly. That slowed the pounding heart beat in her chest. He would still be the same boy she knew, she was sure of it.

Still pondering how her brother was sorted into Slytherin, Y/N didn’t listen to what Dumbledore said about the dementors and she played with the food that appeared on her plate. She certainly didn’t notice Fred Weasley watching her every move.

_______________________________________________________________________

A few weeks had passed, classes began, and Y/N had settled her emotions surrounding the sorting of her brother. They’d eat meals together at least three times a week and would study together on Wednesday and Sunday evenings. Oliver had even introduced her to some of his new friends. They were all nice and a mix of kids from all the houses. She was extremely pleased that they weren’t all Slytherins who believed in blood-status hierarchy.

Another new constant was Fred and George as well, but mostly Fred. He would catch up with her in between catches, start to ask her opinion on pranks, and even study with her when she was up late. When he was around, the butterflies never went away. At this point, she was pretty sure that he didn’t know what she looked like without flushed cheeks. He still called her ‘Pretty Gryffindor I didn’t know,’ but the ‘I didn’t know’ part seemed to be dropped more and more often.

“Good evening!” Fred elongated as he sat at the same table as Y/N in the Common Room. “I noticed you weren’t at dinner this evening. Why’s that?”

“Snape assigned our class a 5 length essay and I have potions two days in a row, so I had to finish it on top of the History of Magic assignment that I have,” she sighed, pulling out a new ink bottle.

“He can’t give you so much work that you miss dinner!”

“It’s fine. Really. I had a large lunch. Plus, I’m used to not having every meal every day.” Y/N explained without thinking about what she was saying.

“Why do you say that?” He asked, now concerned.

Shit. Y/N realized she was about to open a bag of worms that she had never opened with anyone else. She normally kept her home life and her parents ‘hand off approach’ to herself.

“You can tell me, you know…” Fred encouraged gently.

Y/N bit her lip, deciding if she should or not, but it was Fred and he’d already made her school life so much more than school and studying with her friends.

“Really.” With this last bit of encouragement, he placed a hand on her arm that rested on the table and didn’t hold a quill.

Sighing once more, Y/N explained the situation simply. “Growing up, my parents have always focused on other things. Where to travel. How to continue hanging out with their friends. They had me pretty young and I don’t know if they ever grew up. My grandmother was around a lot when I was little, but then she died when I was about 5, so I didn’t have her anymore. And then I had my one year old brother to worry about too. Breakfast is easy enough for a 5 year old to handle, but it wasn’t until I was 8 that I could actually cook things, simple things. We always got lunch or dinner, but rarely both. My parents do love my brother and I, but they just may not have been cut out for parenthood…”

Fred sat there silently. Y/N had learned enough about his family to know that he never had to deal with anything like this. But what surprised Y/N the most, was that he stood up without a word. Before he left through the portrait hole, he turned and said, “don’t move, okay?”

Y/N sat confused, not entirely sure what was happening. She heard the portrait open again and spun quickly, hoping it was Fred. It wasn’t, but it was the closest thing to him.

“Hey, Y/N!” George said, making his way to her.

“Hi, George.”

“How do you know I’m George?”

“I’ve got my ways,” she smirked, “Plus, Fred just left.”

“Where’d he go? I was meant to meet him in here after he talked to–” George cut himself off quickly.

“After he talked to who? I’m the only one who’s been in here.”

Y/N watched as George sat there, hitting himself mentally. She could tell he was struggling with something.

“George?” she pushed again.

“Okay, Y/N. I’m going to tell you something and my brother might kill me. Do you really want that on your conscience?”

“What?”

“UGH! Fine. Fred may or may not fancy this girl he met this year who’s apparently a Gryffindor from the first day that he met her,” George blurted in the most roundabout way.

Before Y/N could respond, let alone process, the portrait hole opened again. In walked Fred with all types of food piled up. What was this boy doing?

“Pretty Gryffindor, I’ve brought you the dinner that you missed! Oh, Georgie,” Fred paused in front of the fire.

“What have you got there, Fred? You’ve brought a whole feast!” George exclaimed.

“Well, Y/N here didn’t make it to dinner as you noticed earlier, so I figured I’d bring her some,” he told his twin, sitting the food onto the table. It filled the whole table. Y/N even had to put her potions essay to the side.

Y/N hadn’t yet said anything, but stared in disbelief. This had to be the nicest and most thoughtful thing that anyone had ever done for her. Not to mention, George had just told her that Fred maybe or maybe not fancied someone who may or may not be her.

“See anything you’d like to eat?” Fred asked, turning his attention to her.

“Fred. This is amazing. How– how did you get all of this?”

“Georgie and I may be some favorites of the house elves in the kitchen and know how to get there. They’ll normally load us up with anything we need,” he grinned ear to ear. “You need to eat something. Hogwarts has 3 meals a day and that means that you get 3 meals a day.”

“You didn’t need to do this,” she stammered on, looking from Fred to George. George was not helping this situation. The boy had his face hidden from Fred and was winking as well as making kissy faces towards Y/N. Real mature.

“Yes, I did. I told you, you’re rolling with us now. We keep things entertaining.”

“Fred, I had nothing to do with this,” George threw his hands up, pushing his chair back and standing up from the table. He now made his way behind Y/N’s chair so that only Fred could see him. He made hand motions for his brother to talk to the girl sitting down at the table, mouthing “if you don’t do it now, you never will!”

Then, the twin spoke up. “AHHH! Man, I’m tired. I’m going to go up and catch up on some sleep,” George animated.

“Georgie, it’s only 7:30?” Y/N questioned.

“What can I say, carrying out brilliant pranks makes me bloody tired! Good night!”

Y/N waved and turned to look at the plates and plates of food in front of her.

“So, where shall we begin?” Fred asks, rubbing his hands together.

The girl could only shrug and begin eating until she was truly full. Fred also sat next to her eating despite the fact that he already had dinner. He didn’t want her to have to pig out on her own.

“Freddie, you may have fed me into a food coma,” Y/N giggled, leaning her head on the back of her chair. “How am I going to finish this potions essay now?”

“Seeing as how it's only 8:15, I’m certain you’ll be up until 2 AM anyways,” Fred smirked.

“You’re not wrong, but I could do with a nap now and that fireplace is looking super inviting.” Y/N’s mind wandering to a million things besides her potions essay as she looked at Fred for a witty response. Without thinking about it, she stood up from the table and laid on the couch in front of the fire. Fred sat on the floor so that their heads were essentially in the same place. Her mind went back to her thoughts about him. He couldn’t possibly fancy her, her. She didn’t think that any boy in Hogwarts had ever fancied her.

To fill the silence, she spoke again. “Thank you for doing this, by the way. It was really, really sweet.”

However, Fred looked nervous. A look that Y/N was not used to seeing on his face.

“Freddie? Is everything okay?” She was forgetting all about what George said to her just earlier.

“I want to ask you something…” Fred eased.

“Okay? You can ask me anything,” she smiled, hoping it would comfort him.

“So, you know how there’s the first Hogsmeade trip this Saturday? Well, I was just wondering if you would want to maybe go with me?”

“I’d love to,” Y/N beamed. “I thought you, George, and Lee told me you were going to make me come,” she chuckled, being oblivious to the fact that he was asking her in a different aspect.

“Well, yeah, but um, I was actually wondering if maybe you’d like to go with just me, not George and Lee too. Kind of like a date because well, Y/N, I kind of fancy you.” Fred paused before looking up from the table to meet Y/N’s piercing E/C eyes. Merlin’s beard, they were pretty.

Then that red color that was ever present rose into her cheeks as a wide smile formed on her mouth. “A date you say?”

Fred nodded, unintentionally holding his breath as he waited for her response.

“Of course I want to go on a date with you, Freddie,” she replied, turning on her side so that she was facing him.

Fred’s eyes lit up to his normal level with a little extra twinkle.

“Although, if I’m going on a date with you, I should probably tell you something…”

Fred waited in anticipation.

“Before you brought all of that food, George sat and had a chat with me. What were his words? He said that ‘Fred may or may not fancy this girl he met this year who’s apparently a Gryffindor from the first day that he met her.’ Please don’t kill him though, I think he was trying to help you out, but is that Gryffindor by chance me?” she asked almost timidly at the end.

Fred’s face became beet red and was illuminated by the bright fire behind his head. Honestly, it was redder than the hair on his head if that was even possible.

“Freddie?”

Her saying his name like that, softly and airy, really did him in. “Sheisdefinitelyyou. YouwerejustsocutewhenwefirstmetandIcouldn’tbelievethatIhadnevermetyouandthatmyluckhadchangedintheabsolutelybestway!” Fred spit out in one breath.

“What was that?” Y/N released a laugh from the back of her throat, coaxing him to say it slower.

“That day you fell into my arms and I caught you, there was just something in your eyes that stuck with me. I bloody well think it was love at first sight. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Then, imagine my luck when you backed into our compartment. George has used silencio on me too many times when I can’t stop talking about you. It’s really becoming a problem. You’re just so sweet and wonderful and caring and perfect!” he rambled, but slightly slower this time.

Y/N’s smile grew larger, if that was even possible as she reacted in the only way she thought would fit. She slid her head forward on the couch so that her lips met his. Sparks seemed to jump from between them in the blissful moment.

Well, it was blissful until George, a little too loudly, said, “Merlin! Finally! Took you long enough Freddie!” from the stairwell.

Fred clenched his eyes shut as he flicked his middle finger towards his brother, refusing to separate from the kiss, but Y/N couldn’t help but laugh hysterically. She rolled to her back, clutching her stomach. Only a twin would spy on a moment like this for nearly an hour after saying he was going to bed.

“Ignore that git!” Fred shot towards his brother as he got onto the couch, pulling Y/N into him. “I guess you can’t be the ‘Pretty Gryffindor I don’t know’ anymore,” he whispered in her ear.

“Well, you could just make a variation. You’re pretty good at coming up with those.”

“Alright, Pretty Gryffindor I get to date,” he beamed as he cupped her cheek to pull her in for another kiss.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x gryffindor!reader #harry potter #harry potter x reader #george weasley x reader #gryffindor #fluff fics #fluff #kalimagik #happy reading

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depressedtransguy · 3 years ago

Text

heyy don’t ready this unless you’re @angelwiththeblue-box or I’ll cover you in peanut butter so my dog will eat you and then spray catnip on your legs so my cats will shred them

Loki raced down the palace's steps with the heels of his shoes clicking against the stone, his formerly perfectly done hair bouncing and swishing around his shoulders from his speed, the gel undoing itself as he moved. He could practically hear his servant lecturing him later about making her do it again with only minutes to spare before the jousting. But that small amount of time left was the very reason he was racing down the stairs, headed toward the stables where he knew that the knights were preparing their horses.

On the first Sunday of every month, without fail, the Kingdom of Asgard joined together in their royal coliseum to see the knights battle and win feats for the public's entertainment. And, as the prince, Loki was expected to attend each one for its entirety. When he was younger he found it incredibly boring and complained immensely as an attempt to get out of it, but as he aged and grew into his deep attraction for men, he found himself leaning over the royal box's railing just to get a closer look at their bodies, imagining the sweat beading at their foreheads and muscles flexing underneath the armor, soft grunts released as their swords clashed together. Yes... he was very gay. Especially when the winners pulled off their helmets and waved to the crowd, revealing their ridiculously attractive faces pressed with dirt and sweat. Loki winked down at them, and they winked back. And when he was even older, from a mature teenager to young adult, those winks became sloppy open mouthed kisses covered under the cloak of night and hours of the prince being fucked from behind, his cheek pressed up against the rock walls that bordered the knight's sleeping quarters, bruises growing at his hips while his moans could be heard throughout the entire wing. He had been passed around by quite a few knights by the time he reached 24. Sometimes when one was pounding into him another one would hear and barge in to fuck his mouth.

But that was all before he met Stephen. Dark brown haired with some curling over his forehead, gray eyed, snarky, funny, beautiful Stephen. Yet another knight was he, but one that surprisingly hadn't fucked him yet. They came together around his 25th birthday when Loki was watching the knights practice sparring, and they were all tripping over themselves trying to impress him as usual. Their overeagerness to prove themselves like enthusiastic puppies was adorable. But that time, one stood out among the rest. Stephen. His moves were beautiful and smooth, almost angelic, yet still strong and forceful. He easily topped all the rest. Until, in the middle of their last fight, Stephen spotted Loki staring and biting his lip, and paused then to wink at him. But that stunt got him knocked down and defeated. Loki keeled over cackling.

The man who took him down during the wink-Jeff was his name-struck a strong pose when Loki's laughing had ceased enough for him to look up at the scene, thinking he had won his affection for the night since he had won the training exercise. But when Loki stood up he pushed right past him and kneeled next to where Stephen laid on the ground. Was it worth it? was the first thing he said. Worth winking at you? Yes, I'd certainly say so, was the first thing Stephen said. After that, the two started talking and spent the rest of the day together walking along the grounds to discuss their similar interests with some privacy. That was different than what the knights usually did with him, but Loki was the last person to complain about having someone let him rant about Shakespeare until he was pink in the face. The night took an even weirder direction though. After it grew dark the pair still stayed out to look at the stars for a bit until Loki started to shiver and Stephen offered to walk him to his room. Now that Loki was used to. 'Walk you to your room' was a term that he was familiar with before his nails were tearing holes in his silk sheets. Loki assumed that's what was happening as he found himself backed up against his bedroom door with one of Stephen's hands holding his as the other cupped his cheek and him leaning in. But right before their lips touched, Stephen raised Loki's hand and kissed his knuckles with the whisper goodnight Your Majesty. Then he vanished down to his quarters, leaving the prince confused, irritated, and horribly turned on.

As weeks passed of the pair flirting yet no sex happening, Loki rejected every other knight's passes in his chase to get Stephen. Ironically, Loki despised those stories about how when one party (usually a man) deprived the second party (usually a woman) of either sex or a relationship, and then the second party wants them more. He found them gross and pretty misogynistic. But Stephen was being caring and sweet and kind, not jerkish and neglectful like those stories usually represented the guys, and he was just keeping him teetering on the edge of their relationship taking that step further. It was undeniably hot. Especially as the other knights got angry with Stephen for depriving them too of something. Loki. But he never stopped until once, at last, after a ball that Loki hadn't particularly liked, Stephen and him slowly danced in the empty hall with him in a small green party dress that he prayed would make the knight finally make a move, bodies pressed together from shoulder to hip, and they kissed for the first time. It was electric and soft and groundbreaking and knee weakening and drugging and Loki never wanted it to end. But they had to part for Loki to be shoved against the wall and fucked up into. They didn't even leave the room, Stephen told him that he needed to claim him in public so that everyone would know who he belonged to. At the moment Loki just whined and dug his nails into his biceps, yet somehow when Stephen kept grabbing and kissing him in public, it was even hotter because he meant it.

Especially when it was around the other knights. To try to make Stephen jealous in return for their own envy, having lost their pretty fleshlight as he and Stephen dated, they'd (in deep detail)described their past sexual experiences with the prince at any chance they could. But it never worked. It just made Stephen makeout with him more publicly, grab his ass more, and purposefully fuck him in places where they could be heard or seen by them. Loki was exhilarated to belong to someone who loved him to such an extreme extent.

So, every first Sunday of the month since their relationship had started almost a year prior, Loki wished Stephen luck before the jousting event began. Stephen swore he was his good luck charm. But that day he had overslept, so he was on a time crunch for meeting him. That was why he bounded down the steps, burst out the cast doors, and bolted across the plush lawn (thankfully only tripping once) until the stable was finally in reach. A chorus of whistles and shouts rained down on him as he shoved open the rickety wooden door with his shoulder and went inside.

"Calm down boys," Loki called back slyly as he moved further in, immediately making his way to the stall labeled 'Levi': Stephen's horse. "I'm owned."

As soon as he was close enough Stephen (who looked unfairly sexy in his armor) wrapped his non-sword wielding arm around his partner's waist and pushed him up against the wall, tucking the weapon into his sheath on his belt while he kissed Loki stupid. "Damn right you are," he whispered against his lips with a cocky smirk that made the prince giggle. "I'm glad you're here, I was worried you weren't going to make it. We're leaving in only a few minutes."

"Like I would ever miss this, darling. You'd lose horribly without me."

Stephen chuckled lightly and pressed forward to give him a more pushy and bruising kiss. "I won your affections though."

"First place. No contest. So I suppose you do have that going for you."

There was something just incredibly wonderful about declaring their love in front of so many men who had all plowed Loki like a field. Their heated stares made the couple's kisses only more passionate. But, eventually and unfortunately, the coliseum's bell sounded, signalling to the kingdom to start gathering for the event since it would start soon enough. So with one last adoring kiss, Stephen effortlessly swung over his horse's back and snapped his reins to break him out into a trot. Loki giggled again and gave him a small wave as he passed.

There he stayed in the stable, a stupidly giddy smile on his face as he watched Stephen vanish into the distance, only running back to the castle once all knights had left toward the coliseum and he knew he was most likely royally screwed.

And he was right; as soon as he burst back in through the doors his father was there-already dressed and ready-to scold him. "Loki! Where the hell have you been? The carriage is already ready, the bell has been sounded and- oh of course you're not even dressed, and your hair is a mess. Go upstairs and get fixed up- quickly. You have five minutes or we're leaving without you," Odin lectured, picking apart the flaws he already knew about one by one. But Loki was only really caring when he got to the threat. As previously stated, he didn't really care for the fights when he was younger, so the ultimatums then were more about not letting him bring his books to distract himself during the event. But as he grew gayer and Odin caught on that he actually liked it then (although he didn't know why), he started warning for the opposite.

Even though Loki was technically an adult, he still had to listen to his father as the king, so he jumped up the stairs three at a time until he finally reached his oversized bedroom on the top floor. His servant was already waiting for him.

"Oh, Loki, your hair!"

"Yes, yes, I know, I know, Darcy, could you just fix it really quick? I have five minutes."

She huffed loudly and was most likely not going to be gentle, but she motioned for him to stand on his dressing platform as she pulled over a stool nonetheless, other servants joining in to dress him quickly as she cleaned up his untamed locks. "I have no idea how you do this every time, I feel like I do this six times a day," Darcy grumbled as she climbed up on her stool, bobby pins held between her teeth and a brush already ready. The three other workers collected his clothing items for the event and started to help strip him down, then helping him fasten the new and exceedingly more fancy fabrics to his body until he was acceptable done up. Gold embroidered green jacket, stupidly tight but alluring black pants, matching boots, and a black cape colored in yellow underneath to match his mother. A minute or two after they had finished Darcy's work came to a close as well, ending up creating a small bun at the back of his head with two braids following from his hairline to the knot, and two loose pieces of hair framing his face in the front. "There we go," she murmured as she lowered his crown onto the top of his head and pinned it down. "Now if you screw this up, I will make all of your hairstyles from now on uncomfortably tight. You understand?"

Loki nodded as he patted the sides of his head, observing himself in the large mirror before them. He knew she wasn't kidding. "I'll do my best."

"You better." The two gave each other a faire la bise as a goodbye and he thanked her and the other servants before he slipped out of the room, hurrying down the steps once more with the same goal of seeing his boyfriend, but with the poise and grace that he was forced to keep in order to maintain the outfit and hair.

Odin still huffed when he reached him though, although this time Thor and Frigga were with him. "Finally. Now let's go, we shan't be late." Loki only smiled at his mother while rolling his eyes at his father as soon as his back was turned. Thor just avoided eye contact all together, them still not talking about when Loki walked in on him sleeping with the stable boy with fewer brains than Thor's childhood rock collection. But, despite the differences, they made their way down the steps and climbed into their designated carriage as a family.

Although Loki's mind wandered as soon as the horses' reins were snapped.

I wonder how Stephen's doing.

Seated in the royalty box with his mother, father, and brother all seated to his right, Loki bounced his leg in impatience, waiting for the games to officially begin and for Stephen to come out. Right then they were just prepping the area and a few spare knights were fighting. None of them Stephen. When he was a bit younger, older than when he was disinterested but before their relationship, Loki was certainly more invested in all of the event over just some of it, imagining either what they'd done to him or what they'd do to him for each one, but just the pure rush and excitement he got from seeing Stephen do... anything certainly made up for everything and more. But for now that feeling was withheld from him, and he'd have to wait. Stephen did always like to make him wait. Called his impatience cute and covered his body in hickies until he declared that he was whining enough.

Loki breathed deeply through his nose and pressed his thighs together and attempted to change the mental subject, being in front of his family for that matter, although his exhibionism wasn't really helping him to calm down.

Thankfully though he did manage to relax enough to pull a small book of Shakespeare out of his pocket and distract himself with the ridiculousness of A Midsummer Night's Dream. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to wait until he was able to have Stephen all to himself in at least four hours. Jousting, sparring, chariot racing, etc etc, as well as the following cleaning up and Loki being able to escape from the royal grasp would unlikely take any less time.

Stephen had actually told him two nights prior as they lay in his bed, legs and fingers intertwined, that he had something special planned for them after that specific Sunday event. Loki questioned what it was, but the knight had just grinned and told him that it was a surprise. No matter how much Loki pouted he still wouldn't tell him. Cruel is what he had called him while also allowing Stephen to cover him in kisses.

But Loki did enjoy the element of surprise. Although sex was a pretty wonderful part of their relationship, the romantic element was something that he did thoroughly enjoy too, both getting something secret prepared for him and getting to prepare something secret for his partner filling him with a true boyish excitement that he hadn't experienced in years- if ever. His leg began to bounce in a more positive way. He was already thinking up what to do in return. Loki wanted him and Stephen to just keep giving each other romantic surprises for the rest of their lives.

A trumpet suddenly blasted from above and Loki was shaken out of his thoughts, forcing him to look up and observe the beginning of the event instead of thinking about the life he wished for him and the knight to have together, but the negativity of the interruption immediately washed away as he saw Stephen walk out into the arena to the roar of the cheering crowd, helmet tucked underneath his arm with his gorgeous smiling face presented to the world. Loki grinned from ear to ear and immediately leaned forward to get closer.

Despite their distance Stephen noticed him as he turned to wave at more of the crowd, casting a small wink up into the stands, making a few country people screech and squeal, but Loki knew it was just for him. Stephen told him it had always been him, ever since he first saw him, he being 19 as a beginning knight and Loki being two years younger at the time. Loki had felt bad at first for not remembering that, but Stephen had comforted him by saying he had his helmet on, so he wouldn't have been able to recognize him by face anyway. Then he kissed him until the prince was left breathless and grinning.

#also maraplankon you can read this #i just didn't get a response so no pressure #heyyyy hope you like this i had a lot of fun writing this and i am definitely not done but i still really wanted to share

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ughgclden · 3 years ago

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congrats on 900!! 🥳🥳 the fact that you're only 100 away from 1k is insane 😯 could i get a dps, tmr, s&b, and marauders ships pls (romantically) ok so little blurb abt myself: i'm a ravenclaw, infp 9w1, gemini sun (and venus), and my pronouns are she/her/hers. i do theatre at my school, both cast and crew, and i would like to go into science when i get older. i don't have many hobbies but i like to listen to music and i like being outside a lot. top albums atm are ctrl by sza and is this it by the strokes and i've been listening to a lot of fleetwood mac too. i think if i had to describe myself in three words i would say introverted, inconsistent, and i'm not really sure abt the last one. maybe vegetarian. because i'm vegetarian. i think sometimes i'm very much allison reynolds and other times i'm very much rosie from mamma mia! . anyways i don't really know how to end this little blurb but congrats again on 900 :))

ahh thank u so much angel!! i know holy shit im so :o?!?! and of course you can - omg i can't wait to write these!!! sorry if they're a little long, i like to ramble- and also a fellow infp 9w1!!!! aaa!!!!!

for dead poets society, i'd ship you with pitts!

i just think pitts would adore you and your vibe. pitts is such an outdoorsy person, so a lot of your dates would be driven by that; little picnics in the park, ice cream at the beach, walks through cute forests in the autumn, swimming in lakes, all of that nature stuff. i think pitts would love having a ravenclaw gf, and he'd find so much to talk to you about - he definitely takes an interest in science and would ask you all about your future plans and aspirations. he's such a good listener, so feel free to go into as much detail as you'd like about it and he'll soak up every word. this boy is super into music, and is more that willing to take recommendations from you. you've definitely converted him to a sza stan, and he already loves fleetwood mac so it's a win win. he'd show you some of his fav albums, and you'll spend an afternoon discovering new music together, dancing around stupidly until you're tired and out of breath.

for the maze runner, i'd ship you with minho!

for some reason, i think you and minho would be a great pair! as you're a more introverted person, he'd definitely make the first move - this is minho, after all. i think he'd take an interest in you the moment you came up in the box, but wouldn't want to scare you too much, as it's already quite a terrifying experience without being flirted with by a strange boy. but once you've settled in more, he takes his chances. there's not a lot of music in the glade, so you both settle for humming and singing little tunes you come up with yourself, or fragments of songs you remember from somewhere deep in your memory. as he's off running during the day, nights are the best time for you both to hang around. he'll practically crash into you and hug you tightly, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before rushing into the map rooms. during the bonfires, he'd stick with you the whole night, wandering the glade. towards the end of the night, you'd both flop down into the grass and stare at the stars, pointing out particularly bright or pretty ones. minho is insanely protective of you, and isn't afraid to fight one of the other gladers if they step out of line.

for shadow and bone, i'd ship you with jesper!

oh my god, jesper would be enamoured by you. reading 'rosie from mamma mia' gave me such jesper vibes, he'd adore a s/o like that. you'd both bounce off of each other's personalities, gaining a little more confidence and energy around jesper, whilst you calm him down slightly. since jesper can't really think of many hobbies he could list off of the top of his head, so you both like to try new activities together and see if anything catches on! pottery was fun, but way too time consuming for life in the barrel, but you'll find something perfect soon enough. he'd treat you to walks through ketterdam, managing to steal you small gifts here and there to present you with, an award winning smile on his face. he loves your theatrical side. he's always asking so many questions, whether it's about the sort of work you did as crew and if it was tricky, or about your roles and performances as a cast member. he'd want to learn musical theatre duets to perform with you when you were alone on an oddly domestic night, the both of you feeling like normal teenagers for once.

for the marauders era, i'd ship you with remus!

the moment i saw fleetwood mac, this made perfect sense to me. you and remus would be absolutely perfect. firstly, i definitely think he'd try out the whole vegetarian thing; even if he doesn't fully change his diet, he may try cooking some veggie meals for you both to share, delighting in how happy it makes you. you spend a lot of time on the hogwarts grounds, laying on his chest as he reads to you, or just making conversation as the sun hits your skin just right. he'll do everything he can to sneak you into the gryffindor common room and his dorm, not enjoying having you in a whole other part of the castle during the night. he likes to cuddle, okay. he'd just adore you. he thinks you're the best thing to happen to him, and isn't planning on letting go of you any time soon.

i hope u enjoyed these lovely!!! im sorry they took a while,, but i hope u like them and thanks sm for sending something in!! <3

#ughgclden's 900 follower celebration

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tibbythetiger · 5 years ago

Text

Bad Directions and Important Questions

Harley was pretty sure he was doing enough spontaneous things in this past month then he ever had in the past eighteen years. He looked up at the dark dorm building in front of him, as Peter came bounding the walk way. He looked even more adorable in the moonlight, then again, to Harley, Peter just always looked good. He grinned when he saw Harley’s car, sliding into the passenger seat grinning at him.

“So I was thinking that we could go Salem,” Peter says as he grins over at Harley, he raises an eyebrow at the boy beside him.

“Salem, we should just drive to Salem in the middle of a Wednesday night?” Harley asks, Peter nods, and there’s small drops of water that fall from his head, it’s not raining, thankfully, but Peter must have just showered. He smells fresh, and looks clean and baby faced, his hair curled and dripping a little. Harley wants to grab him and wrap him in a blanket, but Peter the little shit he is, is pulling up directions on his phone.

“Ned and I have been talking about going, but he’s going with Betty, that’s his girlfriend, and their parents. So I thought we could go,”

“But Peter, there’s not going to be anything open right now. It’s already 11:30,” Harley tries to reason, Peter merely shrugs.

“C’mon late night road trips are the best,” Harley shakes his head, but he’s smiling. How can he not? He can’t help himself around Peter, most of the time he doesn’t want to. Peter is like a breath of fresh air in the depressing monotony of Harley’s life, the new limited edition flavor that Harley is going to binge until he hates it, and desperately wishes for it come back when it leaves. Besides, he won’t admit it aloud, because it’s too soon to say, but Harley’s already desperately in love with Peter.

“Okay, okay. Fine, we’re going to Salem, we’re going to be possessed by old with spirits, and they’re going to make a horror movie about us.” Peter laughs, his button nose scrunching up.

“You’re the best Princess,” Peter says as he places a feather light kiss on Harley’s cheek bone as he starts the car back up. Peter’s back on his phone when Harley dares to glance back over at him,

“You’re going to get cold,” Harley says, as he looks at Peter in his thin t-shirt and sweatpants, Peter looked down at himself.

“Hm, you’ll have to give me your sweater.” he said, a cocky little smile crossing his normally angelic features. Harley rolled his eyes, and leaned to grab something from the backseat.

“Is this a letterman’s jacket? Princess did you used to play football?”

“Baseball actually, and yes it was my letterman’s jacket.” Harley can feel Peter’s eyes on him, and he knows he’s grinning.

“Damn baby, that’s hot.” Harley coughs, and glances over to see Peter slipping on the jacket. It’s too big on him, they’re probably a size or two apart, and Harley’s arms are far longer than Peters. Harley almost wants to cry looking at Peter, burgundy and black colors of his school contrast so nicely with Peter’s pale skin. Harley’s not much of an artist, but he’s pretty sure if he painted a picture of Peter right now, his damp hair and bunched sleeves, he’d win an award. People won awards for their paintings right?

“I don’t think it’s impressive as playing football,”

“I wouldn’t know, I’m horrible at sports.” Harley grins

“That I can believe,” he sighs as he pulls out of the parking lot,

“How long did you play?”

“Since middle school, to my senior year.”

“Dedicated, I like that in a guy.” Peter says, and Harley can feel himself flush. They hadn’t really said what they were doing, this thing, this energy was between them. Harley knew that Peter had felt it just as he had the night they had officially met. The night of the party, they hadn’t really kissed since then. They’d hung out plenty, constantly meeting up to studying and go grocery shopping together. Some nights they’d get together and watch movies together and Peter would fall asleep on his shoulder, and when they movie was over he’d wake up and Harley would go back to his dorm.

Harley was lost, and far too awkward to say anything, but even then he wasn’t sure what to say when Peter called him baby and princess. Or when he flirted with him in general.

“It was just something to do, there’s not a lot in Rose Hill.”

“I think I would love to live in a small town,” Harley laughed as he glanced over at Peter, who was already looking at him. Harley flushed,

“I’m pretty sure you’d hate it, you’re a city boy through and through darlin’.” he looked away quickly, he hadn’t meant for the nickname to slip out of his mouth, he looks over, pretending to be checking the street for traffic so he can glance at Peter. He’s looking down at his phone, smiling to himself, the tips of his ears bright pink.

“I could totally live in a small town,”

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself, doll. No where the hell am I going?” he asks, he’s pretty sure Peter is rubbing off on him, since he’s not usually one for nicknames, and definitely not one to be so blunt, or forward. Whatever, he’s not usually like this; then again he’s also not usually the type to kiss pretty boys in makeup at parties either and if he hadn’t done that he wouldn’t even be talking to Peter in his car in the middle of the night right now.

“Oh uh right, left, you’re taking a left here.” Harley follows his directions letting them fall into a slightly awkward silence.

“So what’s on the agenda tonight then?” Harley asks, he raises an eyebrow though he keeps his eyes on the road. It’s mostly empty, it is a Wednesday night so he’s not too surprised; still Harley’s a careful driver and he’s sure it’s going to rain any second. There’s rumbles from the dark sky above them and the moonlight that was casting pretty shadows on Peter’s face is slowly getting hidden by the clouds.

“I honestly don’t know, I just wanted out of my dorm room.”

“We could have went to my room, or to a diner or something.” Peter shrugs, Harley catches it as he makes a turn,

“I thought we could use a change of pace, try something different.” Peter merely says,

“And that, sweetheart is why you could never live in a small town. You’d get too bored,”

“Well if you were in the small town I’d never get bored,”

“You expect me to constantly entertain you?” Harley asks, he’s mostly teasing.

“I didn’t mean that,”

“I wasn’t-”

“I like your company,” Peter says Harley takes a second to glance over at him, Peter’s facing away from him, looking out the window, their eyes meet briefly in his reflection cast from the street lights. Harley looks away,

“I like your company too,” Harley says, as he looks back at the road, Peter doesn’t say anything but Harley can tell he’s satisfied with his response. They ride in silence, with Peter only giving directions when his phone prompts him too, or Harley asks. It’s not too bad, they operate well in silence for the most part, they do it when they’re studying, or okay honestly they’re almost never quiet. Harley’s pretty sure “quiet” isn’t even in Peter’s vocabulary, he’s always making some sound, some movement, something to fill space around him.

Harley starts to freak out then, he knows it’s dumb, because they’re not actually dating so it’s not like Peter can break up with him. If he didn’t want to hang out anymore, he’d just say that right? He’s being dumb, Peter literally just said he liked his company,

“You missed the turn,” Peter speaks up beside him, Harley looks up from the road, glancing at Peter and then the signs along the road.

“Shit, you’re right. I’ll just turn around at the next exit.” Peter didn’t say anything, and they fall into another bout of silence.

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

They were lost, because Harley had been so stupidly stuck in his head and had missed his turn.

“Any idea on how to get there?”

“My phone is honestly just about dead,” Peter says as he looks up at Harley, they’re parked in a gas station parking lot, huddled together to conserve some of their heat. It’s not like Harley doesn’t have gas in his car, but he doesn’t have a lot of cash on him, he hadn’t been expecting a trip when he had picked Peter up so he’d only brought a twenty and he desperately needed coffee. Harley digs his out of his pocket, turning on the screen, it flickers off right away.

“You really need a new phone Princess,”

“I need money to get a new phone,” Harley says, and Peter sighs.

“Well we could get a map in the gas station,” Peter offers

“It looks like we’re not going to have much other choice,” Harley says running his hands through his hair, Peter puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry I dragged us out here tonight, I’m sure you’ve got class in the morning.”

“Dude I’m the idiot that missed the turn, it’s my fault we’re lost.” Peter looks like he wants to argue but Harley’s already continuing. “Are you cold? I can turn the car on if you want?” he’s reaching for the keys when Peter grabs his hand.

“We can just go home if you want, we don’t have to go to Salem. I was being dumb, and impuslive.”

‘Peter-” Harley has to admit he’s avoided saying his name out loud, he’s definitely said it out loud, to his roommate, to himself late at night, more times then he’d like to admit. He knows if he says Peter’s name out loud, to Peter, he’ll be able to tell how far gone he is. How much he wants this, whatever the hell all of these hang outs and awkward pauses and long glances are. How much he wants Peter, he’s right of course because Peter looks up at him, his pretty brown eyes wide. His pink lips parted just barely, there’s a sound that comes from the back of Peter’s throat, a whine almost. Harley isn’t even sure what he was planning on saying, now that Peter’s attention is so fixated on him. He opens his mouth and closes it again, looking forward as the streams of rain that are now pouring down on his car get louder. He grabs the steering wheel tightly, he’s sure his knuckles are white if he were to glance down at them.

“Harley,” Peter says, it’s not a question, more of a breath; a hope, a whisper. It’s all the encouragement that Harley didn’t realize that he needed. He turns to Peter, operating on instinct, on something else, that’s telling him to just kiss the damn beautiful boy who is sitting there, right beside him.

He does, and Peter pulls him closer and runs his hands through his curls; they only pull away because they can’t breathe and because Peter is giggling into his hands like a little kid.

“What’s so funny?” Harley isn’t mad, he’s leaning his head against his window, the glass cool under his skin. It feels nice, he’s sure his whole face is red; if Peter’s own face is anything to go off of.

“I dragged you an hour away from school to get up the courage to ask you to be my boyfriend and then you kiss me in your car while it’s raining.” he leans forward, brushing his nose against Harley’s.

“How are you so fucking perfect?” Harley’s brain is short circuiting to come up with an actual response, he swallows and sort of bobs his head, bumping his nose into Peter’s, their lips brush against each other’s.

“Why’d you drag me out in the middle of the night?” Harley asks, his lips are a feather’s breath away from Peter’s. Peter leans forward kissing the tip of his nose before pulling away, settling in his seat.

“I wanted to do something cute, not all of us can be as smooth as you Princess,” Harley rolls his eyes

“If I was smooth, I would have asked you out for real already.” he says, as he runs his hand through his hair. Peter rolls his eyes,

“So you’re not even smooth on purpose,”

“I don’t know how you ever got the idea of me being smooth,”

“Maybe not smooth, but you did make out with me at a party. Then stayed the night in the same bed as me at my dorm room, all while saying that was a date.”

“I, I was kinda drunk.” Peter shakes his head

“You weren’t, I was,” he pauses his face flushing “I was watching you at the party. I know you had like two drinks, and if you were a baseball player in a small Tennessee town; you’ve gone to better parties then one thrown by rich hipster kids.”

“Aren’t you a rich hipster?” Harley asks, deflecting the question of his sobriety, Peter scoffs

“I’m not a rich hipster, I’m a rich nerd, there’s a difference between the two” it’s Harley’s turn to roll his eyes then.

“Okay sweetheart,”

“You’re a smooth gentleman,” Peter says his fingers knotting themselves together, Harley reaches over and touches his knuckles lightly.

“I’m not a gentleman,” he argues, but it’s light “I’m just dumb, and didn’t think you wanted me to kiss you again.” Peter rolls his eyes.

“All I wanted was for you to kiss me again, why do you think I was always texting you? Asking you over? All the times I pretended to fall asleep during our movie nights?”

“You pretended to fall asleep during our movie nights?” Peter flushes

“I-uh, no.” he turns to face the window.

“You didn’t have to drag me out to the middle of nowhere to ask me out you know,”

“Well that’s good to know. I’ll keep that in mind the next time I want to ask you something.”

“But you haven’t asked me anything.” Peter whines then

“I thought me saying it was enough,”

“But you didn’t ask,” Harley counters, he’s not sure what’s gotten into him. He’s never like this, he hasn’t been like this with anyone before. This free, this open, this loud and teasing, fuck he hasn’t been this comfortable around another person since Abby. The thought of her name makes his heart twist in his chest, but then there’s Peter, Peter who is leaning over to be closer to him again, his pink lips pouting.

“Harley Francis Keener, would you please do me the honor of asking me to be your boyfriend?” Peter asks, Harley laughs leaning forward to kiss Peter. It feels warm in the car, despite the chilled windows and the rain pounding down around them.

“Peter, sweetheart, doll, darlin’ please be my boyfriend,” Peter grinds against his mouth, his eyes falling closed as he connects their lips.

“About fucking time, jessus.”

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They don’t get home until sometime after three , it had taken them a good forty-five minutes to finally leave the gas station, too busy giggling and smiling and well, kissing to want to leave. They did have class in the morning though so they did eventually buy a map and Peter horribly navigated them back. (Next time, Harley decides after Peter tells him to take the third wrong turn in a row, he’s going to make Peter drive and he’s going to navigate. Or he’ll navigate and drive.) They do finally make it though, and as Harley pulls up to his dorm building he’s exhausted and but he knows he’s not going to be able to sleep when he gets back to his dorm. Peter looks over at him, grinning;

“Do you want to come up?”

“Isn’t Ned home? Plus it’s late, I don’t want to stick around to watch a movie just to drive back to my dorm later.” Harley feels bad for admitting it, but it’s true. Peter frowns

“Is your roommate home?”

“Tyler? No, he’s dog sitting for one of the upperclassmen in his study group. He’s gone all week,”

“I could grab my stuff and we could go back to your dorm?” Harley feels his stomach knot slightly, Harley’s dorm isn’t as nice as Peter’s. In fact there’s nothing that Harley has that is as nice as Peter’s, besides Peter himself, but Harley isn’t sure if that counts. Peter’s looking at him hopefully, his brown eyes reminiscent of a puppy. Harley leans over the middle console to kiss him, already knowing he would say yes.

“Yeah, yeah you can come home with me.”

“Jeez, moving a little fast there Keener?” Harley rolls his eyes

“Go get your stuff sweetheart,” Peter presses a wet kiss on his cheek, and dashes out of the car. Harley sighes, fighting the smile that spreads across his face.

How the fuck did he get a guy like Peter to be his boyfriend? It’s an amazing feat, if he had more friends, or any friends in general, he’d call them up and brag. He doesn’t though, the only person he wants to tell is Abby, and she’s not here. He shoves the thought away, he’s allowed to be happy right now, he can bask in this feeling, the feeling of Peter and all the light he brings without having to feel sad or guilty.

God, he really did get lucky with Peter, not just lucky, blessed, honest to god blessed. He grins when Peter comes bounding back towards him, still in his sweatpants and Harley’s too big letterman’s jacket, his backpack slung over his shoulder. He’s breathing a little heavily, Harley figures he must have run up and down the stairs. He probably woke up poor Ned, but then Peter leans in to kiss him and he can’t spare Peter’s roommate another thought.

Because, god Peter is like the sun and the moon and everything beautiful all rolled up into one and he’s so lost, so in love with this piece of art of a boy. Harley kisses the tip of his button nose,

“You’re breathtaking,” he whispers, he’s close enough to Peter that he can feel him flush, but he doesn’t argue.

“Smooth Princess, smooth.”

This is again based off the prompt from @parknerprompts This weeks was road trips/ driving. This one was one that was a little harder to put together, I actually wrote it halfway and decided I hated what I started writing and wrote this instead! More information on the boys, as I do mention Harley's sister a few times! I have an actual idea of the AU this is set in now, but it will be revealed in the later weeks!

AO3 link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/20207944/chapters/47885401

#parkner #peter parker #harleykeener #keenker #fic #marvel

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sweetdeathwrites · 6 years ago

Text

Just A Coffee

Pairing: 40′s! Pre-serum!Steve / Waitress/Waiter!Reader

Summary: Out of all the people to walk in and steal your breath away, it had to be him–– and honestly, you’re fine with it.

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, i got second hand embarrassment from writing some of this lol

Word Count: 3,116

Finally!! My first fic I’ve written since starting this blog!! I thought it’d be nice to start it off with some fluff and (love of my life) pre-serum steve!

tagging @youngmoneymilla for her kind advice in starting this blog, and @littledarlinwrites and @romanticsteggy for answering some requests I asked of them! You’re all too sweet and I hope you enjoy this!

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

There’s a scrawny man sitting in booth five again.

He’s about your height, rolls up the sleeves on his shirt at least twice, and looks like he weighs ninety pounds soaking wet, max.

He walked in last Tuesday, and since then you’ve found yourself daydreaming about him… You could kick yourself, really. Out of everyone to walk in, why did it have to be him?

On the bright side, he’s got a voice deeper than you expected looking at him, a thin face that’s been shaped by angels, and he’s polite as anything– including the tips he leaves.

You sigh and pick up a menu. A dollar’s a dollar, you remind yourself, then smooth out your apron on the walk to his booth.

As you approach, the blond picks up his head at the sound of your footsteps. Sweet baby blues are focused on you and it makes you bite your lip to keep a demure grin at bay. Jeanie, sitting behind the counter at the register snickers and that’s all it takes for you to let go off your lip and shake yourself into a more professional headspace.

“Good mornin’, sir,” you place the menu on the table in front of him. “Could I interest you in anything to drink while you take a look at the menu?”

He smiles and, good god, exactly who was it that polished that perfect row of teeth, all shiny and chrome? You want to know what the price range is on that baby. Maybe buy yourself one with all the tips he’s been giving.

“Sure is a great morning, now.” He says, almost confident with his ears all pink. “And a coffee would be just perfect.”

“Alrighty, sir, I’ll be back before you know it.”

Sure is a great morning, now…

Now?

With your back turned to him, you mouth the word again in disbelief. What did he mean, “now”?!

Second week of blondie coming in, he ends up seated at the wrong table. Well, not the wrong table, just not the tables you cover. Jeanie’s side of the diner.

You’re writing the orders of a sleepy family on vacation and get distracted by him. He flashes you a dazzling, nervous smile as he walks by you to the nearest empty seat, and waits with fidgeting hands for you to meander his way.

Instead, Jeanie walks by you with an apologetic smile and half-empty pot of coffee in her hand to the blond’s booth. His shoulders fall but he makes an order and a breath you didn’t realize was trapped in your chest melts out.

“ … and an order of hashbrowns–– actually, do you do half orders? I’m not feeling too hungry, is all,” the father finishes.

Aaand crap, you think to yourself, because for the last twenty seconds or so, your hand has been scribbling nothing but hearts over the poor family’s orders. What a way to start a morning.

By the third week, you’ve gotten a feel for his rhythm. Since that day with Jeanie, the blond has stuck to the booth in the far corner of the restaurant that catches the perfect amount of sun without getting too hot–– but most importantly, it’s your table.

“Hey again, sir,” you say, placing the menu straight into his hands. “Coffee?” You raise a brow, offering his usual.

“Thought I came to a diner, not a psychic’s,” is his reply, voice light with humor and just enough of sleep brought roughness to get the skin on the back of your neck to prickle. It’s a lame joke, but you laugh honestly anyway–– a little too hard, maybe, because Jeanie makes kissy faces at you when you go around the counter for the coffee pot. Her squeak and cussing when you kick her in the shin in passing soothe your pride a little.

Out of the few coffee pots sitting, you choose the hottest and freshest one. Not for blondie, of course… You’re just being dutiful in your work, is all… You swing your hip around a grumbling Jeanie and you look up and see him waiting, looking shy and handsome as ever.

Yep, you think as you pour him a cup, I’m just good at my job, is all.

Blondie swallows a lump in his throat and asks how you’ve been doing and as you lean on his table and look at his stupidly pretty face from above, you really can’t deny it anymore.

This man, pretty and in need of a few home cooked meals, has you at his mercy.

Oh, damn.

“Hey, look,” he starts, combing a hand through his short hair… making it all fluffed up. Making you want to run your hands through it, too. “I’ve been coming here a while, and… well, I don’t know your name yet. I’d love to get to know you better.”

He smiles, shaky as a newborn foal, and you wither in the warmest way possible.

Damn it all.

You give him your name–– and you’re maybe a little too eager because your middle name slips in by accident.

Blondie laughs, and he looks so much more relaxed now. It hits you that blondie was just as nervous as you about this, and the whole situation makes you lightheaded.

“Steve,” he says, hand out for you to shake. “I’m Steve Rogers.”

You take his hand in yours and it’s small and soft and perfect. The both of you hold the shake for a little longer than you should, and when he pulls back his elbow hits the coffee mug and sends it rolling, hot coffee spilling all over the table.

Steve curses, apologizing–– then apologizes for cursing, as you both rush to pile napkins over the mess. You’ll get an earful from Jeanie about having your head in the clouds and how you’ve done too good a job of reeling Steve in, but it’s worth it to see his brow furrow and his cheeks glow with embarrassment.

Steve stays until the morning rush is over, talking with you for a quick moment when no one needs help or a refill on their drink. He talks about his ma, a friend named Bucky, and of his passion for drawing. You lean in probably a bit too close, until you’re sitting in the booth across from him. Steve orders a new cup of coffee whenever your boss comes around to glare at the two of you.

“Here,” you place the fresh mug on his table and swing the handle of it over to him. His hand is already reaching for it, though, and his fingers slide up your knuckles and over the back of your hand. For just a second, your heart leaps out of your chest.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, head tucked against his chest and ears on fire, “and thanks.” He takes a sip, turning away from you and his eyes crawling every inch of wallpaper so he doesn’t have to meet your eyes. You’re just as flustered as he is, but he’s looking about as red as a boiled lobster right about now.

Pink, you’ve decided, is a delicious look on him.

“Look alive, sunshine,” Jeanie says a touch on the loud side, “Your boyfriend’s here.”

Turning, confusion written all over your face, is Steve. You want to give Jeanie a swift pinch but he’s watching–– and this time, he’s not alone.

A man is by his side, looking all kinds of fine and polished, but only the second handsomest thing you’ve ever seen. Steve mumbles something to him and nods in your direction. The new man smiles bright as the sun, and the two approach you.

“G’ morning,” Steve says, cheeks looking a little rosier than a second ago.

“Hi,” you say, grabbing two menus for courtesy–– Steve’s long since memorized the menu.

You’re about to lead the two men to Steve’s usual booth when the new man speaks up.

“Hello, sweetness,” he says, nodding at you, “I’ve heard lots about you.”

Brow quirked, you glance at Steve, who looks ready to chew his friend’s ear off when you’re out of sight. It’s another look you find unbearably cute on him.

As they slide into the usual booth, Steve fuming, you hand them their menus. “All good things, I hope?”

The man chuckles, dropping his angular jaw into his palm. From under long lashes, he looks up at you with what is truly a disarming smile, “Hard to paint you in a better light from what I’ve heard, honestly.”

At this, Steve kicks his friend from under the table, and rather hard from the yelp you get from the unfamiliar man.

“Two coffees, please,” Steve grits out. His hands are clenched white around the plastic menu and you hear its squeaking between his fingers.

“Sure thing, sugar,” you toss over your shoulder. Steve blushes again and his friend all but leers at him for it. The two boys are really at it, you can tell–– not only are their whispers loud and agitated, but other customers turn around to watch them box at each other. You shake your head.

Two coffees in hand, they stop fighting just as you arrive back at the table. The new man huffs and takes a sip of his coffee as Steve speaks up.

“This is Bucky,” he says, voice still firm, “And I brought him along because I thought he would be better behaved.”

Bucky’s head flies up like he’s about to start another fight and you intervene.

“Ah, well,” you shrug, “you’ve got enough manners for the two of you.”

Bucky holds his chest like you’ve shot him and you can’t help laughing, and they both seem to soften a little bit at that, then conversation and banter and the slightest bit of flirting flow easily. As it was with just the two of you before, you end up leaning on the table, then into Steve’s side of the booth. You tell them you’re just giving your feet a rest, but Bucky grins and his eyes flit between you and Steve. He looks proud, chest all puffed out and cheeks near sore from how wide he’s been smiling.

You turn to see what Bucky finds so interesting, and you have to stop yourself from bumping noses with Steve. He reels back and turns his head to cough a little to excuse himself, and you’re stuck with a fluttering feeling in your belly.

Bucky’s smiling but has the grace to change the topic.

The vinyl seat squeaks when you lean back into it, and you can see Steve’s hand just a few inches from yours. His fingers tap the seat restlessly, and he is looking at Bucky so intently that you’re sure he’s ignoring how close your hands are.

You roll your eyes but can’t stop your heart from leaping when you loop your pinky finger around his. Steve jolts and whips his head to look at you, then your hands, and back to you again. He’s got to be the least subtle person on the planet, honestly. Bucky’s continuing on with his story but snickering through it.

You really can’t recall a single word he says, though, because Steve squeezes your pinky against his then holds your hand fully. His hand is small and slim but it’s the shape of joy and happiness, and you think to yourself that you don’t want to go another day without his fingers entwined with yours.

It’s safe to say that Bucky’s rambling fell on deaf ears for the rest of their time in the diner.

“Are you doing anything after this?” Steve asks one day, after you take his bill and empty cup from him. You’re startled by his words, but not as much as he seems to be–– redness creeps up his neck until he’s covered with it and he raises his arms up in wild gesticulation.

“Not to assume, or pressure you into anything,” he stammers, “but I thought it would be nice to talk to you outside of this place. I-It’s a nice place, not to say it isn’t, but I just–– I wanted to take you out to–”

Steve just completely stops talking after those words. “Take you out,” he said.

Take you out…

Take you out!

“I’m sorry, I just––”

“Yes.”

Steve’s eyes widen at your interruption. The clatter of silverware and the easy conversation of other patrons fade away. He swallows, and chokes a little.

“Pardon?”

“Don’t make me say it again, Rogers.”

“No, it’s just–– did you hear me right?” Steve’s in disbelief, head tilted slightly. Though he’s the one asking you out, in this moment he really believes you’ve absolutely lost your mind.

You take a pause. Doubt creeps in and your worst nightmare seems to be unfolding right before you. “Well, gee… I sure hope I did.”

The conversation dies out again for a second. Both of you are at a loss for words.

“Um,” you begin.

“Well,” he says at the same time.

At this moment, you want nothing more than to claw your hair out and crawl into the kitchen freezer. Steve looks like he’s going to sprint out of here.

Not knowing what else to say, you default to, “Coffee?”

“Please,” Steve breathes out heavily, slumping his body back into the seat. Truth be told, this went way worse than he anticipated.

As you walk back to the counter, colors and sounds blur. Red becomes yellow becomes blue, and everything is much too loud. The coffee pours slow into a mug and you see every little chip in the handle and the coffee stains on the side of the mug.

Your apron feels too tight, too itchy. Jeanie is a few tables away–– you could probably give her the mug, tell her you’re leaving town, and catch a Greyhound to the other side of the country, all by noon today if you make the move now.

It’s all for moot, though. Your feet remember the steps and you end up by Steve’s side without remembering the walk over.

“Here,” you place the cup in front of him.

His head is in his hands and when he looks up, he stares straight ahead. His hands drag over his face and you’ve never seen a man as tortured as him.

“Thanks.”

You don’t know what to do, so you just stand before him, hands wrestling and sweaty. You can’t not look at Steve, how nervous and conflicted he looks. It’s worrying you, honestly… Did you really hear him wrong?

“I, um,” Steve shakes his head. “Wow.”

You’re cursing yourself for every little look and glance you’ve ever exchanged with Steve, cursing yourself for introducing yourself to him, for ever walking up to his table. You curse yourself for taking this stupid job, for living in New York, for falling in love with this beautiful mess of a man and––

“Okay, let me try again.”

Steve turns in his seat to face you.

“Look, I like you.” He takes a deep breath. “I really like you. And I’d like to take you out on a date, if that’s what you want. If you like me and want that, too.”

And just like that, all the air leaves you. You’re close to fainting, you think, with the relief that just coursed through you.

Steve looks like he’s bracing for impact, for you to physically attack him with the way his eyes are clenched shut and shoulders hiked up high on his neck.

In a way, he’s right–– you launch yourself at him and throw your arms over his shoulders to kiss him firm on the mouth.

You feel his eyelashes brush your face as his eyes shoot open, not expecting this in the least. They close shortly after, returning the kiss and his hands landing on your waist to pull you closer to him.

The kiss lasted no more than a few seconds, but Steve’s winded and gasping when you pull away from him. It probably doesn’t help that you’ve landed, basically, in his lap during the kiss.

“Sorry,” he says, “It’s my asthma.”

For some reason, that leaves you laughing, an absolutely side-splitting and tear-jerking fit of laughter. Steve joins in too, though he’s not sure why.

Your forehead is pressed against his shoulder and his hands on your waist feel like the most blissful, comforting sensation you’ve ever felt. You jolt up with a gasp, however, when you remember.

“You need to pay.”

“What?” Steve asks, incredulous. Sure, he had no intention of asking you to a date then letting you pay for it yourself–– the first time at least–– but he couldn’t deny you outright saying it was a bit rude.

“The coffee.”

He looks over at the cooling mug of coffee that sat untouched. He can’t help laughing again, head rolling back against the seat.

“I don’t know why I offered you it, honestly,” you say sheepishly, and pull back from him a little. His lap probably wasn’t the best place to sit yourself on during work hours, as much as you wished you could sit back down and get kissed senseless, you really needed the work.

“I don’t know why I bought it!” Steve stands, seems to want to move closer to you. He slides his hand into yours, pinky first, and continues. “How about I settle this cup and meet you at the door?”

Your grin is cheshire-like, and you steal a look at the clock. Your shift is over in seconds, thankfully. “I’ll see you there.”

Steve takes a moment of holding you close, his eyes keep sliding back to your lips. He leans in and kisses you again, and this time you allow yourself to melt. Kissing him is sweet and soft and the slightest bit slick–– it’s electrifying and you can’t wait to see all the different kinds of ways he can make you feel with his kiss.

He pulls away and you purr, tongue flicking out to your bottom lip. It catches Steve’s eye, of course, and he reddens and his breath gets caught in his throat.

“Go on,” he struggles to say, voice hoarse and a little strained.

You all but skip back to the counter, untying your apron and throwing it in the back.

You pass Jeanie on your way out, Steve’s thrown a handful of coins on the counter, and you loop your arm in his. Jeanie watches you turn the corner with your head on Steve’s shoulder, walking away from the commotion the two of you caused in the diner from all that tense confession mess and PDA.

“Fools, the two of them,” she shakes her head, “Lovestruck and absolute fools.”

#captain america #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers/reader #ca:tfa #fanfic #mcu #fanfiction #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #40's steve rogers #40s steve #pre serum steve #pre-serum steve #god i love this stupid little twink.....#steve rogers #u bet ur ass i have another skinny steve in the works!! i think it's gonna be a 2 chap at least tho #so i prolly won't post that till I'm done w both parts

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reefartandwriting · 6 years ago

Text

Such a Flirt

For lapidot AU week day something (free day/ bad pickup lines) again the idea just popped into my head and here it is.

(Btw I checked it for spelling errors this time unlike yesterday I know I'm an idiot XD)

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Lapis POV.

I had never been one for parties. Drinking and socializing and dancing Were not among the things I enjoyed doing, especially all together. But I had allowed my little blonde nerd to bring me anyway.

Despite her awkward nature, peridot was very much a people person. She lived for the attention and talking that I ussaully attempted to avoid. It's was fun watching her be in her element though, happy and smiling while chatting around.

I never understood why out of everyone she could be with, she chose me. But she always made me feel warm and loved. I felt so comfortable around her. And I felt so unworthy of such a sweet person... but I knew what she would say, so I kept that thought to myself.

I simply watched from afar, sometimes glancing around to the other people. But when I looked back at peridot I was a bit dissapointed to see her taking shots. Not unusual, but not something I really approved of. Thankfully she didn't drink THAT often. I rarely had to see her stumbling and giggling out to the car.

But I did keep a more careful eye on her now, hoping every time that lifted a glass she would STOP, but her friend amythest seemed to be rooting heron to take more. Peridots movement became slower and less coordinated, so I knew it was kicking in.

"Worried?" I jumped at the sudden voice, turning from my place against the wall to see Steven, another one of peridots friends. Though, admittedly, he had wormed his cute little face into my heart as well. I relaxed, giving the younger boy a small smile.

"Don't I have the right to? I can at least be thankful that she isn't a crazy drunk." I chuckled to myself as Steven stepped a bit closer. "She'll be okay, lapis. I've seen her do much worse in terms of drinking." He gave my back a small pat.

"And you've known her longer than me. I'll take your word for it." I said a little quieter, a few doubts still in my mind. He just gave another small smile and jogged over to pearl, who was rolling her eyes at amythest.

So for awhile I forced myself to just stay calm. Refusing to look up and perhaps catch peridot doing something stupid while drunk.

However, it was a bout maybe half an hour later when I finally had to look up, because of approaching footsteps. "Hey~"

I blinked at the flirty tone and shot my head up, but was relieved when it was just peridot, a goofy grin on her face. I chuckled and smiled back. "Hi. You okay?"

The blonde huffed, and leaned against the wall beside me, shooting me a flirty wink. "Better now~. Why are you all alone in the corner, honey?" I was a bit confused, but blushed a bit at her flirting. I tilted my head with a small huff. "I should've kept watching you. No telling how drunk you are."

She giggled and shrugged. "Not too far gone to see a pretty lady all alone~. Nice to know you noticed me as well." She was speaking strange, like it would've been unusual to watch her.

"Its not a very hard decision... you're flirting is terrible." I laughed, my shoulders shaking a bit before I stretched and looked back at her. She lifted an arm to her chest. "You wound me. I'm complimenting you. But if you want me to stop I will~"

"I never said that..." I whispered, smiling again. I bumped her shoulder lightly, careful not to send her stumbling away. It was nice seeing her playful. Though of course she had always been pretty honest, she had only been like this once or twice. The first time was the first time she took me to a party. The night to follow was... interesting. I feel my cheeks heat at the memories. The second was when sober, during a small roadtrip we took up to a larger city.

Her grin went back to being wide, and she lightly took my hand, kissing it. "Then I won't~. Can I ask your name, blue?" At this I froze. "My name?" She nodded, rubbing my hand with her thumb. "I could keep coming up with sweet things to call you... but it would be so much sweeter to say such a beuatiful lady's name~"

I blushed at the comment, feeling my heart beat a bit faster. She forgot who I was? Did she think I was just some pretty girl at this party? "You don't know me?"

She seemed a bit confused too, but kept her warm smile. "Unfortonately... but I'd like to... forgive my forwardness." Her eyes sparkled a bit with anticipation, waiting for some sort of answer.

I couldn't believe it. She completely forgot who I was. But was STILL flirting with me? I looked down, giggling, covering my face in embaressment. "You dork..."

She laughed a bit too, and let our hands fall into a less proper pose. "Well... I could try other pickup lines... I don't plan to stop until I get your name." She said it happily, but I could tell she was serious.

She squeezed my hand. "Would ya look at that, now I can say I've been touched by an angel. Hope it didn't hurt too bad falling from heaven~" I blushed worse, leaning against her and giggling at how STUPIDLY cute she was. I felt so warm and happy that I couldn't even speak as she contenued. "Something must be wrong with my eyes... I can't take them off you. It's strange, such a work of art should be in a museum~"

I snorted into a laughing fit, pushing her shoulder. "Oh god stop! They're so bad!" I covered my mouth and squeezed her hand back before blushing and looking back at her. "Its lapis. You?" I smiled as she brightened up again, smiling as she leaned closer to me. "Me? Oh my dear I might as well change my name to fallen for you~"

This got me to snort again, and I punch her arm playfully. "I meant your real name, you SAP." She giggled in return and leaned into my ear. "Peridot. Nice to meet you~"

I felt a bit more warm at her breathy whisper, but closed my eyes and smiled as she kept whispering sweet and cheesy things to me for a good few mote minutes. But she stopped, pausing for a second and relaxing. "Want to... get out of here? It would be a waste to not get one date with you..."

I turned again, and decided to smirk. "Well, unfortunately... I have a girlfriend. And I planned to go home with her tonight." Her face fell. And for a second I felt bad, but I lifted her hand to kiss it like I had earlier. "She smart, adorable, loving, and everything I've ever wanted. She's a dork, likes math and science, and wears green metal frame glasses." Peridot seemed to pause, just staring at me as i described her. "I hope you understand that I'd never leave her." I said quietly.

I saw something flash in her eyes, and her cheeks go red. "You... you just described... me...."

I laughed, and moved, pulling her into a short sweet kiss, before pulling about an inch away. "I did~. You're awfully drunk. Good to know I still catch your eye." I kissed her cheek and pulled back farther, smiling.

"Now let's get you home."

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@lapidot-week

Enjoy ^-^

#lapidotweek #lapidot #lapis #peridot #drunk #flirting #cute #one shot #my writing

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heckin-good-holland-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Opposites Attract Part II

Warnings: Language + a little violence

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Genre: Angst + fluff

Word Count: 1.8k

You can find part one here as well as my masterlist

A/N - Thank you for being patient with me!! The past few weeks have been totally crazy, but I’m doing my best to keep this updated!! I very much appreciate your feedback and as always thanks for reading :)

Working 8 hour shifts at the sandwich shop just wasn’t doing it for you. Mr. Delmar was an angel of a man, but you were getting a bit tired of the relatively low wages and constant smell of deli meats. You hadn’t been out on the streets since your encounter with Spider-Man in an attempt to keep a low profile. You thought that maybe if you went on a bit of a break he’d forget all about you, but you were eyeing some concert tickets and needed some cash fast. It wasn’t every day that Panic! At the Disco came to play a show in your area, and you were determined to see you large-foreheaded hero in person.

You pulled out your temporary burner phone one night after work and made a quick call to your buddy Steven. He was always scheming and loved nothing more than to cause trouble. You knew he wouldn’t be standing idly by on a Friday night, and you wanted in on whatever he was planning. He picked up on the first ring and excitedly informed you that he was going with a few people to rob an ATM. You felt a smirk crossing your face.

“Any chance you need a lookout?” you asked hopefully. “I’ll be the scout. Do you remember that time I distracted that cop for you? I’m a pro, Steve. You gotta let me in.”

“No problem here,” he replied. “I gotta warn you though, these guys are pretty intense. You sure you want to be mixed up in that?”

“Trust me, I can handle it,” you huffed. “Send me the details and I’m there. I owe you for this!” You hung up and stuffed your phone into your backpack. You needed to change into something else so that you wouldn’t be recognized, so you pulled out a massive black hoodie from your bag. You yanked it over your head and put on your mask. You went on your way, speed walking with your head down through alleyways to reach the address that Steven had texted you.

One look at the crowd gathered outside the ATM was enough to cause a wave of panic to wash over you. While normally you insisted that you were tough enough to handle things, it was possible that you had gotten in over your head. You recognized these men as wanted criminals, and you were certain that they hadn’t served jail time for little things like jaywalking or shoplifting. You tried to ignore the lump in your throat as you approached them.

“What’s the kid doing here?” asked one of the taller guys in a deep voice. “Please tell me they’re not a snitch.”

“No way, this is Y/N,” Steven announced proudly. “You know, the one I’ve been telling you about. Anyway, don’t worry. They’re just doing lookout stuff so you won’t have anything in your way.”

“Let’s get this thing done,” someone said.

“I-I have a request,” you said when you finally found your voice. “I call for an even split of the money.” There was some grumbling amongst them, but eventually your demand was accepted. You grinned and saluted them before going off to climb up to the roof. You didn’t know what it was about rooftops, but you absolutely loved them. They made you feel more secure and the higher vantage point allowed you to just take in so much more. You crouched beside the ledge and pulled a pair of binoculars out of your bag. You took your job as lookout very seriously, especially because you knew what these people would do to you if you weren’t able to keep them protected. When it came down to it, your life was really in their hands.

Everything was going smoothly up until you saw a flash of red in the distance. You didn’t even need your binoculars to tell what was about to go down.

“Shit,” you mumbled and lifted your phone to speak into the mic. “We’ve got some trouble, boys. I’ll take care of it.” You threw down your backpack and leapt off the roof, landing gracefully on the lid of a dumpster. You ran as fast as you could, looking cautiously around every corner.

“You again?” called a voice from above you. You lifted your head to find Spider-Man staring down at you from a fire escape.

“I could say the same to you,” you shouted back. “You seem to have recovered well. Your suit seems nice and clean. It’s just going to get dirty again anyway, but I appreciate the effort.” He swung down and landed a few feet in front of you. You could hear your heartbeat pounding away.

“You must really like annoying me. Have you ever thought of pursuing a different career instead? One that’s actually legal? I think Walmart is hiring.” You twirled your knife between your fingers and took a step forward.

“First of all, I know for a fact that they’re not hiring,” you said as you took a swing at him, just narrowly missing. “Second, if I worked at Walmart we wouldn’t be spending quality time together like this.” You ducked to avoid the webs being shot at you.

“Nothing about this time seems like it’s very high quality to me,” Spider-Man replied breathlessly as he blocked another blow from you. This carried on for a few more minutes, but you both were equally matched. It was a bit of a standstill with neither of you making any headway in the fight. Suddenly you both stopped dead in your tracks when you heard a massive explosion over by the ATM.

“Damn,” you said in unison. You turned to look at Spider-Man and he shrugged. You both took off towards the noise, running stupidly through the streets. You pushed yourself to run faster than Spider-Man, but he took notice immediately and picked up the pace even further. By the time you reached the ATM you both were panting pathetically. You made a mental note to start doing more cardio.

“No, no, no,” you mumbled to yourself as you surveyed the carnage of the explosion. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“What? What’s happening?” Spider-Man demanded in confusion. You looked at him, your mind whirling.

“I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” you sighed. “This is bigger than you or me. Look on the wall, there’s a marking. I recognize it. The guys that were here are working for someone powerful. Someone I never wanted to get involved with. He pretty much rules the streets of New York, and he has eyes everywhere. There’s no way you’re gonna catch him alone, and there’s not a chance of me confronting him by myself.”

“I think we should team up,” he said abruptly. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Why should I help you?” you asked warily. “You were literally just kicking my ass a few minutes ago. I was winning though, for the record.”

“Look,” Spider-Man said, “I don’t know anything about this. You’re clearly more knowledgeable and you just said that I’ll never catch him on my own. I can’t just let a criminal go free, I need to do something.” You pretended to consider for a moment before violently shaking your head.

“There’s absolutely no way,” you replied flatly. “This is some dark stuff, I’m not getting on his bad side. Nope, you do it on your own.” You turned on your heel to leave, but he called after you.

“Will you at least tell me who it is?” You rolled your eyes and looked back over your shoulder.

“Are you an idiot?” you scoffed. “I thought you were supposed to be a superhero. He’s called Tombstone, he’s basically a mob boss and expert street fighter. He’s involved in some bad stuff, stuff I don’t go near. Good luck.” With that you headed home. You had been through enough for one night, and you were feeling quite the variety of emotions. You were pissed that you didn’t get your money, you felt scared that you may have ended up on Tombstone’s radar, and mostly you were conflicted. Spider-Man’s surprise offer to team up had really caught you off guard. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but there were parts of him that you hated as well as parts that you kind of enjoyed. For one thing, he engaged in banter with you. That was pretty rare. You stared up at your ceiling for hours, your brain spinning with thoughts of your web slinging nemesis and almost-partner. That was crazy, though… Right?

The next morning as you began your shift at Delmar’s you couldn’t keep your mind off of what had transpired the night before. You weren’t used to feeling so unsure about things, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine yourself fighting for justice. Realistically speaking, you would never actually have helped Spider-Man. You had far too many friends and allies in the streets that had practically been second parents to you. It was stupid to have even considered it for a second. You were so distracted that you didn’t even notice Peter standing in front of you waiting to order a sandwich.

“Earth to Y/N?” he said gently. You jumped back, startled. He laughed and you felt your cheeks start to burn. You brushed the hair out of your eyes and shot him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry Peter,” you responded. “I was up late last night and I’m super out of it. What can I get you? The usual?”

“Yes please,” he grinned. “I had a late one as well. Were you working on a term paper too?”

“Something like that,” you said as you assembled his lunch. He smiled and there was an awkward pause. You reached over to give him his sandwich and his hand gently landed on top of your own. He stared at it for a second without pulling away. You could feel the color returning to your face.

“L-Listen,” he stammered. “You’re really cool and we haven’t hung out in a while. As nice as it is to see you here maybe we could, like, go get pizza later? If you’re not busy.” You could hardly contain your grin as you nodded in reply.

“I would love to,” you said. “I get off work at six, do you wanna meet me here?”

“Yes!” he exclaimed loudly. “I mean, yeah that works. I’ll see you at six then!” He turned to leave and you let out a huge sigh of relief and excitement. Was this a date? You usually flirted back and forth when he came in for a sub, but you just assumed that he was being friendly. Your heart was beating so fast that you almost had to sit down.

“Hey wait!” you called just as the door to the shop closed behind Peter. “You forgot to pay for your sandwich!”

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#finally back with an update #opposites attract #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman angst #avengers fic #marvel imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst

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