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midnight-dreamerness · 4 years ago

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summary: Chris goes on a mission and doesn't return.

pairing: Chris Redfield x Reader

warning: mentioned of death. Lots of angst tbh.

word count: 2k

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You knew what you signed up for when you said yes to going on a date. You knew there was a possibility that he wouldn’t come home. It was a risk you were willing to take to be loved by him. And he did. He did love you. More than anyone. He promised to marry you one day. He said he wanted to have children and settle down in a small town and live out the rest of his life with you, but there was something he had to do first.

So he left. He had been gone for three months when Leon knocked on your door. You saw the look on his face and that’s all it took for your world to come crashing down.

You didn’t do much after that. You stayed inside, playing what Leon said over and over until you had cried yourself to sleep.

“There was a problem. He had to go back in, but…the place exploded. They never found a body. I’m sorry.”

You cried and cried and cried. For months that’s all you did. No one could come through to you, not even Claire, who was going through something similar. You hated that she was handling it better than you were.

Claire stayed with you, but it wasn’t long before she had to go back to work. You didn’t even say anything when she told you she was leaving, simply buried your head into Chris’s pillow. But when you heard the door shut, you cried harder.

She reminded you of him. Her stubbornness. Her attitude.

She wouldn’t let you wallow all day. She made you get up. Made you eat. Made you wash your hair even though it was the last thing you wanted to do. But that did stop you from dying inside. Your clothes started to hang off your body, it got even worse after she left. You sleep all the time but your eyes still help dark bags under them. You didn’t care. What was the point? You had no one anymore. You were a shell of the person you used to be. When he died, he took your heart with him.

Leon had taken it upon himself to make sure you were okay. He came ever so often, restocked the fridge, made sure everything was okay before he left again. But there was something about this visit that made him stay. He looked into Chris’s room, watching your unsteady breathing as you slept. Even asleep, you couldn’t function right without him, without Chris.

So when you woke up he told you he was moving in, to which you protested. You argued that you didn’t need anyone to take care of you, you could do it yourself.

“Look at what you're doing to yourself!” He argued, making you stand in front of your full length mirror. You glanced over yourself with teary eyes. Your skin was dull and your eyes lacked any sort of emotion but sadness. Your clothes looked two sizes too big and you could clearly see your cheek bones. You took in a breath and placed your hand over your mouth.

“Do you think Chris would want this for you?” Leon asked, cradling you in his arms. You shook your head as an answer and pulled him close. You missed him so much that it hurt. All you did was cry and sleep. Every little thing reminded you of him. This apartment reminded you of him. You knew deep down that you needed to leave to get better, but you were afraid you would forget him. And you didn’t want that. He was your first everything. And he was supposed to be your last, you hated that he wouldn’t get to be.

You decided a couple days later that you would be moving in with Leon. Just until you felt like you could make it on your own again. And it was great. You applied for a job, to get your mind off of things. Although you had been working at the BSAA at the time of Chris’s….. You decided it was best that you found another, one that would get your mind off of him instead of filling it with the memories you both had together.

You did find one, pretty quickly actually.

You stuffed the tip the lovely couple left you into the pocket of your apron and headed to the back with the empty plates and cups.

“Did you see the way that guy was staring at you?” Trisha, my new friend and coworker, says as she walks inside the back beside me. You groan at her eagerness and place the dirty dishes on the tray to be washed.

She giggles and walks with you back out Into the front where you start wiping down the front counter.

“Yes. I did notice, Trish.”

She begins to gush as to how cute you both would be and how perfect your children would look.

You avoided the conversation all together, the way he stared at you sent shivers down you alone and triggered memories you didn’t want to remember in that particular moment. Your heart began to ache again. Luckily, you got to head home early today.

You were ready to talk about what happened with Leon, who surprisingly had the day off.

“Why haven’t you told her?” Leon asked, setting the table for dinner. You shrugged and picked at your nails as you leaned up against the kitchen counter.

“She’s your friend. You need to tell her.”

“I don’t like talking about it.”

“We’re technically talking about it now.”

A huff leaves your lips and you fall into your seat at the table. You glance up at him for a moment. He stared down at you with his arms folded over his chest and a knowing look etched across his face. You look around the room, trying not to give into his stare. You notice another plate set and you ask him about it, to which he responded:

“First of all, don’t change the subject. Tell her. And second, Claire is coming over.”

You mumble under your breath and fold your arms, like a child. Leon chuckles.

“I love you. And I love that you’ve found someone you clicked with aside from the cat down the street.”

You go to protest but you're cut off by the sound of the door bell ringing. You get up and walk alongside Leon to answer the door, grumbling under your breath. Claire stood there, an unreadable expression on her face. You hadn’t taken notice of the tall man standing behind her. But when you did, your eyes began to fill with tears

“There’s something I need to-“

“Chris?”

His eyes meet yours for a short moment before he’s crashing into you. His arms wrapping around your waist tightly, afraid if he let you go he’d lose you all over again. You were in shock. Your body is frozen and not yet reacting to the feeling of him. It was familiar and warm. It was what you ached for when you woke up in the middle of the night. It was what you were missing when he was gone, when you thought he was dead.

“Princess?”

The nickname. It reached out and pulled you in. You reacted instantly, a sob leaving your lips and you grabbed him and held him tightly.

“I thought - I thought -“

“Shh. I know. I’m here now.”

You rest against his chest, his scent radiating over you, making you cry harder. He had come back to you. This had to be a dream, you were scared to death that it was.

“It’s been 7 months, Chris. Where were you?”

Leon glanced down at the sleeping girl as she snuggled into her returned lover. She fit so perfectly in his arms, he couldn’t lie. He was happy that she got him back.

“I had no choice but to stay away. There was…someone after me. I had to take care of the problem.”

“For 7 months? Do you realize how much that took a toll on her?”

Chris glared Leon down, who simply ran his hands over his face in frustration.

“She’s been a mess. Ask Claire.”

Claire adjusted herself comfortably but awkwardly in her chair. Her eyes trained on her shoes.

“Claire-“

“You weren’t here, Chris. We are so glad to have you back. But you should’ve called. Should’ve sent a letter. She was killing herself.”

Chris felt awful for what happened. He couldn’t let anyone know he was alive, it would’ve put them in danger. He hopes one day they’ll understand that. He knew you would.

He explained it to them. How everything went down, and why he had to do what he did to keep them/you alive.

“Tell me. How was she?”

Leon explained it to him as simply as he could. How she wouldn’t eat, didn’t go out, barely talked at all. Chris hugged her tighter to his chest as he soaked in everything. Every word that came from Leon’s mouth made him grimace.

“She’s taking pills to help her sleep at night. She’s even got a job down the street. Working at Sally’s.”

“We’ll I’m here now. And I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

It was the next day when you woke up. You jumped out of bed and looked around. You were alone. Tears entered your eyes as you had come to the conclusion that it was a dream. Chris wasn’t here. He didn’t come home. You sat down on the bed and sobbed, holding your hands to your chest.

“Baby? What’s wrong?”

Chris rushed towards you and bent down to meet your eyes. They widened and relief spread through your body like a wildfire. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“God, I thought it was a dream.”

Chris chuckled under his breath and lifted you up by your thighs. He turned and sat on the bed and readjusted you so you were sitting comfortably on his lap. You squeal and giggled as he sat you down, smiling and pecking his lips.

“I’m sorry I was gone so long.”

You shake your head and peck his lips again.

“I'm glad you're here. Chris, I -“

“They told me everything. I’m done. I’m retiring. And I’m going to give you that life I promised you.”

Butterflies filled your stomach and you couldn’t help the tears that slid down your face. Excitement isn’t a big enough word to describe how you were feeling. You were so happy to have him back. It felt like years since he had been gone, not even gone. You thought he was dead, in your mind you were never getting him back. But here he is. He has you in his lap, his hands resting on the curve of your hips, fingers tracing soft shapes into your exposed skin. Your eyes locked on each other, basking in the moment that you wanted to last forever.

He was home.

He was home in your arms.

“Marry me?”

#chris redfield imagine #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield #resident evil village #resident evil 8 village #resident evil #resident evil village imagine #leon kennedy #claire redfield #reader insert

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hyunjilicious · 4 years ago

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the set up [chris evans]

A/n: this is the reworked version of an older fic that I wrote!!! I loved the vibe so I didn’t want to allow it to get lost in the void!!

Summary: Some mutual friends decide you and Chris would make a cute couple and decide to set you two up!! (SMUT) 6.4k

Warmings: smut, unprotected sex and they also just met so I strongly advise you to not follow their example, oral (both), brief mentions of spanking, hair pulling and dirty talk. It’s chill y’all.

This is a standalone fic, and not part of any series!

“If this girl-”

“She’s great!” Scott cut Chris off harshly, already above tired of his brother’s endless flow of nasty comments.

“I feel uncomfortable doing this!” Chris protested again from the passenger’s seat, shifting around, eyes fixed on the road ahead, “At least tell me what she’s like!”

“Gorgeous” Scott belted, nodding his head to accentuate his point, “Smart as fuck so you better control yourself” he said so sternly, not even a drop of sarcasm escaping his lips, “She’s also into old music so you can talk to her about that? Kind of-”

“So then- God this is still weird” Chris sighed, rubbing his hands across his face, not used to the idea of being set up with a girl. Maybe he wouldn’t be as terrified and nervous if all his friends hadn’t been constantly going off about how great you were, because considering their history, Chris was sure there was something horrible Scott forgot to mention.

“God what the- oh no!” you managed to exclaim as your feet ran laps around your bedroom, “How the fuck do you forget to mention he’s Chris Evans?”

“Calm down” Anne sighed burying her face into the scattered pillows around your bed, “Seriously, that doesn’t change anything, we’re all meeting in a pub, I promise you, it will be fine” she added, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Like I’m not awkward enough around idiots...” you complained again, walking to your friend to zip up your short dark blue dress. “I got this” you said as you felt the material tighten around your body, giving you a well-deserved boost in confidence.

Seated at the round table, you were so absorbed by the conversation that was being held that you failed to realize the two tall boys that approached your booth. Chris’s presence made something inside of you shift; and it wasn’t only the tingly sensation in your stomach at the sight of him, you also felt your walls build up, blocking all the confidence you ever had.

“Hi, (Y/n), right?” he greeted you, extending his arm.

With a shy smile on your lips, you stood up to shake his hand. As if your already existent butterflies didn’t exhaust you enough, his liquid touch managed to send shivers in waves, propagating across your whole body, reaching places you didn’t know could buzz like that. Chris sat down next to you, and after every time you told him something, you mentally scolded yourself for not participating more; for letting the shy side of you take control tonight.

“OK guys, next round, what would you like?” Dan, a friend of yours, raised his voice in order to get your attention as a waiter made his way to your table again.

“Vodka rocks please” you said when it came your turn, and your cheeks couldn’t help but burst into flames when Chris’s head snapped in your direction. That’s what you always had, your always go-to and everyone knew it, but to him it was new, and it certainly didn’t fit the appearance you put on.

The first part of the night flew by smoothly, at least in your opinion. If before Chris arrived you were leaning over the table trying to make a point to one of your friends, now you barely managed to gather enough courage to express your point of view in a completely trivial discussion. Maybe it was the alcohol you had ingested but you were pretty sure Chris’s eyes lingered on your bare shoulders or your lips as you talked, more than once and more than just for a second. All these thoughts, that maybe he found you attractive, maybe he cared what you had to say, everything that roamed through your head made you even more self-conscious, afraid your next action or words would let him down.

“Everybody up, I love this song” Anne commanded jumping to her feet. When you shook your head and explained that you’d rather sit through the first few songs she was quick to object. “Come on!”

“I swear, I’ll be there in 5 minutes” you promised your friend, but you were sure that what made her let you have your way was the fact that her favorite song was approaching its end and she was wasting her time at the table.

After everyone stood up and moved to the dance floor, you realized Chris hadn’t; he was on his phone, making the situation even more awkward than it had to be. You took another long sip of your drink, looking around the carefully decorated rustic pub you were in, before finally turning to him, and taping his forearm.

“Don’t you wanna dance?” you asked

“Yeah I do-” he muttered looking back and forth between you and the screen of his phone, “Just a second”

You tucked your hands under your legs, shamelessly studying his side profile. You could tell his eyebrows were slightly furrowed and the moment one of his hands traveled up to scratch the bridge of his nose, you unconsciously tilted your head to get a better view.

“Aren’t you going?” he chuckled after realizing you’ve been staring, pulling you out of your thoughts; everything about his attitude making your insides turn in embarrassment.

“I was wait- No, I’ll go-” you mumbled, preparing to stand up before his hand flew to your knee to stop you.

“No, actually don’t go, just a second” Chris said, still concentrated on his phone, apparently trying to get rid of the distraction as soon as possible. Your eyes worked their way up from his long fingers that were pressed flush against your skin, to his silver watch, further up his forearm, studying the thick veins that were protruding through his skin, to the halfway rolled up sleeve of the black shirt that wrapped itself so perfectly around his frame. You nodded when he told you to wait for him, but he had already turned his head and now you wondered if you seemed off, but before you managed to over analyze everything, he let go of your leg and tucked his phone in his back pocket.

“I’m so sorry about that” he said leaving his seat and turning, “After you”

You happily followed his actions, stepping beside him, as he placed his hand on your back, bringing you closer as you made your way to your group. After joining the small circle your friends created, you distanced yourself from Chris a little in order to have more room to dance, even if all you were actually doing was swaying and waving your hands around your body. Chris turned out to be as inexperienced as you were, his moves basically consisting of shifting his weight from one leg to the other to the beat of the unfamiliar song that was playing. The atmosphere changed soon enough, as “I got my mind set on you” started echoing through the speakers, bringing a well awaited smile on your lips. As the first lyric repeated itself a few times, you filled yourself with all the good energy of the song, your feet elegantly dancing, as if they had a mind of their own.

“Hey” you heard Chris call softly moments before he grabbed your hand to turn you around. You welcomed him with a giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck, careful to keep a decent amount of space between your bodies.

“Whole lotta spendin’ money” you mouthed the words, as his own hands sneaked behind you to pull you closer.

“You like George Harrison?” Chris asked smugly, remembering what Brian said about your love for old music.

“Isn’t he everyone’s favorite beatle?” you answered, extracting yourself from his hold and doing a childish pirouette before coming back against his chest.

“George Harrison is no one’s favorite Beatle” Chris retorted confused.

“That’s Ringo” you corrected him, “But I have no idea what everyone has against him”

With a shrug of his shoulders signaling his lack of an answer, he sighed heavily, his hot breath reaching your lips, before he spoke again, “Then who’s your favorite?”

“Who do you think?” you played, tilting your head to the side.

“McCartney?” Chris asked hopeful, biting his lower lip as he waited for your answer.

“Nah, Lennon” you chuckled, “Actually no- I don’t even know, I’m not even that big of a Beatles fan”. Your honest answer was as unexpected as it could be and judging by the smirk that made its way across Chris’s lips, you knew he appreciated the way you played it. “Do you like them?”

“They’re alright I guess-” Chris trailed off feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. You smiled kindly taking a step back in order to give him privacy, just in case he needed it. However, you didn’t get to distance yourself too much before he wrapped one of his arms around you from behind, and settled his chin on your shoulder. You were taken aback by his gesture, as from this position you could easily see everything displayed on his screen, but he didn’t seem to care.

“I’m really sorry about this but I wouldn’t answer if I didn't absolutely have to,” Chris explained as his thumb worked its way around the screen. His hot breath hit the bare skin of your neck and shoulder, and you just turned your head, pressing your forehead against his temple; the fire between your legs not allowing you to stay still anymore.

You felt his cheeks gather up a smile under your touch, and you remained like that for a few more seconds as he finished typing. Once he was done, Chris locked his phone and secured his arm around you, turning his head slowly to meet your gaze. You welcomed him with a smile of your own, but in contrast with the sweetness that was plastered on his features, yours held a more fervid kind of feeling. He was the one to close the distance, his strong hold around your frame tightening as his mouth pressed softly against yours. You felt delight bubble inside you under the careful weight of his touch, and you soon felt his tongue trace slowly along your bottom lip, begging. Doing your best not to break the kiss, you turned around in his hold and planted yourself against his chest, this time not waiting for him anymore, diving in directly, going after what was yours. Soon, one of his hands traveled up your spine to grab the back of your head, his actions growing more and more rapturous with every single grunt that escaped his throat.

Judging by the fact that three hours later your dance moves were just as elegant as they were before, you decided to grab one last drink before making your way home. With your arms folded and elbows rested on the bar, you were waiting for an employer to notice you when you felt Chris’s hands on your waist as he placed a quick peck on your cheek before plopping down on the stool to your left. He spread his knees wide apart and pulled you between his legs.

“Vodka, rocks” he said before gesturing with his hand to the waiter to bring two drinks, “How long would you have waited?” he asked, turning his attention back to you. Sarcasm was dripping off his lips, as his lazy eyes didn’t miss any detail of your features.

“It wasn’t my turn yet” you protested

“You know it doesn’t work like that, don’t you?”

“I think it does”

A tight-lipped grin appeared on his features helping his cheekbones stick out ever more under the warm, dim lights of the bar. His boyish charm may have been amplified by the way his chest hair peaked through the open buttons of his shirt, and you were all for it. You pressed your lips to his and he didn’t wait a second to reciprocate your actions, the kiss feeling as natural as if you had known each other for ages.

“Copying me?” you giggled after the bartender brought your drinks, interrupting the two of you.

“Inspired? I’m inspired!” Chris chuckled before taking a sip.

“Drunk, that’s what you are,” you answered, mocking his state, a state you weren’t far from either.

“Nah” he countered, “I’m just feeling good!”. Belting the words he threw his head back, confirming your assumption, and also giving you perfect access to the skin of his neck, which you didn’t hesitate to attack with rough kisses and soft bites. His attitude changed in an instant, becoming a weak mess under you, “Oh god, (Y/n)” you heard him moan into your ear as you worked your magic along his jugular.

Realization hit you suddenly, and remembering you were still in a public place you detached yourself from Chris and grabbed his hand to pull him back to your group.

“Are you seriously doing me like that?” Chris complained following you, fingers intertwined.

“Sorry, I got carried away”

Your night out didn’t last much longer after that, as the tension between you and Chris reached the point where none of you was willing to deny it anymore. After saying your goodbyes, you headed out through the front door and made your way to the main street in search of a cab. Despite having gathered up the courage to go to his place, the whole car ride was perfectly silent as your head quietly rested on his shoulder.

Once inside the apartment, his lips found yours faster than he had found his keys less than 5 seconds before. With your back pressed against the door while Chris sucked mercilessly on the skin of your neck, you managed to get a quick glimpse of the city lights poking through his huge window, setting an even more intoxicating atmosphere than before. You lost yourself under his touch, feeling his hot body wrapped around yours as his hands roamed shamelessly over the thin material of your dress.

Sighing, you pushed him off of you, “Bedroom” you whispered and after giving you a quick nod, Chris dived back in for a kiss, grabbing your waist and guiding you through his dark home and into his room. You sat down on the bed, as he knelt in front of you on the floor, taking your feet into his lap to undo your sandals.

“God” he muttered annoyed, as the strap refused to come undone. Giggling, you leaned forward to take them off yourself, appreciating the gesture and loving his cuteness. After getting rid of your high heels, you grabbed Chris’s collar as you leaned on your back, pulling him on top of you. This time his hands didn’t hesitate as they found their way to your ass in no time.

“You have no idea what you did to me in that dress” Chris grunted against your lips as his fingers dug roughly into your skin. He traveled down your body, peppering kisses down your chest, before resuming his position on his knees on the floor.

“Spread your legs for me” he commanded and you obliged, crawling to the end of the bed, settling your legs on each side of his frame. His hands caressed your thighs passionately, inching closer to your heat causing your breath to fasten. Chris lifted up your dress, and pushed you to lay on your back.

“Oh god” you whimpered, feeling exposed and completely vulnerable. As you leaned your head to the side and closed your eyes, the feeling of Chris’s wet lips centimeters away from your core caused you to buck your hips in surprise as he started paving his way along your thigh with soft kisses.

“You want this?”

“Please” you begged suggestively

“Look at me” he demanded in a new harsh deep tone that sent shivers down your spine. You raised your head and looked down at Chris, who upon making eye contact, tapped your hips twice. You took the hint and propped your feet on the wooden edge of the bed as he circled his fingers around the sides of your underwear, pulling it down your legs in one swift motion.

After settling back into his position, Chris probed your folds with his thumb, smiling, more to himself, pride most likely pumping through his veins at the sight of his effect on you. He finally leaned down, his mouth volunteering to take his fingers spot, as he teased his way to your clit.

“Chris-!” you hissed at the feeling of his wet tongue working carefully on your bundle of nerves.

“Mmm..mm” he hummed lowly against your sensitive spot, the vibrations of his lips adding to your pleasure, “So fucking sweet”. His voice was hurried, as he lifted his head only for a second in order to look at you. His hands came around your thighs, as he released some of his own tension by vehemently slapping and gripping your skin.

With every lap Chris worked on your clit, a painful need inside of you to spill out profanity after profanity only grew bigger, but you managed to control yourself.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” he asked smugly, and before managing to give a decent answer, you felt one of his fingers enter you slowly.

“I- Uh, god” you cried out, arching your back as your left hand flew down so you could curl your fingers around and pull on the elegant collar of his shirt. Feeling every muscle in your body tense as your hips quivered uncontrollably, you secured Chris in his place by bringing your other hand too into his hair. Realizing how on the edge you were, he added another finger, swirling them against your wall, as his lips maintained the same avid pace around your clit. Impossible to tell how much longer it took, but most likely in a matter of seconds your orgasm came thundering down on you, curling your toes as the muscles of your legs trembled furiously. Chris kept going until you let your body fall flush against his bed, when he came up to your level.

Your eyes were closed, still enjoying the last waves of bliss that traveled along your legs as he teasingly caressed your cheeks with his lips and the tip of his nose.

Coming back to your senses, you gripped his neck, wrapping your legs around his middle, pressing him down against you. His mouth slowly met yours, igniting sparkles in your chest as he tugged on your lower lip before allowing your tongue to meet his’.

After pulling away, Chris straightened up at the edge of the bed and started working on undressing himself. The metal clicking of his belt buckle prompted you to suck in a long breath, smiling to yourself at how this man could make you feel so much, as you were already craving more.

You steadied yourself on your knees and crawled over to Chris, turning your back at him and getting your hair out of the way. He didn’t waste a second before getting back to you and pulling down your zipper of your dress, which allowed his hands to roam freely under the thin material. His fingers softly caressed your sides before sneaking to the front and cupping your breasts as his lips found your neck again. He lowered himself forward, pushing you down on the bed on your stomach and climbed on top of you.

Feeling his lips burn icy tracks along your shoulders, you pushed yourself up, flipping the two of you over. You slipped out of your dress fast and straddled his hips, not caring the slightest bit about being in any way seductive; you already had him. Under you, panting in anticipation, long fingers digging mercilessly into the smooth skin of your thighs.

Your lips were again on his’, working slowly, doing your best to tease him and push his buttons. Your hands traced his sides, making their way up his body,

“Yes, fuck” Chris whined. He had managed to take off his dark shirt before you distracted him, so he was now laying on the bed, half naked with his jeans undone, waiting for you.

You slowly lifted yourself off of him and tugged at his pants, pulling them down with a little bit of help from him.

“Tell me Chris” you teased looking up at him, your face inches away from his erect cock, “You want this?”. Following your question, you licked your lips as they fell into a one sided grin.

Squeezing his eyes shut as his head went from side to side, Chris chuckled bitterly at the taste of his own medicine, “Show me what you can do”

You placed one of your hands at the top of his thigh and lowered yourself even more, maintaining the eye contact as you carefully lifted him up. With your fingers wrapped around his cock, your lips barely brushed his base before you made your way lower.

“Fuck- fuck, (Y/n)” Chris hissed, bucking his hips violently at the way you kept pushing him. He brought his hand to the top of your head, his thumb softly caressing your hair as you worked on his balls.

At an agonizingly slow pace, your hand made its way up his length and when you reached his tip, your fingers continued teasing.

“Fu- take me in your mouth, baby” he tried to demand but under your burning stare, his words came out more as a plea, a struggling moan.

You gave him a false approving nod before you licked your way up his dick, wrapped your puckered lips around his end and sucked harshly a few, short times. When his head flew black as he white knuckled the sheets, you took it as your cue to stop.

“Hey Chris” you whispered as you let his cock fall against his stomach and you climbed on top of him.

A weak chuckle escaped his lips as he tried to smile when he realized the way you were going to play this. You leaned down to his level and slipped two fingers into his mouth before gripping his chin tightly and engulfing his lips in a fervid kiss. After caressing their way up and down your thighs, his hands settled on your ass, gripping tightly as he pushed himself up to meet your core.

You lowered yourself to add to his pleasure, your tongues not parting as you started pressing down on his cock.

“Please?” you teased, your hot breath hitting his damp lips.

“You’re not going there” he stated, his dominant side starting to show as his expression darkened.

“No?” you asked guiding one of your hands between your bodies, against his hard abdomen, wrapping your fingers around his dick. You nodded your head ‘no’ as you pumped him slowly, his squinted eyes prompting a smirk to appear on your lips. You had him; no matter what he said, you could go anywhere you wanted, “No, I’m not”

You guided his tip to your folds, slipping around him without any kind of warning. Straightening your back and supporting your weight by gluing your hands to his stomach, your hips started working in circular motions along his cock. You let your head fall forward before you pushed all your hair to one side, in order to be able to look him in the eyes. His body was responding to your actions, as he kept pushing himself up in sync with your movements.

It didn’t take long before you felt your second orgasm approach, and lost in the moment, you didn’t realize Chris took notice of the choked back whimpers that escaped your throat.

“Hey gorgeous” he grunted, his big hands digging holes into your waist, “As much as I love this-” he tried to speak but ended up concentrating all his energy into picking you up and flipping the both of you over, “-this is what I want right now”. He finished his sentence with a harsh whisper in your year from behind, as you struggled to maintain your balance on your elbows under his weight.

You smiled to yourself feeling his wet, hot chest against your naked back, before he rapidly guided himself inside of you.

“Mmh- Chris-” you moaned feeling his hands roam around your body as he maintained his avid pace.

“Taking me so well, hm?” he hummed in your ear. After caressing your cheek clumsily, Chris trailed his hand on the side of your head, his fingers losing themselves in your hair as he tugged back, forming a makeshift ponytail. The forcefulness of his touch caused you to tilt your head, eyes gluing to the ceiling as he grunted in your ear.

“Hell ugh-” you screamed as your body rocked back and forth under his’.

“Who would’ve thought?” he growled, exploring the skin of your neck with his lips as he kept your head back, “The way you act- so sweet and innocent, but then you down vodkas and take my cock like a good little slut”. Chris’s words were carelessly spilling out of his mouth, the pleasure of each thrust giving him more and more trouble forming coherent sentences, “Fuck, (Y/n)-”.

He let go of your hair in order to steady himself, as his movements became sloppier and angrier by the second, “Sh- Chris!-” you yelled gripping the sheets into your fists to keep yourself up, even though one of his arms was wrapped around your abdomen. “I’m so close, fuck, Chris!” you exclaimed again, letting your head fall against your shoulder.

He moved his hand to grip your ass tightly, before detaching it and then sending it to connect forcefully with your butt cheek again, causing a loud slap to accompany both your moans.

It’s all a blur what happened after that; his fingers kept digging into your skin hard as he was enjoying his high, the loud profanities he screamed sending you over the horizon. You soon went limp in his hold, but he didn’t pull out until he placed a loving kiss between your shoulder blades. Your whole body was trembling, from your lower lip to the tip of your toes, but the way he was still inside you as his lips carefully treated your skin, still managed to electrify your mind.

After that your night didn’t last much longer. A fragile amount of comfortable small talk emerged as you both settled under the covers but your mind was somewhere else. You had a lot of fun with him and your heart ached when you thought that this was a only one night stand after all. With your gaze getting lost in the darkness of his room, you found yourself fighting the urge to snuggle into him. As much as you wanted it, as bad of an idea you thought it was. Chris was laying on his stomach with his head in your direction, as you rested on your back. Honestly, you hoped he’d make the first move and pull you closer but he didn’t so you pushed your thoughts away. Or at least you tried. After saying your 'good night’s, much to your surprise, Chris’s hand found yours under the covers as he started to lazily play with your fingers. You smiled to yourself a little even though you knew he couldn’t see it. Your palm was against the sheets as he softly rubbed your thumb with his own. This didn’t help, all it managed to do was make you want to cuddle into his side even more, to rest your head in the crook of his neck and to fall asleep listening to his heart beat. Though none of those things happened, you managed to fall asleep on your own, despite the fact that the few inches of space between your bodies was killing you.

Surprisingly, at one point during the night you woke up. This time you were laying on your side, and it took you a couple of seconds to realise what it was that disrupted your sleep. You turned your head slowly to peak over your shoulder, and you physically felt your soul break. Chris was cuddled into your back, his whole body pressed against yours as his face was tucked into the back of your neck. You didn’t mind it, but the simple fact that his arms were gathered around himself and not around you, made it all clear. He was shivering in his sleep as the night breeze made its way in through the window that somehow was left open, and as you apparently had hogged all the covers, his pair of boxers failed to keep him warm.

“Shit” you muttered to yourself, turning around and doing your best to wrap the blanket around him. Your warm hand connected to his freezing shoulder in a pathetic attempt to warm him up, and instinctively, moments later, Chris wrapped his arms around you, pulling you even closer. You didn’t fight him this time, you just helped him cuddle into your chest before you fell back asleep.

Ironically enough, in the morning, you woke up to Chris pulling the blanket higher up your body. You didn’t open your eyes immediately as it took you a moment to come back to reality. Right now, you were facing him but not one inch of your body was touching his. When you finally looked at Chris, he was resting against the headboard, typing away on his phone. You wondered how long he must’ve been awake for but judging by his squinted eyes, you figured that not for too long.

“What time is it?” you finally mumbled

“Shit, I’m sorry I woke you up,” he said. He turned to look at you apologetically, but a smile still made its way to his lips as soon as his eyes landed on your figure, “It’s 10:12”

“Why are you awake?” you asked, not moving a muscle.

“My phone kept ringing, I have no idea how that didn’t wake you up”

You just shrugged your shoulders and crawled a bit closer to him before closing your eyes again.

“You can go back to sleep” he whispered, lowering himself to be at the same level as you.

“No, it’s ok” you protested, bringing your arms over your head to stretch, “I just need a minute”

He settled under the covers mirroring your position. His tired eyes matched his tired smile, and his cheek squished against the pillow made him all the more adorable, “I could make you breakfast, do you want some?”

Your stomach was begging for food, but this wasn’t an offer you expected. The dudes you’ve had hook ups with like this one, usually woke up horny and then that was it.

“Oh, yees, thank you”

“I could make you pancakes, like they do in movies” he offered chuckling in his groggy morning voice.

“Pancakes…” you repeated content, mouth starting to water at the thought.

“You can sleep some more while I make them,” he suggested.

“No” you argued, rolling into your back, “I’m coming with you, the girl makes breakfast in movies”

Chris raised himself up, prompting his weight on his elbow as he hovered over you with a bitter smirk on his lips, “The girl usually leaves before the boy wakes up”

His words stung a bit, “Are you trying to kick me out?”

“God, no!” he exclaimed, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer. Finally something. “That’s just what usually happens”. He was weirdly right, that was what you did most of the time too, but apparently not today.

“I guess” you agreed, looking into his big brown eyes. Before allowing the situation to slip into a direction you weren’t too fond of, you stood up on the bed, “Can you give me a shirt, please?”

“Of course” he said in an instant, jumping up from the bed and running to his closet. “This one ok?” he asked, showing you a navy blue one with long sleeves.

“Yeah” you smiled, extending your arm to grab it.

“Or this one?” he suggested again, this time a black t-shirt in his hands.

“Chris, give me the black one” you laughed before he had the opportunity to offer you another one to choose from.

You hurried to pull it over your head as he put on some gray sweatpants, and then you both left for the kitchen.

“Is this the bathroom?” you asked, pointing to a door right next to the one just came from.

“Yeah, but no” he laughed grabbing your shoulders and turning you in a different direction, “Go to that one” he gestured towards another door on the opposite side of the hallway, “This one is messy”

You wanted to protest for a second, as you were curious and maybe you wanted to snoop a little, but eventually nodded and went where he told you.

“Do you have Nutella or some kind of chocolate?” you asked, eyeing the pancakes.

“Um, no..” he mumbled, “But I can go grab some”

“What? No!”

“It’s just around the corner, I’ll be back in like 5 minutes”

“I was just asking” you giggled, grabbing his wrist, pulling him towards the table.

“It would take me-”

“Chris, no” you laughed, this time your tone was more serious.

He eventually caved, and you sat down to eat. The conversation picked up instantly and not for one second did it feel forced or uncomfortable. The awkwardness of getting too close to him disappeared immediately, as when you were halfway done, he pulled you into his lap, to demonstrate how a proper pancake should be eaten. Maple syrup and strawberry jam got everywhere but it wasn’t like any of you cared. Unlike last night, his lips were now sweet, kinda sticky even but it was perfect.

“So, like, last night you came with Anne, right? How do you know her?” he asked as he struggled to pour some more syrup on his pancakes with his left hand, as his right arm was locked around your hips.

“She’s my best friend” you answered smiling, “We actually met at the gym a few years ago”, you paused to shake your head, “God, I hate gyms”

“Why?” he asked curious

“I’m an embarrassment, I’d much rather work out at home”

“Oh god” he laughed dropping his pancake and throwing his head back, “I can make you feel better about that if you want to”

“Sure.. go ahead” you hesitated, afraid of what might come out of his mouth

“So like I was at the gym a few days ago, and there was this lady lifting some weights that, by the way, looked way too heavy for her but who am I to judge. Anyway so as she’s squatting, you know, when she tries to straighten her legs and go back up, this loud fart comes out, and I swear to god it echoed through the whole room-”

“Oh god, no!” you exclaimed, covering your eyes with your palms, “I feel so sorry for her”

“That’s not even the best part” he laughed tapping your tight to get your attention.

“We’re eating Chris, please tell me she didn’t-”

“She didn’t don’t worry” he chuckled, “So like after it comes out, she starts rummaging like crazy through her stuff, pulls out her phone and goes - I’m sorry I didn’t answer faster, it was on vibrate-”

“I’m so embarrassed for her” you whined

“Yeah, like a part of me wanted to reassure her that it’s ok but I’m sure that would’ve made everything worse” he said laughing.

“Definitely”

“And like she left for the locker room but when she came back she was still pretending to be on the phone and headed straight to the door and didn’t look back”

“I can’t” you managed to say between your giggles

“Now I’m so afraid I’ll fart in the middle of the gym” he confessed

With your pancake still in your hand, you felt your eyes start to water, trying to picture him all flustered and embarrassed and you couldn’t help but laugh even louder.

“It’s ok, you won’t” you tried to reassure him, but he was just as amused as you were

“I hope” he sighed

After you were done eating, and then done arguing about Chris not allowing you to help him clean up the mess, it was time for you to leave.

“Do you want me to drive you?” he asked, most likely sure you were going to agree, so probably that’s why his face fell when you declined.

“No, it’s ok, but have you seen my jacket?”

“You didn’t have one”

“Yes, I did, a long maroon one” you explained thinking about where you could’ve left it.

“Trust me, I know what you were wearing last night” he said smirking

“Then I must have left it at the bar, I hope someone saw it and took it”

“Wait, let me give you something to wear” he said, sprinting to his bedroom. You waited patiently for him in the hallway, realizing that this meant you had to see each other again. But you had mutual friends, someone could give it back to him for you, right? This was usually the time you blew the guy off, but this time, something inside of you simply didn’t let you.

“What about this one?” he asks, handing you an army green hoodie.

“It’s perfect, thank you”

“I don’t have your number, and I kinda want it back,” he joked, pointing to the jacket.

“Give me your phone” you laughed, and after he gave it to you, you added the number quickly and handed it back to him.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you, I feel bad for letting you walk home”

“No, it’s ok, it’s not that far, I’m gonna cut through the park and listen to music, it’s ok” you reassured him, stepping away from the door so he could unlock it.

Once you passed the threshold, you turned around wanting to kiss him one last time, but the moment his hands caught your waist, the teasing side of you awakened, so you just placed a long peck to his cheek.

“Bye” he laughed at your antics, before closing the door after you.

As you were walking home, you wrapped your arms around yourself, causing the smell of his hoodie to reach your nose. You were happy he didn’t give you a clean one, this one smelled like him, and maybe he chose this one on purpose. Your mind drifted back to the events of the last 15 hours and unconsciously, they put a smile on your lips. You had so much fun with Chris, and grew so fond of his sweetness, that you almost felt bad for giving him the number of your 50 year old laundromat lady.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans imagine #chris evans drabble #chris evans writing #chris evans blurb #chris evans fanfiction #andy barber x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #andy barber smut #ransom drysdale smut #chris evans one shot

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spideymarvelws · 4 years ago

Text

Pillow Fort

Fratboy!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My Taglists

A/n : Got this idea from when i made a pillow fort in my room cause i was feeling lonely :’) Also this isnt really a part two to behind doors, just a branched off oneshot from further down in there relationship

Summary : Peter is tired from a rough night of patrolling and comes home to you sleeping in your very own pillow fort

Warnings : SMUT! (oral [fem rec], dirty talk, sub/dom dynamics) some nice floofy floof

Word Count : 3.7k

...

Peter had never felt so drained after patrol.

Maybe it was because he stayed up all night studying for a Physics quiz or that classes throughout the day seemed to drag on because you weren’t there to entertain him with your silly pick up lines you came up with on the go. After his last class ended, he didn’t want to go out as spider-man. All he wanted was to swing by your apartment and cuddle for the rest of the day, but when he heard about a new gang terrorising the city on Mr. Delmer’s radio, he knew he had a responsibility to stop them.

One gang and a drunk driver later, he found himself landing in front of your window, knocking lightly on the glass. After a few seconds of not getting a response, he assumed you were already asleep. Carefully, he slid open the window, stepping inside your bedroom. He locked the window before taking off his suit with a heavy sigh, leaving him in his boxers, ready to slide into bed with you.

However, as he sat on your bed and his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he noticed that it was stripped bare of any blankets or pillows. He stood straight up, looking around your room until his eyes fell on a deformed structure hidden in the corner.

It was a pillow fort.

It was flimsy, a significant dip in the roof (he could only imagine how much it annoyed you throughout the process of making it) but it kept hold. The wooden chairs on either side were the only support for the fort, heavy books keeping the sheets secure. It was rickety, but a fort nonetheless.

Peter let out a small sigh, a soft smile forming on his lips as he walked up to the structure, trying to find the entrance in the mountain of blankets. Getting on his knees, he crawled through, his hands and legs ending up on either side of your sleeping form.

“Baby?” He whispered, placing his hand on your cheek, “Sweetheart? Love? Babygirl?” He littered your face with kisses, slowly waking you up.

You let out a loud groan, stretching your arms out and almost knocking the flimsy blanket ceiling. Peter raised himself slightly, trying his best to give you enough room to stretch in the small space

“Shit,” you mumbled, making Peter chucked at your sleepy state, “Oh... Hey Petey,”

“Hey, Y/n/n,” Peter mumbled back, letting out a breathy laugh, “Missed you,”

You raised your hand to push the loose curls falling down in front of his face behind his ear, giggling at the fact that it felt right back in his eye. He blew the strand with his mouth, his nose crunching up cutely when it went right back to tickling the side of his face.

“I need to cut it soon,” he said, lowering himself into your body, his head buried in the middle of your chest like a puzzle piece fitting perfectly in place.

“I strongly disagree,” your said, almost offended at his words as your passed your fingers through his soft, pillowy hair, “Cut it and I’m asking Tony for his blasters,”

“Are you sure he’s going to let you borrow it after last time,” Peter looked up at you, his left cheek squished against your shirt, his lips slightly parted.

“Who says I haven’t been practicing?” You smiled, scratching his scalp, enjoying the feeling of his body melting into yours.

“Oh really?” He mumbled, “I’m going to have to see those skills sometime babe,”

“I don’t know Peter...” you dragged, biting your lip and tugged on his hair gently, “I don’t want to steal your thunder,”

“That confident huh?”

“That I could beat you in a fight, one hundred percent,”

Peter shook his head, “I’m sure you can,”

You gasped at his sarcastic tone, “You have no faith in me!”

“I never said that,” he pinched your side, raising back on his arms to hover over you.

You pouted angrily, crossing your arms over your chest, “It was implied,”

“Oh was it now?”

“Yes, yes it was,”

Peter rolled his eyes playfully.

“Maybe I just don’t want you to get hurt,”

“Then I’d tell you to go fuck yourself. I’m incapable of getting hurt and I don’t need your protection,” you replied smugly, sticking your tongue out.

“Is that so?”

You hummed in confirmation.

“Okay then,” he grinned, trailing the pads of his fingers up the side of your waist, “Protect yourself from this then!”

His hands pulled the bottom of your shirt up, revealing your stomach. Without hesitation he attacked the soft skin, wiggling his fingers in the places he knew would make you scream.

“For fucks sake Peter!” your hand shot up to his chest, trying to push him away as the giggles took over your body, your chest bubbling with joy while your breath escaped your lungs.

“Stop! Peter! Oh. My. God. Stop!” you laughed, fists pounding at his hard chest.

“Then tell me, you wont get those blasters Y/n!” he said, a sinister smirk on his face, “I’m not letting you go until you tell me!”

“I-” you heaved, “Peter! I-” you giggled, “Holu fuck!” god damn did your chest begin to hurt, “Okay! Okay! I won’t get them! Now stop!”

His hands suddenly left your body as he leaned back on his calves to admire the mess he made of you. Your chest raised up and down with desperate breaths to calm your rapid beating heat, your face blown out and your eyes closed in a silent thank you. You sighed, letting your stiff limbs fall back into the cushioning with a thud, relaxing fully.

It reminded him of a very different scenario other than the aftermath of an innocent tickle fight.

“You know I was having a great time before you showed up,” you murmured after a while.

“I find that hard to believe,”

“Oh really?”

“Yes really, I’m amazing!”

“You’re a monster.”

“Your monster though,”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever makes you sleep at night,” you paused, opening one eye to look up at him, “You’re still not cutting your hair though,”

“You’re still on this!”

“It was the point of this whole conversation! Of course I’m still on this-”

“Oh, that's it.”

With your one eye still closed, you let out a surprised hum, circling your arms around Peter’s neck, as his lips met onto yours. You sighed into the kiss, his body relaxing into yours while his hands trailed the side of your body once more, lifting your left thigh against his waist. The kiss became hungrier, soon both your tongues became entangled with each other. You didn’t bother to fight for dominance, knowing Peter already took that role when his hand rested on your ass, squeezing tightly at the skin.

“I hate you,” he mumbled, pulling back and pressing his forehead on yours.

“Sure seems like it Petey,” you whispered, voice low and sultry.

With a low growl, he smashed his lips back on yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. God you loved getting him riled up, as much as you loved your shy, little nerd, the other side of him you saw in bed turned you on more than you could think of as you slipped into sub space.

But you didn't want to do it in something as unstable as a pillow fort.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he whispered into your mouth, moving to your jaw and down your throat.

“Peter,” You groaned, pushing on his shoulders lightly, “Not here, baby.”

Sucking on your collar bone, Peter mumbled, “Why not?”

“I don’t- fuck,” you gasped as Peter pulled up your shirt and latched his lips onto your nipple, massaging the other with his hand, “I don’t think fucking in an unstable pillow fort is going to be really advisable,”

“Don’t knock it till you try it right?” He snickered, moving his lips to the other nipple.

“Were going to knock the fucking thing down,” you grunted, bitting down on your finger while the other grabbed the sheets underneath you.

“Well it’s either here or your bare mattress,” he whispered, raising his head back up near yours, tugging at the bottom of your shirt and pulling it over your head, leaving you in just your panties, “You decide.”

“You ride a tough bargain Peter,” you whispered back, biting your lip at the darkness in his eyes.

He continued down your body, his voice deep with lust, “You know me princess,” he placed a kiss on your stomach, moving down your hips before reaching the side of your thighs, taking them in his hands, “I like when you beg,”

You groaned at his words, throwing your head back as his lips hovered over your clothed core for a split second. But he avoided contact at all costs, focusing on biting and sucking on your thigh, moving between the left and right and getting closer to the place you wanted him the most.

“Peter,” you whined, running your hand through his hair, tugging at his locks once again.

“I thought you heard me earlier princess,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling your heat closer to his face, “I want you to beg,”

You groaned, not wanting to give in. But the light kisses to your clit and his hands moving up and down your thighs, you didn’t know how long you could resist before you broke.

“Come on pretty girl,” he bit the inside of your thigh, sucking the skin to form a bruise, “Beg for it, beg for what you want so badly,”

You tucked your head into your shoulder, “Touch me peter,” you mumbled, yelping when he slapped your thigh.

“Louder pretty girl,”

“Oh god, touch me Peter! Touch my pussy, please,” you said audibly, your hands shooting to his hair, desperate for something to hold onto.

Without any further discussion, Peter teared off your underwear and buried his face between your thighs, lapping at the juices that started to escape your lips minutes before and continued flowing onto his tongue. If there was something he loved more than life itself, it was your taste. Nothing could match up to the sweet nectar that your body gave him. He loved giving you pleasure that nobody else could. He glanced up at you, head thrown back, thighs closing in around his face as your hands pushed him deeper into your core.

If there was a heaven, this is what he imagined it would be.

He shook his head, flicking his tongue deeper inside of you before moving up to suck your on your clit gently. One of his arms stayed securely on your waist, keeping you down so you didn’t destroy the structure around you while the other moved closer to your heat. He tested the waters by gliding his warm finger tip over your cunt and slipping it in, paying attention to your body’s reactions, jerking and tensing under him.

“More,” you whimpered, “More, please Peter,”

“What was that baby? Did my needy girl want more than what I’m giving her?” his laugh sent vibrations up your torso, “What did I say?”

“To- to beg,”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Peter, Peter please give me more, I want it faster, harder, anything! Just please!” you cried, jerking your hips off the ground but his strength held you down.

“Good girl,” he smirked, adding another finger while quickening his pace. His mouth stayed working around your sensitive bud, brushing his tongue along it like he was painting a precious artwork.

His fingers however were ferocious, pumping in and out of you at an inhuman rate. Your juices began to soak the sheets beneath you, hips grinding back down like the desperate whore you were, pulling his digits deeper inside you.

“Peter, I’m- i’m gonna cum,” your legs began to shake, your voice rising higher and higher while you orgasm approached, “Please Peter! Can I cum? Can I cum?”

“Go on baby, cum for me, cum in my mouth, cum all over my fingers,” his fingers moved impossibly faster, plunging in and out of your pussy, “Fall apart for me princess.”

You screamed when your high hit, your back arching out of his control. He slowed his movements, sailing you through it, prolonging it for as long as possible. When your body slumped back on the floor, he trailed his lips back up your stomach, staining your skin with your cum. He pushed his lips on yours, moaning as you devoured his mouth, drinking up every last drop.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “You ready for more princess?”

All you could muster was a nod, playing it off as exhaustion from your recent high. Even after a years of dating, you were still as closed off and shy from when he met you in bed, holding back your precious voice from him. He tried his best to keep you talking, to tell you that screaming like a banshee was all he ever wanted. But every time you came back from your euphoric state, you were always self conscious of doing something wrong or saying something out of line.

He was determined to make that your biggest confidence using the little things he picked up along the way.

“Come one princess,” he muttered groggily, moving to your neck and kissing your pulse point, nibbling and sucking on the skin, “I’m not going to do anything if you don’t speak up,”

You looked up at him with doe eyes, a completely different person from the one that was bickering with him earlier. One that was willing to do anything and everything he wanted. But he wanted tonight to be about you, he wanted to do what you wanted, to pleasure and worship you the way you deserve.

It was your pillow fort he was about to fuck you in after all.

“I- uh, you could do what you were… you know, going to do?”

“And what was that sweetheart?”

Heat rose to your face, you hid your head in your shoulder in an attempt to avoid saying such vulgar words. Peter only squinted his eyes, the gears in his head turning as he thought of something to get you to speak up.

“Alright then,” he smirked, “Have it your way.”

You watched with curious eyes while he slipped out of boxers, taking his hard cock in his hand and guiding it to your puffy hole. He slowly unsheathed himself inside you, resisting the urge to pull back out and slam right back into you. You were always so tight around him, and your uncontrollable clenching just destroyed him even more.

In one swift motion, he turned the both of you over, careful to keep his chest pressed against yours so you didn’t raise up and mess up the fort.

“There we go,” he sighed, letting you settle comfortably in the new position with your hands pressed against his shoulder and legs on either side of his waist, keeping his cock buried deep inside of you.

“Peter I-”

“Ah, ah, ah, my turn to speak now princess,” he cut you off, squeezing your hips when you moved around a bit too much for his liking, “Now, we’re going to work on our communication skills okay? Meaning, everything you’re feeling as I fuck you, I want you to tell me. And by everything, I mean every detail princess,” he lowered his voice, “I want to know how my cock feels inside of you, what goes through your mind while you fuck yourself sensless,” He rutted his hips up, smiling when you fell further against his chest, whimpering into his neck.

“I. Want. To. Hear. Every. Word,” he punctuated each word with the thrust of his hips, “Or else this ends, you got that princess,?”

You instinctively nodded but quickly caught yourself, “Yes Peter,”

“That’s my good little princess,” he took your cheek into his palm, bringing your head and to press his forehead against his, “Ready?”

“Yes Petey,” you nodded, letting out a shaky moan when he started bouncing you up and down his length, meeting you halfway.

“Go on princess,”

“It- it feels good,” you stuttered, closing your eyes to focus on the pleasure and not Peter’s lustful eyes staring back at you, “You’re… you’re really big Peter. Stretching… me out… so, so good,”

“Good girl,” he groaned, quickening his pace with every word, “Keep going.”

“I… I-” you slumped fully against his chest, “I can’t, all i feel is you Petey. I- I can’t think, all I… I could only feel-”

“Then tell me what you feel Y/n, tell me everything.”

“Amazing… so- so full and deep.” your fingers digged into his skin, “Could you go faster? Please Peter, I- I need more,”

“Anything for you princess,” he mumbled, planting his feet on the floor and ramming into you at the same pace he did with his fingers.

“Ah fuck!” you tightened your arms around his neck, “Peter! Oh god Peter! I- I-”

“Are you close princess? Gonna cum on my cock?”

You nodded into his neck, all you could manage was a whimper, “Yes… can- can i?”

“Go ahead princess, cum on my cock… you deserve it,”

You bit down on the skin of his neck, trying to keep your head from throwing itself back. Peter stilled his hips, filling you up with his seed while keeping you close, sighing as shot up into you. You sunk into his body, your breath hot against his skin while you regained your energy, snuggling closer for comfort.

In the silence that followed, Peter couldn't help but chuckle.

“Round two then?”

...

“Soo,” Peter whispered softly, crawling back into the sheets and lying besides you, “Why the pillow fort,”

You cuddled closer to his bare chest, letting out a soft breath once your cheek made contact with the warm skin. No matter how cold the air around him got, you could always count on your boyfriend to be your own personal heater.

“Was feelin’ lonely,” you mumbled, letting out a big yawn, “And I got bored,”

Peter chuckled, running his hand down your bare back sending shivers up your spine, “It’s nice, comfortable,”

“Yeah, I did a pretty good job didn’t I?” You smiled, curling your legs around his, “Took me three tries to get it right,”

“Three tries?”

“Well my college dorm doesn't really have much stuff to work with now does it,” you looked up at him with hooded eyes, blinking slowly while jabbing your finger into his left peck drowsily, “Would’ve been easier if my boyfriend came earlier though,”

“I thought you liked that I lasted long-”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“That’s not what you said a few minutes ago,” He laughed when you smacked his chest, placing a sweet peck to your forehead as an apology, “And I’m sorry for being late, got caught up with some bad guys and well… you know the drill,”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” You hid your face in his neck, snuggling in closer to his body, “Shouldn’t you be back at the house by now?”

He sighed. Harry had asked him to help out with cleaning up the house for your hopeful arrival in the next couple of days. Him and the rest of the boys planned out the week already, and today’s plan was to fix up the place and set new rules that kept it that way. But seeing you lying besides him, glowing like an angel by his side... words couldn't describe the emotions he felt in that moment. All he knew was that he couldn't wait, he felt like he waited long enough.

That this could be the perfect, special moment he hoped for.

“They could survive without me for one night,” His hand tightened around you, “I- uh, actually came here to ask you about something until we got... well, distracted,” he laughed lightly.

You hummed, acknowledging his statement and urging him to continue.

“I was wondering if you would want to move in with me?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” you sat up on your elbow to look at him directly, “You’re saying you want me to- you want us to live together? With everyone?”

You felt Peter clam up under your palm, biting his lip as he avoided your gaze, “I mean, you’ve already met everyone and they all love you, probably way more than me. And I can’t you know, guarantee your safety here not to mention i have to disable all the cameras around the block if i want to swing into your window and, and-” he took a deep breath, taking your face in his hands, “That and I really love you, and I would love to take this step with you, only if you want to,”

You immediately engulfed up into a tight hug, awkwardly fitting yourself in his hold but you could hardly care about your uncomfortable position.

“Of course I would move in with you peter,” you smiled, pulling back to look at him, “Honestly, I’m growing tired of this small place anyways,”

“Good, that’s good,” he bit his lip, trying to suppress the urge to screech at the top of his lungs at the thought of your ever saying yes, “We- we’d sort all of this out in the morning,”

“Of course, of course,” you nudged your nose against his, “In the morning,”

Before he could lean in to kiss you, he heard something fall on the floor with a thud and without warning the sheets above you fell, slapping the both of you in the face.

“Maybe chairs with wheels wasn't the best choice for this,” you giggled, pushing up the sheets from your head.

“You think?” Peter joked along with you, helping to get rid of fabric blocking your eyesight.

He witnessed the blanket being pulled off of you, relieving your glowing skin and bright smile staring back at him. He knew he was taking the right step with you, he knew that you were the one for him because with a simple look or touch you made him a complete mess. He was wrapped around your finger just as much as you were around his.

And he couldn't be happier.

“To the bed?” he whispered.

“To the bed.” you responded, finally locking your lips on his, sealing in your love in the now fallen pillow fort.

...

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#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #peter parker fanfiction #marvel smut #fratboy!peter #frat!peter #fratboy!peter paker x reader #fratboy!peter parker #college!peter parker #college!peter #college!peter parker x reader

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yeetusdabussy · 4 years ago

Note

Can u write a nsfw shisui x female reader :) where the reader is riding / siting on his face and he fucks her after all while praising her ? Thank u <3

୨˚̣̣̣͙୧༚￮✧YEP !!✧￮༚୨˚̣̣̣͙୧

╭══• ೋஜ•✧๑🌸๑✧•ஜೋ •══╮

೫๑》🌸🍃Minors nono🍃🌸Ꮛ《๑೫

╰══• ೋஜ•✧๑🌸๑✧•ஜೋ •══╯

── ･｡☆*warning*☆ﾟ.──

Smut,oral

Its been such a stressful week for Shisui, he wasn't feeling all too great and and be needed some stress relief, and what better way than to have his cute Y/n on his face. And he got what he wanted quickly.

༺FlashBack༻

He walked into the house rubbing the back of his tensed neck, it was sore and especially his shoulders. "Shisui!!" He looked up at his name being called and smiles to see you in a apron and wearing nothing but his T-shirt. He loved seeing you in his clothes, it looked so cute on you. "You look so tensed...come on let's get you to bed." You walked over and sniffed. "After a hot shower." You raised a brow. He just nervously chuckles and nods. He kisses your cheek and heads to the bathroom to take a shower. You went to the bedroom and sat in the middle of the bed waiting for him. After a couple of minutes he walked in with a towel around his waist and him drying his hair with a hair towel. He smiles at you as he walks to the bed, you would smile back at him and wrap your arms around him. "Lay down. I'll give you a massage." You said as you kiss his chest, he would chuckle and nod. Soon he was laying on his stomach with you on top of his back massaging all the stress knots. He he groans in relief and relaxes under your touch. "better?" You asked in a soft tone, he just nods. But there was something missing, he needed more. The feeling of your sift hands against his broad back was making him flustered, he would sit up a bit and flip his body around so you were sitting on his chest. You had a shock expression as his hands found your ass. "That's enough, but I need something more. " He kisses your thigh and looks up at you. "Why don't you straddle my face." He smirks, you were shocked by his words. You would feel your mind racing. "But Shisui you just got out the shower and you're still tensed." You soon yelp once he lifts you up and places your pantie covered cunt on his mouth. He would grip your thighs and place his tongue flat against your covered clit. Causing you to moan softly, "fuck why are these in the way." His fingers go under the bands of your panties and rips them. Causing you panties to have a open flap, he moves them out the way and teasingly draws circles against your slick folds. He presses his tongue in deeper and drags his tongue up to your clit, he would draw a eight on your clit repeated. Your back arched as you gripped his hair. "Fuck! Shisui!"

༺Present༻

"Look at me, I wanna see your pretty little face while I eat your cunt." He mumbled against your entrance with his tongue plunged deep inside your warm cunt. You would slowly look down at him with a quivering lip, your thighs were shaking against his head. He would hum in approval as his thumb was moving your clit in small circles. You felt the rush slowly coming to you. You would run your fingers through his hair, gripping and messing it up. Your hips grind into his face, causing your clit to rub up against his nose once he took his thumb off your clit. He groans against your cunt and grips your thighs. "M'cumming! Shisui! I'm cumming!" He felt your thighs tighten against his head. He would smirk a bit and soon wrap his lips around your clit. Sucking on it as his tongue flicks against it. "OH !~" Your back arched as your begin to come undone in his mouth. Shisui licked up every drop, not wasting our delicious nectar. His loud slurps filled your ears, he soon let go with a pop sound and groans.

"He you taste so delicious, but I'm not finish with you just yet." He pins you down and sits up, he grabs your ankles and spreads your legs. He stares at your cute cunt before entering, going balls deep as you feel a slight painfully good stretch. You gripped the sheets and tossed your head back into the pillows, he started to thrust into you building up his pace with each thrust until his pounding into the small sweet spot repeatedly, abusing your sensitive insides. You were a moaning mess, you would arch your back off the bed and call out his name. Tossing your head from side to side from the intense pleasure. "You're so tight, you feel so good around my cock, you fit perfectly around me." He leans in, forcing your legs on his shoulders as your knees press against your chest, you would wrap your arms around his neck and scratch his back. He was so deep inside as he pound away your insides. You could feel his hips moving sloppy and more rougher against you, he grunts and groans into your shoulder. "fuck, cum with me." He brought a hand down and begins to rub your already sensitive clit. You moaned loudly and begin to squirt all over his cock and lower stomach. Shisui didn't waste any time and started to fill you up to the brim with his cum. His body tenses up as he grips the headboard and pants.

"Hah.. Fuck. " he looks down at you to see your trembling body and quivering lips. He just smiles and leans down kissing you softly. "my poor baby, here let me take you to the bathroom~."

#shisui smut #shisui uchiha #shisui headcanons #shisui x you #shisui x reader

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youbloodymadgenius · 4 years ago

Text

What Could Have Been (Ivar x reader)

A/N: This piece wasn’t requested; the idea just popped into my mind and I had to write it. I don’t write smut often - I find it very hard in a foreign language - and I know I’m not very good at it. I hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless.

@geekandbooknerd - thank you so much for beta reading this for me ♥️

@pomegranates-and-blood - I hope you don't mind that I borrowed the last sentence from you. It fit perfectly 😉

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: When Ivar calls for a healer, he does not expect you, his occasional lover, to enter his tent.

Warning: smut.

Words: 2385

"Go and fetch the healer!" Ivar commands, exploding as the guard outside the tent doesn't react quick enough. "YOU GO NOW OR I SWEAR I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD ON A STICK BEFORE NIGHTFALL!" His roar loud enough to be heard all over the camp, the frightened guard runs away while babbling apologies, his cheeks burning red.

Sweating and in pain, Ivar enters the tent, heading slowly toward a straw mattress. Grunting, he flops down on the makeshift bed and closes his eyes briefly, trying to keep the agony in his legs at bay. The battle had been harsh on his twisted limbs, leaving him with stiff, aching muscles.

"You asked for a healer, Prince Ivar?" Your fresh and youthful voice startles him and he raises his head, furrowing his brow as he looks at you. "I was expecting Una." His dry, annoyed tone doesn't unsettle, nor surprise you. Prince Ivar is not exactly the most easygoing person. And you know he's very secretive when it comes to his pain. He trusts Una, the main healer, who has been taking care of his legs on a daily basis for many years.

"I'm sure you were." You just nod, undeterred. "We may have won the battle, Prince Ivar, but the wounded are countless. Una is taking care of Hrafn, whose arm had to be cut off. She's the one who sent me to you. So, sorry if it bothers you, my Prince, but I'm afraid you'll have to do with me. As for myself, rest assured that I know precisely what I must do. "

The truth is, tending to Ivar's legs is nothing hard, nor complicated. A meadowsweet and nettle infusion to ease the pain, a salve made with a concoction of boiled blackcurrant and ash leaves collected on Midsummer Night to undo the knots in his thighs and calves, that's all you need, and both are in the small leather pouch you wear at your waist at all times.

In addition, a hot bath of course wouldn't do any harm, but there's no such luxury while fighting a war.

Seemingly unconvinced, Ivar scowls and snorts, and you can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he weighs pros and cons, longing for relief but at the same time reluctant because you're not his regular healer. And perhaps also because you're… you.

Your suspicions are confirmed an instant later, as Ivar wearily rubs his face with a bloody hand. "No other healers were available? Surely there are not just the two of you, right?"

You shrug, hardly suppressing a grin. He's right, of course. There are many of you here in Wessex, alongside the Great Heathen Army. However, you and Una are the only ones who are not terrified of Ragnar's unpredictable youngest son. Therefore, since Una was busy, you were the only one willing to go and take care of his legs. But telling him that wouldn't be very wise, right? So, you choose another way.

"My Prince, if I may say so, don't make things harder. I'm already here, and I can tell you're in pain. So, please, let me do what I'm here for." Inhaling deeply, you give him a small smile. "If it's easier for you, let's say that what happened in the past stays in the past. I'm here as a healer, nothing more, I intend to do my job in the most efficient way and I know I can help you."

Back in Kattegat, when Ivar was still a boy and not yet this bloodthirsty man obsessed with revenge, before Aslaug's and Ragnar's deaths, before all Hel breaks loose, you and he used to fuck from time to time. At first, you agreed to do it because you wanted to help him. Not because you were a healer, but because Hvitserk, your best friend, was worried about his baby brother after his tremendous failure with Margrethe. You taught Ivar how to please a woman and showed him that he was much more whole than he thought. You then kept sleeping with him because sex was great, Ivar a skilled and fast learner. Yet, there was no real bond, no love between the two of you; just some kind of mutual respect, tinged with an undeniable physical attraction.

"My Prince?" You ask softly, your hands ghosting over his thighs as you kneel down in front of him. "May I?" Remembering Una's words – this leg is so broken, so twisted, I do not know how the prince can manage walking, but I do know its iron equipment is like a torture device which causes him an unbearable amount of pain – you gesture first toward the metal armor encaging his right leg.

Ivar barely nods, a long sigh escaping his lips as he closes his eyes shut. You never did it. Back then, you weren't allowed to. But today is different. Ivar is tired, in pain, and you're not his occasional lover, but a healer. There's no hesitation in your movements; your skillful hands undoing the loops of the brace, you're working fast. Soon, you're able to carefully remove the heavy contraption, and then give your full attention to his left leg.

When both his legs are free, you stand up, "Can you take off your pants, my Prince?" and step away, rummaging around the room for a water bucket and a cloth. Actually, you want to give him some privacy. You never really saw his legs and are aware it's a huge matter of concern for him. Once again, you remember what Una told you – I usually work under the furs – and add without turning around, "And please, cover your legs with as many furs as you can, we need to keep them warm."

***

After making sure his legs are well covered, you grab the cloth Ivar used to clean his hands and face, placing it on a nearby table, next to the water bucket. You then put your supplies in your pouch before turning towards the prince. Eyes closed, his head on a fluffy pillow – the perks of being a prince, you can't help but think, slightly jealous – Ivar seems completely relaxed. You're sure he's not sleeping, though, so you clear your throat while turning toward him. "If you don't need me anymore, my Prince, I'll go back to Una."

Ivar exhales slowly as his eyelids flutter open. He just looks at you without uttering a word for a long time, looking a little confused, as if he doesn't exactly remember your presence. He then gives you a small smile – his way of thanking you? – but shakes his head no. Something sparkles in his gaze and Ivar licks his bottom lip. You know him well enough to know that's the exact moment when his mood swings. He props himself up on one elbow, reaching out in an attempt to grab your hand, but to no avail. He lets out a frustrated groan, but his voice is soft, and so are his eyes. "Come closer." Yet, you know you don't have a choice. Denying a prince is anything but a wise option; denying Prince Ivar could be life-threatening.

Taking two steps forward, you join the bed and place a hand on Ivar's shoulder. "What else can I do for you, my Prince?"

Wrapping his arm around your waist, Ivar pulls you toward him, leaving you no choice but to sit next to him. "Kiss me." He breathes, his blue orbs never leaving your eyes.

"Your wish is my command." You whisper while leaning forward to close the gap between the two of you. Your lips find his and Ivar immediately takes charge, a hand behind your neck. His tongue invades your mouth while his free hand slips under your dress, his thick fingers finding the bare skin of your thighs. You let out a gasp, surprised, and delighted.

This is new.

Back in Kattegat, whenever it was just the two of you, Ivar was always this insecure, tentative boy, eager to learn but clearly grateful that you were willing to take the lead.

He's no longer the same. War changed him. The boy has grown into a resolute man, who knows what he wants and who doesn't wait to take it. You won't lie: if you found the boy alluring, this – the warlord look, the confidence, the straight-to-the-point thing – is a whole new level of attractiveness. And a major turn-on.

When Ivar deepens the kiss, fierce and hungry at once, he pulls you closer, your breasts pressed against his chiseled chest, you cannot help but arch your back as a wave of heat spreads in your belly.

"Ivar…" You moan and he captures the sound in his mouth, delving deeper again while slipping a rough knuckle against your clit. You nearly choke, almost missing his next words. "Scoot closer." He mumbles, his lips against yours and you don't have to think twice about his demand as you are all too happy to surrender. Straddling him, you push him down onto his back and drive your tongue into his ear. The feeling of his solid, muscular torso between your thighs consumes your senses, a blinding heat coursing from between your legs to fill your entire body. You can't wait any longer. You need him. The craving of being filled up is almost unbearable but when you move your hand downward, your fingers grazing his erected cock, he stops you, a wolfish grin on his face. "I want to taste you first."

When he runs his hands up the insides of your thighs after you had moved up to sit on his face, you practically die and clamp your legs around his face, shoving your wet pussy into his mouth. Rewarded with a slap on your ass, you gasp in excitement as he slides a knuckle along your lips. It drives you so wild that you can barely breathe, and Ivar keeps going, his mouth just inches from your clit, drawing shapes around your sensitive skin, teasing you, blowing air into you. Heat is slowly building in your core, burning you inside. You curl your toes and contract your lower belly, panting and moaning, and suddenly, Ivar touches your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue. You almost lose it. Your whole body is about to break into a thousand pieces and you struggle, sucking in several short breaths.

"Gods…" Eyes closed, you shiver as Ivar picks up a rhythm. He knows exactly what he's doing. Barely moving his skilled tongue, he applies a warm pressure, each tiny move bringing you to the edge. It doesn't take long for your stomach to be drenched in sweat, and as much as you want to make this last forever, your entire body is taken over by a wave of spasms and pleasure and you explode in orgasm, biting your lip to keep from screaming.

Ivar doesn't give you time to settle down or to come to your senses, lifting his head, a cocky grin playing on his glistening lips.

"Ride me." He commands, his voice hoarse and loud as he pulls the cover off his groin. A wild laugh escapes your lips when you scoot downward, still on top of him, kissing his nipples, then his toned stomach; you find his cock hard under your fingers, your other hand massaging his balls. Without a warning, you plunge him into yourself, gasping as you feel his cock slide deep inside you. Leaning forward until your head is just above his, you kiss him hard before grounding your hips against his. You then pull up, all the way to his tip, constricting the muscles in your lower belly, and then push back down as far as you can. It sends a rippling wave along your inside walls and Ivar moans, his hands grabbing your ass.

As you pump your hips up and down, Ivar squirms beneath you, meeting each one of your thrusts, pushing his hips up as you speed up the pace. Back and forth, back and forth… You move your hips faster and faster, a drop of sweat trickling down your back. The rhythm is frantic now and you almost black out as you suddenly climax once again, Ivar groaning loudly while spreading his hot seed inside you.

You fall heavily onto him, sated and exhausted. "Gods, that was amazing!" You finally say, and Ivar chuckles, a smirk on his face. "It was, indeed." Wrapping his hand around your waist, he then does something surprisingly sweet, kissing your forehead tenderly. With your head resting on his tattooed chest, you just hum, and since your eyelids are getting heavy, you close them, sated and exhausted.

You're dozing off as Hvitserk's voice outside the tent, startles you awake. "Y/N, you're still in there?"

Sitting up in bed, you give Ivar a confused look while stretching out your upper body. "Yes." You want to ask why but Hvitserk doesn't give you the time. "Hurry up then! Una is looking for you."

Sighing, you give Ivar a quick peck on the cheek and stand up hastily. "You heard your brother; I have to go." You give him one last look and are about to get out of the tent when his voice stops you. "Wait, Y/N."

You turn around, and to your surprise, there's no longer a bloodthirsty warlord in front of you, but a boy, shy and insecure, who bites his bottom lip and lowers his gaze. The new Ivar turns you on, there's no denying it, but this one, the timid one, is absolutely adorable, and your heart flutters. You flash him a reassuring smile. Ivar inhales deeply, blinking a few times. "Will you…" He starts but stops immediately.

You raise a brow questioningly, but the moment is gone, his face now expressionless. Ivar just nods at you, his gaze steady as he gestures to his legs. "Thank you."

You're sure that's not what he was going to tell you; that's not what you could read in his eyes. Will you come back later?

Stifling a sigh, you straighten your dress as best you can. Sadly, there's nothing you can do. "You're welcome, my Prince." You say softly; and with that, you walk away, your mind filled with regret.

You would have said yes.

🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets @lisinfleur @waiting4inspiration @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @a-mess-of-fandoms @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @ivarthebloodyking @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @coco2315 @mlchael-guerin

#ivar #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivar imagine #ivar lothbrok #ivar fic #smut ivar #ivar vikings #vikings ivar

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kuroos-babie · 4 years ago

Text

This is Home

Tendō Satori x fem!Reader

[ Oneshot ]

wc: 1.6k

Request: The Tendou childhood sweethearts scenario is just so friking cute. Is it okay if I ask for a one shot of them in high school? —anonymous

a/n: so this is like a second part to red craft yarn inspired by the request above and ½ of a request from @lunabby010 !! sorry it took so long, i hope you like this one 🥺 also tagging @bitchofthecourt bec u might wanna see this hehe

The sound of your best friend’s footsteps bounced across the walls as he skipped and skidded through the dorm halls, stopping right by your door.

“Y/N-chan~” was his little chant as he slowly opened the door without waiting for your reply, spiky red hair sprouting from the gap as he peeked through it.

He had a cheeky smirk on his face when he saw you sitting on your study desk, earbuds in and your back to the door. Tiptoeing silently, he wrapped his long lanky arms around both your shoulders, earning a surprised squeak from you.

“Satori don’t scare me like that”

It came out as a whine but you leaned back to him nonetheless, reaching back to pet at his hair, “How was practice?”

Breathing in, you caught a whiff of his lemon-scented shampoo and minty toothpaste, his own breath fanning against your ear as he chuckled. It was a familiar scent, a familiar feeling of being wrapped comfortably in his arms, that always lulled you into a dreamlike trance — one you wouldn’t mind never waking up from.

“Can we cuddle? We did so many drills today and that Chemistry test sucked”, you could already hear the little pout in his voice and you couldn’t help but laugh a little, “Please? I’m so tired. I just want you to hold me, Y/N-chan~”

He rubbed his cheek against yours, earning a fit of giggles from you as his back ached from bending over low enough to reach your seated position, “Alright alright”, you replied in between smiles.

With a short celebratory “yay!”, your bestfriend assumed his regular position on your bed and stretched his arms out for you and made grabby hands, beckoning for you to lay on top of him.

You did so with a soft smile on your face, straddling his waist before leaning down and resting your chin on your hands, elbows on the mattress beside either side of his head.

He smiled at you broad and lazy before wrapping his arms around your waist, squeezing you tight, “Y/N-chan, you’re the best”

You gave the compliment you’ve heard a hundred times before a short chuckle before lightly tracing the bridge of his nose with a finger, the action making Tendō instantly relax.

He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, his breath tickling your face. He caught your hand in his and pressed your palm against his cheek.

Tendō let his fingers wander over the worn-out thread that wrapped around your finger, playing with the red craft yarn that silently held your promise to be with him forever.

The content smile he had pressed against your palm caused a comforting heat to creep up your cheeks as you buried your face against the crook of his neck

"No, you", was your weak retort which he just laughed over before turning to his side and wrapping his leg over your waist.

"Let's go out tomorrow"

You shook your head, your hair tickling his chin, "Sorry Satori-kun, I promised Suga-san I'll help him with errands tomorrow"

"Again? You've been helping him out a lot since our last match", you looked up at his pouting face, "you've been neglecting me~"

You rubbed your nose against his chin with a giggle and a promise to make it up to him which he dramatically took a hot minute to agree with.

The weekend comes rolling in and you soon found yourself with Karasuno's setter, sat in a quaint little café after finishing up with your grocery runs and a short trip to the shopping district.

"You've been a great help, Y/N-san! I couldn't even imagine doing all those without you"

He smiled at you a beaming one as he reached over to grab your hands, "I'm glad I could help you with that thing, though"

You felt your face effectively flush as he sent you a cheeky grin, wiggling his eyebrows at the tiny drawstring bag in your purse.

"Thank you, Suga-san. It was a tough time picking out the best one"

You continued chatting with the grey-haired man in front of you, basking in laughs and banter shared over some drinks and croissants, completely oblivious of the pair of red eyes ruefully observing the way you and Sugawara seem to perfectly fit each other.

The setter seemed to complement every beautiful feature you had, warm smiles and soft eyes were a stark contrast to his piercing ones, Tendō thought.

He left with a sigh, not wanting to see you getting comfortable with another guy that wasn't him.

Damn. Jealousy wasn't great on him at all.

Acting purely on instinct and muscle memory, Tendō walked over to your dorm room and plopped on your bed before even realizing it wasn't his own.

He laid there, face down, and replayed the scene of you laughing with that pretty boy over and over again until he fell asleep on your sheets, the familiar smell of it the only thing comforting him in the chill of the empty bed.

You arrived later— an hour or so, to your bestfriend lightly snoring on your bed, clutching your pillow.

He stirred a bit, the mattress dipped beside him as you sat down, running your fingers through his hair.

It's always been soft, just like you speculated back when you were kids.

"Satori-kun~ I got you some chocolate croissants"

After a moment or two of silence, he let his hand lazily snake around your waist to pull you closer, his other hand reaching for yours that was still playing with his hair.

His hand played with your fingers, rubbing and squeezing them but soon came to halt when they grazed over your ring finger.

"You don't have it on"

He looked up at you with evident panic in his eyes, the absence of the silent promise between the two of you effectively causing a chill to run up his spine, giving him this disgusting feeling in his gut.

"Y/N?", he searched for your face but he only found confusion in the way you tilted your head and furrowed your eyebrows, "You don't have the red string on"

"Oh that!"

Tendō didn't really know what to make out of your reaction but his mind was reeling, running a thousand miles a second with thoughts of you going off with that Sugawara guy— was that why you took off your makeshift ring?

He bit his lip at the thought, willing the headache that was starting to creep in away.

"I just thought it was a little worn out," you whispered and took his hand in yours, unwrapping the red string from his finger— undoing the safety blanket he had on for years.

Was this you saying good bye to your promise?

"Y/N, no. Please—"

The look in his eyes was pure panic, distraught by the thought of you leaving him behind.

But your thumbs running over the back of his hand helped ease his nerves and pull him back down with you again— like you always did.

"Hey, calm down. I got a better one for us"

He watched you, his breath slightly heaving, as you pulled the small pouch from your purse, "Suga-san helped me pick it out"

The ache in his chest quickly disappeared as he saw you pull out a ring from the pouch and put it on your finger where the red craft yarn had previously been, "This one's mine"

His eyes widened as you pulled out another one, the same silver ring with a red band running its length, and proceeded to put it on his finger— once again enveloping him with the feeling of being wanted, of being safe.

"And this one's yours", you said with a grin as you looked at him, sliding the ring snug on his ring finger.

When he didn't say anything, you pulled his face close to press your forehead against his, closing your eyes and bumping your nose with his.

"I didn't want my promise to be held by a flimsy piece of craft yarn"

With that, Tendō went slack, all the tension in his body bidding good bye as he held your face in his hands— your face that still fit snuggly in his palms after all those years.

"I thought you were done with me. I thought you were gonna leave me and go off with your Suga-san"

You hastily pulled away from his hold, gripping his shoulders for support, "What?! I told you I'm staying with you forever, didn't I?"

The scowl on your face made Tendō laugh as he sighed, cupping your cheeks once again, "Yeah, you did"

He was pulling you closer, gently, slowly, "And I told you I was going to marry you, didn't I?"

His eyes were now closed but his lips kept that soft smile, "I guess you did"

"And I told you I'll marry you again and again— over and over, until you believed that I'll forever stay with you, didn't I?"

You squeezed at his shoulders, making him look at you, his eyes beholding you with all the adoration in the world, "So, please, Tendō Satori"

You held his wrists and pulled his hands off your face, cupping Tendō's face instead

"Marry me right now?"

He gave you a soft chuckle, the cold from the metal band on your finger a foreign feeling but was definitely something he could get used to

"You know I would"

And as you pulled him closer, lips softly brushing, bodies flushed against each other, he felt his heart beat at ease— knowing it belongs to you

Knowing that his place was in your arms and in your arms was home.

bonus:

"Y/N-chaaan~ I told you I was saving that kiss for the real thing!" his lip jutted out in a pout, tempting you to press another kiss on it, sucking ever so lightly before pulling away.

"Can't this just be the real thing?"

You tried to attack him with kisses but he was pushing you away, craning his neck to get his face away from you

"IT DOESN'T WORK LIKE THAT"

1K notes · View notes

pitaparka · 5 years ago

Text

a friend in need is a friend indeed

request: would you ever write a reader/jj/john b three way? only write what ur comfortable with. i love reading your stuff!!!!

summary: reader, jj, and john b. are drunk. really drunk. handsome teenage boys make for fun parties and willing threesomes.

pairings: jj maybank x reader, john b. x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: unprotected sex, protected sex, vaginal sex, male on female oral sex, female on male oral sex, drunk sex

a/n: dont have unprotected sex :( i hope every time you think of having unprotected sex, you picture your own conception. i’d also like for people to know i write outer banks, marvel, star wars, and more! i’m still taking requests, so maybe send in an ask for an idea you’ve had in your head for a while? and we can be friends? okay, big love. later!

The alcohol was overkill. She had to admit.

It’s why she was holed up in some random boy’s kitchen, house party ensuing around her as she macked on JJ.

Her arms fit perfectly around his waist in the bright fluorescent light of the kitchen. Their lips work together, sloppy and inexperienced, but full of nerves and nerve endings that send electricity through their veins.

John B. watches from the doorway.

JJ’s hands move from her waist down to her ass, squeezing for his own pleasure. She smiles into the kiss.

“What’s up, guys?” John B. interrupts. He seemed perturbed more than angry.

She pulls away from JJ, but keeps her arms around his neck.

“I can smell the alcohol on you,” he says, smiling at her. He moves closer to them, the loud music from the living room making it hard to hear. There are people around them too, talking obnoxiously.

“You know what would be great right now?” She says, and John B. squints at her.

“What?” He says, giving in to his curiosity. The beer he’s holding is cold and sweaty in his warm hand.

JJ leans over, her arms still around his neck, to take a sip from a red solo cup.

“Just, like… sex. Good sex.” She complains, and JJ almost chokes.

“You’re crazy.” Says John B., but he’s not entirely sure she’s kidding.

“No, she’s drunk,” argues JJ hypocritically.

“Would you guys fuck me?” she asks, and both of their eyes widen. Before they can say anything, she reveals, “I’d trust you guys to fuck me. You seem like you’d be a nice fuck.”

JJ leans in, and says just loud enough for John B. to hear, “We could always find out?”

She gasps and pulls away from him, laughing loudly, smile wide.

John B. licks his lips and places his beer down on the kitchen counter.

“Not now,” he says, significantly less drunk than the other two.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” JJ asks, and she grabs John B. by the arm, interlocking them.

“Right here,” she sings sweetly, and John B. doesn’t pull away.

“Oh, I’m your boyfriend now? What happened to that other guy?” He questioned, and she blushed into his shoulder.

JJ gives John B. a look.

She smiles sweetly up at him.

“Would you fuck me, John B?” She asks again, and John B. hates that he can feel himself getting a little aroused.

He huffs at her. “Not here,” he replies, and she whines.

“Aw, John B., don’t be like that.” She pouts dramatically.

“I’ll have JJ do it then,” she says, reaching out for JJ. He sandwiches her between the two and she leans her head back against JJ’s chest. His hands are on her waist again and she feels him move to the music against her. She leans up and kisses John B. on the chin.

“No you won’t,” John B. clarifies, and he pulls her closer to him, so that JJ glares, and moves closer.

“You both are drunk,” he says, only on his second beer. The folding table in the living room has different ‘levels’ of alcohol, each increasing in strength with color. He swore he’s seen JJ with at least three different colored cups in the time they’ve been there. Which hasn’t been long.

“No, no, I’ll…” she starts, but giggles, distractedly.

“I’ll let the both of you… do it.” She states coyly.

“ But you have to do it together,” she smiles, and the boys look at each other.

“No way,” John B. says, bluntly, arms crossed over his chest.

JJ stares at him.

“I just won’t look. It’s not like I haven’t seen your dick before,” he argues, and John B. is not drunk enough for this.

JJ definitely is.

“It’d be really hot, John B.,” she encourages.

“No. I’m not gay.” He says, finally.

“Neither am I, but she’s offering, bro,”

“It’s not gay, if it’s in a three way,” JJ sings horribly and lowly to John B. She giggles at them, and rubs her hand slowly up and down John B.’s arm.

He sighs loudly.

“I’m not touching your dick, JJ, so don’t even think about it,”

“I don’t want to touch your dick!” JJ cries, and people around him glare at the outburst. John B. shushes him.

“Is that a yes?” she asks, and John B.’s shoulders fall as he pinches his nose.

“Yeah. I guess.” He agrees, and she lets out an excited moan that shouldn’t make him so hot and bothered, but it does.

“Yay! Come on, come on,” she encourages, and both boys are following her into some poor soul’s bedroom. It’s definitely the bedroom of a teenage boy, bare and brightly lit by a red neon playboy sign. The full sided bed has a navy blue comforter and there are trophies that line his dresser. The boys look at each other, taking in the room. She makes no effort to remember it, because she’s already unbuttoning her shorts and collapsing on the half-made bed. Her legs lay off the side of the bed, for easy access of course, and she stretches, hands reaching up for the pillows haphazardly thrown at the head of the bed. Her shirt rolls up a little, and she rubs her hands over her skin, playing with the hem of it.

She finds it funny that though he was reluctant, John B is the first one to strip down to his briefs, and she can see his half hard-on. He goes to take himself out, ready to peel her out of her remaining clothes, but she has other ideas.

“No no, not yet.” she says, and she sits up. She grabs John B. by the shoulders, and pushes him down to his knees. He looks unaware of what she wants him to do. She grabs his hair at the scalp, and slowly tugs him between her legs. He gets the hint, and she watches as John B. wiggles off her shorts and underwear.

JJ fumbles with her bra behind her. She watches these clueless boys with a smile.

He ends up just tugging it over her head and tossing it on the floor along with her other clothes.

She feels John B.’s tongue, abrupt and fast and vastly uncomfortable.

“Woah, slow down there, partner,” she says, and with her hand on his head again, she guides him with slow, stroke strokes of his tongue.

“Much better,” she encourages, and she lays back, one hand down by her side, the other rubbing small circles into her clit.

She sticks her tongue out for JJ, and he makes quick work of shimmying out of his shorts. He doesn’t even bother taking off his boxers, his member already throbbing hard and pulsing in his hand. He gives it a couple of strokes before guiding onto her lips.

“Ohhh, aw, fuck,” JJ says, her lips and tongue teasing the tip of his cock as John B. gets to work on her entrance. He’s down between her legs, just like she showed him, teasing and licking and kissing as she rubs fast circles with her fingers.

He does something to make her moan, and JJ stops to watch.

“Oh, fuck, John B.,” she whines, “d-do that again,”

And he complies, fucking his tongue in and out between her velvet folds, head bobbing rhythmically, fast, as she picks up the pace with her own fingers.

JJ decides he wants in on the fun, and he kneels by her head, tilting her neck up to plant firm kisses there, hard enough to bruise.

She lets out breathy gasps at the attention, and it only encourages the boys further.

John B. grips her hips hard as JJ takes a hand to play with her breasts, nipples peaked and stiff under his heavy touch. Her other hand comes up to cup JJ’s, and he continues his unyielding kisses as she guides him, showing him exactly the amount of pressure she wants. As soon as he’s got it down, he pulls his head away to watch her unravel underneath him. Her head tilts back and she grinds her hips along John B.’s tongue.

There are whimpers from her and wet sounds from John B. and soft panting from JJ as he takes his other hand to rub himself, stroking his cock leisurely.

“Oh my god, this is better than porn,” JJ comments, but both of the others ignore it.

“Right there, John B., right there, fuck,” she curses, and closes her eyes to immerse herself in the moment.

“Just like that, perfect,” she encourages, and John B. licks and plunges his tongue deep, and removes it again to rub circles at her clit, replacing her hand. His tongue is wet and he licks long stripes up and down her length.

“Fuck, oh fuck, just—faster, John B., just like that.”

John B. circles his tongue faster, and it only takes a few moments for her to gasp and buck her hips up, so much so that he has to pressure her hips down to keep her there, toes curling, her legs over his shoulders, trying not to squeeze his head.

She whines and moans, and JJ has to stop touching himself because he feels like he’s going to blow his load right there on the floor.

“Oh, fuck, John B.,” she pants, and John B pulls away, watching her womanhood contract at his touch, wet cum framing where he was about to plunge his cock.

She smiles dopily at the ceiling. He is ragingly hard and almost ready to cum.

“Guess what guys?” She starts, breathy, and they stare at her.

“I brought condoms!” She whispers excitedly, gesturing to her pants on the floor.

Normally, they’d protest, but they’re so horny they’d take any opportunity to cum inside of her.

John B. struggled with her pockets, but, condom in hand, he rips one open, pinches the tip, and rolls it onto his hard cock. It fits, and he admires her.

He rubs his cock over her entrance, playing with the wetness, and she gasps and shudders when he rubs it over her clit.

He smiles arrogantly, and slowly pushes his head in. It doesn’t take much effort, thanks to her orgasm.

He slowly makes his way in, and JJ starts stroking again, standing up to place his cock on her lips. She purses them slightly, and JJ rubs back and forth over them. John B. moans form between her legs.

JJ grabs her chin firmly, and she looks up at him with doe eyes, moaning as she opens her mouth and lazily takes just the tip.

She hollows out her cheeks around him, and he takes in a shaky breath.

John B. pumps fast inside her, pulling out halfway and pushing back into her, holding her hips with a strong grip. She thinks it might bruise, but she doesn’t care.

All of a sudden John B.’s strokes get more erratic, faster and harder than before. His breathing is fast, and she watches him as his eyes close and his head falls back, strong, slow thrusts now.

He cums, hands on her hips, cock buried deep inside her, his groans filling the space between them. His strokes are calculated, milking every single drop from himself before pulling out and collapsing on the bed next to her.

“You’re next, JJ,” John B. jokes, and JJ doesn’t say anything, moving to take his spot.

He pushes into her, and she notices. Every ridge, every vein on his cock she can feel.

JJ’s strokes are slow and deliberate to start, but then he starts to pick up speed, as does his breathing. It’s only a few seconds before he’s close.

He pumps fast and hard, with reckless abandon for a few moments before he pulls out quickly, and jerks his shaft, concentrating on the tip.

He cums all over her stomach and groans loudly right after, coating her chest with his thick white cum. He grabs a fist full of the bedspread as he shudders.

JJ lets his shoulders fall, and he hunches over. He plants kisses to the inside of her knees, and she giggles, pulling them away. He smiles at her.

There’s heavy breathing from all three of them.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” she comments, and the boys chuckle.

“Yeah John B., nothin’ to be afraid of, man.” JJ pants, running a hand through his hair. He tugs his boxers up over his thighs and tucks his now soft cock back into them, looking around the floor for his shorts.

“Shut the fuck up, JJ,” he says, getting up to find his pants as well.

She lays there, and one of the boys toss her a small pile of her clothes onto the bed.

JJ stares at her once he’s clothed, his seed still on her stomach.

He sighs. He hates this part.

“Go back to the party,” JJ says to John B., “I’ll clean up.”

John B. looks at him suspiciously.

“Really,” JJ assures, gesturing to her slowly more competent state. She stares at the cum on her stomach.

“It’s okay,” she assures, but JJ is there, using some poor soul’s discarded t-shirt as a rag. It doesn’t smell as far as she can tell, and it’s soft.

As soon as he’s done, and throws the t-shirt into a corner of the room.

“Uh, okay. We’re gonna go now,” he says, even though John B. left already.

“Okay.” She agrees. JJ slowly makes his way out of the room.

She sits up and gets dressed, ready to make her way back to the party, when John B. enters the room again.

“Where’s JJ?” He questions, making his way over to her swiftly.

“He went back to the party. I thought—” she starts, but John B.’s mouth is on hers, salty and sweet, passionate and slow. His hand grabs the back of her neck and pulls her closer, impossibly so, and there’s teeth and even some tongue.

He pulls away.

“That’s for kissing JJ earlier, in front of me,” he clarifies, and she doesn’t tell him he tastes like her.

She smiles as she watches him leave. His shirt was on backwards.

3K notes · View notes

sunjaesol · 4 years ago

Text

serendipitous encounters

juke | human au | fluff

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"I think I met my soulmate!" Luke shouted as he barrelled through the front door, announcing his presence.

Alex, cuddled up with Willie, groaned from his place on the couch. "Not this again. Luke, soulmates do not exist!"

"Well, I'm curious," Willie joked. "What happened?"

Bouncing through the small living space, he propped himself on the coffee table. His eager lips spouted everything he knew so far. "Her name's Julie and she's beautiful and she drinks lattes with caramel syrup."

The two boys blinked at each other, an amused smile growing on Willie as the scowl deepened for Alex. Yeesh. How did these two work?

The blonde tried keeping composure. "You think... you met... the person you want to spend the rest of your life with... in a coffee shop?"

Luke nodded. What was his point?

Luckily, Willie was on his side. "Did you talk to her?"

Sighing, he slumped to the floor. "No. But I'm telling you, it's her."

"This oddly feels like that Zooey Deschanel movie," Alex mused.

"No! She's not some fantasy! She-I can't explain it." Dreamily looking up at the ceiling, he added. "She's it. I'm calling it."

"I think you're horny," Alex deadpanned. Willie snickered.

He rolled his eyes and swatted their legs. "Very cool, you guys.”

The doorbell rang. Jumping up and saving himself from further embarrassment, Luke went to open it.

And it was her. Holy shit.

She smiled up at him, holding up his trusty songbook.

"Hello. You left this journal on your table at Starbucks? It has your address inside."

Gobsmacked, Luke stared at her. Holy fucking shit. Because of his whole daydream about her in Starbucks, he forgot his book and then she took it upon herself to find the rightful owner. That was fate, right? Take that, Alex!

Stammering vowels, he plucked it from her grasp and let out a breathy laugh.

"Y-Yeah, thanks, that's- yup."

An amused smile pulled on her lips, nodding. "No problem. Have a nice day!"

Her goodbye snapped him out of his stupor, calling out for her with a raised hand.

"Wait! I didn't catch your name!"

She turned around, the girl looking so foreign in the grimy hallway of the apartment complex.

"Why do you need my name?"

Cause he knew it already and didn't want to seem like a creep.

He shrugged. "I want to thank you."

"It's Julie," she said after a beat.

"Thank you, Julie." His grin must've been comically wide, heart beating a mile a minute as he was still convinced she was his freaking soulmate.

And then she left. He was certain he'd see her again. In a non creepy way, that was.

— — — — — —

It was wholly coincidental once more.

It was an early Sunday morning, Luke donned in sweatpants and a ratty cut-off and bedhead, as he meandered in the the shop of a tailor. Reggie owed him for this.

The bassist loved buying vintage clothing, but never stuff that quite fit him. Hence, a tailor. His name was Peter and basically Reg’s best friend at this point, based on the disappointed look the man gave Luke as he handed him the the slip. He could hear the question on his tongue - “Where’s Reggie?” - and was happy when he didn’t ask.

One, cause that was fucking rude.

Two, cause Reg was currently fighting for an exclusive comic book on the other side of Los Angeles with a hurdle of other nerds.

As Peter was sifting through the clothing racks, searching the order, the bell jingled behind him.

“Oh, Journal Boy?”

He stilled. Holy shit.

Whirling around, he came face to face with Julie. Just as beautiful as a week ago; maybe even more disarming in sandals and her curly hair up in a messy bun.

“Hi,” he breathed, unsure if he wasn’t just imagining her. It was a pretty hot day. It could easily be a sun stroke.

Her smile widened. She was probably amused by his goofy behaviour, but he couldn’t help it. What were the odds he’d see her again, in a different location, this early after the first encounter? What was the statistical probability of meeting his soulmate twice?

Before he could say anything else, Peter appeared from his rack and placed a leather jacket on the counter. Their attention diverted, Luke couldn’t help but feel heat travel up his back from having her so near.

— — — — — —

No, he didn't want to go to silent disco.

Alas, Willie and Alex were that quirky type of couple that always liked to do the weirdest shit, including the most impersonal activity ever: a silent fucking disco.

They told him to bring a date, as Reggie was bringing his Tinder match Kayla, but he wasn't feeling it. One, because he still couldn't believe he saw Julie again at the tailor-

("It's Luke, by the way," he added.

She smiled and tasted the name. "Luke. Haven't lost your journal again?"

His name sounded heavenly on her tongue. Keeping the blush at bay, he nodded with a grin. "Yup. Uh-"

And then the man came back with her stuff, and that was that.)

-two, cause he wanted to win from Alex. Soulmates did exist and he hadn't lost hope it was her.

So there he was, in some old factory turned disco, with hundreds of idiots wearing headphones as they danced in a frenzy to whatever song was playing. The whole point of art - connection - was lost. Luke wanted to die.

Until he saw Julie from across the space. Again. And she saw him.

They smiled and waved and suddenly, this whole thing wasn't so bad anymore.

— — — — — —

There were about a 130,000 people living in East LA. It had sprawling neighbourhoods and hundreds of communities and subways that connected it to the other parts of LA. She could’ve been anywhere.

And yet, he found her again.

Even though he was still sticking to his guns that Julie was someone special, he also had his own needs. Which was how he found himself slipping out of a redhead’s bed at seven in the morning, dazed from being in an unknown place, and pulling his clothes back on. He was pretty sure her name was Meredith, though that could also just be entirely false. It was a weird, albeit good night.

She mumbled in her pillow he could let himself out, waving half-heartedly and rolling on her side.

Softly closing the door behind him and cracking the knots in his neck, he didn’t notice how he bumped into a person.

Into Julie.

His eyes widened in shock, the two letting out a surprised yelp. Her hand clutched her chest and took a step back.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed. “Sorry!”

Her mouth opened and closed in confusion, about to say something, when her gaze trailed past him to the apartment he just left. She cleared up.

“Meredith? Good choice, she’s nice.”

Luke flushed red. What the fuck was he supposed to say to that?

Awkwardly scratching the back of his head, he drawled, “Uh, yeah... what’re you doing here?”

It was then that he noticed she had athletic wear on, duffle bag around her shoulder and keys dangling between her fingers. She confirmed his suspicions when she replied.

“I, uh, live here.” She laughed. “So... have a nice rest of the day?”

He wanted to say a lot. He wanted to ask if she wanted to grab breakfast, that Meredith wasn’t his girlfriend, that he had this crazy feeling they were always meant to meet - again and again and again ‘til they got it right.

But he couldn’t. He’d sound insane. Hell, it was insane. Instead, he wished her a nice day as well and scurried out the hallway. He didn’t look back, but he did wonder if he was imagining he felt her eyes on his back.

— — — — — —

Luke was typing on his laptop, the hustle and bustle of Starbucks at three in the afternoon and the methodical tap tap tap of the keys lulling him into a fast-paced trance. As always, he procrastinated some work for Pitchfork and had to get it done in two hours or else his boss would be yelling in his emails.

The bell jingled, Luke looking up automatically and almost rolling his eyes at the sight of her. This was getting insane.

Julie saw him too, changing her course from the register to his round table with a confused grimace twisting her features. As always, she looked pretty; the girl never looked bad and it was kind of messing with his head.

"Alright, fess up," she exclaimed, slipping into the seat opposite of him. "Are you stalking me?"

He snorted and leaned forward with a wry grin. "I can ask the same about you."

Her lips pursed, assessing him for a beat. With a sigh, she mellowed down. "I guess... we live in the same neighbourhood..."

"Still kinda crazy though," he mused. "East L.A. is big."

She nodded, pensive, and then looked over her shoulder to the menu board. "Is it okay if... I sit with you? I was going to grab a latte to go, but since you're here..."

But since you're here - rang in his ears, a careful smile blooming on his lips. Fuck, he really needed to work, but Julie wanted to sit with him, hang with him, be friends with him, outside of all the coincidental meetings they've had.

He wouldn't call it a date yet. He wanted to properly ask her when that day came.

"Sure," he mumbled, biting down the smile from becoming bigger.

His reply satisfied her, the tendrils dancing around her bright eyes as she matched his smile and stood up to make an order.

— — — — — —

Weeks passed with quick meetings here and there, Julie slowly bleeding into his life with laughs and smiles and whirlwind stories about her life. She was always on the go, always bright-eyed and easily matching his energy. He knew his enthusiasm could put people off, but she was never taken aback.

Wit against wit. Snark against snark. A dumb joke met with an amused roll of the eye. It worked. For a while, he even settled on the fact that hey, they might be platonic soulmates. Julie was a great friends and sometimes he felt his emotions fleeting. If they remained friends, he'd be perfectly content.

But then she closed gaps and barriers that had pointedly been kept before. After they got boba, her hand wrapped around his bicep, stretched on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss on his cheek. Before he could register it, she was back on her feet waving him goodbye. Luke had a dopey look on his face for the rest of the day.

She kept up cheek kisses, he let his warm embraces linger, their short hangouts turned into hours.

Then one night, she kissed his cheek after they got ramen and he shifted his face 'til their noses brushed. Julie held her breath. Tentatively, their fingers curled together - the simple touch sparking lightning up his arm.

"Is it weird that I've dreamed about you?" he asked, cautious, looking at their joined hands.

Luke wanted to tell her about his initial gut feeling; that he saw her and he knew. But it was too insane and he didn't want to scare her off. But he knew. He's always known.

"No..." Her mouth ghosted his. "I've dreamed about you too."

Luke closed the little space between them, lips slanting together and instantly deepening as one hand came up to cradle her cheek. His heart was bursting with euphoria. It felt as if his body sighed in relief, like it had finally come home. And then he did: he sighed and grinned and giggled when her arms wrapped around his neck.

Oh, man... he might already love her.

— — — — — —

Nothing definite happened afterwards. Though this is what he wanted, he felt weird confirming their relationship when he had always somehow ‘known.’ It had to come from her side, the more level-headed person in this situation.

So, it was casual, even though he was anything but casual.

It was pretty great though, walking past Meredith’s door towards Julie’s, having her yank him inside and kiss him like she’d been waiting for years. Kissing Julie was fucking heaven.

Besides that, they were the same Luke and Julie as before. They got boba or ramen or any new spot that opened up like weeds. She listened to new music with him, sharing earbuds, for his Pitchfork articles. He watched her sing and play the piano at music clubs, becoming more and more enamoured each time simply by the sound of her angelic voice. He built a shelf for her. She taught him how to make friendship bracelets. He met her best friend Flynn. She stayed over for dinner with the guys and got drunk on white wine, giggling along to the jokes.

They fit. But they weren’t exclusive. He had no clue if she was also seeing someone else. He presumed she didn’t, the two constantly revolving around each other, but he couldn’t be certain.

Alex was gobsmacked the first time he properly met her. Stunned that Luke had been right, that it worked out, that East Los Angeles was apparently nothing more than a small town. Luke reckoned he was just jealous he didn’t have to meet his person by getting maimed on the street - ha!

His finger trailed along her sleeping silhouette, gently and drowsy, observing in awe how a smile subconsciously quirked on her lips and shifted closer to his touch. He closed his eyes and pressed his nose in the back of her neck. There were worse ways to wake up.

— — — — — —

Eventually, Julie simply decided for him.

She was moving apartments and he was helping her pack, move furniture, throw shit out, the whole nine yards. For one person, she had a lot of stuff, her cabinets an endless supply of decor, souvenirs and memories.

They were whirling around each other like clock-work, never bumping and smoothly handing things over. Rap music was playing from the stereo, its sound drifting from her opened front door into the hallway.

One of her neighbours popped their head in.

"Oh!" The old man perked up, surprised. "You're moving, Julie?"

She looked up from rummaging through her CD collection to shoot him a tired smile. "Yeah," she puffed, "my lease is up, so..."

"Change of pace, I get it. That's wonderful," he nodded, gaze shifting to Luke walking out of the bathroom. "Hello!"

Luke smiled at him, waving with the box of oddly shaped soaps Julie had for some reason. "Hi."

"This is Luke, my boyfriend," Julie introduced, Luke freezing in his tracks all at once as the words utter from her lips. Boyfriend. Holy shit. It didn't faze her, smoothly babbling more than he wasn't processing.

Boyfriend. Which meant that she was his girlfriend. Which meant that now, he had to threaten the guys to not say a fucking word about how mentally deranged he was the first week after meeting her. This wasn’t planned. This was fully her. This was past fate and serendipity - this was by choice. It felt better than he thought.

The man bid goodbye and left. Luke dropped the box on the coffee table, sliding towards her with a shit-eating grin.

"Boyfriend," he drawled exaggeratedly.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes. ‘Cause you are. I know you well enough to know you can only do exclusive."

"Can you?"

"I said you were my boyfriend, didn't I?"

His smile widened, leaning in to kiss her. She met him halfway, loose curls tucked behind ears before her arms were slung around his waist. I love, I love you, I've loved you forever.

And then the truth tumbled out. Part of it, at least.

"I, uh," he gulped, looking at her through his lashes. "I saw you, that first day, and I thought you were the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Her face turned tender, a pout jutting from her lip as she gauged his reaction, like she was waiting for him to make a joke. He wasn't.

"Really?" she whispered, voice so small it took him aback for a beat.

His thumbs gently caressed her cheeks, withholding himself from saying anything more. This was enough. It was the truth without the crazy - being with her was crazy enough. Luke settled on a simple nod.

Her head tilted, shy amusement lilting her tone. "Good thing I'm moving closer to your neighbourhood then."

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

@blush-and-books @bluefirewrites @willexx @pink-flame @constantly-singing @unsaid-emily @ourstarscollided

#juke #jatp fanfiction #otp: i think we make each other better #queue

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vanillann · 4 years ago

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this is how you fall in love (g.w.)

“i had a nightmare but now that i’m not scared”

based off “this is how you fall in love” by chelsea cutler and jeremy zucker

warning: mention of death and nightmares

word count: 1.3k

It was all so incredibly loud, the yelling and the crashing against his mother’s arms. Freddie laid out on the stretcher with ghostly pale skin and dirt over his brow, his normal smile replace by the ghost of a smile.

Ghost.

George could only hope Fred would be a happy ghost as he held his body to his chest, he didn’t deserve to spend the afterlife in pain. Freddie never deserved pain, someone that gentle always got the short end of the stick.

Ron collapsed across from him, his body shaking as he brushes ginger hair from his eye. George had been crying so hard he couldn’t even feel the tears as they stretch the length of his face.

Freddie was dead.

He hadn't been out of Hogwarts but a year or so, yet he was on the floor of the very Great Hall the two would scream jokes at the top of their lungs. They grew up in these halls, yet he was lifeless all the same.

The room was caving in, the roof falling in as everyone ran screaming from the madness. George didn’t move, he couldn’t. He wanted to join Freddie, he didn’t want to be in a world that let young boys die for another young boy, where war was a normal Sunday afternoon.

“George.”

Freddie was calling him, he was going to see Freddie.

“George!”

The voice was panic, yelling for him to move. Did Freddie not want to see him?

“George!”

His body jolted from the pillow, his body clammy against the rough sheets of the Queen size bed. The finger on his shoulder was cool over his skin, calming his racing heart. He glanced around the room, the ceiling was perfectly intact and the dresser across from him told him he wasn’t in the Great Hall.

“Sweets?”

George jumped, whipping around to find his lover’s worried face inches from his own. Their lips in a delicate frown as their finger drew constellations over his freckles.

It was all a sick twisted dream. Fred died four years ago, he was long gone from the Burrow and the joke shop.

“Do you want something to drink?”

He couldn’t explain the release he felt hearing their voice, as if they pulled the nasty roots from his soil in order to plant the prettiest tulips. As if just their voice could ground him back to the world.

“Maybe,” his voice was hoarse, “some tea?”

They rushed from bed, their finger leaving a warmth against his skin as they hurried from the room. They didn’t bother putting on a robe in the freezing house in the late hours of a December night. George was the only thing on their mind.

He slowly eased from the bed, slipping out onto the carpet on the floor. His slippers would’ve only made his feet sweat, he was still coming down from the cold sweats, but he grabs the blue robe flung over the chair. Draping it over his arm, slowly making his way down the narrow hall of the house.

The pictures hung on the wall bought a small smile to his face, his mother and his lover holding one another and Percy with the twins before they ever entered Hogwarts. The wall on the right was dedicated to pictures of Fred, ones of (Y/N) and Fred from the Great Hall, and family pictures at the Burrow. George wished he took more pictures, he never liked how he looked enough, but he wished he would’ve just to have a small piece of Fred still with him.

His feet slide across the hardwood floor, easily finding (Y/N) rushing around the kitchen in the bright kitchen light. They glide around the room like a ballroom, their feet jumping over every loose board and missing each corner by an inch. They were used to the quirks of the kitchen they had lived in so long. They fit right in with the soft yellow walls and the green high stools as if the moment was out of a film the muggle would give awards too.

“You should’ve stayed in bed,” George was bought back, watching as they pour some tea into the mug.

“I hated the way the sheets felt on my legs,” he walked through the threshold, leaning on the small kitchen island while studying their face. Their lip held between their teeth and their eyebrows so focused on the milk mixture with the golden liquid.

“I’ll change ‘em, put the silks on,” they slide the tea across the island, trying to move around the change the sheets in the hurry. George stuck his arm out, grabbing their bicep before they could make it to the living room.

“Please don’t leave.”

Their body was beside his in a second, their finger tracing on his shoulder again, as if they weren’t running from the room seconds ago. He never thought people were meant to be fixed, no it never made sense, but he couldn’t help but feel grounded just by their touch alone.

“You always make it better,” his voice was barely above a whisper as he took a small sip from his cup. Perfect, just like he would’ve made it himself.

“I’m just here for you,” their breath fanning over his back, the sticky sweat running from the sweet breath of his lover.

“How do you do it so easily? How do you make it better?”

George never thought anyone would comfort him like Freddie, they were twins. You couldn’t match their bond, and while they didn’t, (Y/N) always could touch him on a different level. Of course, they could really touch him, like their finger on his skin or the kisses on his neck, but the grip they had on his heart was like a headlock.

“Love,” they answer would’ve made George laugh at any other time, telling them they watch too much Disney, but he couldn’t help but wonder.

“You think?”

“I know, falling in love can make things better when done right,” their chin rested on his back. He felt so at home like the nightmare was thought away in a far-off land.

“How do you do that? Falling in love?”

George knew he loved (Y/N), they’ve been saying it and showing it for years, but he never quite remember how it happened. He couldn’t recall a moment in time where he came to the conclusion, he just remembered saying it one day and saying it every day after that.

“This,” their words were confident, “this is how you fall in love.”

Maybe that’s why he couldn’t pinpoint it because there wasn’t a moment where it wasn’t like this. They always held him and made his tea perfect, never pushing to talk about anything. He always wondered about the world and they always seemed to have an answer, even when they didn’t. It had always been like this for the two, it was always like this between them. They had been slowly falling in love before every poet and writer’s very eyes, but at this moment as their finger traced stars on his back and the heat from the tea fanned over his chin, he knew his love was always this deep.

“I love you,” his arm wrapped around their shoulder, bringing them against his chest.

“I love you,” their eyelashes brushed against his pale skin, making his heart rate spike out of pure enjoyment of the domestic life before him.

He knew Freddie would be watching him, a proud smile on his face as he held on to his rock. He knew Freddie would want someone like (Y/N) to take care of him if he couldn’t do it himself.

He knew Freddie could feel the love he felt even from the afterlife.

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heartsywritesthethings · 4 years ago

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Sk8: The Sleepover

Author: GA!babe

Summary: The gang’s all here for a sleepover at Reki’s! In a discussion of skate names, Reki finds himself the center of attention after getting flustered by the mere mention of the word “tickle” (2,842 words)

“Langa! Glad you came!” Reki exclaimed as he opened the door to find his best friend standing there.

And then he looked behind the boy and saw…four other people right behind him.

“Uh, what are they doing here?” Reki asked, trying not to sound too rude, but it’s not like he wanted to invite two grown men, a clown, and a literal child over to his house as well. It was just supposed to be him and Langa tonight.

“Oh, well when you told me that your mom and sister were out of town for some mother-daughter bonding, I thought it would be nice if everyone came along.” Langa said with a smile. It made Reki wonder again why that smile made his heart flip flop. This boy? The one with a pile of snow in place of a brain?

“That’s not a problem, right, Reki?” Miya asked, snaking himself around Langa’s legs and looking up at the red head with his big puppy-dog eyes.

Reki took a deep breath.

“No, of course not. Come on in,” Reki sighed and took a small step aside so everyone could walk into his house. The house that he wasn’t supposed to have anyone else in while his mother and sister were away. That one.

“Nice place you have here, Reki. I’m sure the ladies love a humble man who lives with his mom,” Joe teased on his way in, ruffling the kid’s hair.

“Just so you know, Carla said there was a 95% chance that we were seen by one of your neighbors. I hope you aren’t grounded for too long after your mother finds out,” Cherry said as he slid by.

“Thanks for telling me,” Reki whined, his shoulders slumping. Great. Now it was almost guaranteed that he would be grounded when his mom got back.

“Wait, you’re not allowed to have people over? Why didn’t you say so?” Shadow hissed, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was outside looking at him.

“Well, that’s not exactly–” Langa began.

“What kind of flowers does your mom like? I can get her a vase before she even gets home,” Shadow continued. taking out a little notepad from his pocket and waiting for a response.

“Uh, she likes lillies I think?” Reki said with a dry chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Shadow scribbled it down with a frown.

“Not exactly the best of apology flowers, but I’ll see what I can do,” the older man grumbled as he stepped into the house.

“Sorry for ruining your date night, Reki. Sleepovers are fun though. Do you think we should braid each other’s hair?” Miya said, popping a bubblegum bubble as he also walked into the house.

“Date?” Reki squeaked, his face turning a rather nice shade of pink. Miya just laughed as he skipped towards the couch.

“You will not get your little claws on my hair!” Cherry snapped from the other room.

And then he was alone with Langa. The guy he had wanted here…alone in the house.

“Sorry, was I not supposed to invite them over?” Langa asked, smiling awkwardly. Reki couldn’t help but melt just a little. How could he say no to that face?

“Ah, no, you’re fine. I just forgot to ask for them over too. I just got, uh, busy with a new…new board! Yeah! Thanks. You saved me the trouble.” Reki stammered awkwardly, shuffling on his feet. Langa smiled softly and their shoulders bumped as he stepped in.

Reki closed the door with a sigh.

This was going to be a long night.

~ ~ ~

“Alright, what are we going to watch?” Miya asked, jumping onto the couch, quickly getting comfortable against the pillow in the corner.

“Watch? This is a party, right? We drink and play games until dawn!” Joe announced, sitting down on the couch and stretching his arms high over his head.

“You’re an idiot,” Cherry huffed, looking around with a barely concealed look of disgust. He looked between the couch, chair, and love-seat, before deciding that he was perfectly fine standing right here thank you very much.

“I’m an idiot? I’m just trying to make things fun around here!” Joe exclaimed, looking around to see if anyone agreed with him.

“Did you forget how old he was? He’d get in more trouble if his mom found empty sake bodies around the house,” Shadow huffed as he took his spot next to Joe. The burly man scowled at being sat next to a clown, but he didn’t protest too much.

“Well, there’s only so long she can ground me.” Reki chuckled before plopping down on the nearby love-seat. Langa sat down next to him, not at all bothered by how incredibly close they were.

“I’m sure she won’t be too mad, Reki,” Langa said and pat his friend on the back.

“Well, if we can’t drink, then why exactly are we here? What are we going to do?” Joe groaned, dragging a hand down his face dramatically.

“What were you expecting? He was probably going to play spin the bottle with his new boyfriend, right Reki?” Miya teased, a shit eating grin on his little face. “Maybe swap spit and make babies?”

“Miya, do you know how–?” Joe began before Shadow smacked him in the face with a heavy pillow.

“I will not be explaining that on my night off,” Shadow grumbled with a shake of his head. Reki and Langa stifled their giggles, giving each other matching looks.

“What? What’s so funny?” Miya hissed, his face turning pink as he realized that there was something that the adults knew that he definitely wasn’t aware of.

“You’ll know when you’re older,” Cherry said with a sigh and a shake of his head.

Reki laughed even harder at that.

“Stop it, guys! What is it? What did I say?” Miya whined, crossing his arms over his chest and just outright pouting. He had been bullied in school before, but this felt different. Sure, they were laughing, but there was no real malice behind it.

“We are not doing this tonight,” Shadow groaned, “Why can’t we just find monopoly or something?”

Reki laughed harder, leaning back against the back of the love-seat. Langa looked up and down the red-head.

“Really tickled over there, aren’t you Gearhead?” Cherry mused.

Reki’s laughter dissolved into a coughing fit.

“Wh-what?” Reki spluttered, his face turning an even brighter shade of bright red.

“What? Not Gearhead? Gears? Sunshine?” Cherry mused, finally sitting down, but on the arm of the couch.

“Those are all terrible skate names. How about Mech? TechDeck?” Joe chimed in.

“Oh, and Joe is such a cool skating name?” Cherry scoffed.

“With all this going on? Keeping it simple is how the ladies don’t get too overwhelmed by my awesomeness,” Joe shot back, flexing his arms for everyone to see.

“We could call him Fire? Opposite of Snow there?” Shadow said with a wink in Langa’s direction. This was the type of teasing that he could get behind because it wasn’t some complicated nonsense that he would have to explain to a child.

“How about Red? Like his face when you said that word?” Miya said, getting up off of the couch and sauntering over to where the two teenagers were sitting.

“Gearhead?” Langa asked, looking between Reki and the sly cat-like boy who was stalking his way over to them.

“Tickle.” Miya said plainly. Reki went an even brighter shade of red, closely resembling his own hair at the moment.

“Wh-What? I was just…thinking that Gearhead was such a stupid name that-uh…I dunno. It was ridiculous,” Reki said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“I am insulted by that, Reki. Nicknames are incredibly important on the S. You’ll need to figure something out so that you’re not in Snow’s shadow every time to you step on a board.” Cherry said. Now he was the one pouting.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that, Cherry. It was just–” Reki continued, glancing between Miya and Cherry.

“He’s just too shy to admit that the word tickle got him all bothered like this,” Miya said smugly and jumped onto the arm of the love-seat.

“Why would something like that bother you, Reki?” Langa asked, all innocent, but Reki could swear he could see evil behind those bright blue eyes.

“It doesn’t bother me. I think Miya is just upset that we teased him a little.” Reki insisted, feeling like he was just a piece of red juicy meat and his friends just all turned into starving lions.

He could practically feel his skin buzzing.

“You sound really defensive, kid.” Joe said, leaning forward with a smirk on his face. “Are you that ticklish?”

“There’s only one way to find out!” Miya said and jumped forward–

Only to be stopped by Langa. Reki cowered with a squeak, pressed hard against the back of the love-seat.

“As much I would love to see Reki tickled to pieces, it’s not very fair if we all gang up against him like this, don’t you guys think so?” Langa asked, looking around. Reki sighed in relief at first before realizing what exactly the former snowboarder had said.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, shaking his head frantically.

“And how do you propose we do that, Snow?” Cherry asked, now definitely intrigued as to how exactly the blue-haired boy planned to get Reki in a puddle of giggles.

“Without killing him of course,” Shadow added with a pointed look. Sure, he liked to cause chaos and make people laugh (especially as his clown skater persona) but five against one was a bit much.

“Sure, we can play a regular party game.” Langa said with a shrug and turned to his friend and a pouting cat-boy. “Reki, truth or dare?”

Reki looked around and huffed.

“Truth.” He said with a small nod. No way he would say dare after all that nonsense about the damn t-word.

“Alright, where’s your most ticklish spot?” Langa asked calmly.

How the hell could Langa say shit like that without blushing?

“I don’t want to play this game. It’s rigged.” Reki grumbled. Now he was red from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck. After he let all of these hooligans into his house when he knew he would be grounded later… they treat him like this? Totally uncool.

“Alright, how many of us do you think you could handle tickling you? Surely you’re not that ticklish, Red.” Miya teased and stuck out his tongue.

“And what about you, Miya? You wouldn’t happen to be ticklish, would you?” Shadow asked, looking between Miya and Reki.

“You never answered the question, Reki.” Langa said with a smirk on his face.

“Alright, fine. You guys are bullies.” Reki huffed. “I don’t have any. You all are just wasting your time. Why don’t we pop a movie or something in the–”

And just like that, Langa was on top of him. He was shoved to the very corner of the love-seat with Langa practically straddling his waist.

“You can’t lie during the game, Reki. That’s not how you play,” Langa said with a shake of his head. “Where should we test out first?”

“Langa, come on, don’t do this. I’ll teach you a new skateboarding trick if you let me go right now. Maybe even make you some of my special ramen,” Reki rambled, kicking his feet out on the couch as he scrambled to get away. Langa snatched both of Reki’s wrists and pulled them above his head.

“Miya, would you be so kind to hold onto these for me?” Langa asked sweetly.

“With pleasure,” Miya hummed, grabbing Reki’s wrists and holding them as tight as he could.

“I would also like to join in on the fun!” Joe said, jumping up from the couch and running over to where the others were getting ready to tear Reki apart.

“Alright, you guys have five minutes, and then you have to let him go.” Shadow said, laying down on the now empty couch and getting comfortable. He took out his phone and pulled up the timer app.

“Five minutes?” The four said in unison, though Reki was more upset with how long time seemed to pass when he was getting tickled to all hell.

Not that it happened often, mind you, but before he had skateboarding, he had more friends and those friends definitely took advantage of how ticklish he was time and time again.

It had really been a while since he had been tickled to pieces and a part of him was…excited? Maybe?

No, that couldn’t be right.

“Time starts now,” Shadow said as he pressed the start button.

Langa went first, poking and prodding at the exposed belly of his best friend. Reki grit his teeth, refusing to let them get the satisfaction of hearing him break right away. Maybe if he doesn’t laugh, they’ll get bored.

Was Reki sure that he wanted them to get bored?

Joe snatched up the red-head’s legs and put his ankles into an armlock.

“Trying the tough-guy act, huh, Red-Mech?” Joe asked, swiping a finger down Reki’s foot.

Reki yelped, jerking his legs. His heart sank as he realized that he could barely move as they all held onto him.

Then came the pinches up his ribs.

“How many ribs do you think you have, Sunshine?” Langa asked as he pinched up and down Reki’s ribs.

“I-ACK! Stop! Lahahnga! Quit!” Reki gasped, a laugh managing to escape as he pleaded for his ticklish life.

“Was that a laugh I heard, Ticklee?” Miya asked from his perch on the arm of the love-seat.

“What’s that nickname?” Langa asked as he continued to squeeze up and down Reki’s ribs as if he weren’t completely tormenting him right now.

“Oh you know, like how you’re the tickl-er, that must mean he’s the tickl-ee, right?” Miya asked sweetly.

“Shuhuhut up!” Reki exclaimed. He didn’t know what was worse. Was it the teasing with the actual word, or the fact that Langa seemed to not care about all of this?

And Joe decided to chime in again, but this time lightly scratching his fingernails up an down Reki’s arches. Just as Langa decided to zero in on his other weak spot too. Well, weaker.

Now that the truth was out, they would all know that Reki was just one big walking tickle spot.

However, Langa just found that Reki’s underarms were insanely ticklish, just like the bottoms of his feet. Just as Joe had started on his arches, Langa decided to lightly scratch under his arms too, one finger under each as if he were testing the waters.

“AH! OHOHOHOHOKAY! Okay!” Reki barked, his whole body jerking and his head thrown back.

“Wow, okay what?” Langa asked teasingly, stopping his tickling as he realized the hefty reaction from his friend was because of what he and Joe had done.

“Alright, you got mehehe,” Reki said and tugged on his arms.

“You still have four minutes, Firetop,” Shadow chimed in from his spot on the couch.

“How about just one more minute, Shadow? I think we found the answers we were looking for,” Langa said smugly. Shadow nodded and changed the timer. If they were going for the death spots, it would only be fair to Reki for them to shave off a few minutes.

“You’re no fun, Snow.” Miya huffed.

“And you are definitely next, kitty,” Langa said with a pointed look at Miya. He then turned to Joe. “You ready?”

“Of course. I’m waiting for you kids to finish with whatever. ” Joe said before getting back into it.

For one full minute, Reki was in ticklish heaven hell. Langa altered between digging his thumbs into Reki’s armpits and lightly tickling around Reki’s neck and ears while Joe tickled and scratched up and down Reki’s poor defenseless feet.

When the timer ran out, Shadow snatched Miya up and tossed him playfully onto the couch. Cherry snatched Joe by the ear and pulled him away from a giggling mess of a skateboarder. Langa pulled himself off too, but Reki grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled himself closer.

“Alright, your turn,” Shadow said as he began tickling little Miya to pieces, mainly clawing at and around the little monster’s belly button, getting him cackling in no-time.

“Now I’m in a tickle monster mood, what do you think, Cherry? Like old times?” Joe asked before diving on top of him and digging into the pink-haired man’s hips. Soon, Cherry and Miya’s laughter and giggles filled the living room as Reki curled up in Langa’s lap and watched the scene unfold. Langa ran his fingers through the red hair of his tickled out best friend.

“Thanks for inviting everyone, Langa,” Reki hummed sleepily. “But I’m definitely going to get you back for this one.”

“Alright, Sunshine,” Langa said and fluttered his fingers by Reki’s ear. The red-head squeaked and scrunched his shoulders up protectively.

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zaikaglow · 4 years ago

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Betrayal

For @mikaberries 4k Celebration Collab

Pairing: Bertholdt Hoover x Reader

Content Warnings: Unprotected sex, dacryphilia, abandonment

Summary: You feel your relationship has run its course but youre unable to get out and you feel trapped leaving you with only one option, but can you bring yourself to do it?

“You're really sure about this y/n”? Hitch asks, sitting in the driver's seat of her Subaru palms just grazing the wheel as she drums on it with her pink fingernails. Sitting in the passenger's seat you pull your knees to your chest and look out at the Starbucks parking lot. Your face is starting to heat up at the shame of what you just told her. “I just really don’t know how else to do it” you mutter, wishing that maybe you had just kept your little plan to yourself that you didn’t get your best friend Hitch involved. She turns to you this time before she speaks “I just really can’t believe you wanna do that to him, just leave totally ghost the poor guy after what? 4 years? Come on y/n be an adult”.

You can tell she’s scowling at you now “Hitch what would you do if Marlo asked you to marry him?” she laughs “well I’d tell him no, I’m not ready for that and not just pack up all my shit in the middle of the night and ask my best friend to be my getaway driver”. You were trying to choke back tears of frustration when you weakly mutter “that wouldn't work on Bertholdt”. “Come on y/n you're being ridiculous what do you mean that wouldn't work” her eyebrows knit together as she looks at you with more concern than contempt now. “Remember when I told you I was going to break up with him last year”?

“Yeah but then you two went to dinner and talked it out and you decided to stay together”

“That’s not exactly what happened. I started trying to breakup with him but he started crying and saying how he didn’t even think he could imagine life without me and everyone started staring and I just told him we could work it out”

“Okay so just don’t do it in a public place again” she takes a sip of her iced coffee

“God dammit Hitch! I’m an adult don’t you think I thought of that? Every time I’ve tried to break up with him he just starts either smothering me telling me how much he loves me or starts crying and going on about how he doesn’t know how to go on living.” Getting more exasperated at trying to make her understand you place your head into your palms “I swear that's the whole reason he asked me to marry him”

Hitch sighs “Do you still love him?”

“I don't know anymore Hitch”

“Okay how about you make an actual attempt to end it tonight, I’ll still drive you and you can stay with me until you get stuff figured out but please don’t just disappear on him”

“Fine i'll make a last attempt but if it doesn’t work will you still come get me?”

“Sure what else are friends for y/n”

It’s later in the evening when you make it back to your shared apartment and your heart is beating in your chest. You're going to do it, you're actually going to be an adult and tell Bertholdt that you're breaking up. You're not getting married and you don’t care about how much he’s crying or the way he wraps his big arms around your body and pulls you close and whispers “stay” over and over. But then you walk in and he’s there and the way his eyes light up when he sees you makes your heart swell and you start to wonder if you can really go through with this “y/n! I’m glad your home I made dinner it’s your favorite” he walks over to you and places his hands on your shoulder “Don’t worry i'm not trying to sway you, I told you that you can take your time to think about my proposal” he smiles “unless you want to say yes right now I’d be okay with that”. Oh god the swelling in your heart is gone and is now replaced with the feeling of being drowned by him, even his touch no longer feels like that of a lover but of a weird stranger. “Uh actually I think” you're interrupted by a kiss, as his hands slide up from your shoulders up the back of your neck into your hair. His lips move to your neck “I’m only joking baby, take your time”. God this is what he did. You could tell he knew what you were trying to do and he was going to try to seduce you into staying with him. His lips lose contact with your neck as he reaches down to pick you up and place you on the counter. He brushes the hair out of your face with one hand, the other resting on your cheek “you know I love you y/n”. You place your hand over his “I love you too” it wasn’t entirely a lie. You truly do think that you still love him in a way which is why what you were going to do was going to hurt. “Let’s go to the bedroom” at which he grins and picks you up again carrying you to the shared bedroom. And you hope to god he doesn’t see the suitcase stored under the bed.

His hips press into the space between your thighs right where he fits perfectly, as you two would joke. His hands go to start toying with the hemline of your shirt, when you look up into his soft blue eyes and push his bangs out of his face “hey, how about we try something” you practically whisper he ruts his cholted cock against you as he kisses that sensitive spot behind your ear reply “yeah what do you want to try” . You grab him by both sides of his jaw bringing him back up to meet your gaze “how about you fuck me like its the last time?” his lustful look is replaced with a mix of concern and a smile trying to hide it “I don’t know if I like that game y/n”. Moving your thumb in small circles against his cheek you smile “I mean just like as passionate as if this were our last time together” you can see his gaze soften at your reassurance. “Okay” ending his reply with a kiss. Large but soft hands run down your neck thumbs tracing your pulse point as he moves towards your breasts giving them a gentle squeeze before moving back to that hemline pushing it up so he can start planting kisses by your belly button making his was up your torso moving the shirt up along with his head until it reaches the bottom of your rib cage where you take the hem in your hand and remove the shirt and bra yourself. Bertholdt pinches your nipple between his top teeth and his bottom lip rolling it into his mouth and soothing the sting of his teeth with his tongue, as his other hand grips your other breast rolling the nipple with his thumb. Legs wrapped around him tightening as the overwhelming stimulation in your tits is causing you to start grinding against his hardened dick in his pants desperate for friction. He pulls away sitting up to pull off his own shirt “hey slow down if this is the last time im fucking you I’d rather make it last” he says with a small chuckle before going to work at your own pants as he slides them down your legs and then lays himself down between your legs. He starts with a wet kiss to the side of your right thigh before making his way down to your core fingers running over your clothed slit before grabbing the waist band and pulling them down. “That's my good girl” he sighs as you spread your legs further apart and grips the sheets at the sensation of his hot breath fanning over your now exposed cunt. A feather light kiss greats your clit before he starts to use the flat of his tongue to lick circles around it as he dips his long delicate fingers into your core and all you can do is grip his locks of dark hair. His fingers dragging against your swollen walls bringing you closer and closer until he switches to suctioning on your swollen bud pushing you over the edge. You squirm under his grip around your thighs as he keeps licking to help you ride out your high. You pull his head off of you, feeling his resistance and attempting to make contact with you again. His jeans already have a wet spot from the way he was rutting his hips into the mattress, so excited at the pleasure he was giving you. He takes off his jeans before sliding back over you, his weeping cock laying on your stomach. You pull his head down into a kiss as he takes his cock and rubs the wet head against your clit before sliding it into you. His hip movements are rhythmic, dragging out slowly and thrusting back in faster and you cant help but to blurt out “I love you, I love you, I love you” over and over at his thrusts; it's almost like a prayer, no, an absolution. The building of guilt at the betrayal to this man's love that you were about to perform, and when he says it back you can't help it and you feel tears start to streak down your face. Bertholdt shifts up and grabs your legs throwing them over his shoulder, head ever so slightly turning to the left to kiss your ankle “it’s okay sweetheart I’ve got you” he says before continuing his thrusting. The tears are still streaming down your face as your head throws back into the pillow at the new deeper angle. Legs still over his shoulder he brings his forehead down to meet yours and he’s so deep you can feel him start to brush against your cervix hurting in the best sort of way. His hips begin to stutter as you feel the warmth of his release into you, and you can feel it start to drip down your thighs as he pulls out of you and wraps you in his arms. “I love you y/n, I really do”

It’s been about 2 hours since you’ve settled down for bed, you're pretty sure he’s sound asleep by the strange way his body is contorted, and you think about how you’ll never wake up hitting the floor because your boyfriend accidentally pushed you out of bed with his crazy sleeping positions again and your chest hurts. “Berty, Berty are you up?” you mutter sweetly but the tall man just continues to slumber. You pull your suitcase out from under the bed, it's packed with all the essentials and you’d probably have to convince Hitch to come and collect the rest of your things for you, no way you could stand to face him after what you were about to do. God you felt like such a bitch you couldn’t have one hard conversation? You had to do it this way? It was so hard because you did love Bertholdt. You weren't lying earlier, you really did love him! But you know this won’t work so you'll continue to feel like something isn't quite right, not exactly whole. So this is the only way you can do it, the only way you can escape from this relationship without the love you feel for him pulling you back in.

You sit in the foyer of the apartment building on your stuffed suitcase and pull out your phone and call her “Hey Hitch” choking back a sob causes a cracking in your voice “can you come get me now”

“Of course, I’m sorry your talk must have been hard”

“We’ll we didn't have the talk per say”

“What do you mean?”

“Well we had sex and I just couldn’t do it Hitch it just has to be this way”

There's a long pause from the other end of the line

“You know y/n, I love you but right now I really don't like you”

You start to sob “I’m sorry I don’t know why I couldn’t, but I left a note”

Hitch sighs before replying “It’s okay we’ll talk more later, i'll be there in 15”

#bertholdt x reader #aot bertholdt #aot smut #bertholdt x you #bertholdt smut #aot fanfiction #bertholdt hoover #snk x reader #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot modern au #Aot #snk

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mementomori-demimonde · 3 years ago

Text

Old Wounds

Hidden Scars: I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX - X - XI.1 / XI.2 XII - XIII - XIV - XV - XVI - XVII - XVIII - XIX - XX

Bonus Chapter (21):

Three years ago, you broke up with Miranda.

Or, to better say, three years ago, Miranda broke up with you.

After escaping Victor’s grasp and embarking on the flight headed to England, Miranda thought it was best for the two of you to be constantly moving around.

She easily procured fake IDs and documents and, as Mrs. & Mrs. O’Brien (so lame that you loved it), you checked in the most expensive hotels and made a mess of the room, only to be off the next day. Every bill was paid and the staff generously tipped, even though the money didn’t certainly come from your pockets as you didn’t have any: you found out it was fairly easy to transfer money around and trick the systems; at least all those hacking software lessons had proven useful, though you weren’t up to anything illegal - it was a matter of survivance, that was what you told yourself.

Life was wild and exciting, every morning you were someone slightly different while remaining the same, every night you got lost in the scent of her, only to be woken up by her fingers exploring your body.

Miranda was never satiated. And while it was only a matter of sex, before, there was something addicting, now, that flickered between the two of you.

It was something you thought was unbreakable. Something so rare to be born in such a hostile condition that it would be so hard to kill that nobody would even try to.

You thought.

Miranda lit up the day you reached Glasgow.

You could see her eyes gleaming, you could see her sharp fangs shining at the pale light of the sun as she dragged you around, showing you this and that, telling you about her childhood while turning a child herself, innocent and carefree and happy enough to be pulling you in and kiss you in the middle of the road.

You stayed in Glasgow for five months after that, because she thought you were both safe.

You decided to rent a small apartment next to the theater because, apparently, Miranda loved the theatre and you loved discovering things about her just as much as you loved watching her glow as she watched the show and the people acting or the orchestra playing.

You even convinced her to take yoga classes and, except for a couple of smashed glasses when she thought a waiter was ogling you, and an exploded pillow when her football team lost to the rigors, she seemed to have learned how to manage her anger pretty well.

Even her part-time job as a dog-sitter helped her keep her calmness, even to balance with the frustration she would accumulate during her other job as a consultant; of what, you never worked it out completely, you simply knew it was something to do with finance, probably internationally. Miranda didn’t like to talk about it excessively - the pay was good, she seemed satisfied with it - so you let her be.

As for you, when the first opportunity came out, you accepted it right away: as a receptionist of a luxury hotel, you had a fair amount of working hours, perfectly timed with Miranda, and you were able to bake breakfast for the both of you, pack your lunch boxes and be back before her to prepare dinner when Miranda didn’t surprise you, instead, with some take out and a lit candle.

She uncovered a nice, unexpected side of her, but sometimes she still was the scary old Miranda, even when it wasn’t necessary, to your opinion.

Whenever she acted bad, you served her a banana on a plate instead of a nice dinner you baked, to commemorate the first meal she had you eat. Miranda would pout, eat the banana in silence, and ask for forgiveness between the freshly cleaned sheets. This worked the other way around too, of course, with the exception that she enjoyed herself a little too much, sometimes, prolonging the punishment to something more than just a banana for dinner. Either way, everything was solved in bed. Not that you complained about this method, of course.

You thought you couldn’t be happier; but you thought you could never be any less happy either, and, of course, you were wrong.

It was a casual question you blurted out without much thought.

One night, you were watching a cheesy movie on tv, just for the fun of hearing her complain while she had her legs slung over yours, silently demanding for cuddles she would never admit to be requesting. As the couple on the screen kissed and cried happily, you said “have you ever thought about marriage?”

Miranda froze. You tried to explain that it meant nothing in particular, it was just conversation, but something in her eyes had changed.

She never answered the question.

Days went by and you could tell that something had painfully shifted between the two of you.

You tried to take it back, make her forget with some rough nights, just like she used to like it, but nothing worked.

Miranda wasn’t the same.

And then, one morning she was simply gone, without a single explanation.

After twelve days of waiting, you made peace with yourself that Miranda wouldn’t be coming back.

You started to hate everything you loved so quickly that even going out in the streets and hearing all those people talking Scottish made you sick, so taking the next decision wasn’t too hard, after all: you told Cecilia to mind the tabby cat Miranda pulled out a stray dog’s jaws and brought home for you to heal, vacated the apartment hotfoot and accepted the job as head manager of the hotel subsidiary in Rome, Italy.

After a few weeks, you realized the change was exactly what you needed: Rome was amazing, you like the people and, most of all, the food. You even decided to join a gym so you could keep eating the delicious meals the hotel chef cooked for the staff and when the weather was good, you went for a run, early in the morning, enjoying the sight of the city lazily waking up. Late in the night, before going to bed, you would flick your tear-drop-shaped dagger and put it in the top drawer in the nightstand, only to wear it the next day, because now you felt naked without its cold blade pressing against your leg. You dropped the habit of wearing it on your thigh - it wasn’t practical with your work attire - but strapped to your calf or pocketed inside your boot. You hated yourself for it, but it couldn’t be helped. You tried to convince yourself it was just in case you had to defend yourself - it was sensible since you had to walk by yourself most of the time.

All things considered, you fit in well.

Your apartment is good, with a nice view on the Tevere, the pay is almost double the one in Glasgow and you can allow yourself some treats, from time to time, whenever you feel too blue to stay in the apartment by yourself.

You contemplated the idea of getting a pet for a time, but you decided against it since that too would awaken sour thoughts.

You tried to date for a while, but nobody was enough.

Nobody compared to her.

Despite everything Miranda did to you, her memory was latched to your brain like a plague.

It still is.

Sometimes, only some heavy drinking can get her out of your head.

You weren’t on duty tonight, and while you’re coming back from a peaceful stroll, your colleague calls: there has been a great fuss in the hotel; he tells you about ambulances and police cars hurrying with the sirens blaring to arrest some psycho that attacked a woman in her room. A guy was shot, but you don’t register much about the events, nor do you ask for further information, eager to drop the argument and avoid some unpleasant memories rising in your mind. Guns, people attacking other people, blood… It’s all in the past.

Hurrying up the stairs and fishing in your purse for the keys, you barely notice that the door lock is slightly scratched.

You don’t pay attention to it, nor the way your key slides inside the hole, until you step inside your home, pawing at the switch, and the light doesn’t work.

Immediately, all your senses turn on, your eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness, your ears eager to capture the smallest sound.

It’s the hair on the back of your neck that puts you in alarm. Rising for an imperceptible breath of wind, they notify of the imminent danger.

The next thing you feel is a strong arm wrapped around your throat, and a warm body pressed against your back.

The attacker clearly knows what they’re doing, but you do too.

Everything she taught you is stuck in your brain, branded on your bones.

In a flash, you lift your dominant leg just enough to grab the knife.

You plunge it into your attacker’s thigh without hesitation.

She - it’s a she - grunts in anger.

The hold of her elbow softens, her arm slides from your neck, her body moves abruptly from yours as she limps away, leaving you alone and scared, but in complete control of yourself.

“My, my. I am getting sloppy.” The voice sends chills down your spine. It’s warm, it’s smug, almost amused, and familiar. Terribly familiar.

Your heart, despite yourself, throbs painfully.

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes from your lips.

“Good.” She says, “very good, m’eudail.”

Whatever doubt you might’ve had, now it’s completely gone. It’s not your mind playing tricks, associating a familiar event with a lost person, this is happening for real. Running away from England to another country, taking a new name, a new identity, rebuilding your life almost from zero has served you nothing: she still has found you.

“Miranda?”

Three years.

Three years you haven’t heard from this woman.

Three years you’ve tried to push it out of your head.

Three years of pretending it was just a nightmare.

Three years and she’s back as if it’s nothing, standing in your apartment like she owns the place. She does, in a way. Miranda still owns you, in the first place, whether you like it or not: it’s not your choice to make. Until Miranda decides to let you go, you’re hers. It’s inevitable. And you know, you feel it in your guts, that Miranda will never let you go.

Some exchange rings, some jump over an old broom; your ‘until death do us part’ was a carving in the shape of an M - not on wood or marble, but on flesh - and you wonder how could she be so scared of marriage in the first place if she, too, has made a promise for life.

She comes into the light pouring in from the windows: it’s sunset, and the streetlight has just been lightened up.

Like it’s no big deal, you watch her bend down and wrap her fingers around the handle of the knife and, with a quick motion, she pulls it out from her wounded flesh with minimum bleeding.

With a wince, you notice that her trousers are already stained with dried blood, mixing with the fresh one.

She straightens her back and bares her teeth into a crooked smile, her split lip glistening with droplets of crimson. It looks painful. She doesn’t seem to mind one bit. Her cheekbone is blooming with blue and purple, her throat bears a sore line around. Miranda wears her bruises as if it was makeup, proud and confident. And, oh, so beautiful like the night before she left.

You can’t help but feel concerned, which only adds to your frustration: you shouldn’t care about her, you shouldn’t feel so strongly about the blood running down her chin - she probably deserves it, and more - but you do care.

You watch her, powerless, as she stumbles toward the couch and lets herself fall unceremoniously on top of it, grunting as her bruised body slackens against the soft pillows. Her shirt is stained as well, her knuckles scraped.

“You’re beaten up.” You dumbly point out.

She lets out a dark chuckle and lolls her head back. Your eyes are drawn to the rhythmic movements of her throat as she swallows. You can almost taste the iron inside your own mouth - how many times she’s kissed you after a training session, how many times your sweat mingled with hers when you wondered if you were fighting or fucking.

It all felt so long ago and, still, it hurt like it was yesterday.

“Tried my best, but you can’t expect the featherweight to win against the heavyweight without a significantly favorable weapon. He was just a bigger psycho than me: came out on top, in the end.” Miranda murmurs, a smug expression deforming her features. “Victor, on the other hand-”

The name has your head spinning. His ugly mouse-face comes to visit on the blurry surface of your mirror every time you shower, the rough lines crossing your back are a distant yet a painful reminder of those days of imprisonment, confined in that small room with Miranda, uncovering her past, her job, her boss and his despicable ways. Those marks hurt, but not as much as it hurts the one on your left shoulder - not until now.

“You’ve gone back to work for him?”

After all you’ve been through, after all the pain he inflicted, after she promised to have him killed because he took it out on you, Miranda decided to still work with him. Betrayal didn’t even compare to what you felt.

How many things can change in three years? You lived a lifetime in two months, since Miranda kidnapped you. Three years, right now, are an eternity.

Miranda’s smile drops. Her blue eyes wander aimlessly around the room, stopping in a dark corner. They aren’t focused, but it’s easy for you to see the regret blaring in her lost gaze.

“It was what I am,” Miranda murmurs, her voice emotionless, “it was the only thing I knew.”

There’s a pregnant silence between the two of you. It feels like forever before you move your first step toward the couch, your gaze fixed on her as if you were trying to control a snake about to snap its vicious attack.

You know Miranda won’t move, not to attack you anyway, but you’re cautious when you speak.

“You’re talking in the past tense.”

“He’s dead now.” Miranda breathes out heavily. Her voice almost overlaps yours, as if she’s completely zoned out, not listening at all, unaware of her surroundings, as impossible as it seems. “I killed him, gave him what he deserved.”

The sheepish look she gives you is the sparkle that lits your flame. It doesn’t matter if Victor is dead now, the memories still haunt your dreams, and Miranda has gone back to work for him.

You feel cheated on, betrayed, and you still don’t know what she wants from you. Frustration builds up from within until you feel like exploding.

You would smack her and shake her by her shoulders if she wasn’t so bruised - and if she’d let you, of course, before succumbing to her strong arms and be stopped by force.

“Miranda, why are you here?” You would ask her to leave, tell her you can’t stand her sight… if only that was true. Angered beyond words by her persistent silence, you walk to her with heavy steps, until you’re in front of her, for the first time, towering her small figure on the couch. She looks frail, harmless, submissive, but you know she’s not any of those things. “Miranda-”

“Shut up.”

You don’t know how she’s managed that - if she’s pulled you down by the collar of your shirt, or hooked her fingers in your belt, or even hit the back of your knees with her foot - but you’re falling right onto her, like the controlled destruction of a building, collapsing right where the demolition expert planned. You try to catch yourself with one hand on either side of her head, fingers clawing the soft pad of the back cushion, even if it’s not necessary: of course, Miranda has caught you first.

Although ‘catch’ is not entirely correct. Her greedy fingers are grabbing your head, pulling more than supporting, and before you can realize what’s happening, her lips are on your mouth.

Oh, God, how much you missed her.

It’s not a nostalgic kiss, she’s not asking for forgiveness or awakening long-lost memories. Her lips are urgent, almost aggressive.

It’s like those three years never went by, as if a lot of things never happened: this one isn’t Miranda, but the mysterious woman who kidnapped you in the alley; she’s back to that unhinged creature that tortured you in the most pleasant ways, who turned a cage into paradoxical heaven where wrong was right and the pain was pleasure.

Too easily you fall back into the addicting spiral that bound you to her. You’re completely at her mercy, once again, with no power nor will to pull yourself out of it. Despite everything, you want more of her kisses, you want more of her touches, you want more of her, no matter if she’s rough or brutal - something of Miranda is still better than nothing.

Hungry hands travel fast from your face to your neck and, for a moment, you prepare to hold your breath thinking she will wrap her fingers around your throat to have you squirm in her lap, desperate for air, just to assert her total control, but you’re wrong. Miranda doesn’t stop: she paws possessively at your breasts, teasing your nipples through the coarse fabric - you hate a little how your body seems to react regardless of your mind, answering to her touch in all the right ways.

You always take minutes to remove your uniform, Miranda hasn’t taken more than one to leave you in your undergarments, confused and wondering if you were actually wearing something before she claimed ownership over you and your body, like always, like she was entitled since the beginning.

Her mouth travels fast, in tow, she nibbles and lavishes, sending electric sparks to your core.

You don’t dare speak, afraid that the spell will break, that you’ll wake up from a dream even though you don’t remember falling asleep, even if it feels real, so real, almost too real that you can’t bring yourself to renounce it.

The tip of her nose tickles the valley of your breasts when she kisses her way down your stomach and belly, her nails scratch dully at the small of your back, pulling your knickers down in one move.

You’ve never noticed how chill your apartment can be. Or maybe you’ve never been so hot before, within these walls.

Her mouth knows exactly where to tease you, her tongue touches all the right places and only in the right ways. Her body remembers everything, and at the same time, it feels new. She tastes you, pursuing the depths of you, almost as if she wants to drown right there and then.

Bare and vulnerable, you don’t even perceive the typical powering position on top of her; Miranda is always on top, also when she’s not.

You can only arch over her as she draws a hurried orgasm out of you, leaving you raw and trembling, your mind spiraling from contentment, nostalgia, and a deep sense of guilt and then back again, when her tongue doesn’t stop until she isn’t satisfied with a second climax, and a third.

It’s easy to lose count when Miranda is having her way. It’s easy to get lost and losing track of time and of yourself, it’s easy to set aside everything to chase her with your hips, desperate for everything and in everything.

She doesn’t allow you to catch your breath when she’s done. You barely catch a glimpse of her when she pulls away, working her jaw to relieve the soreness that has surely set in her muscles, but her eyes are elusive, disappointing you when you hoped to look at her and find the woman you know.

It’s just another confirmation that she is still somewhere else, at least in spirit.

You’ve learned to know her strength, despite her petite size, and yet you can’t prevent the surprised gasp that escapes your mouth when she pushes you off of her and into the couch on your front, so fast that you gape at the pillow below.

You struggle to adjust your head and tilt it to the side when you feel her climb on your thighs, her ripped legs grabbing yours with vicious force when she lowers herself, and despite being fully clothed, you can feel the heat from her core right below your bottom, where she sits.

You swallow in anticipation, shiver when her nails rake at your skin, and then, then everything stops. She pauses.

You feel all the tension leave the room like the fog lifting from the streets.

Her legs are looser when she shifts lower on your thighs, her hands are softer when she glides her fingers up the small of your back and they linger, for a moment too long, across your shoulder blades.

You want to say something, even say her name again, listen to your own voice calling Miranda while still striving to breathe, wearied by the pleasure her skilled tongue has brought you. But as soon as you take a small breath to speak, a startling weight on your back knocks the air out of your lungs.

You take a moment to comprehend that Miranda has leaned on the top of you, her chest rises and falls rhythmically against your back, her breath tickles your left shoulder and you blink at the fact that her cheek is probably resting on her carved initial, and not just by chance.

You mentally count three seconds in, three seconds out. Her warm breath sends shivers down your spine.

“Had to find you.”

It’s a murmur, barely a whisper, so small you even doubt you heard it for real or just in your head.

“What?”

You try to squirm from below, eager to watch her face, read in her eyes if she’s making fun of you in the cruelest of ways or not. Her voice has tricked you on many occasions… or not. Maybe it was her eyes. Maybe it’s better for both of you if you can’t cage into each other’s eyes.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, relax your muscles, stop your hands from scrambling in the purchase of a steady surface to push yourself up and Miranda off of you.

It’s better this way: she won’t talk, otherwise.

“Thought I could do it.” She sighs, her lips move on your skin, leaving a moist halo around her lips. “Thing is… that I could.”

“You’re talking about-”

“Glasgow.” She snaps. You feel her clenching her jaw tight. “When we lived together.”

“You’re scared that you could live normally?”

Silence.

“You don’t understand.” She huffs. “People like me can’t usually walk away whenever they please and forget about their pasts.”

“But you did.” You retort. “We were fine.”

Miranda chuckles. It’s a bittersweet one, and it ends quickly.

“I was doing fine before you came.” She clarifies. It clarifies nothing, but you don’t dare to interrupt, fearing she’ll just walk away for good. “There’s a reason why so many have failed. No one was able to ruin me while I ruined them. No one was you.”

You can breathe easily now that Miranda has rolled off of you.

You turn to your side quickly, eager to follow her with your eyes and make sure she won’t take the door and never come back after such a declaration. Rare have been the times you’ve heard Miranda talk in such ways and you can only imagine what is the prelude for: something fatally bad, or something impossibly good.

In the forced darkness of your apartment, the blue of her eyes glows at the dim reflection of the streetlights.

Her voice echoes in your head.

When you initiate the kiss you’re surprised she doesn’t pull back. She doesn’t even complain. She doesn’t grab your face or the back of your neck, she doesn’t claim the lead.

It’s startling, and it’s a foreign sensation you’re not used to, at all.

You barely register the soft rustle of fabric as you chase her taste and mingle it with yours.

And then finally you feel her hands on yours, her slender fingers reaching for yours and sliding almost perfectly in between, like pieces of a puzzle.

She swallows your breathy moan.

You haven’t expected your hands to be drawn closer to the warmth of her body. She lets her fingers move to your wrists, she lets them loop around the protruding bone there - she doesn’t squeeze, she doesn’t pull nor push - leaving your pads free to roam over her stomach, through the small crack of her shirt, gliding over the taut skin of her abdomen. You feel new bumps, new scars perhaps.

She squirms when you push a little too hard against her hip bone.

Or, maybe, she doesn’t exactly squirm.

You feel her adjust, raising her pelvis off the couch, but not to ease discomfort.

Your fingertips slip easily beyond the band of her high-waist trousers.

Miranda doesn’t move.

She’s even stopped the kiss, letting you decide.

It’s an open invitation - a request, perhaps - to touch her, properly, like you’ve been asking, for weeks, silently, before you decided to voice your thoughts and your feelings.

Everything went downhill from there.

Your breath catches, the long-awaited moment feeling so terrifying, now, that you can’t bring yourself to just stop thinking and follow your guts, your innermost desires, to claim what has been denied to you for so long.

Miranda wouldn’t have hesitated. She didn’t hesitate to take when she wanted and could.

Thing is, you’re not her.

You pull away from her in a blink, your fingers tingle with unsatisfied electricity when you hide your face in your hands.

“Miranda.” You growl. Your voice comes out muffled from behind your palms. You’d want to yell at her, berate her, but it only comes out desperate, you sound on the verge of crying. Maybe you are. “What are you doing?”

Her hands are touching your wrists again. She’s gentle. More than she’s ever been. She forces you to unpeel your hands from your face.

In the dim light from the streetlights, her eyes shine again. They seem full of unshed tears, but you don’t want to fool yourself with dull illusions that don’t belong, with every possibility, to either of you.

Miranda doesn’t talk. You know it, you can see it, there’s a whole universe of things she’s dying to say, and still… she doesn’t speak.

You let out a shaky breath, sit lower on her legs, your gazes locked.

“Miranda, what’s your point?” You try again, softer this time.

She opens her mouth to speak then, only to close it soon after with a frustrated sigh.

You can’t endure more of it. You’re too spent to keep playing.

Miranda speaks only when you push yourself off of her, trying to stand up.

“My point is- I’m done.” She huffs out a disbelieving chuckle as if it’s the first time she’s told that, to herself even; the first time she’s truly grasped the idea and made it final. “I’ve got tons of money now and I can leave it all behind.”

“Miranda-”

“We can leave it all behind.” She corrects. One of her hands slithers to the small of your back, pushing you down to keep you near. It’s confident but for the first time, somehow, it’s not possessive. “Start over, for real.”

You swallow a mouthful of sand. Your head is spinning. You even wonder if something has possessed Miranda’s body and has turned her into some normal person who is actually repentant and is willing to start over.

How much can a person change in three years? Does it also apply to Miranda? The rules of mortals apply to such mysterious creatures like her?

You’re about to ask for a moment when you hear a distinct mew.

“What the fuck-” You startle, snapping your head toward the kitchen. It’s hard to see, but there’s definitely something on the counter. A box, maybe a crate. With something furry poking out. “You brought the cat?!”

Miranda’s lips are crooked into a sheepish smile when you look back at her.

“Please?” She whispers. Her voice is velvety against your lips, so close you could answer with a kiss. “What do you say?”

Maybe you will answer with a kiss.

Maybe.

#miranda croft x reader #miranda croft #tfa #the flight attendant #fanfiction #reader insert #ao3 #archive of our own #bonus chapter #complete #four lines #hidden scars #old wounds #michelle gomez

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mggpleasedontlookhere · 4 years ago

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helping heart

request: hi so i have chronic migraines, which means at least once a month (sometimes more) i get a migraine that is so bad that my vision is blurred and sometimes i even puke. and so i just got over one and i was wondering if you could write a mgg fic where he helps the reader through one? cause that would be great :) thank you!!

word count: 1,607 reading time aprox: 6 mins

masterlist

My brain pulsated at an inhuman rate, thumping against the walls of my skull. Waves of agony spasmed throughout my head, reverberating through the soft muscle that resided in it. I forcibly shut my eyes, shielding them from any source of light, despite me already cornered in a dark room.

I sat in Matthew’s trailer waiting for him to finish a few of his scenes. But what I didn’t know was that I would have to push through an oncoming migraine alone. I shuddered in the white fluffy blanket that was wrapped around me, it smelled of pumpkin spice and Matthew’s worn out cologne. A buzz coming from the fridge invaded my sensitive ears, making the entire experience more intolerable.

I feebly pulled the covers over my head, drowning myself in my own darkness. An inaudible whimper escaped my lips, a reflex from the oscillating intensity of my migraine. I curled up in the fetal position, feeling my stomach begin to cramp up. I felt the bile begin to build up like plaque in the back of my esophagus, threatening to spill over any moment.

Suddenly the door opened, letting light protrude from the outside. Matthew’s soothing voice met my ears, amused at the high pitched voice cracks in between his words. Despite my relief at his presence, my body continued to throb at an agonizing rhythm.

“Okay thanks again BJ- no, yeah I’ll- I’ll see you in a few, bye” He laughed, sending chills down my spine from the volume at which he spoke. Usually I would have no problem with the gregarious ferocity of his voice, but my circumstances limited me to a shrill feeling in my eardrums. “Huh...why is this-” He flipped on the light switch, eliciting a groan from me.

“Matthew can you turn that back off please?” I meekly requested, shutting my eyes tighter than they already were. I flipped around on my stomach, stuffing my face into the pillow under me.

“Hey baby- migraines again?” He asked, shuffling closer to where I was after he had dimmed the lights. “Do you need anything?” He asked, kneeling down beside me; his voice came out like a whisper: soft and pacified.

A muffled ‘no’ slipped passed my lips while the cushions I laid on sunk, indicating that Matthew had sat himself at my feet. He ran his fingers up and down the side of my ankle in a tender manner, humming a calming melody in the process.

“How was filming?” I croaked, feeling the muscles in my throat tense up at the utterance of my words while I turned around to face him.. My voice was raspy with phlegm from not speaking all day, earning a concerned look from Matthew.

“It was pretty okay. I have a few more scenes to shoot and I’m done for the day” He declared, reaching his arms out to invite me into his embrace. I gracefully accepted his offer, fitting perfectly into the vast space of his arms. I breathed in his scent, basking in the instant gratification I received from the warmth that embodied him.

“What else did you do today?” I wrapped my arms around his waist, looking up at him from below his shoulder. My head rested perfectly against his chest as I inquired about his daily adventures.

“I got brunch with AJ, bothered Aubrey [Plaza] a little bit, and antagonized a toddler. You know all the normal things” He confessed, earning a stifled laugh from me.

“Sounds like your day was eventful” I replied, nuzzling my head into his blazer. I felt the cotton fibers brush against my cheeks, sending a tickling sensation down my nose. He placed a longing kiss to the top of my head, using his hand to brush away the tangled hair that had accumulated when I was resting.

“Yeah it was…” He whispered, muffling his voice in my hair. “But it would’ve been better with you” He sweetly confessed, placing a finger under my chin to pull me into a chaste kiss. “See...already much better” He joked after he pulled away.

A faint blush made its way to the apples of my cheeks, shaking my head in wonder at how this man still made me feel nervous after two years of putting up with him. My fingertips hovered over the crevice of his neck, feeling the individual spikes of stubble graze my skin.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” He asked once again, caressing my cheek with his thumb.

Before I could nod and reassure him, a wave of nausea washed over me causing the contents in my stomach to be regurgitated. I pushed myself off of Matthew forcefully, sprinting to the small bathroom in his trailer. I struggled to pull my hair out of my face as my stomach acid burned the layering skin of my throat. I choked and wheezed, feeling my body weaken at the sudden expulsion of liquid. I hadn’t even realized that Matthew stood behind me propping my hair up into a ponytail until he had laid a consoling hand on the small of my back.

I groaned in pain, tears trailing down my cheeks as I shut down entirely. I prayed for the ache to stop, hoping that my migraine would end up in the toilet just as my lunch did. Saliva dripped down my chin, making the scene an unattractive mess. Matthew handed me a paper towel afterwards, letting me clean myself off while he waited by the door.

Once I finished, I opened the door with an embarrassed grimace. My eyes were still sunken and grim because of all the crying that I did, my cheeks flushed alongside it. I whimpered, falling into Matthew’s arms while he whispered positive affirmations.

“Let me take care of you bubs” He declared, swooping me up bridal style and carrying me to the bed in the back of his trailer. He set me down, bringing a few fluffy blankets to adjust my comfort. He kissed my forehead before leaving the small room to fetch something.

I trailed my hands along the soft sheets of his bed, letting each fiber in my body focus on the warmth that the covers provided me rather than the discomfort that flooded my body. I was still dizzy from my trip to the bathroom, my vision a bit too wonky and disoriented for my liking.

With the sound of shuffling feet, Matthew made his way back to the bedroom with a hot cup of tea and a heated eye mask. “I thought this would help alleviate the pain a little bit” He smiled sheepishly, causing my heart to inflate at the small sentiment.

I kissed his cheek as a sign of gratitude, immediately grabbing the heated eye mask out of his hands. He laughed at my haste, sitting down next to me at the edge of the bed.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“I have all that I need here” I professed, leaning my head against his hip. “Come cuddle” I demanded, making grabby hands at him. He playfully groaned in response, curling up next to me as he pulled me to his chest. He peppered kisses on the top of my head, exhaling in reprieve as he finally was able to share a moment with the woman he loved.

“You know what Y/N?”

“What is it?” I beckoned, my mouth muffled in his shirt.

“At least you weren’t throwing up because you’re pregnant” He teased, pushing a few stray hairs off my forehead.

“Is that something you’re interested in? Getting pregnant?” I implied, nudging him jokingly. His throat vibrated against my head while he laughed, a few straggled coughs escaping his lips at my suggestion.

Silence engulfed the room, leaving the both of us in each other's arms. The feeling of security I felt in Matthew’s arms was inexplicable, reveling in the fact that I was able to be beside this man. Love radiated from the both of us as we were grateful for each other's company.

“I wouldn’t mind” He spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence. I hummed against his chest in confusion, looking up at him to proceed. “I wouldn’t mind if we had a little kid to have around” He confessed, pressing his lips on my forehead.

“Weren’t you just yelling at a toddler before you got in here” I quipped.

“To be completely fair, I think the guy was sent in to replace me on the show” He laughed.

“Well if that was ever the case, then you’d have more time to spend if we ever had a little one to take care of” I replied, diverting the conversation back to the subject we were tip-toeing around earlier.

“That would be really nice” He cherished the idea while I pictured a world where Matthew was a dad and where I was lucky enough to start a life with him.

“I’m so lucky to have you Y/N”

“Well I’m even luckier to have someone take care of me even if I almost got puke all over their wardrobe” I teased, nuzzling into him further. “But I love you so much goobs”

“Did you just call me goob-”

“Shut up, I literally professed my love to you and all you do is complain?”

He chuckled, pulling me in closer to him, wrapping the covers around the both of us, creating a perfect environment for slumber. Both of our breathing steadied, letting the heaviness of our eyes take control. With the last few conscious huffs of air, Matthew whispered a few words that explained all that he felt.

“I love you even more”

taglist: @rexorangecouny @howdycharlie @linthebinbag @honeymilk-4

cute lil fluffy one since i’ve been so angsty

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letssingintherain · 4 years ago

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mirage ➵ d.m.

sequel to empty dreams!

pairing: draco malfoy x y/n (slytherin)

summary: you struggle dealing with the breakup with blaise and draco's secret crush becomes painfully obvious. after one night of drunken confessions, your relationship with draco is pushed to a breaking point.

contains: 4.1k+ words of angst, fluff, and a sprinkle of ~tension~. a few curse words.

song recs: up in this - blackbear & tinashe (for the party scene), tomorrow tonight - loote

The alarm clock went off at precisely eight o’clock in the morning.

You groaned as you rolled around in bed without opening your eyes, throwing your hands around trying to locate the alarm. The clock’s screeching got louder the longer it was ignored and you heard it hop around the dorm, waking up the rest of the girls.

“Someone please stop it before my ears start bleeding.” You gave up trying to look for the accursed clock, hoping someone else would help out.

Daphne covered her ears with her pillow and gingerly kicked the leg of Pansy’s bed. Pansy’s hair was in a ruffled braid as she sat up slowly and groggily pointed her wand to the direction of the noise.

“Bombarda.” A dark jet of magic blasted the nightstand where the clock had hopped behind with a loud bang, completely obliterating the clock along with the nightstand and denting the stone floor underneath it.

“Pansy!” You yelped, rushing over to check how much damage was done. The corner where the nightstand previously stood was now pitch black and covered with soot. A small pile of burnt wood let out soft billows of smoke and a tiny piece of the enchanted clock trembled on top of it.

“We said stop it, not destroy the entire room!” You said incredulously. Daphne chortled while clutching her pillow to her stomach, bending over in fits of laughter. Pansy started wheezing too, fully awake now, “Sorry, it was the first spell that came to mind! And it worked pretty well, didn’t it?”

All three of you laughed until you were borderline crying, finding the situation extremely hilarious.

It felt nice to laugh with your friends because it seemed like all you were doing lately was cry and wallow in your misery. A month had passed after Blaise broke up with you, and you swore you saw his eyes linger on a Ravenclaw girl when the houses shared classes.

You were assaulted with a plethora of emotions everyday, ranging from anger and jealousy, to heartache and gloom, to disappointment and bitterness. You hated that Blaise had this effect on you, and you especially hated that he seemed completely fine.

After finally getting the laughter out of your system, you walked over to clean up the messy corner. It was clear that the nightstand and the alarm clock were damaged to the point of no return, so all you could do was get rid of the remnants and scrub the area with your wand.

You finished freshening up the area with a content smile and backed away in time to hear someone knocking hastily at the door. Daphne dashed off her bed and skipped over to open it.

You were all surprised to see Draco standing at the doorway. The tall platinum-blonde boy wearing a clean white tee with baggy gray sweatpants was peering anxiously in the room, as if he was expecting to see some terrible monster.

His outfit triggered a memory in the back of your head, reminding you of when you accidentally cuddled with him thinking he was Blaise. You blush a little at the memory, remembering the feeling of him pulling you tighter and his head resting on yours.

You then unintentionally reminisced about the many nights where you sneaked into Blaise’s bed. “Can’t think of anything without reminding myself of that asshole,” You thought bitterly.

Draco briefly met your eyes and you noted the gray-ish blue hues. What you didn’t notice was his quick glance over your pajamas and his slight blush.

“What was that noise?” Draco asked inquisitively, casually leaning against the doorframe since he couldn’t enter the room. You all share amused glances.

“Pansy blasted our clock to smithereens.” You disclose and couldn’t help but giggle at the statement. It somehow sounded sillier when you said it out loud. Pansy threw her pillow at you, embarrassed that her antics were being put on blast.

“What’d I tell you mate, I knew Parkinson was the source of the noise.” Theodore popped up behind Draco, smirking at the three girls. Pansy crossed her arms indignantly, “And I knew we couldn’t go an hour without hearing some snarky remark from Nott.”

You and Daphne roll your eyes, not ready to hear their bickering this early in the morning.

Draco let out an amused breath from his nose, “Alright, if there’s nothing wrong I’m gonna go change into my Quidditch uniform. We’re going to make the Gryffindors wish they were never born.” He winked playfully at you before turning around to head back to his room. You felt heat rush to your face at his cheekiness.

“Draco paced outside the room for like ten minutes before knocking, by the way,” Theodore grinned, walking backwards with his hands in his pockets so he could face you all while talking. “Poor bloke looked like a first-year standing outside a girl’s dorm.”

“Shut up, Nott!” Draco yelled from the Common Room.

You all chuckled lightheartedly, enjoying the joking atmosphere. Today was Slytherin’s quidditch match against Gryffindor and even though you dreaded seeing Blaise play for the first time after you two broke up, you couldn’t help but give in to the contagious excitement radiating from your friends.

You brushed through your [y/h/c] hair and took your Slytherin jumper out of the tall mahogany closet. You smiled at the sight of Daphne and Pansy chattering excitedly as they put on makeup and silently declared that you wouldn’t let Blaise ruin your perfectly good day.

...

You shivered as you held on to Daphne and Pansy, pushing through the crowd of other students to get to the front of Slytherin’s Quidditch stand. Theodore stood in front of you three and helped part the way, mumbling to himself, “Can’t believe I’m the only guy in the bloody friend group who isn’t on the Quidditch team.”

You laugh lightly at his remark, pulling your heavy coat tighter and tugging your green and silver scarf to cover the bottom half of your face. The winter air was biting and merciless, blowing your hair in various directions.

“What a terrible day to have a Quidditch match.” Daphne complained while attempting to keep her headband from moving out of place.

“I really hope the guys will be okay.” Pansy looked at the gloomy sky worriedly. You follow her gaze, frowning at the weather. Then you see peeks of green enter the field right before they soar into the air.

You all whoop and cheer the loudest you could for Slytherin’s Quidditch team. The team passes the stand briefly and your eyes meet Blaise’s brown ones. Your heart dropped at the indifference they showed. He used to blow cheeky kisses at you and even perform goofy tricks on his broom just to see your amused expression. Now his eyes are devoid of showing any emotion towards you, as if you two never dated.

Theodore winced, clearly feeling the tension. Pansy slapped him lightly on his arm, not wanting to bring any attention to the situation.

You couldn’t stop the tears from pricking your eyes or the feeling of your throat closing up. Daphne pulled you a little closer and rubbed your shoulder in a comforting manner. You gave her an appreciative smile before standing up a little taller and straightening your jumper, remembering your determination to not let the sight of Blaise ruin your day.

Tears fill up your eyes but you lift your chin up defiantly, wanting to gain some control of your emotions. You look up to the flurry of green that was the Quidditch team just in time to see Draco zooming past the stand. He gave you all a little wave before directing a wide-toothed grin at you. Your friends noticed this and teasingly rattle you, exclaiming at this special treatment.

Your friends have been more than supportive after the breakup. They made sure that you didn’t dwell on negative thoughts and that they were always there for you when you needed to vent your emotions. However, Draco was especially sweet. When you all visited Hogsmeade together he made sure to pay for your butterbeer and all of your snacks from Honeydukes.

“You know, if you really like these types of gummies tell me, because Mum gets them imported from Germany.” Draco says in his best attempt at a casual tone and gestures to the small pile of gummy worms he was helping you carry. He shifts them for better balance and looks down to meet your eyes.

You pursed your lips and smiled at him. “Mrs. Malfoy must have great taste then.”

Your eyes crinkled at the fond memory and you quickly wiped away the tears sliding down your face, forcing a wide smile on your face. You joined in with the boisterous cheers and resolved to focus on the game that was about to start.

...

The impact of Slytherin’s victory against Gryffindor was pervasive.

No one could focus in class, whether they were giddy about the win or sulking about the loss. Even the professors were not immune from the effects; a third-year swore they saw Snape offer a glimmer of a smile when he was talking about the Quidditch win.

As the night rolled around, students in the hallways discussed excitedly in hushed murmurs about the insane party that was bound to happen in the dungeons tonight. Admittance would be extremely selective, if not impossible, for students in other houses.

Draco and Blaise sauntered down the fleets of stairs to the dungeon, obviously about to be the stars of the party. Draco unbuttoned the top few buttons of his white long-sleeve shirt from his uniform and had his green tie hanging loosely around the collar along with black slim-fit pants. Blaise also wore his white button-up shirt but rolled up his sleeves and tied his dark jumper around his neck.

After they reached the end of the last set of stairs, Blaise stopped short of the entrance and leaned against the stone wall. Draco raised an eyebrow quizzically at his actions.

“I invited the Ravenclaw girl that I told you about. She’s pretty fit, don’t you think?” Blaise smirked and turned his head to check if anyone was coming.

Though he knew Blaise tended to be pretty careless, he didn’t expect him to have such little compassion for your feelings. Draco snorted in disbelief, “You do realize that Y/N’s going to be at the party, right?”

“So? We broke up like a month ago, so it’s not like I’m cheating or anything,” Blaise crossed his arms defensively, eyeing Draco with curiosity. “Why do you suddenly care so much?”

“Because she’s our friend! You can’t just treat friends like this, Blaise!” Draco frustratedly threw his hands up in the air.

Blaise fixed Draco with a stare without saying anything for quite a while. “I think you fancy her.” He finally concluded.

Draco blushed, but didn’t deny his claim.

“It’s okay, mate. I mean, you don’t have my ‘blessing’ or anything weird like that, but I wouldn’t hate you if you made a move on her.” Blaise shrugged, half amused and half nonchalant.

Draco let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. He leaned on the stone wall across from Blaise and the two remain in that position for a while, both deep in thought.

“I really did like her. Y/N, I mean.” Blaise looked up the stairs, avoiding eye contact with Draco. “But it’s not about that. And to be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever settle down.” He stared into the distance at nothing in particular.

“So I guess I didn’t want to waste any more of her time.” Blaise gave one final shrug before spotting the Ravenclaw girl he invited walking down the stairs. He smiled at the sight and began to walk up the stairs to greet her before looking back at Draco.

“See you later?” Blaise flashed a wide grin at Draco. Draco couldn’t help but return the grin, recognizing the obvious delight on Blaise’s face.

“Can you at least try to avoid flaunting her in front of Y/N?” Draco requested.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do my best.” Blaise rolled his eyes and proceeded up the stairs, leaving Draco to enter the dungeon alone.

...

Meanwhile, two Slytherin girls from the same group are having a similar discussion.

You and Daphne were adding final touches for the party as muffled sounds of bass-heavy music seeped in your dorm room. Pansy had already left to god-knows-where accompanied by Theodore, so it was just the two of you.

You swiped on lipstick before skillfully smudging the edges. Daphne glanced at you briefly as she brushed through her hair, obviously wanting to say something.

“Daph, you’ve been looking at me at a rate of about five times every minute, and I’m very flattered, but please tell me what you’re thinking about.” You finally face Daphne in the large vanity mirror you were both looking at, curious about whatever was occupying her mind.

Daphne sighed and set down her vintage hair brush. She contemplated before choosing her words carefully, “I think...Draco might fancy you.”

You set down your lipstick on the counter, not sure how to respond. You also have felt the signs that Draco’s actions weren’t exactly platonic, but you avoided facing it because you didn’t know how to.

It’s not like you didn’t find Draco attractive. Honestly, there probably wasn’t a single girl or guy in your house who didn’t find him attractive. There was something about his disdainful yet charismatic personality that set him apart from everyone else.

But the breakup was only a month ago and it was still way too soon for you to catch feelings for anyone else.

“I think I’ll just deal with it when I absolutely have to.” You sigh, checking the mirror a final time to make sure everything looked right. Daphne didn’t push a response from you and put on a layered silver necklace.

You admired how your dark green spaghetti strap dress accentuated your curves while still looking casual. She looked fit as well, wearing a dark green button-up crop top with a white tennis skirt. You both had black tights on to better fit the dress code of the party.

You initially wondered if you were overdressed but you kept the tight dress on since you wanted to leave an impression on some people.

"Ready to go?” Daphne tilted her head towards the door of the dorm, smiling mischievously thinking about the night ahead of them.

You returned the smile and headed in the direction of the thumping bass, adrenaline rushing through your veins.

“Let’s get fucking wasted.”

...

The party truly lived up to the hype, with hundreds of people jostling each other in the common room. The entire space reeked of sweat and alcohol, and the music was almost deafening.

You sit alone on a wooden table with your legs crossed as you sipped firewhiskey, taking a break from dancing. Your brain buzzed from your drinks and you lost count of how many shots you’ve taken. The place was so packed that you barely saw anyone from your friend group throughout the entire night. There were quite a few tipsy boys who asked to dance, but you coolly declined all of them.

It took a very specific type of person to catch your attention.

A crowd near the fireplace hollered, apparently egging on someone from the Quidditch team. The group of people in front of you part momentarily and you catch a glimpse of a tall boy with white-blonde hair chugging down alcohol.

Draco finished the bottle and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. The students around him proceeded to take shots to accompany his feat. As if he felt you staring, he turned and met your eyes. The crowds of dancing people seemed to move in slow-motion and the music sounded muffled for an instant as you two simply looked at each other, neither person breaking eye contact.

His eyes went wide taking in your appearance and you felt your heart involuntarily skip a beat as his eyes glance over your body. You saw his Adam’s apple bob down as he took a gulp and you couldn’t help but feel a boost of confidence.

He set the bottle down and dismissed the people around him, making his way through the crowd in your direction. You slowly grazed the rim of your cup with a lazy finger while maintaining eye contact with Draco. His jaw clenched as he approached you slowly, stopping about two feet away.

“Hey, Y/N.” He cleared his throat slightly.

“Hey, Draco.” You put down your cup and looked up at him through your lashes, enjoying your impact on him.

“You look...stunning.” He let out breathlessly and kept respectful eye contact, fighting the urge to look down.

“You don’t look too shabby yourself.” You tugged on his loose tie to pull him close enough for your noses to almost touch. You knew you were being reckless, but the alcohol in your bloodstream emboldened you and demanded you to act on your desires.

Draco almost tripped before pressing his hand on the wall behind you, trying to avoid falling on top of you.

“Y/N, you’re drunk.” He could almost taste the alcohol wafting off of your body since he was barely five inches away from your face.

“No shit, Sherlock.” You reply in a lilting tone. You kept your hold on the tie and admired the color pairing and expensive material in a drunken haze. Draco’s eyes flickered down to your pouty lips, suddenly very conscious of the proximity and his hammering heart.

You finally let go of his tie, amused at his flustered expressions. Draco stood up and straightened his tie, his porcelain face tainted with shades of pink.

“Hm, who would’ve known that the Slytherin prince could be so hot and bothered?” You teased and reached out your hand to ruffle his already messy hair.

He held on to your wrist before leaning down to smirking at you, suddenly gaining back his usual assertiveness. “I can be whatever you want me to be, princess.”

You were about to give a snide retort before you spotted a familiar face entering the common room.

Blaise held the hips of a girl, whispering in her ear as they made their way through the crowd.

Draco noticed your change of expression and slowly let go of your wrist. He turned around and realized what had caused the change. You froze on the table, unable to look at anything else but the sight of your ex-boyfriend with a new girl.

Tears blurred your eyes and you saw the memories of Blaise dancing with his hands on your hips overlapping with the cruel reality of him dancing with another girl. He had clearly moved on, yet you were still stuck on the past.

You abruptly chucked your cup of firewhiskey at the floor and leaped off the table before Draco could stop you. You stormed towards Blaise, overcome by the urge to confront him.

His back faced you and he had his arm around the Ravenclaw girl’s waist as he chatted loftily with some Slytherins. You tapped his shoulder and he turned around, looking a little surprised but otherwise unbothered.

“Fuck you, Blaise.” Tears started streaming down your face and even though you knew your mascara would be smudged after you finished talking to him, you didn’t care. There was so much more that you wanted to get off your chest, but it took such a toll out of you just to utter those two words that you could only say them in your head.

Fuck you for making me feel special. Fuck you for breaking up with me and rubbing it in my face with another girl. Fuck you for being so goddamn emotionless when I feel like I’m shattering inside.

Blaise finally had the decency to look a little apologetic, “I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t know you would care this much.” The girl eyed you curiously, making silent assumptions.

You suddenly felt overwhelmed at the awkwardness of the situation. The people around you went silent, observing the interaction apathetically. Feeling ashamed at your outburst, you flipped Blaise off and headed out the common room.

You stepped into the stone hallways of Hogwarts and took in a sharp breath. The freezing temperature was unforgiving against your bare skin and you were rash enough to not bring a coat. You hugged your sides and stubbornly took a few steps up the stairs.

“It’s kind of dumb to not wear a coat in this weather, Y/N.” You felt the warmth of a heavy garment over your shoulders and you look over to meet Draco’s stormy gray eyes.

You scoff, embarrassed that he had to watch everything but grateful that he decided to follow you out with a coat.

“You’re kind of like my Prince Charming, you know?” You gave him a closed-mouth smile as you wiped the tears off of your face.

“I’d be honored to be your Prince Charming.” He grinned as he tucked his hands in his pockets and matched your pace up the stairs.

You two walked together down the hallways in silence until Draco asked where you were going.

“I want to see the flowers,” You confessed sheepishly, pulling the coat tighter so it wouldn’t fall off you. You lifted up the side of the coat and sniffed softly.

“You always smell good, Draco.” You complimented and looked over to check his expression.

He blushed and muttered under his breath in a noise level that only he could hear, “You too.”

...

You hummed happily as you laid down on the springy grass. The grass was wet with condensation, but you really didn’t mind. Draco acted like it took all of his willpower to lie down and winced when he felt the grass dampen his clothes.

The enchanted wisteria tree extended down its flowers to gently tickle your faces and the star-studded sky peeked through the branches. Silver beams of moonlight glimmered in the darkness, giving the entire garden a tranquil ambience.

You laid there in the grass for a while, feeling your brain sober up and your emotions calm down. Draco, on the other hand, was starting to feel the full effects of the bottle he downed earlier.

"I’m sorry for everything Blaise put you through.” His cheeks were pink as he turned his body to face you, propping his head up with a bent arm.

You stiffened, not ready to talk about Blaise.

“Draco, I really don’t want to talk about that right now.” You hugged the coat and shivered despite the thickness of the clothing.

“I just wish..” His eyes stopped on your face fleetingly before turning back to lie on his back. He didn’t finish his thought.

The long strands of wisteria flowers shake as a sudden gust of wind blew through the garden. A dark gray cloud hid the moon, surrendering you both to the dark and chilly night.

You begin to get up, wanting to go back to the common room since it was getting even colder and the sky looked like it was about to rain.

“Y/N, wait.” Draco sat up and held onto your hand, his cold metal ring pressing lightly into your palm. You turned your head to look at him in a puzzled manner.

You two locked gazes as rain started to drizzle, wetting your hair and coating your skin with a fine mist.

“Give me a chance.” He finally let out. His stone gray eyes were full of silent determination and yearning, and you could tell it took a lot out of him to say those words.

Your heart ached at his genuine request. You longed to trust him and let him take care of you, and almost wished that he could’ve asked before the entire mess with Blaise occurred. But now irrational doubts clouded your mind and you couldn’t find the courage to accept his plea.

“How am I supposed to know you won’t be like Blaise?” You whispered, gently withdrawing your hand.

How am I supposed to know you won’t lead me on with false promises and leave me a broken mess of what I used to be?

“But how would you know if you never tried?” He said almost timidly, his blonde hair slick and messy. You shook your head with a heavy heart and took off the coat to place it delicately next to him.

“I’m sorry, Draco.”

And with that you left him lying in the wet grass, alone except for the heavy coat that smelled like a mixture of both your perfumes.

a/n: i decided to end this part with some good ol’ angst.

on another note, i was not expecting empty dreams to do so well! it makes me so happy to know that so many people enjoyed reading my writing. please let me know your thoughts on this part!!

thanks for reading! <3

-k.z.

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