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yxami · 6 months

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I think I said I would do no nut November as a joke bc I didn’t do October so 😭😭😭 here u go

desc: yandere nerd x gn willing reader, mentions of stalking, obsession, creep habits, the usual, was gonna make nsfw but it got long so maybe part 2 will actually be the no nut part

The bookworm of your class has trouble not looking at you, not focusing in on how beautiful you presented yourself today, jesus, is that a new body mist? It’s almost like you knew he loves sweet scents.

He stares at the back of your head lovingly until you turn around and catch his stare on accident after you were about to speak to your friend. He freezes in the wooden chair he sits in and sees you slowly speaking to your friend while knitting your brows in a confused expression as you stare back.

Fuck fuck fuck. He manages to look away with red cheeks, ears burning a scorching temperature in embarrassment. He didn’t expect you to turn to your friend!! You had never done that so why now?

God, he hopes he didn’t look like a creep, he can’t even follow along to the lesson since his hands are too shaky and his mind can’t settle on one thing to think about other than you.

This is the only occasions his brain is fried and jumbled, he feels so dumb when you plague his mind to the point where he’s unable to think or speak.

The lesson passes thankfully, or so he thought until he sees you walking up to his desk, he hesitated to even look up, just staring straight ahead until you speak, if you listened closely you could these his teeth grinding in pure anxiousness.

“Hey, do you mind?” Your voice is in a regular tone, no anger, no disgust, nothing, this being the first time you’ve ever spoken to him, but he doesn’t pick up on that fact.

“Nono! Go ah- ahead” He mentally curses at himself for being such a mess up when his throat fails to smoothly deliver his words. He gets up, collecting his books and allowing you to get a better look at him.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to study together after school, you seemed to be a little lost during class so I wanted to offer my help” You grin, hoping it was friendly like you imagined it to be.

“Oh— um, yeah! I mean yes, thank you, sorry” He rambled, stupidly continuing his sentence even though it was just a yes or no question. He couldn’t imagine that his dream would come true by the hands of you.

All the stalking he’s done, passing in the same route you go after managing to log into your school account to find out what your schedule was, going to every party you went to just to hide in a corner for the entire duration to make sure nobody would try to take you home, he’d do anything to make sure you were safe and happy.

It’s humorous to him that he has you in his room now, looking around with your curiosity peaked at how he’s decorated his room, games and such, a few posters here and there.

He just hopes the last minute decorating suits him because the hundereds of photos he had to tear off his wall had him wincing every time, he’s never dared to take them off until now, nor even hide the plushies he’s bought that look like you, but he assured himself it was for the sake of you, so he managed to do it.

“So, can you remember what this mixture does? When the 5th and 8th are swished together?” You point your pencil, circling around the ones you were mentioning, wondering if he would get this one right.

This poor little nerd is shaking on whether to pretend he doesn’t know or impress you with his knowledge, he’s the top of the class but you thought he didn’t get the subject.

So he decided to pretend.

“Um… it makes this one right?” He weakly says, hoping his confused voice sounded realistic, he doesn’t like the taste of lying on his tongue, but he’s doing it for you so it’s okay in his mind.

You shake your head with a disapproving hum but make sure not to embarrass him by pointing at the right answer. “It’s this one, I created a rhyme to remember since it’s kinda hard to remember it” You wrote down your own creation of a rhyme on his notes, making sure it was right by whispering it to yourself.

Honestly too cute, his heart is pounding out of his chest while he gushes over how adorable you looked, you’re a drug that he can’t stay away from, and he loves every second of this high he gets.

As you scribble the lines down he hopes you write more so he can treasure how your handwriting and add it to his growing collection. The growth is spreading like wildfire just from you being in his room and doing normal things.

“Sorry if it’s out of the blue but I haven’t ate all day, can I get some snacks or something?” You could feel your stomach growl, hoping it wasn’t as loud as you imagined it to be.

“Huh- yeah sure! Of course!” He jumps up, quickly scrambling to get out from under the table the two of you worked on. “I’ll get you something, don’t worry!” He happily says, quickly zigzagging out his own room to get you something to eat.

You thought he was an interesting classmate, that’s for sure. You wondered what type of personality he had, was he always this shy and desperate to please?

You placed your pencil down, forgetting to set it down on something sturdy, it rolls down under his bed into the darkness, before you could even realize what specific area it rolled into. You make sightless grabs and manage to get ahold of something.

You bring it out to find out it’s nothing like a pencil and in fact a plushie, a cute one, but it looks a little familiar, it sort of resembles you? Maybe it’s just a coincidence? You pat it’s plush little head and place it down on the side, making another grab to find one plushie after another.

Seriously! How many plushies did he need? And why did they all look like you?

You only piece together that you’ve discovered a part of his shrine when you pull out a collage of pictures that all contain you.

You talking with your friend who was angrily scribbled out, another of you eating at lunch, one of you just tired during a lecture, and the most intimate ones being of you sleeping and in your house. You can tell one of them is more recent by how the picture was of you in your pajamas cooking yesterdays dinner.

Your eyes quickly dart to observe each photo, pondering about when or how he could’ve taken these.

Speak of the devil he enters with a plate of your favorite food, something you’ve never told him and you’re sure that it’s not another coincidence.

His jaw drops as he sees you surrounded by his plushie collection and most terrifying of all, his collage of his favorite pictures of you.

“That’s— um- I can explain! It’s just—“ He hastily shoves the plate onto his studying table, trying to reason with unfinished rambles of whatever, you honestly blocked it out.

“What is all this?” Your face contorts into blatant confusion and he can’t read the glint in your eyes, something he‘s never failed to do.

“I’m sorry, im s—sorry” He hiccups, already into a crying mess without any actual words of rejection, he’s on his knees, hands clasping onto your pants as he begs for who knows what.

“I-I promise I won’t stalk you anymore, please? I know it’s creepy and wrong but I like you I really do“ He cries, hoping you wouldn’t kick him to the side and yell at him like he’d assume you would do.

He knew he was a creep but he couldn’t stop himself, it all started with you helping him grab his things after he dropped it in a busy hallway and then the obsession never stopped, it was like a parasite that he couldn’t stop feeding and he loved every second of it, of you.

“It’s fine” You pat his head, brushing some hair out his face.

“It’s fine..?” He repeats, wondering if he’s heard you correctly, he sniffles and melts into your soft touch, even though he feels undeserving of it right now.

“Well I kinda had an idea that there was something up with you. By how many times I’ve seen you throughout my week, I’ve noticed that you’re always in the background watching me” You bring him up to stand, his legs are so shaky he’s almost leaning on you.

“You’re n..not mad right?” He hiccups again, now getting embarrassed at how pathetic he sounded, his glassy eyes scanned your expression, praying this wasn’t a cruel joke and that you genuinely didn’t mind.

“Not really, just.. don’t take pictures inside my house” You’re tempted to joke with him by whacking his arm with a plushie of his but you don’t. You just continue to tuck his hair behind his ears so they no longer stick to his wet cheeks.

“Ookay! I won’t” He quickly nods, eager to please you, especially since you seemed to have accepted him even with his creepy habits and flaws.

“And if you want a picture just ask, you don’t have to take them far away without my permission” You grab his phone, wiping his tears away with your sleeve and blowing his bangs out his face, he’s practically crimson red by how he closed his eyes thinking you were going to kiss his forehead.

“Here, look” You sit next to him, backs pressed against the wall of his bed as you take a photo, you tell him to smile after seeing the blank expression on his face.

“Sorry, I’m just nervous” He mumbles, wiping his damp face to make sure he didn’t look that bad in the photo, he’s only closed his eyes for one moment before he feels pressure on top of his lap, oh my god you’re in his lap why are you in his lap?

Before he can sputter out those questions you take a picture, making a kissy face as he looks flustered and confused in the photo, you turn his phone to show the picture you took.

“Why not put that one in your collage?” You turn to see how he looks and there’s not a single thought behind his eyes, looks like you broke him and the teasing has barely even started.

#yxami’s yam #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #pls request #yandere nerd #yandere nerd ic #yandere boy #yandere male #yandere guy #yandere x gn reader #yandere x willing reader #yandere virgin #yandere nerd oc #nerd yandere

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wandasgf · 9 months

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Okay but what about g!p Nat getting r pregnant at a one night stand. R actually being yelenas best friend who always said her sister is off limits and told nat her friends are off limits. Nat being a player. But like a happy ending

KISS ME UNTIL MY LIPS FALL OFF mdni. 18+

pairings ; natasha romanoff + f ! reader (romantic), yelena belova + f ! reader (platonic), wanda maximoff + f ! reader (platonic)

summary ; you know you shouldn't, really you do, but there's just something about natasha that pulls you in and wraps an iron chain around your heart

warnings ; fade to black smut (i'm the worst, i know), natasha has a penis, unprotected sex, pregnancy, top ! natasha, bottom ! reader, tiny bit of angst, intoxication, morning sickness

wc ; 2.5k~

a/n ; i hope this is what you were looking for !! i got a liiiitle carried away with this i think. also this is not proofread ! (also, please do not use the term 'g!p', just say 'character with penis' please !)

“She is off limits, Natalia. I can see that look in your eyes, she’s too nice for you.”

“She is no good for you, Y/N. Don’t fall for her annoying charms.”

That is what Yelena had said to both of you, separately, of course, the first time you met her sister. For Natasha it was a thinly veiled threat and for you it was a warning– Natasha was no good, she would break your heart.

That was about four years ago and while the two of you tried your best to respect Yelena’s wishes, you more so than Natasha, it was getting increasingly harder to deny the attraction you felt towards each other. You never wanted to cross Yelena’s boundaries, she was your best friend since you two were old enough to walk. A betrayal like that would shake your friendship in ways you didn’t want to think about.

You understand that Yelena just wants the best for you, knowing of her sister’s habit of sleeping with girls only to leave them in the middle of the night and suddenly forget they exist, but there was just something that wouldn't stop tugging you towards Natasha. There was no denying her attractiveness, anyone with eyes could tell that the redhead was attractive, but it was the way she treated you that really had you weak in the knees. She was frustratingly charming and stupidly sweet. When Yelena was around to shoot daggers at her for her flirting, she claimed that she was just being friendly.

“What’s wrong with being nice to a pretty girl, Lena?”

You two had shared more than a few tender moments alone, but nothing past a soft kiss and a quietly whispered ‘You know we can’t’ that always left Natasha wanting more of you. She knew you wanted to respect Yelena, she did, and she lov– liked you for how much you cared for her sister, but God, she wished you cared a little less. She wished you were a little more selfish, a little more willing to let her have you.

Natasha doesn’t know when she developed actual feelings for you past physical attraction, and she’d rather not think about it, if she were being honest. It didn’t matter what she felt for you if she could never act on it, if it would make her feel rotten for acting on it, for crossing a boundary Yelena had set and you were trying your hardest to set yourself. So, she did what she’d been doing best for the past three years: slept with almost every girl that the only gay bar in Ohio had to offer.

It’s not like the both of you hadn’t tried to move on, but nothing ever seemed to stick. None of the girls Natasha slept with made the burning hole in her chest ease its aching, and no one you ever tried to date could ever compare to Natasha. Even that pretty blonde pilot with the same type of dominating presence couldn’t tear your heart away from the Russian. You think you might have to try and erase Natasha from your memory, but even then you don’t think it would work. Your heart would still remember her.

Too many drinks and Yelena’s birthday party is how you ended up here, in the one place you shouldn’t be. Natasha just looked so pretty tonight, even wearing something so simple as her usual leather jacket and black jeans, you finally just couldn’t contain yourself. You two are in the guest bedroom of Yelena’s apartment, Natasha’s hands gripping your waist as you grind against her lap, your hands tangled in her hair.

This is the first time the two of you had gone past a soft kiss or a gentle hand brushing against each other. It’s been four years of torture, trying to deny each other of what you both wanted, and now that you have it, it doesn’t seem like either of you want to let go. Natasha had been a little shocked when you barged into the room she was occupying for the night, but who is she to deny you when you were all red cheeked and asking for her to please kiss you?

“Okay, okay. Slow down, sweetheart.” Natasha laughs, breathless as she pulls away from your lips, her hands stilling your hips. God, she wants to keep going, but she could taste the liquor on your lips, and the last thing she wanted to do was let you do something you’d regret. You try to chase her lips, a pout making its way onto your features, but she holds you back.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Just looking at you, Tasha.” You grumble, trying to press your lips to hers again.

“Hey, hey, come on. Listen to me for a minute, okay?” She reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear and brushes her thumb across your cheek. The touch feels like electricity shooting through your body and you wish she would just stop trying to talk to you. Does she not want you like you want her?

“You know, once we do this there’s no going back, Y/N. You have to be sure, okay? Do you want this?”

“Yes. Please, Tasha, I want you. Don’t make me wait any longer, please.”

And, well, who is Natasha to say no to that?

It isn’t until Natasha sneaks out of the room at 4am to get a drink and she’s confronted with Yelena in the kitchen that she realizes what she’s done. Yelena has never told her that anyone is off limits besides you, and she can’t even keep it in her pants for one night? (She knows it’s been four years, but you’ve only approached her like this the one time.)

She tries to act like nothing is different, like she’s just grabbing some water, but Yelena raises an eyebrow at the difference in the air around her sister. She’s not as stupid as the two of you seem to think she is, she’s noticed the downright disgusting tension between the two of you and the horrible lovey dovey eyes her sister makes towards you.

“You break her heart and I break your ribs. Got it?”

Natasha chokes on her water, she would’ve thought she’d be a little more concerned for her heart, but this is fine, “Got it.”

And then Yelena is walking out of the kitchen to go to her own room. On her birthday? You two just had to do it on her birthday? Unbelievable.

Since that night, you and Natasha had gone on a couple of dates and you’ve been trying to spend as much time with each other as possible. You hadn’t slept with each other since, it was hard to find the right opportunity while she was staying with Yelena for the next month while her house was being renovated and your roommate Wanda always seemed to be at your apartment lately.

About a week later you woke up feeling like something was off. You didn’t know what it was until your body was moving on its own accord and you found yourself rushing to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach. God, you hoped you weren’t getting sick. As you sat with your back leaning against the cool glass of the shower, you closed your eyes for a second before it hit you.

Natasha didn’t wear a condom.

Oh God, Natasha didn’t wear a condom. You scramble to get yourself up and brush your teeth before rushing out of the bathroom and tugging on a pair of sweatpants and an old college sweater of Natasha’s that she left a couple of nights ago. What time is it? You pat your pockets and then fish out your phone, 7:56am. Okay, the pharmacy should be open by the time you get there.

This is fine, it’s probably nothing. You’re probably just sick, maybe you shouldn’t have eaten as much candy as you did, but Natasha was so happy to get you something you liked and you were really craving it. You tug on your shoes and you’re out the door and walking down the street in less than two minutes.

The walk to the pharmacy is relatively short, you chose an apartment in the city, so nothing is more than a 15 minute walk. Your fingers tap against your thigh as you pick out one of the many options and you walk to the checkouts, but not before grabbing a chocolate bar. You’ve been really wanting one for days now, but that has nothing to do with this, you just like chocolate, that’s all. You groan, what are you even trying to do right now? Convince your subconscious that you’re not pregnant?

The walk back to your apartment seems like it takes forever and you don’t even need to drink a bunch of water because your nerves are making you feel like you’re going to piss your pants anyway.

Wanda chooses the exact moment you start pacing in the bathroom to come out of her room, concealing a yawn behind her hand. “Y/N, why are you doing laps in the bathroom? If there’s a bug somewhere just kill it.”

“No, I’m not– there’s not a bug, Wands. I’m just…” You pause, fidgeting with the hem of your, well, Natasha’s sweatshirt, “I think I might be pregnant.”

A pause.

“You think what?!”

“Don’t say that like that! It’s not a bad thing I think. I just– I just don’t know how Natasha will react.” You wrap your arms around yourself and deflate a little bit, just the idea of Natasha being upset has you acting like a kicked puppy.

Wanda softens and walks towards you, wrapping her arms around you in a hug, “I’m sure Natasha will react just fine. And if she doesn’t then that’s her problem, not yours.” You lean into her and let yourself relax for a minute. You hadn’t known Wanda for as long as Yelena, you only met in your freshman year of college, but you consider her one of your best friends.

“Y/N… I think you should take a look.” Wanda had taken a quick peek at the test over your shoulder, and she squeezes you softly before pulling away.

You turn around and try your hardest not to feel too scared. Either outcome is fine, right?

Two lines.

You were pregnant.

Tears start to prick at your eyes and you’re not sure why, but you find yourself turning and hiding yourself in Wanda’s arms, not able to stop yourself from crying. You only just started properly seeing Natasha, what if she hates you? What if she never wants to see you again? What if–

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay. She won’t hate you.”

Wanda’s soothing voice reaches your ears and you realize you must have been saying those things out loud. You nod against her chest and sniffle, trying to get yourself to stop crying. You had to tell Natasha, you have to get yourself ready and make yourself look presentable.

Wanda helps you get ready, telling you soothing things every once in a while when you start to worry again, trying to reassure you that Natasha isn’t going to hate you. And, if anything, this is Natasha’s fault anyway, but she doesn’t say that part. She drives you to Yelena’s apartment where Natasha is staying for the time being and gives you a reassuring smile, saying she’ll be waiting right outside if you need her. But if you don’t come out in 15 minutes she’s leaving because she has to go open the bookstore for Darcy.

You give her a weak nod and walk the now intimidating path up to Yelena’s apartment. You stand outside for a whole two minutes before getting the courage to knock. You knew Yelena wasn’t home and that it would be Natasha to answer the door. The blonde went to kickboxing every Saturday morning and wouldn’t be back for at least another hour.

Natasha is a little surprised to see you standing outside her door at 8:30 in the morning, but then she takes in your slightly red eyes and still tear stained cheeks and she’s ushering you inside with an arm around your waist and a concerned look on her face.

“What’s the matter, baby? Are you hurt? What happened? Do you need me to call Yelena? What’s going on?” The words tumble from Natasha’s lips before she can stop them, the need to protect you and make sure you’re safe overpowering anything else she might have wanted to say. Like how cute you look in her sweater.

You shake your head and suddenly there are tears in your eyes again and your bottom lip starts to wobble. “No, p–please don’t call Yelena. I just– I need to talk to you.” You’re trying not to cry again, but you don’t know how to say it. You don’t know how to break the news in a way that won’t destroy the only thing you’ve wanted for the last four years.

The concern in Natasha’s eyes isn’t making this any easier as she takes you over to sit on the couch, sitting next to you and taking your hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over your knuckles. “Alright, we can talk. You can talk to me. What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“I-I…” Your fingers twitch nervously in her hands, “Natasha, I’m pregnant.” And the confession ruins any chance you had of stopping yourself from crying, afraid she’s going to push you away or yell at you or tell you to get out or–

Natasha’s eyes widen and her breathing stops for a moment, you’re pregnant? But you hadn’t slept together since– Oh. Oh.

And then she snaps back to the present where you’re crying and she’s frozen like an idiot. And she’s gotta do something before you come to the wrong conclusion. This should be fine, though, right? She loves you, she can do this. She can do this, can’t she?

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me.” She speaks softly, cupping your cheeks and wiping your tears with her thumbs. She takes one look at your face and now she’s trying to keep the tears out of her own eyes. “Everything’s gonna be okay, yeah, baby? Everything’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna figure it out.” She brings your head towards her chest and wraps one arm around you while the other strokes your hair. You’re crying harder now, but you think maybe they might be relieved tears, happy ones, even?

“We’re gonna figure it out.” She murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Yeah, she can do this.

#alice's fics !#natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov imagine #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanov x you #natasha romanov smut

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bruisedboys · 1 year

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underneath kitchen lights — james potter x reader

summary — james has a crush on you, lily’s shy and unbelievably sweet coworker. you nurse a crush of your own. (based on all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine!)

or .. you got a slurpee for free, I caught you looking at me, in the 7/11 under fluorescent lights. I spilled mac and cheese on my pants, and thought about kissing you underneath kitchen lights!

contains — shy!fem!reader, florist!reader, strangers-ish to friends to lovers, rugby player!james, modern au, flirting, mutual pining, fluff, james being a total sweetheart, sirius being a twat and a good friend, wolfstar because I couldn’t resist, kissing, lovesick!james, idiots in love tbh, and ummm lots of references to all my ghosts!!

notes — um I am very nervous to post this. but also please don’t let it flop.

fem!reader 8k words

James has an embarrassingly big crush on you. For someone he’s only met twice now, you’re very good at getting stuck in his head. It’s hardly his fault — you’re lovely. You always smell like flowers (which is kind of a given, he supposes. You work with Lily at Harriet’s, the florist’s down the road). You’re very pretty. You’re quiet and a bit shy but you’ve spoken enough that James at least knows you’re polite and friendly.

He’s talked to you a grand total of one time. You’d exchanged a few words and James had been very very quick to fall in love with everything about you. Your hands as you wrung them in front of you — a shy tell, he’d guessed. Your voice, pretty and soft, and how it’d sounded when you said his name. The way you dressed, your hair, the quirk in your mouth when he’d made a joke, the hitch in your breath when he’d shook your hand. He was a goner the second he’d met you.

“Prongs,” drawls Sirius, followed by a hard punch in the bicep. “You know you’re not as subtle as you think.”

James scowls in the general direction of Sirius’ voice. He’d been staring at you, he’s sorry to admit. You’re talking to Lily and you’re smiling about something she’s said and you just look so pretty.

He badly wants to talk to you properly, he has ever since the first time Lily bought you around to a party like this one, but he’s scared of embarrassing himself. He’s not exactly the best flirter when it comes to girls he actually likes. His tongue gets all tied and he can’t say two words without ultimately embarrassing himself. He’s not as much of a charmer as everyone thinks he is. He’s also scared you won’t like him, but he won’t get into that.

“Shut up,” he advises Sirius, rubbing his sore arm. “I don’t even know what you’re on about.”

Sirius, sprawled on the couch next to James, rolls his eyes and snorts. “Yeah, okay,” he says, all sarcasm. “S’not like you’re burning holes into Y/N’s face or anything.”

For a split second James panics. He whirls around to look at you so fast he almost snaps his neck in half. Have you heard Sirius? Do you think James is a total creep now? No — you’re still engrossed in your conversation with Lily. James breathes a sigh of relief but it’s cut short when he realises Sirius is laughing at him.

“Mate,” he guffaws. “You’re hopeless.”

It’s James’ turn to roll his eyes. “Thanks a lot,” he says dryly.

Sirius grins with all his stupidly perfect teeth. “Y’welcome.”

James sighs and scrubs a heavy hand down his face. Maybe he is as hopeless as Sirius thinks. He’s certainly feeling quite hopeless right now. With you across the room and him sitting here unable to make himself get up and talk to you. As subtle as he can he twists to look over the back of the couch again to see what you’re doing. He’s just in time to see you disappearing into the kitchen by yourself, Lily now talking with the other girls by the ranch slider.

His heart rate spikes. This is his chance.

James is getting to his feet before he knows what he’s doing. He dodges another hearty punch from Sirius, pretends not to hear Lily when she asks him where he’s going, and follows you into the kitchen on clumsy feet like a puppy on a leash.

He stumbles into Lily’s kitchen and there you are. Standing with your head in the fridge, the bright white lights cast over your skin. And there’s a lot of skin to look at. Your shoulders, your upper back. There’s a beauty spot on your back, just next to your shoulder blade. Your dress floats just above the halfway point of your thighs. You’ve got really nice legs. James snaps his eyes back up to your head before he can feel too guilty and clears his throat.

You start and then whirl around, eyes wide as saucers, one hand curled around the fridge door.

“Oh,” you say, breathless. “James. You scared me.”

James is so busy melting over the way you say his name that he almost forgets to speak. “Sorry. Shit, I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to.”

You shake your head and your big dangly earrings jingle like bells. “No, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry.”

You smile all soft and pretty and James really thinks he might pass out. He steps forward and leans against the kitchen island as casually as he can, when really he’s using it for support lest he keel over.

You’re looking at him like you’re expecting him to say something. He clears his throat again.

“Um,” he starts lamely. He braves through. “I, um— you look really nice tonight. I wanted to tell you earlier but Lily’s been stuck to you like a leech since you got here.”

You blink at him and James worries he’s said the wrong thing. Maybe this was the worst idea he’s ever had. And he’s had a lot of bad ideas. But then you beam.

“Oh,” you say, shocked like you can’t quite believe it. Which should be impossible, really, James thinks. You’re beautiful. It’s hard not to believe it. “Thank you, James.”

James smiles back. Your shyness at being complimented only fuels him. “You’re welcome. Just don’t tell Lily I called her a leech.” At this, you giggle, and James stammers through his next words, dazed from your laugh. “So, uh— are you looking for a drink?”

He gestures to the fridge, which you seem to have forgotten about, the door hanging wide open under your grip.

“What? Oh,” you say sheepishly, and suddenly you’re embarrassed and staring at your shoes. “No, I’m…” You lift your head and blink at him under your lashes. “Promise you won’t laugh at me?”

James is perplexed, but he’s not gonna laugh at you if you don’t want him to. He licks his dry lips. “Yeah, I promise.”

You smile, then dip your head towards him like you’re sharing secrets. “I was cooling off,” you admit, sheepish. “It got too hot in the living room and Lily’s patio has mosquitos.” You hardly give him time to reply before you’re cringing, saying, “It’s weird, right?” Like you know he’s gonna think it’s strange.

He doesn’t think it’s strange. Well, maybe a little. But he’s been found in worse positions at parties. You look so embarrassed about it James is almost sorry he asked. Almost, because embarrassed you is adorable. You lean back and scrub your neck awkwardly, bracelets clanking on your wrist.

“No, I know,” he groans sympathetically, nodding vehemently. “Lily really needs a mosquito net or something, so we can open the damn door without getting eaten alive. Can I join you?”

You look baffled for a moment, and then shy all over again.

“You want to join me while I stick my head in the fridge?” You ask, an amusement to your tone that James adores.

James shrugs. “Why not?”

You smile outright then. “Okay,” you say, stepping aside so there’s more room in front of the fridge for him. “C’mon, then.”

James practically skips over to you. The moment he steps into your space he can smell your lovely scent. Flowery and sweet, something floral like hyacinth mixed with something sweet like honey. It’s intoxicating. He feels like he could drown in it. But there’s no time for drowning, not when your hand wraps around his elbow and pulls him into your side, your feet shuffling to accommodate him.

“Move closer,” you urge shyly. “You gotta get the full experience.”

James moves closer. So close his arm brushes yours and he could hold your hand if he wanted to. He very much wants to. He imagines your skin is as soft as it looks.

The coldness of the refrigerator washes over him and it’s actually really nice. Even though he can be a total party animal sometimes, he understands why you would be here instead of in there. It’s quiet in here. Nice and cool. No lingering scent of heavy wine. No Sirius to tease him and no Marlene to badger him with questions about his love life.

“This is nice,” he says quietly, over the gentle buzz of the fridge.

You giggle softly. James thinks he’d like to make you laugh a million times over. “Isn’t it?”

“Mm,” James hums. “I should do this at parties more often.”

You laugh again, delighted at his joking. “You should. Then I wouldn’t be so lonely when I escape to the kitchen.”

James laughs too. He can’t quite believe his luck right now, squished in front of Lily’s refrigerator with you, elbow to elbow, the rest of his friends and the party long forgotten.

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” he says, smiling big.

The next time James sees you, it doesn’t go quite as well as previously. To put it simply, it’s a disaster.

First of all, he’s late. Remus and Sirius are having a housewarming party at their new place and he’s had training all day so he’d forgotten all about it. It’s not until 9:30, an hour after the party was supposed to start, that he’s climbing in his car after training and his phone buzzes.

He picks it up, exhausted, expecting one of his teammates. Instead it’s a string of messages from Remus.

You’re late James!!!!

We started without u. Where r u????

Sirius is gonna wring ur neck

James scrolls through the messages with a mixture of confusion and dread. Confusion because at first he has absolutely no idea what Remus is talking about. Dread when he realises.

He speeds all the way home, showers at lightning speed, pulls on a rumpled shirt and a pair of jeans that he’s sure aren’t clean, and he’s out the door within ten minutes of getting home. Still, by the time he gets to Sirius and Remus’ place it’s almost 10. His hair looks a mess but it’ll have to do. He doesn’t even think about the fact that you could possibly be there. That is, until he’s finished apologising profusely to his friends and Sirius mentions you. James perks up from where he’d been slumping on the couch, feeling exhausted and sorry for himself.

“What?” He asks, too loud. He tries to tamp it down but honestly, it doesn’t really work. He’s still buzzing with nervous energy when he asks, “Is she here?”

Sirius grins, looking uncharacteristically cat-like. “Uh— yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. His stupid grin only grows and James thinks he’d quite like to punch his teeth out. “She came with Lily. Moons thought we should invite her. She’s a lovely girl, isn’t she?”

James knows he’s teasing but can’t quite bring himself to care — the prospect of seeing you has demolished all other feelings of pathetic-ness. He leaps off the couch and makes his way to the kitchen, guessing that’s where you’ll be, a barely touched drink in his hand and Sirius’ teasing following him all the way. He’s so busy fixing his shirt before he sees you that he doesn’t see you. He walks right into you on the threshold of the kitchen.

“James!” You gasp, stopping short.

James’ drink, to his horror, has spilt all down your front. His glass, previously full, is now half empty, the rest of it splattered all over your white top.

You barely have time to be surprised before he’s apologising.

“Shit,” he curses, mind blanking. His hands go to fix the damage before he realises he probably shouldn’t touch your chest, where his drink is now seeping into your top and showing no signs of stopping. He pulls his hands back lamely. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Y/N. Oh gosh. I’m so dumb, I—“

Your rush to forgive him is almost as quick as his apology. “No!” You shake your head and it’s awfully cute despite the situation. “No, it’s okay, James. I should’ve been watching where I was going.”

James grimaces. He tries not to look at the dark red stain that looks like blood on your white blouse. It is quite possibly the worst thing he could’ve spilt on you.

“It’s okay,” you say again, softer, reassuring, probably clocking the pathetic look on his face.

“Don’t, angel,” James says, shaking his head. “S’my fault.” He grabs your elbow gently and starts to pull you out to the living room, seeking Remus, who he knows will have a spare t-shirt that’s at least clean. “C’mon, I’ll find you something else to wear.”

“Wait, James. Wait.” You plant your feet in the doorway of the kitchen and James stops walking. He looks back at you, feeling guilty, hopeless, confused, and a bit endeared by you still, all at once.

“What?” He asks as gently as he can when he’s feeling like such a loser.

“I don’t wanna cause any trouble,” you say, biting down on your bottom lip so hard James is sure it hurts. You’re shy, he remembers. Quiet and polite. You probably don’t like people making a fuss over you, even though you should really. You’re pretty enough that people should be making a fuss over you all the time. “I think I’ll just go home, s’only a ten minute walk. I was going to leave soon, anyway.”

James frowns. “I can’t let you do that,” he says, shaking his head. He also can’t let you feel uncomfortable. He conjures a compromise. “Look, how about you wait here while I go ask Remus for a spare shirt? And then I’ll walk you home to make it up to you.”

He knows walking you home isn’t near enough to make up for ruining your top. But it’s the best he can do right now.

“But you just got here, didn’t you?” you say, frowning yourself.

James shrugs. That’s hardly a problem for him. “Don’t worry. I see those two asshats every day of my life, sweetheart.”

You still look unsure but James isn’t changing his mind. He’s going to walk you home if it’s the last thing he does. But first, something for you to change into. He leaves you in the kitchen and finds Remus, whom he asks for a shirt, to which Remus says, “What’s that for?” too loudly.

James explains what happened dejectedly. He’s not exactly surprised when Sirius laughs at him for it.

It’s a quiet walk to your place. You live close, which is both good and bad. Good because it means every time James is at Remus and Sirius’s, he’ll know you’re only ten minutes away. Bad … well, for the same reason.

James tries his best to fill the silence with easy conversation. It’s not hard, especially when you’re so sweet and kind and answer his questions so pleasantly. You’re easy to talk to. You don’t laugh at him when he slips on his words. You don’t make him wait for answers. You ask him questions, too, timid as you are about it.

James finds he enjoys your company even more than he was expecting. You’re like a breath of fresh air. You’ve got the radiance of an early spring morning and the softness to go with it.

It’s safe to say he’s disappointed when you come to a stop in front of your place.

“This is me,” you say, fishing your keys out of your purse. You’re in one of Remus’ band tees and James thinks you look much better than Remus does in it. As much as he loves Remus. He realises he’s staring too late, his eyes following you as you walk up your front steps.

You unlock your door and then look back at him, timid.

“Did you want to come in?” You ask, sweet in your shyness.

James would very much like to come in. He also thinks he might fall on his face if he spends much more time with you. He’s already dizzy on his feet and he’s been with you all of fifteen minutes.

“No, no, that’s okay,” he says as kindly as he can. “I should probably get back, or Sirius’ll have my head.” At least he knows where you live now. In a totally not creepy way.

He steps forward to take your wrist in his hand, his thumb pressing into your pulse point. He can feel your heartbeat. It’s not quite as fast as his feels but pretty close.

“I’m really really sorry about your top,” he tells you. He spreads his fingers over your forearm, your skin warm as late summer under his touch. “Can I do anything to make up for it? Buy you a new one?”

He wasn’t joking, but you giggle, your face lighting up, your eyes crinkling at the corners. James feels something akin to a mad swarm of butterflies in his ribcage.

“No, James,” you laugh, breathless and lilting. Your free hand lands on his forearm and his skin burns under your touch. “It’s okay, really.”

“Okay,” James breathes. His head spins as you squeeze his arm. Your skin is impossibly soft. You smell so nice. “But, seriously, let me know if there’s anything I can do. It was such a nice top, it looked lovely on you.”

You flush like James knew you would. He’s slowly discovering he likes making you flustered more than he’ll admit.

“Thanks, James,” you say, and James imagines if he touched your face you’d be burning. “But, really, it’s okay. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah. See you around, angel.”

It’s only after you close the door and James is at the bottom of the steps that he realises he should’ve asked for your number. He really is as hopeless as Sirius says.

James Potter is on your mind most of the time. You can’t help it. You’re not above admitting you have a crush on him. You are above admitting how big said crush is.

He’s really one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. Sure, you don’t meet a lot of people. But you’re sure if you did he’d still be one of the best. He’s kind, he’s funny, he’s unbelievably charming. He’s a bit awkward sometimes and you like that, it makes you feel better about your own social ineptitude.

It also helps that he’s very very handsome. You would look at him all day if you could. He’s all dark, velvety skin, inky curls that you’ve imagined weaving your fingers through more times than you can count. Deep brown eyes turned bright with his ever-present smile. Thick eyelashes, a lovely sloping nose, a quirk to his mouth that you think you could get drunk on. He dresses well, too, though you’re sure he’d look just as good in a hoodie and sweatpants. Or nothing at all. You’d squashed that thought before it could go any further.

You don’t even mind that he spilled wine all over your nicest top. Sure, the stain is never gonna come out. It’s sitting in your closet, ruined. Embarrassing as it is, you smile every time you see it. James had made up for it tenfold anyway, walking you home and telling you he was sorry about a hundred times. It would be hard to not forgive him.

“Y/N?”

There’s a call of your name from the office door. You’re in here on your lunch break, not really eating more than you are thinking about James. Margaret, the older lady who owns Harriet’s but only comes in Thursdays and Tuesdays, is poking her head through the door.

“Hi, dear,” she says. “Sorry to disturb you, but there’s a customer out here asking for you? I can tell him to come back later, if you’d like, but he seems quite insistent.”

He. Of course, your mind flies straight to James. Which is ridiculous, you know, but it was already parked and idle at James, anyway.

“He’s asking for me?” You ask, perplexed. You don’t usually get personally requested by customers. And if it is James, you’re sure he’d ask for Lily instead.

“Yes, dear,” Margaret smiles, and she looks amused.

You get up because it’s your job, not because you’re hoping like hell it’s James. You put down your barely-eaten sandwich, brush past Margaret with a small ‘thank you’ and emerge into the shop.

There, standing at the counter, is James Potter.

“Y/N!” He says as soon as you emerge. He’s bouncy. Frazzled. You would even say excited. “Hi, lovely. I’m really sorry to barge in on you like this, were you on your break?”

“Oh, um, no. It just ended,” you lie. You still had a good ten minutes left. Not that you’re gonna tell him that.

James’ smile makes the lie worth it. “Perfect. ‘Cos I need your help.”

You think you physically perk up. Like a cat when it smells food is near. You hope he doesn’t notice.

“Okay,” you smile. You’re happy to help if it’s James you’re helping. “With that?”

James explains that he needs a bouquet, your best work, better than a boring one you can get at the grocery store because he really really needs this person he’s giving it to to like it. Your smile fades at this. At the fact that he’s getting flowers for someone else. He won’t tell you who this someone else is. He also won’t tell you why he’s giving it to them. You’re sorry to assume it’s a girl he likes. Possibly Lily? Maybe that’s why he asked for you and not her. You wouldn’t be surprised, they’re close and she’s gorgeous.

Of course, you help him anyway. You recommend flowers that last the longest, colours that go together, which ones smell the best. He’s asks you what your favourites are and ends up going with those, saying he trusts your judgment.

You have to admit it’s all very endearing. And you have so much fun helping him that by the time he leaves, arms full of a huge bouquet made up of all your picks of flowers, you’re beaming. Despite the daunting fact that he’s walking out of your shop with a bouquet for someone else.

Margaret appears once he’s gone. She’s got this big smile on her face that you can’t quite make sense of.

“He’s a handsome one,” she muses. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Your cheeks go redder than the roses on the shelf behind you.

Much later, you’re in the comfort of your small home, a bowl of steaming hot mac and cheese in your lap while the TV drones on. It’s some sort of romantic comedy that you can’t say you’re very interested in. Despite the lead male being very attractive. You’re about to change programmes when there’s a knock on your door.

You start. Nobody ever comes over. You don’t have many friends, and the ones that you do have, you tend to go over to their places, rather than the other way around. You’re so busy worrying about who it is that you haven’t even stood up before there’s another knock.

You get up off the couch, mac and cheese forgotten on the coffee table. You give your outfit a once over. You’re in sleep shorts and a hoodie that’s too big for you. Not your best work, but it’ll have to do. You fix your hair with little to no care and then open the door.

It’s James. You gape. You definitely should’ve paid more attention to your hair.

“James,” you say.

He beams right back, seemingly unaware of your sleepy appearance. “Hi, sweetheart.”

You stare at him. He looks pretty as ever. It’s only just going on sunset, and the colourful sky casts streaks of orange and golden yellow over his pretty face. The last bits of sun tangle themselves into his curls and drown themselves in his eyes. He’s dressed casual, but he still manages to pull it off, like you’d thought. A hoodie and jeans, a pair of beat up converse. He’s hiding something behind his back and you think you hear cellophane crinkle when he moves.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he’s saying. He doesn’t have your number. But Lily does. Is it crazy to think he’s maybe asked her for it? “Is this a bad time?”

His kindness reminds you how to speak. “Uh— um, no. S’not a bad time, I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Are you— um, did you want to come in?”

You’re rambling, you know. He hasn’t even told you why he’s here and you’re asking him to come in.

James smiles kindly and it makes it all better. He’s good at that. At making you feel okay for being a bit of an awkward loser (your own words, not his, of course.)

“I’d love to come in,” he says, all smiles. “But first, I have something for you.” He pulls whatever he’s been hiding out from behind his back and offers it to you between your chest and his. “To say I’m sorry about your top.”

You blink. It’s a bouquet. It’s the bouquet. The one you’d helped him put together. The one that has all your favourite flowers and colours and smells because despite you thinking it was for someone else, you’d still wanted the best for James. You blink again.

“James,” you say, a little breathless, a lot speechless. “They’re for me?”

James laughs and you feel dizzy for a moment. He’s got a really nice laugh. “F’course there for you, sweetheart. Who else?”

He makes you take them from him, one of his hands guiding yours around the stalks. His skin is warm and sets yours on fire. You’re surprised the bouquet doesn’t go up in flames when you take it from him.

“I-I don’t know,” you stutter. “I thought …” you don’t finish your sentence. You’d thought they were for some other girl who’d caught his eye. You change tactics mid sentence, “They’re lovely, James.”

“I know they are, dove. You picked ‘em out.”

You giggle then. He’s the sweetest boy on the planet, you decide. He let you pick out your own flowers, and you didn’t even know it. You’ve never properly been given flowers before, despite working at a florist’s. It’s a new feeling. Like a star burning in your chest that doesn’t seem to want to go out. It hovers in you ribcage and stays there, buzzing madly.

“Thank you,” you say, lifting your eyes to his. You find he’s already gazing right back at you. There’s a rogue curl falling over his forehead that you’d love to push out of the way. “Really. I love them.”

James flashes you a boyish grin. “Good, ‘cos if you didn’t, I’d have to have a word with the girl who chose them.”

You’re still beaming when he comes inside. He follows you into the kitchen, where you find a vase for the flowers. You set about taking them out of their packaging, cutting the stalks and putting them gently in the glass vase filled with water.

James watches you and you can tell he’s trying to be nonchalant about it all, about being in your space, but his eyes scan your kitchen like it’s a map he’s trying to figure out. Your mismatched mugs on the counter. Your magnets and Polaroids and receipts on the fridge. Your overgrown plants on the windowsill.

You carry your flowers to your small living room and put them in the dead center of your coffee table. The bouquet is so big it would block most of your view of the TV if you sat on the couch. You hardly care. You’d rather look at them than the TV, anyway.

Setting the flowers down, you spot your half eaten mac and cheese and hope James doesn’t take you for a slob. You’re lucky he didn’t catch you on a Friday night. You’d be drowning in ice cream, probably.

“Are you hungry?” You ask him, half hoping he’ll say no, because who in their right mind asks their crush if they want macaroni and cheese? It’s so lame, but you can’t take it back now. “I have mac and cheese, but that’s about it, sorry.”

You cringe and wish you’d held your tongue, but James beams.

“I’d love some mac n’ cheese,” he says. “Unless it’s boxed, that shit tastes like cardboard.”

You get him some mac and cheese, glad you made it yourself, gladder you haven’t resorted to boxed food just yet. The two of you sit in the kitchen on your tall kitchen stools under your golden lights and eat. James is easier to be around than anyone you’ve ever met. He makes you feel special but not to the point where it’s too overwhelming. He’s kind and he’s golden, he acts like you’re the only person he ever wants to talk to.

Watching him eat in your home is more of a pleasure for you than you’d like to admit. He compliments your cooking. He says he likes the bowl he’s got, which is a white one with pink flowers all over it that you bought at a market ages ago. He gets a string of cheese dangling from his lip and makes a dorky face trying to get it into his mouth without using his fingers. You think you’d like to kiss him. His lips all puckered and eyes crossed as he attempts to scoop the cheese into his waiting mouth.

You’re so busy laughing at him that you don’t notice your own bowl balancing precariously on the edge of the counter. When you go back to take another spoonful, your hand knocks the bowl and it goes tumbling. Right into your lap.

“Shit,” you curse, gasping when a dollop of hot pasta lands half on your thigh and half on your shorts. The sauce spreads like wildfire over the fabric of your sleep shorts. Why do things keep spilling on your clothes when James is around? It’s becoming a theme. Your horror grows when the bowl clatters to the floor and while it doesn’t smash, it spills mac & cheese everywhere. “Oh, shit, that’s embarrassing. Um.”

You bend to clean up your mess but James beats you to it.

“Here, let me,” he says. He slides off his chair and is quick to start scooping up the ruined pasta.

“Sorry,” you stutter, standing helplessly as James cleans up your mess for you.

“Don’t be,” James shrugs and looks up at you, his cheeks dimpling as he smiles kindly. “Go change, I’ll sort this out.”

You feel an overwhelming rush of gratitude and affection for him that makes you want to kiss him stupid. You don’t. Instead you go down to your room and find something to change into. Seeing as he’s already seen you in your sleep shorts, you suppose your checkered flannel pyjama pants aren’t really much worse. Nothing can be more embarrassing than what’s just happened, you decide.

By the time you’ve changed (plus spent a lot of extra time staring at yourself in the mirror, practicing your smile), James has cleaned up the spill and is washing your bowls in the sink. You decide then and there that you like him a lot more than you’d initially thought.

You emerge into the kitchen on light footing. You feel like a magnet being drawn to him like this. It’s bizzare, how much you want to be around him, no matter how shy he makes you. It’s something you’ve never experienced before. A rip in the ocean calling your name. You know of the danger but you don’t really care. You ignore the signs because he’s James and you don’t think he has a mean bone in his body. The warning signs basically don’t exist.

“Thank you, James,” you say, standing on the threshold of the kitchen.

James flashes you a big smile, up to his arms in soap and suds, scrubbing away at a bowl. He looks like a house husband. It’s almost more than your heart can take. “That’s okay. Hey, nice pyjamas. Y’look good.”

You can tell by his tone he’s not teasing. He’s being genuine, which is somehow worse than if he’d been teasing. Your smile is so big it hurts.

James is gonna kiss you tonight. He’s sure of it.

So far, all of his advances have gone well. Perfect, even. Unless you count the drink-spilling incident, but if it hadn’t been for that he’d probably never have found the courage to get you alone again.

He’s taken you out to lunch once. He’s been into your work twice, not including the first time. He’s invited you to his rugby game tonight, to which you’d said yes more enthusiastically than he’d expected. It’s not exactly a date, per say. But he’d wanted to see you today and he had a game and his coach would blow his head off if he’d missed it for a girl. No matter how lovely said girl is.

He’s waxed poetic about you to Sirius and Remus more times than he can count. He’s yet to kiss you. Sirius thinks this is beyond absurd.

“So you haven’t even kissed her yet?” He asks, incredulous. He’s in his rugby kit, hair up in braids, chugging a Gatorade though the game hasn’t even started yet. “What’s the hold up, mate?”

James groans. Sirius is yet to understand that some people don’t like to jump into the deep end before they’re ready. “I don’t want to scare her off,” he explains, straightening up from where he’d been tying his laces.

“Oh yeah, you’re reaaally scary, Prongsie,” Sirius drawls, dripping in sarcasm. He rolls his eyes and then clasps James’ shoulder. He’s surprisingly and uncharacteristically genuine when he says, “Look, I think she likes you enough that kissing her won’t scare her off.”

James blinks and looks up at his friend. “You think she likes me?”

Sirius makes a face. “Are you kidding? What other girl would want to watch you eat shit in a field with a dozen other sweaty guys?”

And he’s back, James thinks. Trust Sirius to be a sweetheart one second and as asshole the next.

Soon enough James is out on the field and he wants to say his mind is on the game and not you but he’d be lying.

For the first five minutes he’s distracted trying to spot you in the stands. Then the next ten minutes are spent trying not to stare at you. You’re with Remus, whom James is hoping isn’t relaying anything he’s ever said to him about you.

You look as though, to James’ extreme delight, that you’ve dressed up for this. In a pretty dress and a jacket that borders on being so big on you it swallows you up. Sure, you’d still looked pretty drop-dead in your pyjamas the other night. But this is another level of gorgeous.

The first chance he gets he bounds over to you, ignoring his coaches instructions to ‘stay with the team’. Most of the team has scattered for half time, anyway. James makes a beeline for you.

“You came!” He shouts as soon as you’re in shouting distance.

You grin and wave at him, brilliant and dazzling and so damn pretty in the early evening sun. You’re not far up the stadium and James is grateful he doesn’t have to climb too many steps — though he’d definitely climb all the way to the top row to see you if he had to.

“Hi, James,” you say, looking happy as a clam to see him.

James beams back. He wonders vaguely if he looks as lovesick as he’s feeling. He can’t even bring himself to care if he does. He’s lucky Remus is nowhere to be seen — probably loving on Sirius somewhere.

“Hi, angel,” James says, smiling around his words, which come out all sticky-sounding and fond. “I’m so glad you came.”

You beam and rock on your heels, looking one part shy and two parts delighted, your hands clasped in front of you like you’re not sure what to do now.

“Can I give you a hug?” James asks. “I’m so happy to see you, I might explode if you say no.”

He’s joking, of course. Or maybe not so much. You nod, a tad vehement, James notices smugly.

“Yes, please,” you say, breathless.

James steps into your space, heartbeat a mile a minute. You smell like flowers again. Lavender, he thinks. He definitely doesn’t smell anywhere near as good. “You’re sure I’m not too sweaty and gross?”

You shrug. “I don’t care, James.”

“You should. You look lovely.”

You make a noise that sounds half pained and half pleased and it makes James’ heart skyrocket.

“Can you just hug me?” You ask, a hint of desperation in your tone that’s actually much more than a hint but James is trying to be a gentleman. “Please?”

James thinks if you keep this up (by this, he means, acting as though maybe you like him as much as he likes you), he’ll die on the spot. He hugs you. For his own and your sake. Wraps you up in a big strong hug that’s so passionate he accidentally lifts you off the ground slightly. You don’t seem to mind. Your arms weave around his neck like they were meant to and you hook your chin over his shoulder and go all melty.

James almost moans. He can’t believe how perfectly you fit in his arms. How your body melds into his so nicely. He’s big and firm and loud and you’re quiet and small in your own way. But it works, and James is so glad it does.

“How was work, lovely?” He says into your hair. Your hair, which smells like coconut and something sweeter.

“It was okay.” Your voice is quiet but you sound just as pleased as he does to be wrapped in each other’s arms. “Lily says good luck.”

“Hey!” This is Sirius, jogging towards the stands and the, for want of a better word, lovefest. “Why don’t I ever get hugs like that?”

James releases you but keeps a good hold on your waist, twisting to meet Sirius. “What? You want one too, Pads?”

He lets go of you and holds his arms out for a hug, half joking but also half serious.

“Not from you!” Sirius scoffs, backing away from James like his hug will give him an incurable disease. “From your pretty cheerleader over there.”

Sirius plants his hands in his hips and nods his head towards you where you’re standing behind James. James doesn’t need to look to know Sirius has probably made you embarrassed.

“She doesn’t want to hug you,” he says dryly, in an attempt to save you from his obnoxious friend. “Where’s your boyfriend? You can hug him instead.”

Sirius scowls but it doesn’t last long. You brush past James and it takes him a second to realise what’s happening.

“I’ll hug you, Sirius,” you’re saying sweetly. “C’mere.”

And to everyone’s surprise, you hug Sirius. James finds it both endearing and highly annoying. Annoying because Sirius is smirking at him over your shoulder, his hands on your lower back. Endearing because it’s apparent you’re trying to make friends with James’ friends and he couldn’t be happier. The hug doesn’t last quite as long as yours and his, though. And Sirius doesn’t quite lift you off the ground like James did.

James watches, reluctantly fond, as Sirius pulls away and smiles at you all kind and un-Sirius-like.

“Thank you, m’lovely,” he says, swooping down to kiss your cheek. James shouldn’t feel jealous, because Sirius kisses everyone on the cheek, but he does anyway.

His jealousy quickly fades when you practically skip back over to him, all smiles.

“Sorry about him,” James says quickly. He’s very used to apologising for his friends.

“No, that’s okay,” you shake your head and then take James’ forearm in your hand unthinkingly. Heat licks all up James’ arm.

“Y/N,” he says, sounding more confident than he feels. “Do you—?”

The shriek of his coach’s whistle cuts him off. Time to get back on the field, it says. James groans, long suffering, throwing his head back like he’s been resigned to the worst fate in the world. You giggle and it makes it all better.

James’ team loses the game. It’s embarrassing and then it’s not, because you bound up to him afterwards and give him a hug even better than the one at half time, gushing about how good he was, telling him it doesn’t matter that he lost because he played amazing, anyway.

He sure feels like a winner as he walks with you to the parking lot, his duffel bag swept to his wrong side so he can walk as close to you as possible.

“I didn’t know you were so good.” You’re still gushing and James thinks he’s never blushed more in his life. “I mean, not that I didn’t expect it. You just never told me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not Sirius,” James murmurs, feeling overly feverish.

“What? What’s that mean?”

James gestures vaguely with his hands. “I don’t go around bragging, is what it means. And I’m not that good. We’re just a local team, babe.”

It’s your turn to flush. Head to foot you go all shy. He thinks it’s the pet name that did it. And maybe the fact that he’s pointed out your gushing.

“Right,” you say to your shoes. “Well, I think you should play for the country, is all I’m saying.”

James laughs, delighted and a bit startled at your joking, but mostly just sick as a dog in love with you. “Really? Wow, you should tell my coach that, sweetheart. I think he’d totally agree.”

You pick up on his sarcasm and burst into giggles that make James’ chest want to explode. He realizes you’ve almost reached his car and puts his plan into action.

“Hey, did you drive here?” He asks.

You look up at him and James thinks he sees an inkling of hope in your pretty eyes. “No, I caught the bus. Why?”

“Did you want to go get Slurpees with me? I saw a 7/11 near your place the other night.” Then, because he really wants you to say yes, “I’m paying.”

Maybe it’s James’ wishful thinking but he’s pretty sure you light up like a Christmas tree. He really thinks if you keep doing things like this his head is gonna get too big for his body. You beam, looking like an angel on earth in the last fragments of sunlight, skin painted in an array of bleeding golds and pinks and oranges.

“Yeah, okay,” you nod. “Except you don’t have to pay for me, James, I have my card.”

James shakes his head, grinning as he fishes his keys from his bag. “Nah, don’t worry. Pretty girls get slurpees for free.”

He’s ninety-eight percent sure you freeze up like a block of ice as he unlocks his car. He has the generosity to not mention it.

The drive to the 7/11 closest to your place is quiet. But good quiet. James puts on the radio and is delighted when you start humming along like he’s not even there, your fingers tapping along the window where you’ve rolled it down, the wind brushing over your pretty face. He can’t quite get enough of you. Even just driving in silence with you feels like cloud nine. He’s enamored. Totally lovelorn. He’s surprised he can even drive straight.

When you get there he parks the car and then tells you to wait so he can open your door for you. He holds your hand to guide you into the 7/11. It feels like walking on air.

You both greet the guy at the cashier, you much more shyly, but James is learning you’re nothing if not polite. It’s practically empty inside, which James is glad for. How is he supposed to kiss you if there’s a bunch of strangers around? He leads you over to the slurpee machine with the excitement of a kid in a candy store.

“What flavour do you feel like?” He asks, grabbing a cup for you.

“Um,” you lick your lips and James wonders, not for the first time, how it would be to kiss them. “Grape, I think.”

“Grape?” He wrinkles his nose in pretense. “I’m more of a cherry guy, but I’ll let it slide ‘cos I like you.”

You giggle and flush, to James' extreme delight. He lets go of your hand to fill your cup for you, all the way to the top. He pops on a lid and a straw and passes it to you, cold condensation dripping over his fingers like raindrops.

“Thank you,” you say softly, taking the cup from him, your fingers soft as they brush his.

James gives you a big smile in place of a you’re welcome, then preoccupies himself with filling his own cup. He can feel your eyes on him all the while. Practically burning holes into the side of his face. His face, which feels like it’s on fire. He finishes filling his cup and shoves a lid on.

“Have I got something on my face?” He asks without looking at you, definitely teasing but he thinks you can take it.

You groan and punch him in the arm. Punch isn’t really the right word. It’s more of a brush of your knuckles. James hardly feels a thing. “James.”

James laughs, delighted at your reaction. “What?” He chuckles, picking a straw and turning to look at you. “You were—“

But you’re gone, turning into the candy section just in time for James to see the back of your jacket disappear. He follows you, grinning like mad.

“Y/N,” he says, sing-song.

“James,” you copy, with half the enthusiasm but twice the sweetness. He can almost hear you rolling your eyes.

James can’t help it, he snags your jacket in his fingers and pulls. You squeal as he twists you to face him, his hand coming to hook around your waist. Your slurpees get crushed in between your chests. James can feel the coldness of his soaking into his shirt but he hardly cares. You’re so close he could kiss you. He’d like to. It’s what he’s been trying to do all evening.

You’re gasping, breathless from the closeness and his sudden attack. “James,” you say again, panting. “What are you doing?”

James shrugs. “Nuthin’. Did you want some candy?”

You swallow and adjust your grip on your cup where it’s pressed to his chest. You’re staring at his lips. He’s staring at yours, too.

“No,” you say, your pretty eyes flickering from his eyes to his mouth and back again. “I don’t want candy.”

James licks his lips, partly because he thinks he’s about to kiss you, but mostly to tease you. “Then what do you want?”

Your eyes follow the slow movement of his tongue. “Um.”

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asks, softer now. Less taunting. More sincere.

You stare at him. “We’re in the middle of a 7/11, James,” you chastise. But you don’t turn him down.

“So? There’s no one in here but us.”

He inches closer. His slurpee is probably spilling over with how much he’s squashing it but he can’t bring himself to check. He’s too transfixed by you, the hopeful look on your pretty features, eyes blown wide, lips slightly parted.

“Okay,” you breathe, hardly a word at all.

“Okay, what?” James says back, just as quiet. “I can kiss you?”

“Yes,” you nod once. Your hand ghosts over James’ elbow and he hopes you’ll grab it when he does finally kiss you. “Please.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing than that. He kisses you, and the very first thing he thinks is that he’s bitten off more than he can chew. Thrown himself in the deep end, chum for the sharks. Because it’s glorious. It’s better than he ever imagined, better than anything he could’ve conjured up in his mind. You taste like grape slurpee, sugary and sweet. You’re tentative like you always are, but it doesn’t mean you hold back. You let him kiss you as hard as he pleases, tilting your head up to meet him, gripping his elbow with your free hand like you never want to let go.

He kisses you firm but careful, passionate so you know how much he likes you but soft enough so you know he’s okay to go slow if you need to.

Soon enough the moment is ruined — James shouldn’t have expected anything less. The guy at the cashier is wondering aloud if James is planning on ever paying for the Slurpees now dripping condensation into both of your clothes and hands.

James sighs and goes to pull out his wallet, but not before pressing another kiss to your smiling mouth.

feedback and reblogs are very very appreciated! please please lmk if u liked it (but not if u didn’t ahahah) xx

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ashwhowrites · 4 months

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Can I request some jealous! Eddie x cheerleader! reader? (Totally inspired to request bc of the Billy fic!) But what if Reader and Eddie had been dating for over a year and Reader is a cheerleader, and Eddie's jealous bc he always find Steve, Billy, Jason, and all those jocks flirting with reader (pretend this is B4 season 4) and once they were at Chrissy's party, Eddie to do deals, but he found the jocks flirting with Reader at a party (reader thinks the jocks are dumb). After some hours, Eddie has had enough, he takes her to his van and they have sex and Reader's like, if you were so jealous you should've told me! (But like, she's not angry, she thinks it's cute that Eddie acts overprotective and all that when he's jealous) ik you just wrote the Billy one, but I can imagine Billy and Eddie being like different kind of jealous boys (if that's a thing!)

Haha I'm glad you got some inspiration. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

If the van is shaking, don't come knocking

Eddie knew that the second he took Y/N off the market, there would be consequences. When Eddie was chasing after her, he wasn't the only one. He was running with every boy in school, all competing to win her heart. He knew she was way out of his league, and he knew if he fucked up, she has many options waiting for her.

But for some reason, she set her eyes on Eddie at the start and they never wandered off. Eddie doesn't understand it, but he isn't gonna question it.

Sadly, the jocks didn't quite stop chasing her after their relationship went official. Eddie felt like he had to beat guys off of her with a stick. Even after a full year of being together, the basketball ball team watched her more than the ball. Eddie almost wanted to join the team just so he could throw the ball at their dicks.

Billy Hargrove, a blonde with blue eyes and a reputation for being amazing in bed. Eddie knows Billy isn't a real competition because Y/N was sweet and hated assholes. Plus he looked nothing like Eddie, and Eddie knows he's Y/N's type. So only a .5 threat to Eddie. But Billy knew how to flirt, and that scared Eddie.

Jason Carver, another blonde and blue eyes, is not a threat to Eddie. Incredibly rich? Yeah, he's got that over Eddie's head. Still an asshole, but less than Billy. A full-point threat to Eddie.

Steve fucking Harrington, has dark hair and dark eyes. Bits of curls were thrown in and moles on his delicate skin. He was rich, smart, stupidly friendly, and one of Y/N's closest friends. And the damn guy was good with kids, which Y/N fawned over. A full ten-point threat to Eddie.

~~~

It was party night at Chrissy's and Eddie didn't want to leave the van. Y/N was wearing dark jeans, an old hoodie of Eddie's, and white sneakers. And Eddie wanted to pounce. The way her perfume lingered on his hoodie made his brain shut off and his dick has full control. He couldn't help but move his hand up her thigh and kiss her neck.

"Let's just stay in here." He whispered, his hot tongue licking up her neck. She whined as she melted into his touch. He always knew how to get her hot and bothered in seconds.

"I wish, but we can't. Chrissy was pissed when we skipped the last party to hook up in the hot tub in the basement." Y/N whined, but not trying too hard to push him off.

"Ugh fine. Stupid cheer squad." Eddie said as he groaned. He pulled himself away and took out his keys.

"Be nice!" Y/N warned. She gave him a stern look but still pecked his lips before they got out of the van.

And just like months to a flame, the boys came running.

"Heya gorgeous, interested in some beer bong?" Billy asked, his shirt unbuttoned as his chest glistened in some type of liquid. Eddie slipped his hand into Y/N's back pocket, a glare sent to the bad boy.

"Maybe in a bit? Eddie and I are going to get a drink!" She said sweetly as she waved. Eddie sometimes hated how sweet she was to everyone.

"I'll let your boyfriend play!" Billy tried again, a smirk on his face when Y/N squealed excitedly.

"Baby! Let's go play. You kick ass at this game all the time." Y/N said, grabbing his hand out of her jeans pocket to hold it and drag him to the table.

Y/N swept the hoodie over her head, she didn't want to ruin it with stains of beer or whatever alcohol was in the cups.

Eddie growled as Billy whistled, his eyes taking in Y/N's tight black long-sleeve. Eddie couldn't help but stare as well, but he's the boyfriend so he's allowed to do that.

"Just go, Hargrove," Eddie said as he rolled his eyes.

"If I win, your girl is my partner for the next round," Billy said, smirking as he threw the ball and it landed perfectly in the red solo cup.

Eddie already planned to win, but now he wasn't leaving until he embarrassed the king of Hawkins.

~~~

"THAT'S MY BOYFRIEND!" Y/N screamed, a little tipsy. She held her arms up proud as Eddie sank the ball in the last remaining cup. Eddie smirked as Billy glared over, his girl wrapped herself around his body in a side cuddle. Eddie stood proud, his hand came down on her ass and he gripped it hard. Billy's eyes watched with anger and jealousy as he chugged the drink.

Y/N put back on Eddie's hoodie and grabbed Eddie's hand.

After the game, they finally made it inside the actual party. And to no surprise, Jason found them.

"Well hello, beautiful. How are you?" He asked, his eyes not looking away from her.

"A little tipsy. Eddie and I just creamed Hargrove at beer pong." Y/N said, she was so friendly and sweet that she didn't notice every time she brought up Eddie, these boys fought back a glare. Almost like she was always reminding them without knowing.

"Good. Someone needed to take him down a few" Jason said, and Y/N laughed. Of course, Jason felt like he was the man for making her laugh. But so what, Eddie made her laugh a hundred times a day.

Jason and Y/N talked for a few minutes, Eddie stood next to her but didn't contribute to the conversation. Just kept his eyes on Jason to make sure he didn't try anything.

"Need to run to the bathroom. Be aware of your surroundings and don't let him flirt into your mouth." Eddie said, pecking her cheek. She nodded and moved to peck his lips.

Eddie knew he had to be fast, the boys watched her like a prey. The second the alpha was gone, they prepared to attack.

~~~

Eddie went as fast as he could, washing his hands in five seconds as he raced back out. Only to not find her in the same place he left her.

It was thirty seconds, how the fuck did she move so fast?

He searched the house and made his way to the kitchen. He smiled as he watched her sit on the counter, her feet dangling as she sipped on water. He panicked and all she was doing was being a good girl and drinking water.

Eddie for the first time since they came, felt like it was just the two of them. But then Steve walked right into the perfect picture.

"Thanks for the water." She said as she chugged it down.

"Of course, someone should be watching over something as delicate as you," Steve said, his fingers reaching up to touch her chin, but Eddie's hand stopped him. He didn't say a word, just growled at Steve and shoved him.

Steve was the one guy he refused to let flirt with her for one second. Steve backed off and pouted as Eddie grabbed Y/N's hand and raced them out the door.

"Eddie? Where are we going?" She asked, her feet trying to keep up with his long strides. But Eddie didn't say a word, he opened the back of his van and crawled in. Even though he looked pissed, he was a gentleman and gently helped her up into the van.

"What's wrong?" She tried again as he slammed shut the doors. Instead of answering, he smashed his lips on hers. He easily pushed her down, her back against the soft carpet. His hands were working up and down her body at a fast pace.

They pulled apart to quickly take off their clothes, both eagerly trying to get naked as fast as they could. Y/N didn't even have time to take off her bra when Eddie was pushing her down again.

He dove between her thighs, hot tongue swirling around her clit as he shoved two fingers into her mouth, she swirled her tongue around them. Getting them soaked in her spit. She let them go with a loud pop, then he took the same fingers and shoved them into her cunt.

She whined as his mouth sucked on her clit and his fingers scissored inside of her. He was fucking her fast, and it made her head spin. She could feel him forcing an orgasm out of her. Like he wanted her to cum in seconds. She moaned, her thighs clenching around his head as her hands dug into his hair. She kept his head in place as she rocked her hips against his tongue and fingers.

But before she could cum, he removed himself. She whined after him, her hands reaching for him.

"One second, pretty girl. Just want you to soak my cock." He smirked, leaning down to peck her lips as he pushed his cock inside of her. She whimpered as his cock stretched her out even further. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he started fucking into her.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into her. She was screaming and clawing at everything she could. He was ruthless, almost animal-like. His mouth was on hers, then her neck, chest, and every part of skin he could reach. His hands were above her head as he looked down at her. He watched her face as her body took his cock perfectly. The way her cunt would clench around him, letting him feel the pulsing inside of her. Then her eyes would squeeze shut and her mouth would drop open with screams, moans, and whimpers.

Eddie wanted the van to shake. He wanted everyone to hear her. He wanted everyone to know she was getting fucked good by her boyfriend. He hoped Billy was still playing beer pong, he hoped Jason went outside for air, and he hoped Steve followed them outside. He wished more than anything they could see his van shake and know her tight cunt was getting fucked by him and him only.

His fingers went down to her clit, and that's when she saw stars. She screamed as she covered his cock in her cum. Her wetness making a mess everywhere and probably staining the carpet below them. She could feel Eddie in her stomach, his bulge showing as it moved inside her stomach. She pressed down on it, loving the way Eddie growled.

"Gonna fill this pretty pussy with all my cum. Gonna be dripping with my cum inside of you." He growled into her ear, he panted as he felt his balls tighten. His hot cum filled her as he bit down on her shoulder. She whimpered as her cunt grew sensitive and the extra hit of his teeth created marks on her delicate skin.

He slowly pumped himself dry inside of her, gently removing himself. He prepped her face with kisses and praise. Reaching for a spare towel he kept for these occasions. He gently wiped off her cunt, trying not to dive in for seconds as her cunt pulsed and gushed.

"If you were so jealous, you could've told me." She said with a breathy laugh. She was fucked out, barely felt anything.

Eddie looked up at her. She looked down at him with a fucked out, dazed look. A lazy smile on her face.

"Where's the fun in that?" Eddie winked

Eddie- a full threat to Billy, Jason and Steve

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut x reader #eddie Munson smut #eddie munson smut x female reader #eddie munson x cheerleader #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #eddie munson smut x cheerleader reader #ashwhowrites

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merakiui · 4 months

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PLEASE. please. if you would be so kind to give us some more stalker ex scara... the first time I saw it it just changed my brain chemistry, and I desperately need more </3

>:D thinking a lot about stalker ex Scara, but you get really drunk and he's the only one left to look after you......

(cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, alcohol/intoxication, toxic ex scara, modern college au, connected to the previous stalker ex scara concept)

Just,,, the fact that he's been so good and sweet ever since he casually slid himself into your friend group and you're not sure if you can trust him, yet here you are being completely, utterly, stupidly vulnerable in front of your very unstable ex. orz

Kuni's not one for parties; in fact, he'd much rather spend his precious time doing quiet, comfortable things with you (cuddling is so much healthier than drinking, after all! <3). Unfortunately, you allow your foolish friends to talk you into attending these brain-rotting parties so you can get drunk off your ass, and he can't let you attend them by yourself because there are too many risks. If you got too comfortable with Venti or Kazuha or even Tighnari while drunk, Kuni would never forgive you. >:( he's worked too hard cultivating this friendly image for himself, and he isn't going to let you or anyone else ruin it.

But right now everyone else is too inebriated to do much of anything, and he hasn't touched the drinks ever since he arrived, instead choosing to anchor himself to some forgotten corner of the room. He sulks and broods in silence, a scowl plastered to his face. He's just barely tolerating it for your sake. It's because he loves you that he's doing any of this. Soon you won't even need any of these troublesome friends. Soon you'll just have him, and he's all you really need. It was like that when you were growing up, after all. Even though, as painful as it is, you don't seem so codependent, so swept up in romance... You're so independent now, no longer the shy, fearful thing from the final few months of your relationship with him. He'd be impressed if he wasn't trying so hard to isolate you from each of your friends. It's a challenge when he's trying to tiptoe around Heizou's sharp, witty perception or Venti's proclivity for knowing everything about everyone despite no one knowing much about him.

But he endures. He's gone years without you; this is nothing.

If you were smarter, you'd know not to trust a word he says. That kind, soft smile he's perfected for this act is not to be believed, especially not when he's using it to assure your friends that he'll bring you home safe and sound. Heizou has his doubts because it's late and you can hardly walk a straight line, but he's tipsy just like the others and it's hard to deliberate like this. Besides, when has Kuni ever let the group down? :)

He takes you back to his dorm instead because Albedo's not home and he has the entire room to himself. While you meander clumsily over to his bed, kicking your shoes off and shucking your jacket in the process, he watches. You have no idea how much he depends on you, how much he admires you, so much so that it surpasses love and lust entirely. Without you, he's nothing. Or that's what he thinks because for the majority of his life he's felt empty and sub-human and so alone. But now you're here, and you can fill those empty spaces in his heart and give him a reason to keep living.

You don't seem particularly fazed when the bed dips under his weight. Rather, you blink sleepily up at him when he leans over you, gingerly reaching to help you out of your sweater. You're too drunk to protest or struggle, and you feel so dizzy every time you open your eyes. It's difficult to remain fully conscious when sleep is tugging at your body, pulling you under. You don't even realize he's fit his mouth on yours until his tongue is pushing past your lips. You manage to place your hands against his chest, intending to push him away, but you're so exhausted and tired. They fall to your sides, useless.

Kuni sits up and smiles at you. He says something about you being dumb and cute... or something about how your friends are fools. You don't really catch all of his obsessive murmurings when your attention is waning. Clothes are torn off; he kisses you a lot. You're not sure if you're reciprocating, but it certainly sounds that way when you're whining beneath him, arching against sodden sheets, your breaths coming in pants and huffs each time he ruts into you.

He doesn't have to worry about anything. Right now, it's just you and him in a corner of the world, locked away from everyone who might try to take you away from him. It's not like you'll remember much come morning. You don't need to anyway. It's better if you're lost and bewildered. That way he'll be able to craft a story to suit his fancy. You'll believe it. You'll have no choice, and Kuni knows how to tell very believable tales.

#genshin chit chat #astolfofo #yandere scaramouche #tw: noncon #n/sfw #omg wait....... what if you're best friends with furina and scara feels so threatened because all of your friends are male #(heizou venti kazuha tighnari etc)#but now you have furina who seems to cling to you and it rubs scara the wrong way and and and!!!!!#orz i need to write for furina she's so beloved <3 #(with a fem reader) furina's sapphic yearning versus scara's obsessive pining...........#OH NO AND LYNEY....... the mouchey and lyney rivalry T_T #AAAAAA or furina x reader x arlecchino........#so many thoughts are written here and they're scrambled please forgive me >_<

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qtubbo · 4 months

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Getting around to watching the actual Fitpac date from Pac’s pov, they are so stupidly cute together, genuinely them being friends for so long and having such a slow build to the “first” date made just being in the actual setting so sweet. They’re talking like friends, but like they can be more, everything's a bit more stressed and awkward but still friendly. It’s cute it’s so cute, I feel like I should close the vod and give them some proper alone time.

#qsmp #Pac vodblogging #Fitpac #qsmp pac #qsmp fit

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pedgito · 1 year

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Lol not me actually requesting something from someone yikes. But you asked for more Tom requests - what about you and best friend!Tom go on a night out with all your work mates after a long week and everyone keeps treating you like a couple so you play it up and flirt heavily with him but he gets flustered? If you could find a way to take this in a smutty direction I’d love you forever ♥️

author's note: this got a little wordy, i'm sorry, but i couldn't help myself.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), drinking/smoking, flirting, established friendships, oral (f recieving), tom being extra boyfriend-ish

word count: 5.6k

“A drink.” Tom promised, “Only one—come out with us.”

You were always reluctant to venture anywhere outside of work with coworkers. Tom was the only exception, but even that was few and far between.

And Tom’s friends - by association, your coworkers - weren’t the easiest to be around. They were friendly to a degree, but they were men. They get too rowdy and loud and say horrible things about women, whether you were around or not.

“Just boys being boys.” Your neighbor had told you, a sweet old lady who kept to herself, catching the boys huddled outside of Tom’s caravan on a sticky, hot Friday night.

You never understood it and Tom seemed to always take the brunt of whatever jokes they were telling, but he laughed anyway. He never took himself too seriously, not since Ruth.

He doesn't talk about her much anymore, only in passing when he brings up old memories, but he’s happier now—lighter and more carefree in the way he carries himself.

He’s a homebody like you, but he’s taking that leap and going on a wild night out, but not without dragging you along with him.

“Only one?” You've got an inkling that isn’t the truth, and Tom sinks a little, shoulders slumping over his soft, gray cotton shirt. “It’s never only one, Tom.”

“You know I don’t like ‘em,” You argued, scrunching your nose in disgust—it makes Tom chuckle every time, “they always got something to say, they’re always being mean toward you.”

Tom shrugs carelessly, “It’s just fuckin’ around. It doesn’t bother me.”

Except when it does. Except when it’s almost always cheap shot jokes aimed at his relationship with Ruth and how disastrous it’s ending was—how stupidly oblivious Tom had been to Ruth’s other interests.

Tom loved her. He couldn’t help it.

And growing up with Tom, you understood it. He loved and he loved hard, he protected the ones he cared about, he was always there, even when people weren’t there for him.

Maybe that was his downfall. But he’s standing here, pride on the line, begging you to go out for drinks despite knowing how much you hate drinking.

You sigh, using your pointer finger to scratch at the middle of your brow, along the bridge of your nose.

“I will break a fuckin’ nose if one of them even so much as makes a comment in my direction,” You warn, “or yours.”

Tom snickers softly, pulling you into a tight, warm hug outside of the small work shack, smelling like the sweet cereal he had eaten that morning, both of you still barely awake enough to be ready for the day.

“They mean well,” Tom defends weakly, not believing much in himself either as he says it, but you both ignore it, “either way, ya’ promised.”

“Did I?” You ask playfully, crossing your arms over your chest as you shrugged him away, “I must be losin’ my memory because I don’t remember that.”

“Not really,” Tom quickly admits, howling out a laugh as you shove him, “hey—we’re mates, that’s gotta count for something.”

“And what about them?” You ask, wondering how you were that much different.

Tom couldn’t put it into words, not now.

Things had changed the moment Ruth fled, the moment you started slipping into his daily routine. There was always a cup of warm tea sitting on his workspace every morning with your name on it.

“Gotcha a cuppa.” He’d mumble around the rim of his own cup.

Meanwhile you’re shoving a freshly packaged duo of sandwiches at his chest, his smile growing wide. One was never enough and you almost always stole half of the second—Tom never cared, the gesture was more than anything anyone had ever done for him.

He mentioned Ruth’s horrid attempt at pasta once and you nearly balked at the admission, hiding your laugh behind your hand. He’s never had your cooking, but Tom swears nothing can be worse than that.

“S’different.” Tom replies, a piss poor answer.

“Why? Because I’ve got tits?”

Tom hesitates for a brief moment, mouth opened up and posed for a witty remark. It’s drowned out by your hand slapping his bicep and a weary laugh from him as he speaks.

“Fucking hell, you said it! Not me.”

“Is it true?” You ask despite his pain, his fingers squeezing at the sore spot on his arm.

Tom would never see it that way. He didn’t care one way or the other. But, you two melded together easily; quick banter, easy but sharp jokes that neither of you took seriously. Things were genuine, unforced, and you were the only person he actually made an effort to see outside of work—everything else was just coincidence or coercion on the part of Tom’s other friends.

“No, no,” Tom says forcefully, seeming offended that you would even ask, “what—you think I’m like them too?”

Another shrug that Tom can’t decipher, your hand reaching for the doorknob, “Just checking—see you tonight.”

Tom snorts out a soft hmph, “Go easy on ‘em, yeah?”

“Not a fuckin’ chance.”

You’ve managed your way through two rounds of shots, taking the first one in stride before sipping gingerly at the second and sneaking it Tom’s way, letting him down the rest.

He’s got a hand on the small of your back, a comforting gesture but possessive nonetheless. It’s more of a, stay near me and don’t stray for your own good, type gesture—rather than a, you’re mine. Regardless, you lean into the touch and shove the third round of shots his way.

“Nice to see Tommy finally bring you out with him,” Jason, a friend of Tom’s you’ve only spoken to a few times, pipes up a few spots down the bar slab, “least he doesn’t talk about Ruth anymore”.

“Hey,” Tom replies in warning, throwing the shot back, “fuck off, man.”

Another one of his friends speaks up, the one that’s always a bit too rowdy, less filtered, and terrible at social cues.

“He’s right, mate—she’s a looker, too.”

The counter creaks in the silence that falls over, Tom’s touch tightening in the fabric of your wool knit sweater, a silent plea that begs you to back down.

He glanced around briefly, all eyes staring back at him.

“What—What did I say?”

“Thanks.” You reply, cutting through the awkward silence.

Tom visibly relaxed, clearing his throat and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He sways a little, his hand reaching out to rest on the barstool to steady himself.

“Alright, mate?” Jason asks, “Thought you had a little more in you than that—“ his eyes flick up toward you, teeth glinting behind a smirk, “seems like you’ve got a night ahead of you.”

The realization dawns on you, the closeness you two held—and with the thick skulls and empty heads of most of those men, they had no idea where your relationship with Tom landed, just that you two were close now and that had to mean you two were shagging, or at least thinking about it.

Tom goes red in the face, ears blossoming pink. It was partly the alcohol, but his hand drifting away from you is a small inclination that he sees the line being crossed—and maybe you were feeling a little bold tonight, but you lean further into him.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” You quirk your head at Tom slightly, his eyes bulging a little, “right, Tommy?”

It makes him squirm, the nickname sounding foreign on your tongue. He liked the way you said his name. Tom. It was light, but strong—you only ever said it when you were really trying to prove a point or get his attention, but it drove him mad in the best way.

He doesn’t know when the feelings developed or how they’ve gotten so intense, but standing in front of you now, watching you openly agree with the notion that you two might be going home together, even if it’s just a ruse to fuck with his friends, has his insides twisting in knots.

Tom laughs nervously, agreeing without thinking.

“Told you,” You hear a whisper, a jab of an elbow in the side of one of his other friends, briefly glancing up at Tom, “about time you finally move on from that odd one—Ruth, yeah? Girl always gave me a vibe, ya know?”

The bitter memories still linger, always reappearing at the sound of her name and you can see it, watching as he visibly recoils in on himself.

There’s no telling how often this happens, how frequently they leave Tom at the end of the line, constantly directing their bad, poorly timed jokes at him.

You roll your eyes, remembering Tom’s plea to remain civil, instead directing your attention toward him, hoping that whatever bold course of action you decided to take would deter his friends away.

“Dunno what she was thinking, he’s a keeper,” You interrupt, shoving Tom gently with your shoulder, “sweet, a good fuckin’ laugh—“

“Least one of us is getting laid, yeah?”

A weird course of questions to take, but again—boys will be boys.

“It’s a wonder.” You joke coarsely, but Tom notices the hint of your deadpan delivery, biting on his bottom lip to stifle the laugh threatening to escape.

Tom looks flushed still, finger tracing the outline of his shot glass as a line of Guinessen hits the bar top—it’s his weakness, always getting him absolutely hammered. You’ve seen it once, cleaned it off his couch after a wild night out and him showing up at your doorstep in tears. The night was blurry now, but there were a lot of secrets spilled, learning more about Tom than you’d ever planned, and in turn, a few things about yourself.

It’s part of the reason you don’t mind flirting with Tom. He’s always been there, a guy that was easily everything you could see yourself starting your life with.

After a while, you spill into a booth. It’s a large round table with just enough room for everyone, except you. Tom nearly offers his own seat up, but you’re moving before he can decide, squeezing yourself onto his lap.

He visibly stiffens, his hand scolding hot against your skin from where it’s resting in the curve of your hip.

You catch the long, offstandish looks from across the table—a couple guys you didn’t know at all, snickering at Tom’s discomfort (or nervousness, it seemed) and making it even worse on him.

He doesn’t blame you—you were trying to make things less awkward, ease the burden, but now he has no clue how to respond. Touch you more? Touch you less? Does he go bold and make a move or should he just excuse himself and say it’s been a long day and head home.

And if you weren’t annoyed before, you were surely annoyed now and feeling a bit too protective over Tom as you look over, his face in perfect eyeline with your own.

“Too much?” He mouths, his legs parting slightly as you straddle his thigh, the movement nudging you forward and against the table, ass sliding back an inch.

Neither of you speak on it, but you can feel it. He tenses even more, but it seems less nervous.

You shake your head, glancing up at the two obnoxious men briefly before returning to him, “Not enough.” You whisper, lips grazing against his temple at the action, leaning back to look at him for a moment.

He almost panics, but then you’re leaning in and all Tom can do is adapt. He brought this on himself, he remembers. He asked you out tonight, practically begged, and now he was reaping the consequences.

Not that this could be considered a punishment, far from it, actually.

“Just act like you enjoy it, for their sake.” You tell him softly, a word of warning before your lips are colliding with his own.

They’re soft, not at all a surprise. Your thumb rubs at the joint of his jaw, the beginnings of stubble growing there, a few days past his most recent shave and he makes a noise, something that gets caught in his throat but you feel it, the sound vibrating against the fingers pressed on the side of neck. He opens his mouth briefly (probably to interrupt) and you jump on the chance, sliding your tongue past his lips to graze against his own, and he sighs against you, open-mouthed and husky.

And just when you feel satisfied enough to pull away, Tom pulls you back in, eliciting a few wolf whistles from his friends.

“Seems like someone’s leaving early tonight.”

Tom pulls away with a deep chuckle, avoiding whatever expression was on your face when he looks away—luckily you’re good at masking the surprise of him going in for seconds, and it’s unspoken, but the energy thrumming between you both was high.

It was better excuse than any, eyebrows raising in question at Tom, silently praying and hoping he would put your misery to end and agree to leaving.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tom nods slowly, turning back to you sheepishly—there’s something behind his eyes, those wide, beautiful eyes; but he forces it back, turning back to his friends, “you assholes drink enough for me, yeah?”

“Not a problem, mate.”

The keys jingle around Tom’s finger as the heavy door closes behind you, gravel shifting under your feet.

“So,” Tom drags out, chewing at the inside of his cheek, “what was all that about?”

You turn back to him slightly, seeing him stuck in place, leaning against the brick wall now, still and unmoving.

“You like being shit on like that?” You ask, deadpan and serious.

“Oh, what are you on about?” Tom asks, a groan on the horizon as he tips his head back, reaching for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket—he’s been nursing it for a few weeks, only smoking when he’s feeling really stressed, but now it seemed as a means to avoid the conversation.

You were having none of it.

“It’s always like this,” You argue, yanking the small pack from his grip and tossing it in the trash, “don’t start with that—you only ever smoke around them, you only act a certain way around them—what is it, Tom? What are you trying to prove?”

“Nothin’—why do you care even?” Tom asks, hands splayed out in midair, still confused at your sudden outburst. “Know what, I’ll do you one better—the hell was that in there? Flirting with me, kissing me—“

“And you needed to have your hands on me all night?” You counter, a vicious response that has Tom recoiling in on himself, “What exactly are you telling those fuckers when I’m not around?”

“You think I talk to them like that?” Tom asks, offended by the accusation.

“Nice to see you finally bringing her out with you,” You mock in a low voice, lazily stepping toward Tom, arms folded over your chest in defense, a way to comfort yourself, “finally—really?”

“S’not my doing!” Tom snaps, forehead creasing in frustration as he pushes from the wall, meeting you halfway in your walk toward him, “They’re always talkin’ about how you look at me, touching me all the time—they just assumed.”

“Assumed what, Tom?” You ask carefully, voice soft but dangerous—a double-edged sword that worries Tom.

You’re lucky the parking lot is barren of people, everyone packed inside the bar. Tom sighs, a forceful breath through his nose.

“That why you ask me out tonight?” You question, “Tryin’ to paint me as yours, are you?”

“Fuck,” Tom groans in exasperation and the expletive shouldn’t invade your mind that easily, the audible frustration in his voice as he continues, “s’just—we’re close, ya know. They have questions, I never tell them anything. I’d never—I wouldn’t do that.”

You let out a short, bitter laugh. Tom seems to have sobered a little at that, despite the alcohol on his breath.

“What? Don’t take me for a good shag, no?” You tease, the words hitting Tom fast and hard and he’s interrupting just as quick.

“You lost your fuckin’ mind?” Tom asks, your silence a louder response than ever, “I meant I’d never disrespect you like that.”

You shake your head slightly, stubbornly. Tom can’t take it anymore, full to the brim with annoyance at how dense you’re being.

He can’t help how easily you drive him mad, to the point of rash decisions and thoughts and he’s hauling forward before he can think, gripping your forearm to pull you around the back wall of the bar, a dark alley hidden away from everything else and private, quiet.

“Fuck is your problem?” You ask, yanking your arm away.

“You.” Tom answers boldly, chest heaving heavily, struggling to take the deep breaths he knows he should.

“I was only trying to ease the teasing, Tom.” You reassure him, “They were laughing and I didn’t think—I kissed you to shut them up and I’m sorry but—“

“But?” Tom reiterates, eyebrows raising inquisitively.

“You didn’t need to kiss me back.”

“And I did.”

You nod slowly, taking a long, calming breath despite your heart hammering in your chest. It was anger and everything that came with it, but it was also fear, excitement, the type of things that cloud your thinking and lead you toward making bad choices.

Was this a bad choice?

Tom’s eerily quiet, eyes directed toward the ground and hand rubbing the tense muscle of his neck.

You sigh quietly, speaking first.

“Let’s go.” You tell him, eyes pleading when he looks up at you. “Please?”

Tom relents, but the drive back is anything but easy; because everything with Tom was easy and now—you couldn’t even look at him.

He pulls into his driveway before yours, forcing you to finally speak up.

“Tom, this isn’t mine.” You remind him, wondering if he was as hammered as his friends were teasing him about.

“No shit,” His voice cracks when he talks, “Come on.”

When you’re finally inside, no arguments to be had, Tom’s reaching into the fridge and pulling out a pair of beer bottles, cracking open the lids against his chipped countertop. He forces the beer into your hand, motion toward the small dining table.

“I’m not in the mood for drinking, Tom.�� You reply, taking the seat he demands, eyes following your movements.

“You drive me mad.” Tom admits, his teeth seething around the word, taking a long sip that spills down his lips briefly, the bottle ringing as it hits the table, his fingers tracing the perspiration as the silence grows, your heart swelling in your chest.

Tom had a habit of leaving you speechless—usually it was crass jokes and ridiculous things you couldn’t find the nerve to respond to, but this was different.

“I promise ‘em weeks ago that I would go out,” Tom admits, “and it was stupid of me to think you wanted to hang out with them—I should’ve blown them off, grown a fuckin’ pair and invited you out.”

“Tom—“ You interrupt softly.

“It’s not that I’m scared,” Tom continues, “just don’t wanna ruin what we have—but there’s so much—I can’t help thinkin’ about you and not in the way makes you an absolute nuisance sometimes—“

“Oh, fuck you.” You retort, a giggle settling in your chest.

“I dunno if you even look at me that way,” Tom shrugs, feeling ridiculous, “but I can’t lie to you anymore.”

“Tom,” You start again, his name on your tongue making his cock twitch in his pants, “I make you fuckin’ lunch everyday, I suffer going out with your obnoxious friends, I let you hang all over me and you think I don’t look at you that way—“

“Should’ve done things like this,” Tom laughs to himself, self-deprecating and sipping at the lingering few ounces left in the bottle, “dunno why I forced you out tonight.”

“You didn’t force me,” You shrug, “—didn’t force me to kiss you either.”

Tom laughs slightly, his body shaking with the movement.

“Where do we go from here?” Tom asks, feeling lost in this area anymore, after Ruth.

“Tom,” You say, voice lingering and teasing as you glare at him, head cocked to the side, “you brought me back here, didn’t you?”

He nods, unsure of where you were going. It’s sweet, endearing in the idea that he’s completely lost.

You make the first move, resting the half empty bottle on the countertop behind him before you’re shifting over his lap, the contact of your bare thighs against his palms bringing him back to the surface, half empty beer bottle clanging to the floor behind you—

“Fuck, the mess—“ You glance back toward the noise but Tom’s quickly distracting you, a hand on the side of your face to guide you back to him.

“Yeah,” He nods, “fuck it.”

You nod silently in agreement, smiling as he leans forward to press his lips against yours. It’s hesitant, new, different from the kiss in the bar—that was performative, a means to an end.

This kiss was everything else. A first for you both—it was the first time Tom had kissed anyone outside of Ruth and for you, it was strange, kissing your best friend. But, it felt good. It felt right.

Tom sighs into your mouth, lips parting in a motion that allows his tongue to slip out, testing the waters as he grazes your top lip, his brow furrowing in concentration as your thighs tighten against his hips, rising on your knees as his hands traverse and explore lower, his fingers grazing the skin under your skirt, the loose fabric bunching around your hips, feeling futile and useless.

It’s not long before there’s less coordination and more of your bodies rubbing against each other in a desperate need for relief, kisses having melded into breathing wantonly into each other’s mouths and Tom is the first to speak, breaking the comfort silence that had fallen over.

“S’not fair,” He whines softly, his hands appearing at your neck, fingers disappear into the root of your hair as he angles your chin up, giving him perfect access to exactly where he wanted to be, his lips latching onto the skin and your pulse stuttering under the touch, “god, it’s not fair.”

You pull back curiously, fingertips grazing the red tips of his ears, a sated smile on his. “What are you on about?”

“I promised myself I wouldn’t rush into things again,” Tom admits, his voice low, like he’s telling a secret he shouldn’t, “I’ve only ever been with her, haven’t been with anyone since—don’t wanna disappoint you.”

“That’s too bad,” You pout slightly, feeling a buzz flow through you, and given that you don’t drink often, it seems like that may be the culprit, “really wanted to get off tonight, but—“

“No, no—fuck, s’just, I don’t have anything here.” Tom explains, “It’s not on my mind lately, plus it’s usually just me—“

“Oh?” You perk up, voice airy as lean into, lips grazing his own briefly. He huffs a short laugh into your mouth.

“Yeah, sorry—“

“Don’t be,” You swiftly assure him, “M’not judging. It’s kind of…sweet, actually.”

“That I’m jackin’ off every night?” Tom asks, pulling back with an ire of confusion on his face. “Love, I think you’ve had too much to drink—“

“That you’re not fucking a different girl every other night—not that there’s anything wrong with it. But, look at James,” Tom nods knowingly, “he up and skipped town because he knocked that one girl up, the last thing on my mind is kids or relationship, but I like you, Tom.”

“I’d hope so,” He chuckles, “since you’re already pressed up against my cock and all—can’t even tell you the last time I thought about another girl that wasn’t you.”

You settle slightly, cunt pressed tightly against the zipper of his jeans, the hard and heavy line of his cock pressing against you. Tom hisses at the contact.

“So, you’re touching yourself to me?”

“S’that bad?” He asks, hoping it won’t send you running in the other direction.

You shake your head, adding a small tilt of your hips to drive him deeper into insanity, his hands latching onto your hips in an instant.

“Wanna tell me what you’re thinkin’ about?”

“Right now?” Tom asks, answering before you can respond, “You. This—how I’m probably gonna wake up and it’s just some fucked up dream I’m havin, my mind teasing me.”

You laugh at his rambling, pulling him back into focus with a cant of your hips, hands slipping under the hem of his shirt and pressing against bare skin, the soft outline of his toned chest. He’s proper fit, not defined, but he’s solid and sturdy and has enough strength to lift the heavy piles of supplies at work.

“I meant when you touch yourself, Tom.”

“Oh, uh—mostly your tits, I guess.” Tom admits, “You never button your tops when we work, can’t help it. And uh, your mouth.”

You nod in response, lending your lips to press against the side of his jaw, mouth a wet, sloppy trail along the skin.

“Yeah—yeah, like that, but—“ Tom sighs shakily, his fingers digging into the soft, suppleness of your ass, thumbs pressing against your hip bones and rubbing you slowly against his groin, “mostly on my cock, too.”

“Is that what you want?” You ask softly, “My mouth around your cock?”

Tom laughs nervously, “Yeah—I just—I got something else in mind.”

“Yeah?” You question, the tone in his voice making you curious, body straightening as you look at him.

“Yeah,” He confirms, “Table.”

It’s a one word response. Not a question or a statement. A demand. And normally you’d throw a hundred questions his way, but you can’t be bothered, quickly lifting yourself up a few inches to sit atop the table, sturdier than you expected.

“You trust me, yeah?” Tom asks, more reassuring himself than you, but he needed to hear it.

“With everything.” You answer without hesitation, watching as he sank to his knees, hands wrapping around your upper thighs to pull your ass flush with the edge of the table. “Why?”

“Just checking.” He shrugs, lopsided smirk painting his face.

That was the Tom you knew, the one you saw everyday. The one that cracked jokes and playfully shoved you out of his way when he was walking down the hall toward the arcade, the one who, despite his obnoxious tendencies, would kneel to tie your laces back up when they came undone.

Except now he was kneeling for different reasons, pupils blown wide as he yanked at your underwear, slipping them over the tattered shoes still stuck to your feet, knowing that all of this was spur of the moment and rushed. You were both running on pure adrenaline and booze, but there were worse ways to spend your night.

“You ever—“ Tom lingers around the words, not saying but implying.

You shrug, noncommittal.

“Only a few times. Never came, though.”

It always sucked. Tom gets the idea, smiling slightly as he leans, teeth latching into the flowy material of your skirt and dragging it up, his lips dragging along the soft skin of your stomach as his nose nudges the sweater up too.

You were braless underneath, unbeknownst to him. He could figure it out himself, but at the moment, he was much too eager to delve in and consume you.

He latches onto you with no warning, lips suckling at your clit for a brief moment, an intense sensation that has you keening off the table, fingers disappearing into his hair and holding on tight, his short cropped curls giving little to keep you grounded.

He moans still, trailing down to dip his tongue inside of you, a feeling that is indescribable to you now, lost in the feeling.

It’s ridiculous. No one - not a single fucking soul - should be this good, this easily tuned in to your body, but Tom knows. He knew everything and nothing in the same note and it drives you mad. He knew you—your deepest insecurities, your darkest secrets, the weird little quirks you had when you thought no one was watching. But he also knew you and everything that made you tick; the moans and whimpers fell like a flood, his tongue working tirelessly against your cunt, all soaking and wet as it drenched his mouth, his chin, the ludicrous sound enough to make anyone embarrassed. Your head falls back, hands moving away from his hair to grip the table for purchase and he’s tapping at your thighs for attention, a small movement of his finger.

And he’s staring—full on grinning behind what part of your cunt was covering his face, skirt having fallen slightly and bunched into his hand to keep it away.

He’s daring you to look at him, watch him bring you to the edge and let him watch as you fall apart.

You let him—but it’s a steep reminder of how easily you’d let him do anything; just a look and you were done for. His eyes said a lot, even in the moments when you were silent, staring each other down from across the room.

You clench around the tongue that’s buried inside you, his nose rubbing against your clit in a beautiful accident, forcing a surprised gasp from your chest as you lean forward, nearly sitting upright.

“Oh, right there,” You acknowledge, voice light and airy, “fuck, right there, Tom.”

He moved up a fraction, tongue flicking over your clit wildly, stopping briefly with a question posed on his lips, all shiny and wet with you.

“Your tits—can I see them?”

He feels silly, like he’s back in school and asking a girl for the first time and you laugh, which makes it even more nerve wracking.

“Thought you said it wasn’t because of the tits,” You tease, “that I’m just like all your other mates.”

“You know you’re not,” He tells you, “you’ve never—you’re so much more, you know that.”

You smile slightly, nose scrunching up at the action as you stare at him accusingly, “Alright then, go on.”

He looks surprised almost that you’re asking him, leaning forward an inch more until his hands can sift under your sweater, pulling the fabric over your head in one fluid movement.

He’s stricken, eyes wide and puppy dogged as he licks at his bottom lip, rising slightly as he nods toward your chest, “You were like that all night?”

You nod shyly, feeling bashful as his hands graze your sides, thumbs rubbing along the underside of your breasts. He’s drinking you in, distracted enough that he doesn’t feel your hand graze the front of his jeans until you have them half undone, fingers toying with the waistband of his boxers.

“How long you been like this?” You ask, hands grazing over the small wet patch in the material, fingers cupping the hard line of his cock, shoving his jeans down an inch further. “Since we got here, since we left that bar—“

Your words drift and lull, dragging out as he felt ashamed to admit it.

“Wasn’t that bad until you sat on my lap,” Tom admits, “and then you fuckin’ kissed me—“

“Yeah?” You reply, pulling him forward gently by the front of his shirt, pressing your lips against his in a messy exchange, tasting you on him. He moans brokenly, the shift pulling you closer and pressing your bare cunt against his dick, ruining the material further, “You mean like that?”

Tom nods desperately, wanting nothing more to fuck you against every square foot of his trailer.

“S’getting late, Tommy.” You say, a tad antagonizing as you pull away, staring at him sternly, “Should I leave?”

“Fuck, sorry. Sorry.” He apologizes, leaning down swiftly to capture your pebbled nipple between his teeth, mouthing brief at the valley of your breasts in a way that has you giggling out loud before he’s sinking back down and burying his face into your cunt, relentless as his pace is furious from the jump.

His fingers join gradually, thick digit sinking into your pussy and clenching, the movements of his tongue deliberate of your clit as he finds that sweet spot, curling his finger inside you until you’re gasping out loud, both hands shifting to cradle his head.

He encourages it, a small noise of acknowledgement as he moans against you, silently begging you to take what you need, riding out the high of your orgasm against his tongue as you come.

“Hu–oh, fuck.” You sigh, his mouth overstimulating as he laps you up, “Tom–fuck, Tom, too much.”

Tom laughs, finally releasing you to nestle between your legs, smoothing your skirt down as he hooks you knees around his hips, “Come ‘ere,” Tom whispers, tipping your chin up until you lean forward, connecting your lips in a gentle kiss.

“Tom–Tom, hey,” You tell him softly, trying to garner his attention, hands reaching for his opened jeans, “let me–”

“Mmm, yeah–’s okay.” Tom assures you, looking sheepish as he glances down toward your fingers trailing against the thick band of his boxers, “I uh, already came.”

“Oh,” Your voice is small, a smile creeping on your face, “O–Okay.”

“Next time.” He assures you, nodding slightly as your grin grows wider.

“Next time?” You reiterate, tone playful and inquisitive.

“Uh, unless I’m reading this wrong,” Tom recoils, “I mean, you’re half naked on the table I fuckin’ eat on, s’not like I planned to kick you after either.”

“We’re really not mates anymore, are we?” You ask, watching as he cracks a laugh, shaking his head.

“Don’t think we ever were.”

And considering your current situation, you don’t think things could ever go back to how they used to be, but you didn’t want them to.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#tom grant x you #tom grant x y/n #tom grant x reader #tom grant smut #tom grant make up #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #tom grant #joseph quinn #my writing

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cupid-styles · 6 days

Note

WEED/INTOX CONCEPTS IM SO UP !!!!!!

soft plug!h x sunshine reader who buys from him and he has a huge crush on her but shes a little oblivious and he always tries to be extra nice to her and give her more than she paid for in hopes of her talking to him more and maybe one night she buys from him and invites him to stay and maybe smoke w her bc its raining and she feels bad she made him come all the way to her house and they smoke and he cant stop staring at her and its very fluffy and cute

i love down bad plugrry

thoughts?? :D

AWWWW that's so cute :(((( I love the thought of him being a softie!! I actually started writing a plug!y/n blurb awhile ago and I just never finished it, but it was kind of like this where she was just the soft plug instead of him BUT he was still super down bad for her </3333

I'm not sure if the completed blurb will ever see the light of day but here's a little bit of it under the cut!

CWs: weed (obviously) lol

word count: 414

Harry doesn’t actually need any weed.

However, this doesn’t stop him from texting the cute girl who sells nuggets of weed and bundles of shrooms in adorable pastel pink baggies. He met Y/N through friends a few months back — she was roommates with Lena in college and apparently had a knack for making edibles that got you to a smooth high without completely melting your brain. The second she introduced herself to him, with her bright smile and sweet voice, Harry was hooked.

Stupidly, ridiculously hooked.

The thing is, Harry doesn’t even like weed that much. He’ll smoke at parties every now and then, but it’s usually just one or two hits from a friend’s joint before he returns to drinking whatever tequila-based cocktail he’s palming in his hand. But she’s so sweet, and cute, and she keeps her drugs in a canvas tote bag that says “support your local public library.” How was Harry not supposed to fall for her?

And yeah, he bought some pre-rolled joints from her a week and a half ago at Mitch and Sarah’s housewarming party — his heart nearly collapsed to his stomach when he saw the adorable strawberry rolling papers she used — but he misses her. It’s dumb, considering they barely know one another, but it’s a Wednesday evening and he can’t stop thinking about the warm scent of her perfume and the pretty, flushed hue of her lips.

So, he texts her.

Their entire text thread is filled with Harry being stupidly obvious about his feelings for her, thinly veiled by requests for deliveries and pick-ups. Tonight is no different: Hey Y/N, hope you’re having a good week :) do you think I can come pick up tonight?

She replies almost immediately as Harry drums his fingers nervously on his thigh. His stomach dips when he reads her response. Of course!!!!! :) come by whenever ur free !

He swallows tightly when she follows it up with another message: also im making veggie pasta if u haven’t eaten dinner yet! I made too much and it never reheats well! you’re more than welcome to it if u’d like :))))

Typically when he buys weed from her, their interactions are far too short for his liking. They engage in friendly small talk and she giggles at whatever bad jokes he makes, but they’ve never actually hung out one-on-one. The thought makes Harry prickle with nerves, but he knows he’d be foolish not to take her up on her offer.

#bestie asks #plug!y/n

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theratboyking · 1 year

Text

Mine

Pairing: Copia/Reader, Papa Emeritus IV/ Reader

word count: 666 (Let's goooooooo)

Summary: The number of times he had taken you in his office, Primo’s garden, hell, even the kitchen one time was becoming too many times to count. It was starting to get out of hand, but the way he always seemed to make your toes curl as he fucked you stupidly always made you forget how annoyed you were getting from it.

Warnings: This is little pure smut, MDI, Not proofread.

AO3 Link

Masterlist

“Who do you belong to?” Copia’s voice was a low growl. His thrust was relentless, only growing with urgency with each passing moment. All you could do was hold on for dear life as he fucked into you. Each thrust hits that sweet spot that only he seemed to know where it was, leaving you breathless.

Moaning, you let your head fall to the side. Thinking about what led you to this– What you thought was nothing more than a friendly interaction between you and a fellow sibling had somehow led to you being dragged out of the room by Copia. You’ve never seen him so possessive before. Something in him changed since he had become Papa. No one can look at you for longer than a few minutes before Copia’s jealousy takes over. Despite your constant reassurance that you only had eyes for him–his days as the shy cardinal that no one but you seemed to give a glace to still haunted him.

The number of times he had taken you in his office, Primo’s garden, hell, even the kitchen one time was becoming too many times to count. It was starting to get out of hand, but the way he always seemed to make your toes curl as he fucked you stupidly always made you forget how annoyed you were getting from it.

You really couldn't say how many times you’ve cummed by now, and you were pretty sure everyone in the Abbey could hear you both, but fuck, you really couldn't bring yourself to care.

Copia refused to allow you to think of anything else but him.“Eyes on me, cara.” He takes his hand and brings your face so your eyes stare back into his. “Tell me, cara, or else I’ll have to stop.”

“You! Fuck, I’m yours!” You finally manage to get out, not wanting him to stop.

“That’s right. You belong to me.” His pace quickens, if that was even possible. Fucking you stupid. “This pussy belongs to me. No one else can make you feel how I make you feel.”

“Yes, you. All you, papa” He thrusts deeper into you, letting out his own breathless moans.

“Mine. Mine. All mine!”

Each word is followed but a thrust of his hips. Punctuating of each word drives his point home. His hands dug into your hips, sure to leave bruises in the morning. You were so lost in bliss and rapidly approaching orgasm that you didn’t care. Your only focus was on him. Always on him.

“Cum for me, amore mia” His hand touched your sensitive clit, rubbing circles. You cried, overstimulated from all the attention he had been so pleased to give you.

It did not take long for you to fall over the edge. Cumming with a shrill cry as white overtakes your vision. Then, all you could see were stars as he continued to thrust into you, chasing his own rapidly approaching releases.

“giusto, sborrami sul cazzo” It was nothing more than a rumble in his chest.

His release was not far behind. His thrusts lost the rhythm he had created but were no less powerful. It only took a few more for him to cum into you with a cry, his face coming to rest on your neck–biting down hard to show everyone just who you belonged to.

You both stay like that for a moment, desperately trying to catch your breath. Copia lifts his head. Bring his lips to yours for a loving kiss, pulling out of you before resting on your other side.

“Hai fatto così bene amore mio” He whispers into your hair. “I’m sorry if I was a bit rough amore mia.” He pulled away to look down at you.

“You have nothing to apologize for, my love.” You bring yourself so that you’re level with him. “I’ll always be your, my sweet Copia.” Bringing him in for a chiseled kiss. Settling in his arms, wanting to be nowhere else.

#the band ghost #ghost bc #cardinal copia #ghost #ghost band #copia #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa emeritus smut #papa emeritus x reader

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autisticlancemcclain · 5 months

Text

fic rec friday 50

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

you've got to take a chance on something, sometime by spirkylurkey

Lance McClain is the office secretary. Salesman Keith is smitten, but Lance is dating Lotor from Corporate. (An Office AU in which I just TORTURE PINING KEITH)

I LOVE THIS FIC. im not generally huge on office aus, but i LOVE this one. messy gay love triangles, GNC lance, and pining keith being the one who shows UP. god i love them. and keith. just so goddamn badly. he is loyalty personified.

2. Something Borrowed, Something Blue, by @shyfoxes

Keith asks Shiro to help him make Lance a betrothal necklace. The results are less than stellar, but that’s okay. ATLA AU.

atla au!!! proposal fic!!! 2016 fic!!! dorky broganes!!!! this fic is so fucking cute. also this line: "He stepped aside to let Keith in then swiftly kicked him in the behind as revenge." is siblings at the core of them truly

3. Kitten Sneezes by @tomminowrites

Imagine: Keith’s kitten sneezes - The Red paladin wiggles his face desperately, trying to cram the sneeze back down to the depths. Instead, the feeling just crescendos, until… “ha-tchu!” There’s a beat of silence. Then Hunk and Lance are cooing into the mics with an infuriating awwwwwww.

keith having kitten sneezes is so goddamn funny to me. like here is this gruff guy who is awkward but does his best and is also obsessed with knives. and when he sneezes it sounds like a cat. ALSO. lance calls keith kitten in this

4. to tell the truth by @tomminowrites

Other than a few scuffs on his armor, Lance looks unharmed - but he just stares stupidly at the Red paladin’s outstretched hand instead of trying to rise. Keith leans closer. “The fight’s still on, you coming?” Lance looks up suddenly. “Dude you… you have really beautiful eyes, did you know that? I feel like nobody has told you that.” Uhhhhhhh. -- Lance is hit with a truth serum, and his unintended honesty hour will continue until Voltron finds the cure planet-side. Keith, meanwhile, can't shake off the part where Lance is... flirting? With him??

this is the only truth serum fic ive ever really liked bc it's super respectul u know?? doesn't rly feel like it's crossing boundaries. just sweet and funny. lance flirting with keith like its fact is so real

5. Starsong by @tomminowrites

The paladins are crewmates aboard a mercenary space vessel, sent to the outer reaches of the system to investigate the recent disappearance of Empire ships. Keith discovers that the ship's captain, Sendak, has actually been hired to capture a different prize: mermaids. With siren calls that interfere with ship scanners and songs that mimic the distress beacons of friendly crafts, astral mermaids are a threat commonly believed to be myth among most spacefarers. But when lives are at stake, the crew is soon to discover that one among them is not quite as human as he appears to be...

i feel like there's NO way i havent recced this before but onward regardless!!! this fic has the COOLEST premise ever like holy shit. mermaids?? who SWIM in SPACE?? among the STARS??? LIKE???and in an au with an atlantis like crew??? SIGN ME UP

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

#i love that last one so bad its so cool #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #bamf lance #soft klance #broganes #fic rec #fic rec friday #longpost

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fanaticsnail · 13 days

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late to the game because i've been out all day but 🥺😇 tell me more about kissaphobic or speak up~ I'm excited for both of them aslkdjklgjfd but asking just about speak up feels almost like cheating in the ask game lmao >w>;; - @remisloves (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

Hi Remi! I hope you had a great day out!!

You love your Kid and Killer, I see you 😏.

Kissaphobic: Eustass Kid has a crush. A big crush. A crush so big, he’s mad about it. He finds himself drawn into you, seeking you out to sit beside, hunting you to receive your approval and vocal praise - but he will never take it further. His emotions swell so much that it truly frightens him. He is afraid to act on the feelings. He’s kissaphobic.

Themes: fluff, swf, kissing, pining, longing, yearning, unrequited love (Kid assuming) - all those good things.

Notes: the way I can't wait to write Kid angry at himself for being so stupidly in love. I'm still working out the kinks, but I'm almost hellbent on making this reader a Heart-Pirate. The teasing from the crew about reader's "not so secret admirer" makes me all giddy inside. Only thing is, last Kid fic I wrote the reader was also a Heart-Pirate. I gotta work out how to make it a little different.

Kissaphobic: "Your mouth is a hurricane // something sweet before the pain."

Speak Up: Admiring from afar, your eyes followed your captain and his loyal first mate. The way they balanced each other: the rise in their rapport, the friendly claps of palms on shoulders in support of one another, the way they flawlessly picked up where the other slacked. You adored them both so much it made your heart ache, your lungs scream, and throat swell: choking on petals of unrequited love coating your tongue in their floral presence.

Themes: angst, unrequited love (reader assuming x Kid), throuple dynamics, kissing, hanahaki disease, mutual pining (Killer x reader) - I can't wait to carve this one out for you!!

Notes: I have only written hanahaki once before, and I'd never heard about it before then. Confrontational Kid and Supportive Killer both in the same fic, having the reader so overcome with adoration it nearly kills them? I can't even. I love it. Better yet if they take the reader to Torao or Chopper to ask them what's going on with them.

Linger: "But I'm in too deep // you know I'm such a fool for you // you've got me wrapped around your finger"

I'm going through a phase with these two. I'm meant to be loyal to Beckman, but Kid is right there. And his hair looks so soft. And he comes part and parcel with his first mate, Killer. Who's hair also looks so soft.

("Snail, your 'former-hairdresser' is showing")

Thank you for your ask!

#one piece #x reader #kid #killer #ask snail #snail answers #ask game #wip game

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after-witch · 1 year

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Regarding all the fae talk, I love the idea of a darling making friends with a faerie and being like "I'm _______, thank you for the food!" and later reading up on faerie lore and going ".... :/ well shit". The next time darling and faerie meet up the darling starts to question the faerie's intentions with them and if their friendship was ever genuine...

Oh, no, but this is such a fun idea to play around with.

What if the faerie starts off simply wanting to trick the reader darling, you know? They don't pay much attention to individual humans, and they're in the mood to drain someone's life or trick them into their world or whatnot, and you seem like such an easy mark.

And they're right! You trust them without an inkling of suspicion even though you know what they are, your eyes all wide and gaze all admiring. You gab away, revealing details about yourself, you eat the food they offer without a hint of suspicion-- you even thank them (you delightfully stupid thing) and tell them your name and skip off like you've done nothing wrong in the world.

And at first they think, well, the next time this dumb human wanders by, I'm going to get them. I got what I need to take them, after all. Might as well avoid having to chase after them.

But then you show up and this time, you're the one bringing food and you're thrusting some homemade picnic into their arms before they can so much as sputter, and it's back to talking and smiling.

They hate to be rude when you've (again, stupidly) been so generous with them, so they'll get you next time, they tell themselves.

That's what they say the next time, too... and the next... and the next.

Until at some point they aren't thinking much about tricking or hurting you when you show up. They look forward to it. They love the way you ask about their day and take interest in them, they love how friendly, how sweet, how soft and trusting you are. You tell them some sad little human secrets that they keep in their pocket like little treasures.

Before either of you know it, the two of you are... friends.

It just so happens that around this time, you decide to check out some books on fae lore from your library, and realize all of your mistakes. Giving your name. Eating their food. Answering their questions.

This time, when you show up to meet them, you're not all smiles. Instead, you're crying and your face is twisted in hurt and betrayal.

You want to know--"Was it ever real? Was it all a trick? Did it mean nothing?"

And oh, oh you look so beautiful when you cry, tears glistening on your lashes like dewdrops. They want to kiss them off.

They take you in their arms (they're stronger than you realized) and promise to show you just how genuine their feelings are--no matter how long it takes.

Or where you go, together.

#yandere fae

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madame-fear · 1 year

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Hello, Amira! I have an idea for you, something I’ve been thinking about for some time.

Jacaerys introduces his best friend Cregan Stark to Lucerys and reader. Luke immediately notices Cregan took some interest in her. He would often talk to you and invite you for a walk, making Luke burn with jealousy. After all, Cregan is older and stronger while he is a young man of 18 years old. But reader only has eyes for Lucerys.

Anyways, I just wanted jealous Lucerys and add Cregan to it.

YESSS I CAN SEE THIS HAPPENING.

The very first moment Luke and you were introduced to Cregan Stark by Jace, our little dragon would've noticed that Cregan would seem to have a particular interest for you. Always fixing his stare on you, and being too friendly and kind around yourself.

This very first thing that he notices, would make Luke to begin feeling slightly jealous. Even if he tries to dismiss it, or ignore it, he can't. He can notice Cregan beginning to take a fond liking for you from the second you met, and it just makes him clench his jaw in silence, getting leisurely overwhelmed with a suffocating sensation of pure jealousy.

Cregan would begin to be around you more often. Always talking to you, making you laugh at stupid jokes, inviting you out for walks together — or even, gifting you flowers! And right there, Lucerys slight jealousy would become more intense in a rapid span of time, making it quite obvious.

His green eyes would always be fixed on Cregan while he talks to you/gifts you something, crossing his arms and huffing when he sees him making you laugh, staying silent for too long, etc. The flames of jealousy would burn fierely deep inside of him, not allowing him to think properly and see that you could never replace him. And of course, his insecurity about himself would begin to pick on him, but wouldn't say a single thing to you.

Though, even if he doesn't say anything about it, you can notice his sudden change of behaviour. And of course, his facial expressions.

“Luke?” you ask him, sweetly. “Is everything alright? You've lately been... silent, different.” imquiring him, your gaze ascended to stare into his hazel eyes, as you rested your head on his shoulder. With a notoriously forced, slightly thin-shaped smile, he looked down at you, as his arm was around your body. “Different?” he spoke. “No, I'm not. I'm alright, everything's alright.” lucerys responder quickly, looking elsewhere so you wouldn't notice his jealous gaze at the thought of Cregan having taken a liking for you. But you knew better. And with a scoff, you kept gazing at him, noticing his faked "normal" expression shifting to a jealous, frustrated one. “Lucerys Velaryon.” you began, sitting properly by his side. “Are you... jealous?” you inquired, trying to keep a smile contained, noticing how his behaviour changed after meeting, and befriending Cregan Stark. Rapidly turning to look at you in your eyes, with an embarrassed crimson fluster on his cheeks, he quickly shook his head. “N-No! Me, jealous? That's impossible! I could never be jealous of Cregan Stark, no.” once again, his stare went to look to another part of the room, trying to hide his timid blushing. But you never mentioned of him being specifically jealous of Cregan, and his reaction was quite obvious. “You silly, silly boy.” you retorted, playfully, throwing yourself at him with arms widely open, and embracing him into a warm hug as you giggled. Which surprised him, but didn't take too long to return the embrace, having your lips being placed all over his cheeks, jawline, and kissing the corner of his lips. “My eyes have always been fixed on you, Lucerys. I have never loved a boy like I love you, my prince. You are the most loving, sweet, educated, and gentle boy I have ever met, and you make me feel over the moon with love.” you mumbled in between kisses, making him stupidly smile and his cheeks become even redder, his heart pounding tightly. “My heart belongs only to you, and no one else's; no matter how hard they try to impress me.”

You can definitely say our little dragon is the absolute most joyful boy at that moment. The thought of having won your attention instead of Cregan stealing all your focus on him just made him feel too proud.

And obviously, he would be delightfully overwhelmed with love at the amount of kisses, sweet words and attention you immediatly showered him after he made his jealousy a bit too obvious for him to hide.

Luke would be riding that high for the rest of his days, and everytime he sees you with Cregan, he can't help but goofily smile to himself at remembering your words.

Plus, whenever you're with the Stark leader, you'd always make sure to place a randon kiss on Luke's cheek or flash him a quick smile to make sure he doesn't feel jealous. But, not anymore. Luke is proud of having all your attention, and love. No shame in admitting it.

♡ taglist ♡

@jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @tickle-euphoria @beeebo234 @manuholland6 @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @dopepersonacloudllama @phantasyy @tasty-nutella @mstxdes @valeriecash @cookielovebooks-akie

#lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon x you #prince lucerys x reader #lucerys strong x reader #lucerys targaryen x reader #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon imagine #hotd imagine #hotd x you #hotd imagines #lucerys velaryon imagine

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jarofstyles · 2 years

Text

Spark

Flame Part II.. aka BFFrry. We are getting warmer 🫣 god I love writing them so bad.

Im obsessed with the dynamic. A good old grumpy x sunshine. Friends to lovers. Ah. I can’t wait for the next development! But here you go my loves.

Check out our Patreon!

——

Y/N was in love with her best friend.

Ever since the night of the bonfire… she had been acutely aware of everything she was feeling. And how she had been incredibly blind to it all.

The making out while drunk was an excuse for her real feelings. She let him get away with things she wouldn’t let anyone else ever do. She let him braid her hair and smack her ass and pick her up to remove her from situations, let him tease her and pull her hair and secretly fucking liked it.

She was a fool for thinking literally any of it was just friendly.

Y/N was a direct person. She wasn’t one to beat around bushes but she just didn’t know how to go about this. Harry still came over and was still his pain in the ass self, but since the realization… she had become soft. Much softer than she realized.

He fell asleep on her lap while watching Shark Tales with her, and she was careful to keep still and continue the methodical motions of playing with his hair. That’s what had him falling asleep in the first place. It gave her time to explore his beautiful face. The tiny brush of freckles and his birthmarks, the fact she definitely needed to tweeze his eyebrows again. His stupidly long and thick eyelashes she was jealous of and the scruff that was growing back even though he had shaved today.

She found herself wanted to kiss the tip of his nose and his little birthmark near his lip, and that’s when she knew she was fucked.

Harry had always been touchy with her and lately she had been allowing it more than normal. Not pushing him off or huffing as much. It made him even more eager to do said things, always hanging off of her and tickling her. It was when they were in the kitchen that she had the other realization.

They were basically already a couple. Just without the sex. And the vulnerability of feelings. Sure they were open mostly but… not about how they felt about each other. That was their one weakness.

Harry seemed to be taking advantage of that too.

Seeing her changes and letting him lay and touch all over her, being comfortable- he did stop and check- he was soaking in every single drop of that attention. Every minuscule droplet, he lapped up and preened like a puppy getting a treat. After his revelation at the bonfire, he had been wracking his mind on how to get the ball rolling with her. How to get her to want him back- or, more so, show it.

It wasn’t like he was blind. That kiss… had changed something. Thank fuck it wasn’t a bad way. If anything it continued their slow, slow rise into something a little bit more. He wanted more from her and that was something he was trying to make a bit more clear, especially based off of how grabby and touchy he was. He wanted her to straddle his lap and kiss him deep like she did in that one video he had when they were completely plastered.

Their other friends joked about alcohol being a kissing potion between them but he was… Harry was now pretty certain that it was just their true feelings coming to light. Not certain enough to confront her head on about them. No, absolutely not. But enough that he would feel comfortable touching her freely and being more mushy and gooey sweet with her.

It was the morning after a night out but neither of them drank much. Harry had crashed on her couch by accident, as he usually climbed into her bed, but he figured it was good because he woke up with a raging hard on he had to take care of in her bathroom. When he emerged, he saw her frame at the stovetop. Hair messily down her shoulders and one of her night shirts she purposely bought too big hanging off of her shoulder. It made his mouth water.

Deciding he felt a little bit brave, he padded into the kitchen and came up behind her. Arms wrapped around her waist and he pressed himself against her back, chin resting on her shoulder as he looked over it and into the pan she was currently cooking on. It startled her, a little yelp of his name leaving her sleep swollen lips before she let out a breath and melted into his hold. “Don’t scare me like that.” Her scold was half hearted, enjoying the warmth radiating from the body behind her. In her chest, her heart began to thud harder from the intimacy of the hold. It wasn’t uncommon per say, but it reminded her quite a bit of the bonfire they’d been at just a while ago. How things have changed in a matter of days.

“M’sorry.” He sighed with a sleepy chuckle. “Thought I ‘stomped around like Fred Flintstone’ or somethin’ like that.” The tease made her roll her eyes, her spatula turning the eggs in the pan. It was the truth, usually.

“You do, usually. Don’t know how you’ve gone off and become stealthy and all of that spy shit but I’m gonna put a bell on you if you keep making me jump like that. Could have burned myself!” Yeah, it was dramatic. But she was desperately trying to find something to cling to so the nerves weren’t as terrible. This was Harry. Her best friend! She shouldn’t be so jumpy and nervous- but in her head, she had finally accepted that it wasn’t all that she thought of him.!

Now, he was a love interest. One she wanted. Keeping the fight mentally that she had was one of the hardest things she had done and it wasn’t worth it anymore. Especially when she could indulge in behaviors like this from him. Tender and warm and oh so sweet. The leftover cologne clinging to him but his natural scent making her body thrum in interest, the mint of the toothpaste he kept in her guest bath. Harry was delicious.

“Ooo, d’ya mean I get a collar? A bell on that? Knew you were kinky but I didn’t know it went that far. I can meow if y’want.” He teased, laughing as she audibly groaned. Still… she didn’t want him to know that the very idea of him in a collar, of her in a collar, sent her to a very filthy mental place. The heat radiating between her thighs was all the proof he would need if he even needed to be clued in.

“Shut up, sex maniac. Been very interested in my kinks lately, little freak. Mind your business.” Harry wanted it to be his business, though. So he snickered, pulling her body flush against his and kissed the side of her throat.

“Oi, I thought we were besties. Shouldn’t I know what gets you hot? I know you’ve got a daddy kink.” He smirked against her skin, making her breath catch. “I’m teasin’ but… no. Of course I want to know. Glutton for punishment, I am.” Her pulse thrummed against his lips, Harry pleased that he had been the one to get this reaction from her. “It’s a riveting breakfast conversation. And I want t’cuddle all day. Fuck the market. Let’s just sit n’listen to those new playlists and stuff. We haven’t had a day in, proper, in a while.” Plus, he wanted to hold her and smell her and potentially do something risky. Riskier than this.

“Really?” She croaked. She didn’t mean to, of course, but his kisses and his talk and the switch up had caught her completely off guard and she didn’t know what exactly to do about it. Harry was easily able to steal her breath and it should be worrying, she thinks, but he was a comfort despite it all.

Y/N did like staying in. It was more fun. Less need to have stupid small talk with mates she barely considered mates. If anything, Harry was the social butterfly and she was the grumpy guard dog. She went because he pouted and pleaded and dragged her and stayed because he liked her there. Most weekends she was talked into going to the pub or some random house but now she was finally given the damn choice to be alone with him and she would take it!

“Yeah.” He smiled gently at the smile he could see form on her face. Pulling from her neck, he pulled the salt shaker and added two shakes into the eggs, getting a quiet thanks from her. “You did me a favor last week and we haven’t had us time in a while. Plus, I’m feeling lazy.” That was an understatement. He wanted to drag her back to the couch and curl up, fall in and out of sleep while singing along with their songs. Oddly specific playlists they sent back and forth to each other in the surround sound Y/N had splurged on.

“We can. I’d like that a lot.” She leaned back into him, taking a split second decision to turn and peck his jaw before going back to the eggs. Not realizing that would be the courage booster he needed for today, she went about plating their breakfast and mourning the loss of his warmth as they sat across from each other at the breakfast bar.

—-

“You aren’t nearly close enough.” Harry’s complaint was met by a giggle as she was tugged closer on the couch, the stupidly soft throw blanket tossed over her legs as he pulled her nearly on top of her and held her like his own personal teddy bear.

“Oi. Crawl into my skin, why don’t you?” She laughed despite the words, stroking the soft strands of hair away from his face. His was buried in her neck but it had grown lately, Y/N teasing that she could almost braid it in return.

“Hmmm. Tempting offer.” He bit down and made her help, struggling in his arms but he locked her in there. “Nope. That was your punishment. You can’t escape me, Y/N. Thought you were a smart ass, hm? Supposed to know all of this already.” He teased. A thump to the side of the head made him reel his head back. “Heyyyy. Not cool. You’re heavy handed.”

The cute little pout sent a shot of want in her that startled her yet again, now that she wanted ignoring it. The want to peck the pout off of his face until he was soft and mushy and pliable, soft for her and giggly yet again.

So she did.

It wasn’t like it was something she thought through. Leaning in and pecking his lips quickly before she pulled back, eyes widening and blinking rapidly as Harry went silent from his whining. Staring back at her.

“Oh- I uh- I’m so sorry. I don’t know w-why I did that.” She stuttered out. Hear rushed her cheeks and she swore she could hear her heartbeat in her ears, thumping loudly in her chest and making her feel a bit queasy. Not the kiss itself- but Harry’s silence was the most unnerving.

That motherfucker always had something to say.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to make it weird. I’m sorry, H. I-“ he cut her off with a chuckle.

“Babe, babe- s’cool.” He soothed, rubbing his hand down her back as he was thrown out of his stunned silence. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it- that was the opposite. He loved it. The way it was almost instinct for her and she hadn’t thought twice. It was just… never having imagined she would be the one to initiate any sort of thing like that sober.

“I wanted to… ask you if you wanted to do something actually. Or talk about something.” He swallowed thickly, moving the nerves down his throat to settle back into his belly. Y/N’s stare was a bit intimidating. Even to him, her ultimate best friend. He peed while she showered sometimes and she still scared him a tiny tiny bit.

“Like?” Curiosity colored her face as she looked at him. His brow was scrunched a little which made her realize he was nervous. At least it wasn’t just her. Her stomach was swirling.

“Well… you know how we make out a lot when we’re drunk and all that, right?” He approached it with a bit of bluntness that Y/N could only admire. It was answered with a slow nod before he continued. “And you like doing it? Like… when you remember us doin’ it, it felt nice and you enjoyed it?”

Unsure where this was going, she nodded again. Her lip was caught by her teeth which made him distracted for a second. He wanted to nibble and tug on her lip with his teeth. Wanted them swollen from his kisses.

“And neither of us… are interested in anyone or Datin’ people, right?” After tinder had massively failed them both many a time, they’d had a pact to swear off dating apps so she knew he would know she wasn’t into that at the moment.

“No…” she whispered, looking at his sea glass eyes trying to decipher what he was meaning. The direction it was going had her excitement growing rather than dread.

“Do you…” he licked his bottom lip, lifting his hand to push the hair that had fallen from her bun away from her face. “Would you want to like… fool around?” He let it sit for a moment. “It’s… it’s not necessary at all. And if I am overstepping or making you uncomfortable in any way I’ll never mention it again. But I was just…” her eyes were still locked on his in slight shock.

“We’re both attractive. I’m attracted to you… quite a bit. And I’m assuming maybe you are to me? Just from our history.” He had to throw a tiny joke in there. “I’m comfortable with you. Attracted to you. Care about you a lot and I’ve felt like… erm, I don’t want to make it sound too odd but I’ve been thinking about you intimately for a while now. So I thought maybe we could… just have fun.” He wanted more but he didn’t want to push her for too much, too fast. He knew how she worked.

For Y/N, that was good. If he proclaimed his love right now it would freak her out. It didn’t mean it wasn’t reciprocated but it was a lot of change very quickly. Since their sober kiss their dynamic had changed already. Slow and steady would win the race when it came to her feelings.

“You’d want to do that with me?” She peeped out, looking wide eyed at him. It was obvious there was attraction there but to hear it out loud was a whole other story. “I mean… I would be lying if I said I didn’t think about it sometimes.” Eyes dropped down to his chest, finding the phallic banana necklace she had bought him as a joke but he continued to wear. Her fingers fiddled with it as she spoke. “I don’t want to make things weird either but I… I like the idea.”

It was the shyest he had ever seen her and for some reason he liked it. That she felt that way with him. The words she said were even better. She wasn’t rejecting him. She accepted it.

“Hey. Need your eyes if you’re agreeing to this, babe.” He tilted her chin up and pinched it between his thumb and index finger. God, he could swim in those eyes. She played just a tough girl act but inside she was so soft and warm. He wanted to find out- in every account.

“Y’want this? You want me?” He whispered, keeping grip all the while she nodded slowly.

It sent a shot of heat through her bones and down to her cunt at the subtle, small act of dominance. Harry was always soft and giggly and sweet as cherry pie- so when he got like this, it got to her heavily.

“What would you want to do, love?” He searched her face for any sign of discomfort. Boundaries were important to him, they always had been and always will be. Once established he would do as he pleased, sure, but consent was not something he would joke about.

“Want to.. I think, everything.” She whispered. “M-Maybe not all at once but… eventually. Can we just do something small today?” The request was shy and it made him coo, lifting her face and nudging her nose against his own.

“Anything. It’s your body. Your choice. We can do anything you’d like, as much or as little. Just want to kiss today?” He asked, trying to place the limits since she was being less forward than her normal self.

“Maybe a tiny bit more than kiss.” She babbled. “Like… touching, maybe. Or rubbing. I like when you touch me n’I’m tired of pretending I don’t.” It fell from her mouth without her even realizing it as his mouth was dangerously close to hers. “I like when you grabbed me.”

He paused, humming in his throat as he remembered that. How she had stiffened slightly but melted back into his body when he grabbed her throat back at the campfire. God. That was hot. “Yeah? Liked when I held your throat?” He grumbled, lowering his hand to her neck and slowly wrapping his digits about it. Feeling her pulse beat against his fingertips and her swallow against his palm as she went a little limp under it, eyes glazed a little as she looked up at him. “Like this?”

“Yeah. Just like that.” The breathless pants was met with a kiss to the lips. A small peck. Pressing up against hers shortly but enough to feel his heat, the slight dampness as they stuck to her own. “Oh, god.”

“What, sweetheart?” He was dangerously close to her face. “Heart is beating so fast. I’ve been dying to get my hands on you like this. Didn’t want to make you upset… or feel pressured. But Christ. Look at you.” The words left as a unbelieving hiss. Glossy eyed and breathless under his hand and eager to get his lips back on hers. “My favorite girl. C’mere.”

That was the beginning. Pulling her in and pressing their lips together experimentally. Both of their hearts going ten thousand miles a minute as they tried fell into each other, the music drowned out in their close proximity by hums and sticking and releasing of lips. Getting their tastes.

“Wow.” She swallowed against his palm, woozy from the way he kissed. “Harry…” she scooted closer, cupping his jaw. He needed some touch too. “More. You can.. I want you to kiss me how you’ve been wanting to.” He was holding back. Y/N knew him better than anyone.

Harry took the challenge.

Surging closer, he pressed his lips against hers harder. Releasing her throat, he held the back of her neck and kept her close as he licked over her bottom lip, sucking it into his own mouth with a groan as she arched her body into his own. Her fingers traveled up and tangled into his hair. Whimpering lightly as she felt teeth scrape the now swollen bottom lip, heat ebbing between her legs and dampening her underwear as he let her lip snap back into place.

“Open your mouth for me.” He coaxed- demanded, more like. But she loved it. Letting it fall open a bit she was met with his tongue again. And just like every time before she moaned at the taste of him. Only this time it wasn’t sullied but tequila or gin- no. It was a light taste of tea and mint. The rest was all him. There was a fuzziness to her head but it was pleasure rather than the influence of alcohol, and she couldn’t fucking get enough. “There you go. Good girl.”

Harry felt her leg as it hitched over his hip, leaning further into him as he kissed her with the passion they’d liked. Even drunk it would be hard to forget how good it felt to kiss her, but this was so much more intense. So real. Her fingers digging into his shirt and hair, pulling him closer to her, craving him just as badly as she craved him.

“Fuck.” The growl could be felt in her chest. “Your mouth tastes better than I thought, sweetheart.” That was a dangerous thing when it came to this. “Always thought I was exaggerating it because I was drunk… but you really taste fuckin’ incredible.” His hand stroked over her thigh as it rested on his hip. Her lounge shorts did nothing to cover her, so he could feel the skin as he glided his fingertips over. The chills that settled there was an obvious ego boost.

“This is dangerous for us.” He confessed, letting them take a breather against her lips. Her response was a questioning nose as she combed his hair back again, pecking his lips back again with a slight needy urgency. Like she didn’t like their lips too far apart.

“Because… it’s addicting. And M’gonna be wanting to sit and taste your mouth… touch your skin… make you cling to me like this whenever we leave. Gonna want t’take you back in here and kiss you silly, like I’ve already done.”

“So I found a way to keep us from going out?” Even in her lusty haze she found a way to joke, smirking against his lips.

“Mm. You may have, little brat.” His hand tightened on her thigh. “Very well may have. But don’t think I’m above kissin’ on you in public either.” He warned. It was unrealistic to think he wasn’t going to want to do that. He already craved it, but having permission to go at her lips now was a whole new set of rules.

“Everyone’s gonna think we’re dating.” The words fell out easily and were received much better than she thought. In fact- it made her stomach turn in a good way as she felt him smile, releasing some air through his nose before pressing a longer, chaste kiss against her swollen pout.

“Let them. Don’t care what they think. As long as you give me access to this perfect little mouth… you’re in trouble.” He nipped down on her bottom lip to make her squeak.

“Careful, Dracula.” The warning wasn’t serious though, pouting back up at him. “We aren’t… gonna kiss anyone else. Right?” Her words were weaker, but she needed the confirmation.

Harry stiffened at the mere thought of someone else kissing her while he was involved. Of course he had the endgame of keeping her but she wasn’t sure of that yet. He would want to rip their throats out for touching her at all, let alone kissing her. Instead of a verbal response, he yanked her closer and kissed her. Hard.

Tongue slipping back into her mouth and a bit punishing as his grip returned to her throat, tasting her fully and not giving her much of a second to breathe before pulling back. A string of saliva connected their lips, her eyes wide as they opened again and Harry licked it off.

“No.” The hoarseness of the response surprised even him. “No one else. If we are doing this… no one else. Okay? You’ll be mine to kiss. And I’ll be yours. ” He was being intense and he realized that, taking a breath to calm him down. He didn’t even realize how much it turned her on, the dark voice and the possessive tone. “You wont get tired of me. Promise. Sorry… didn’t mean to get caveman.” He tired to shake it off but instead she pecked his lips again.

“It was hot.” The admission had her grinning. “But let’s just take it easy. Okay, H? Promise I’ll be good. I wont… I don’t want to kiss a lot of people. You’re…. Incredible at it. Don’t let it go to your head though.” She warned half heartedly. It should. He made her head spin.

“It’s already there. Brain is expanding as we speak, muffin. Don’t- ouch!” He hissed as she pinched his nipple. “They’re sensitive!”

“I told you not to call me muffin. I threatened castration. And with my new access card to you… I’d be even more careful, freak.”

God. He fucking loved her.

“Shhh. Shh. Kissing. Let’s go back to that.”

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