#hi nice to meet you on this wonderful note
Text
End Game 1
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn't go exactly as planned.
Characters: Andy Barber
Note: get ready for the hate.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
The tunnel lights up ahead of you, revealing the cubic rock walls as you plant torches in your stead. The eerie soundtrack of night time and the ominous groan of zombies looming somewhere in the cave have you uptight. Silently, you press on, digging and mining mindlessly, fingers mashing the buttons on your controller.
“Hey, where are you?” Jacob’s voice startles you.
You nearly forgot you’re playing co-op. You sniff and shake your head, cursing aloud as your shock has you succumbing to the arrow of a sneaky skeleton. You sigh as your possessions scatter and you spawn back in your bed.
“Back home,” you say glumly, “just ate it.”
“Ah, damn,” his deep voice rolls in your noise-cancelling headset, “sorry, hope that wasn’t me.”
“No, I wasn’t paying attention,” you hum and sigh.
“Ah,” he accepts and lets silence linger before he clicks his tongue, “what’s going on? Everything alright?”
“Yeah, yeah,” you put the controller down, your avatar sitting on the geometric bed, “I just...” you stretch your neck and massage your scalp around the thick band of the headset, “got a lot on my mind.”
“Right. I thought you were all done exams,” he says.
“I am, but... packing. Going home. I called my old boss and turns out I’m not gonna have a job this summer. Gotta start over,” you yawn and rub your eyes, “what about you? Final exam tomorrow?”
“Uh... yeah,” he hesitates as if he forgot. You do wonder why he isn’t cramming right now. You could never play minecraft all night the day before a final. “Easy stuff. I’m not worried.”
You scoff. You wish you could say the same. All you’ve done is worry those last two weeks. Exams, getting home, getting a job. Your grandmother won’t very happy to find out you’ll be slumming it for a while. At least you tucked away some money through the semester.
“Hey, if you need a few bucks...” Jacob offers.
“What? Are you crazy? No way,” you exclaim, “really, no, I couldn’t. I’ll be fine. I just... I hate looking for jobs. You know how it is. Friggin awkward.”
“It’s not a big deal. My dad sent me my birthday money so...”
“Uh uh,” you deny him again, “that’s way too much. I couldn’t-- we haven’t even met.”
“Mm, yeah, about that,” he exhales into his microphone, “I, uh, got an extra ticket to this Con. I figured out that’s it like the midway point between us so...”
“A con? Oh, wow--”
“Yeah, but I get that it would be expensive so maybe I could pay for your trip?”
“Jacob,” you wiggle the controller restlessly, “I can't accept that. It’s so nice but... it’s a lot.”
“I wouldn’t offer it was too much,” his voice is soft, meek, and defeated. You feel bad but you would feel worse taking advantage of his kindness. “We’ve been talking all year. I just figured it would be a good chance to meet up. It would be in public and something we both like so...”
You scratch your neck as it speckles with heat. You don’t know what’s more insulting; yes or no.
“Can I think about it?” You ask thinly.
The line is quiet. You look at the screen and it goes dim from your idling. You hit the analog stick and fix your headphones.
“Jacob?” You murmur.
“Sure, think about it,” he says, his voice raspy and rocky. It’s strange. You’ve seen him in pictures and his voice doesn’t really match his appearance. He sounds a lot older than he looks. “It’s next month so lots of time.”
“I’m sorry,” you cringe. “I just wouldn’t want to waste your money.”
“Trust me, it wouldn’t be a waste,” he insists, “this last year has sucked. So much. You got me through it all.” His microphone scuffs, “studying, exams, all that stuff. It’s tough making new friends. Seems like everyone here knows each other from high school.”
“Yeah, totally,” you agree.
You’re not exactly the most popular person. You have people you know in each class but not too many friends you hang out with outside the lecture hall or library. So far, not too many people want to spend hours mining digital gold or racing cartoon characters around a rainbow track.
“Well, you should probably get some sleep,” you yawn, “you got your big exam and... I gotta keep packing. Gotta catch the greyhound tomorrow night.”
“Sure, uh, yeah, right,” his disappointment is potent, “hey, will you text me when you get home? Just so I know you made it.” He snorts, “god, I sound like my dad right now.”
“Oh, of course,” you chirp back, “I’ll try to remember. Might be late.”
“That’s fine. Just as long as you let me know.”
“Don’t worry about me,” you assure him, “not ‘til I have to face my grandma. Ha.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” he says, “well... er...”
“Good night,” you finish for him, “let me know how the exam goes too.”
“Will do,” his timbre gets even lower, “night.”
You sign off and shut down the console. Another yawn flows through you and waters in your eyes. You should sleep, you got a long day waiting for you, but you know it won’t be easy. Not with so much on your mind, not least of all, Jacob’s invitation.
🎮
You text Jacob as you get on the bus, to make sure he doesn’t worry. It’s so sweet that he does, even some of your girlfriends don’t bother that much. Not that you mind the ‘hey, bitch’ Janet sends you every now and again to make sure you’re still alive.
You fall asleep on the bus. You’ve never been one to sleep while travelling but you’re exhausted from a night of anxious tossing and turning. After spending all day packing up the last of your things and scouring your dorm room, you’re beat to hell.
It’s midnight as you get to your grandmother’s house. She’s up reading another Stephen King classic in her rocking chair. She’s always been a night owl and a voracious book hound. She grumbles at you but doesn’t bother to ask how your trip was.
“Hey, grandma,” you hike up your bag and smile.
She growls again, eyes not leaving the page. You should know better by now not to interrupt her. You shoulder on and head down to the spare room where you spent most of your high-school career. You shut the door gently as the old hardwood floors creak with your weight and you drop your bag on the squeaky bed.
You fish out your phone and plug it in as the battery flashes red with only two percent left. You leave it on the night table and stretch out, not bothering to change out of your hoodie and jeans. It’s not long before you descend back into the same dreams that marked your journey home.
You wake up to buzzing. Your phone shakes the nightstand, rattling it against the bed frame. You groan and roll onto your side, reaching blindly for offending object. You hit the side button to dismiss the call.
You blink away the bleariness and focus on the screen. Along with the missed call are several text messages. You squint as you expand the notifications. Jacob! You forgot to message.
‘Hey, you home?’
‘Checking in. Must be busy getting settled in. Just let me know when you’re safe.’
‘Not meaning to be weird but everything okay?’
‘Please answer me. I’m worried.’
You drag your thumb around the keyboard, letting it predict your words; ‘sorry! I was so tired. Home now and safe 😊'
Three dots pop up then swoop away. You frown as the same thing happens several times before a response appears.
‘Was really worried. Thanks for finally answering. Been up all night.’
You’re stunned by the terse response. Yeah, you forgot to answer but he doesn’t need to worry that much. You frown and shift onto your side.
‘Srry again. Tired. Talk in morning. Night.’
You turn your phone on silent and plug it back into the cord. You do feel bad but you’re too exhausted to let it keep you up. Besides, you need your sleep. You have lots of job hunting to do in the morning. Not to mention, your grandmother to face.
🎮
You let Jacob cool down after your return home. Rather, he doesn’t text and you’re too distracted to do the same. As much as you’d like to sit around and game, your grandmother was as disappointed as you expected with your employment status, even when you gave her the money you had left in your emergency fund.
After a week, you finally get a bite. It’s nothing special. There’s a seasonal ice cream shop in a booth shaped like a vanilla cone that needs a cashier on weeknights. It’s less than full time hours but it’s better than nothing. It will be strange working with high school juniors but you can’t afford to be picky.
‘Game tonight?’ The text interrupts your first shift. You don’t have a chance to answer as a family approaches the window to order.
You get them the soft serve and take their payment, bidding them a good evening with their vanilla points already drooping in the summer heat. You glance around at the mostly empty picnic tables. Soccer practice will end soon and you’ll be overloaded with eight-year-olds.
‘Srry. New job. 1st shift. Maybe tmrw.’
‘New job? Congrats. Why didn’t you tell me?’
You sigh.
‘Time got ahead of me.’
‘Same. Catch up tomorrow then. Minecraft?’
‘Sure. Tmrw.’
You slip your phone away. A mother and daughter approach and ask for a sundae and a banana split. As much as you love ice cream, working with it hasn’t tested your cravings very much. In fact, you might be falling out of love with it. The smell of vanilla and overly sweetened strawberries is kind of gross when it’s all you breathe.
As you watch the happy customers walk away, you smile. Maybe it will be good to get some mining done. It will take your mind off of everything else. Hell, it might even make you feel like you’re doing something useful.
🎮
“Shit, oh, sorry,” Jacob corrects himself. You always think it's kind of funny how he doesn’t like to swear. “My diamond armor.”
“Oh no,” you utter, “where are you? I’ll grab your stuff.”
He gives his coordinates and you turn around, leaping over the green blocks to make your way there. Despite your reticence at the beginning, you’re feeling better about the session. He wasn’t as tense as he seemed in his texts.
“So, uh, did you think about the con?” Jacob asks.
“The con? I almost forgot. When is it?”
He gives the dates and you hum. Your chest flutters at the thought still. You’re not stupid. Meeting people IRL is not like online, no matter how many hours you’ve mined together. As much as you enjoy chatting with Jacob, you don’t know about meeting up.
“I get it if you can’t get the time off but my offer still stands to cover the trip. If you wanna stay the night, I’ll even get an airBnB.”
“Oh, wow, that’s a lot. I’m working now. I could put in,” you offer.
“Is that a yes?” He asks hopefully.
“I don’t know... I mean, I’ll have to look into it,” you say evasively. “Talk to my boss and grandma and all that.”
“Right, right,” he tries to sound unbothered, “makes sense. Of course, no pressure. How about I send you the ticket either way? Haven’t got anyone else to bite.”
“Oh, well, hold off, I wouldn’t want to take it and not use it,” you collect his weapons and armor from the ground in the game.
It’s silent as you focus on getting every little thing.
“Sorry, did I freak you out?” He asks, “I’m really not trying to pressure you, just got excited thinking about it.”
“I know, Jacob, it’s not that, it’s just... a lot.”
“Totally get it,” he intones, “let me know whenever you got an answer. Uh, where are you? I’m tryna find you.”
“Just stay there, I'll come back to the house,” you assure him, happy to focus on the game instead.
Still, you can’t entirely lose yourself in it. You’re sure he’s a nice guy. From pictures, he’s less than scary, and he’s never been anything but friendly. It’s not like the other dudes you meet online who jump to asking about your bra size and all that. It just isn’t smart.
Well, maybe if you don’t show up alone. You know what con he’s talking about and Kara from Econ lives near there. You could probably convince her to meet up. Hm, that might work.
Just like you told him, you’ll have to think about it.
#andy barber#dark andy barber#dark!andy barber#andy barber x reader#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#end game#series#defending jacob
166 notes
·
View notes
Text
introverted - Luke Hughes
summary; Luke Hughes x reader
You know him for years over the internet. But when you meet him in person, he acts awkward and uncomfortable. It's a big step for an introverted guy. Can you handle it?
warning(s); FLUFF!!, mentions of insecurity, maybe grammar errors
author's note; hi you wonderful people out there! Hope you're all okay✨
--------------------------------------------------------------
Luke Hughes is everything.
He's awkward, he's a good player and wraps every girl around his finger even when he looks like a zombie, because he stayed awake too long last night to watch the new movie.
"-so he told me I'm boring-", you spill him the tea on FaceTime, talking about the boy you really liked and ghosted you. "He's wrong", Luke smiles in his camera, looking comfortable. It's something you learned about Luke- he's very shy and uncomfortable when he doesn't know people. It's weird how you became friends, - somehow. You're living one continent apart but your connection went good and never had problems to talk with each other. "well I have something to talk about", Luke speaks out and looks away from his display, you nod. "I booked you a ticket. I know you're having your summer vacation next week and being alone at home so you can join us in Michigan", his shy side shows again.
"MICHIGAN?", you squeak under panic. "yeah", he chuckles and looks insecure, thinking if it was the best idea. "Like Michigan with your parents, siblings?", you follow up. "Yeah", he smiles. "i told you not to pay things for me!", you warn him, "take it as an early birthday present ", he argues back. "my birthday is in december!", you roll your eyes, "ok, see you in Michigan!".
Here you are, with all your bags at the airport, searching for Luke. Or a nice sandwich, you're hungry. "Hey!", Luke waves awkwardly at you, coming closer, until he gives you the hand. "Luke", you raise your eyebrows, "we're friends for three years now, gimme a hug!", you hug him because he could say something against it. "I'm sorry but Jack is the driver", he warns you, talking a bag over his shoulder. Jack leans on the car door with sunglasses on, "hi", he hugs you without asking, driving to the lake house. "Mom cooked a lot of food, hope you're hungry", Jack eyes meeting yours, Luke just smiles. "sure, can I sit next to Luke?", you ask Jack. You're here because you want to spend time with him. "I'll not interrupt you lovebirds", he laughs and walks in front of you both. "Are you ok with sitting next to me?", Luke leans over to your ear, whispering these words. "sure, Lucky Luke", you smile at him. His cheeks are blushing. After meeting the whole family you ate dinner, but Luke looks very uncomfortable next to you. Barely talking. He avoids you for three days now, you try to get along with the family but you want to talk to him. You're here because of him.
"Luke?", you ask him, when you finally found a moment in piece with him. "hm?", he smiles.
"Do you want me to leave?", you speak out your worries. "no!", he shakes his head, "I am just very shy, ok? I need my time to feel comfortable", his ears getting red. Your body feels like under electricity, you're more extroverted and never thought he feels that way. "Sure, don't worry", you smile respectfully and leave the room. "Ohh trouble in paradise?", Jack asks you with his girlfriend under his left arm sleeping. "No, it's just too much", you sit down on a camping chair. "did he say something silly? He talked about meeting you nonstop in New Jersey", he focuses on your emotions. "He avoids me for three days and i asked him if i should leave. He told me he's shy and feels uncomfortable", you blame yourself. "sounds like Lukey", he nods understandable. "It's not your fault. After a few days he's the most annoying person ever, trust me", he huffs playfully with a small grin. "what can I do?", you ask him for advice. "He loves movie nights. Ask him to do that?", he thinks about his little weird ass brother.
"I don't want him to feel uncomfortable!", you worry. Jack nods and lays his girlfriends head on the lounger without waking her up.
"Luke!", Jack steps into the house, standing in front of his younger, taller brother. "you told me about this new movie, can you remember?", you join with them. "Yeah, it's a sequel from Harry Potter ", he nods friendly. "your best friend has no plans this night so you can watch it with her", he points with his finger at you, to stop miscommunication. "uhm-", Luke's voice cracks. "If you say no I'll watch it with her", he looms. "you have a girlfriend!?", you think out loud, both turn their bodies in your direction, "I can handle two women", Jack gets sassy. "okay, after dinner", Luke plays with his fingers.
Time flew away. Now you're sitting in Luke's bed, you can smell his cologne and waiting with snacks. "ok I'm ready", Luke comes in and smiles softly, but very nervous. "What are you wearing?", he blushes again, "a pyjama", you laugh. "uhm.. without bra?", he mudders. "Who knows", you mock him. You're laying both in his bed, you can feel how your eyes feel heavy, you yawn after a while. "Can i lay down on your chest?", you ask. His bed is like wood under your body, it's definitely not comfortable. "Sure", he's distracted with watching the movie, petting your hair without thinking much until he hears your softly snores. "sleep well", he kisses your cheek, wrapping his arm around you in the comfortable way and sleeps in, too.
The next morning you wake up from voices around you, "mom take a picture!", jack stresses. "Jack stop being so annoying in the morning!", she tells him, "they're kinda cute together", he whispers. And you close your eyes again.
#nhl blurb#nhl x reader#nhl hockey#nhl imagine#luke hughes#luke hughes blurb#luke hughes fluff#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes imagine#lh43
112 notes
·
View notes
Text
but thankfully, the wind...
notes: do not ask me how much research i did for this. the answer is that while wikipedia is a helpful source, i wonder if i am missing out on the real info, trenches deep in a 39 page article about fertility and marriage in the heian period...
also this will be multichapter. peace and love on planet earth!
samurai!soshiro hoshina x fem!reader
reader throws hands. this is an arranged marriage fic
word count: 1364
there was never any room for love in your life. you knew that much. your eventual arranged marriage—because it was never a choice, really, it was an inevitability—would always be for political reasons.
your family wasn’t a particularly powerful one—you were the daughter of a dying clan with no male heir, so your father was desperate to find you a good match. to sell you off to the most desperate buyer, you’d say archly, glaring at him. at night, while you listened to the chirping of summer cicadas turn to fall crickets and then to the dull silence of winter, you wished that your father’s search for an appropriate marriage candidate would fail, that the matchmaker would find no one.
eventually, however, your family would receive a marriage offer from the hoshina clan.
the hoshina clan was a name that held great prestige—its sons were known for their swordsmanship, for a lineage of honorable and noble samurai. but recently, the name seemed to take on a more negative light—rumors of the eldest son, soichiro hoshina, running off to become a lawless ronin and forcing the second son, soshiro hoshina, to take on the mantle of heir.
you’d watched as your father celebrated his good luck—his good luck at finding you a partner. the blight on the hoshina name aside, the prestige of a family of well-known and reputable samurai could be enough to pull your family out of its dying state.
but your life, as far as you were concerned, was basically over.
you wanted nothing to do with the prestige of anything. what did it matter, that the hoshina clan was of great renown? of course, you knew that you’d never marry for love—but even a caged bird dreams of the opportunity of getting to fly on its own, surely. you dreamed of a possibility of marrying for love—that you’d meet some nice man that would whisk you away to the countryside, where you could live out the rest of your life.
but you’d be forced to abandon that dream now.
and so, while your family and the hoshina clan arranged meetings through the matchmaker, you mourned the end of your life.
but for better or for worse, soshiro hoshina… was an interesting man.
he was very quiet, or that’s what you thought for the most part, at least. he spoke softly, sharply towards his father, but would smile cautiously towards you—but in a way where you could tell it was a clear mask, all a part of the facade of the good son, the soon-to-be-wed husband following tradition.
his hair was just long enough to be tied back into a small bun, and the kimono he wore was a stark black with the faintest hint of violet–the kind of dye saved only for royalty, the high nobility. his hakama was that same shade of violet, a clear sign of wealth, in any case.
when he deigned to look at you, you found his eyes were a bright scarlet.
the first two meetings of your omiai were nothing much of note. soshiro was simply calm, watching you. even when you were given time alone with him, he never made any attempt to touch you, nor to speak. the first time he’d done it, you’d tried to fill the air with words, only for him to just watch you. your face flushed from embarrassment and something like anger, and you’d lifted up your sleeve to hide the wave of emotions crossing your face.
you’d never asked to be married to this man. so why wouldn’t he speak to you? why did he have to look at you like he pitied you and was upset at this whole fraught affair?
the third meeting was always the one of most importance. it was an implicit agreement to marriage—and despite knowing there was no way your father would have let you say no to the third meeting, you faced it with a sort of irrational upset. it was like standing in front of a precipice that you couldn’t back away from—acknowledging the cliff but still being forced down it.
this time, soshiro stood in front of you, his father absent. two katanas were sheathed at his side, their handles interwoven with fine black and golden cord.
“my father suggested that the two of us take our time to be alone today,” soshiro says, looking at your father first, before turning to you. “shall we, then?”
“as if i could say no,” you say, your voice gentle and lilting. you remember your lessons—when you got married, you would be forced to hide your horns, so to speak—your shame and your anger, jealousy and desperation. the feelings that were utterly unbecoming for you—or so your father and mother would say.
you guide soshiro through the halls of your home, guiding him towards the room your father had set aside for the omiai—it was beautiful, ornate, delicately furnished, of course, with a balcony leading out to a beautiful garden.
as you folded your legs to sit down, soshiro remained standing.
“i suppose it might shock you,” soshiro says. soshiro’s voice was soft. gentle. “the marriage offer, and the suddenness of it.”
his eyes flit to the beautiful garden outside. you know the truth of it—it’s beautiful, but it’s a gilded thing, hiding the rot and abandonment underneath. your family’s legacy in a nutshell, you think bitterly. a collection of power plays and alliances in a desperate attempt to curry favor, to maintain the idea that there was still something good here. as if any of this was worth saving.
“it doesn’t shock me at all,” you say, trying to keep the bitterness from rising in your voice. “we all have roles we must play. and mine was always destined to be this.”
“i never wanted to be married,” soshiro says. “the role of a faithful husband and proper heir was always more emphasized for my brother.”
you laugh archly, delicately, raising yourself to your feet.
from within a pocket in your kimono’s sleeve, you unsheath a beautiful and ornate knife. the gift had been from the hoshina clan—when your father had opened the gift, he’d sounded extremely honored to have received it— something about the knife representing the hoshina clan’s hopes that you would bear for them a son that might become a sword prodigy as well.
as you raise the knife to soshiro’s throat, you simply smile. you think it might be an expression unbecoming of a woman of your station—the soon-to-be bride of a samurai. soshiro’s eyes simply watch yours. he doesn’t even shake, his hands not even moving to the katana sheathed at his side. somehow, that irritates you. does he think so little of you that he wouldn’t even raise his sword against you?
“i truly do apologize,” you murmur, venom in your voice. “it must be such an inconvenience for you, huh? to be married to the daughter of a dying clan, as the second, disgraced and unwanted son.” you press the knife further—not enough to draw blood, but the threat of it, you hoped, conveyed enough.
“i didn’t have a say in any of this, though,” you say. “when your family’s offer came, all i was told was how honored i should be that the hoshina clan picked me. that my family could’ve picked any other clan, a worse and older samurai that would’ve wanted me for different reasons.”
soshiro’s gaze fixates on the dagger pointed at his neck, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.
you drop the dagger on the ground.
the blade slices into the tatami mats, embedding itself there.
“but of course. i will sympathize with you, for solidarity’s sake. we’re both doing things we’d rather not be doing.”
you walk past him, moving for the door.
you raise your hand, touching the corner of the folding screen. you try not to think about how it would feel to punch a hole through it.
“i’ll see you for the betrothal ceremony,” you say. you turn to him, and you think you must be the picture-perfect appearance of a vengeful, resentful spirit. “but don’t you dare ever sympathize with me again.”
#kaiju no 8#soshiro hoshina#soshiro hoshina x reader#hoshina soshiro x reader#kaiju no 8 x reader#x reader#kn8 x reader
113 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could you pretty please do the lin kuei bros x siren reader 🙏🥺
Bad Things to Come for Travelers
Yip notes: Since when were sirens bird women? I didn't know this. Hope we are talking about the mermaid kind.
Pairings: Lin Kuei Bros x Siren! Afab reader
Warnings‼️: This may be short
It was supposed to be a simple mission. All the brothers needed to do was retrieve an item for Liu Kang. Some jade artifact or something. This mission took them to rocky cliffs and harsh waves. There were points where they had to hug the wall to prevent their deaths. They believed that would be the only challenge they would face while on this journey.
Wishful thinking…
The brothers were reaching the top of the cliff, their bodies somewhat soaked by the waves that were just barely miss them. You hid behind a rock to peek at your new visitors. Three of them? Oooh, this will be a fun challenge for you. Let’s see if you can get all three men.
The brothers got to a spot that seemed relatively safe. A part where there were no waves crashing and the cliffside was flat. They took that as an opportunity to take a breather. You took that opportunity to sing your lovely siren melody. The wind blew your voice into the men’s ears. At first they thought it was the wind itself making that sweet sound. No, that can’t be right. The wind had been blowing nonstop and only made that sound now. Bi-Han was the first to act by covering his ears with his hands.
“Cover your ears.” He commanded.
“Why?” Tomas asked.
Kuai Liang listened and didn’t ask questions, leaving Tomas in a vulnerable place. Bi-Han remembered something that Liu Kang told him before going out. He warned that if he were to hear anything that sounded like singing that he should cover his ears immediately. It’s a sign of a siren trying to lure men to their doom.
That’s exactly what’s happening.
Kuai Liang stared at Bi-Han while in a panic. If they move their hands to cover Tomas’ ears they put themselves at risk. It was too late; Tomas was already in a trance. His pupils were dilated and his eye color barely showed. He walked closer to the edge of the cliff. Kuai Liang called for him to stop. Tomas looked down the cliff and saw you lying on a rock. You looked up at him, giving him a smile. You were happy not because he noticed you but because he was close to his demise.
You don’t know these men, remember? You don’t know what they have up their sleeves. That’s when you saw Tomas pull out his karambit that shined even though it was cloudy. He threw down a smoke bomb and he was gone. You were left confused and wondered what you just encountered. Did you encounter an Enenra that was disguised as a human?
Then you heard the sound of stone being struck. When you looked up you saw Tomas sliding down the cliffside, using his karambit as a way to slow him down. Once he hit the ground he came up to you with that same crazed look you usually see in your victims. Except Tomas was not a victim. Though he was in a trance he was smart enough to not leap off the ledge and be impaled by sharp rocks.
“Wow…you’re even more beautiful up close.” He said with this lovesick tone.
His hand went up to caress your wet hair. You were appalled, astonished, flabbergasted even. Your victims never got this close to you. But now you have a man in front of you who can’t take his eyes off you. He didn’t even comment on your tail. He knelt down in front of the rock you were lying on and had his head in his hands, admiring you like you were a goddess. It was a nice change, you couldn’t lie.
Kuai Liang and Bi-Han stepped closer to the cliffside and stared down. Good to see that Tomas wasn’t dead. Kuai Liang was unsure of what his brother was doing until Bi-Han gave a hint.
“That fool, he fell for the siren’s song.”
“I thought those were myths.” Kuai Liang was surprised.
You noticed that the two were looking down at you. Try your luck again. Maybe this time at least one of them will meet their maker today.
You sang your song once more. Bi-Han was quick to cover his ears again, Kuai Liang unfortunately wasn’t quick enough. Bi-Han knew there was something wrong when he saw his brother wasn’t moving at all. His pupils dilated until there was no more golden brown showing. He tried to take a step forward but Bi-Han used his leg to push him back. He couldn’t trip him because he would accidentally kill him. He tried his best to push him back with his legs or even his whole body. Kuai Liang was fighting back while in this daze. He just had to get a closer look. There was no other option and Bi-Han was so frustrated he decided to grab his brother with his hands and pull him back.
uh oh!
bad decision, bi-han!
The effects of your song immediately got Bi-Han. His eyes grew darker from the dilation of his pupils. The brothers were not fighting anymore but were instead staring at you. You thought this would be the moment you killed two birds with one stone. Nope, you’re in for a surprise.
Bi-Han pushed his brother out of the way before creating steps made from ice down the cliffside. Kuai Liang was not gonna lose to his older brother so he started acting quickly. He stabbed his kunai to the side of the cliff and held onto the rope tightly before taking steps down. You lay there, not angered but disappointed. How did you mess up that badly? When did humans have the ability to do tricks like that?
Before you knew it, Bi-Han slid all the way down to you and Kuai Liang scaled down the mountain. You got three beautiful men in front of you and you have the nerve to complain? Yeesh!
They adored you which was weird. Usually, people look at you with fear but for once you get to see the faces of your victims. Tomas melted every time you placed your hand under his chin. Kuai Liang liked to admire how your scales shine and how flowy the end of your tail is. Bi-Han…he’s already acting up. He’s acting possessive, holding your waist and pressing you against his body. The other two are getting agitated now. They want you just as badly as Bi-Han does.
“I was the first one down here,” Tomas argued.
“I was just as willing to see her up close as you were!” Kuai Liang shouted at Tomas.
“I am your grandmaster! She should be to me!” Bi-Han was shouting right in your ear.
Alright, you see why the other sirens tell you not to let the trance go on for ages. They get possessive and see what they could potentially do you don’t want them turning on you or each other. Nobody wants to handle a burnt corpse or a frozen carcass.
You sighed, knowing that the fun had to end now. Might as well bring them back to shore. You grabbed Bi-Han with your right hand and Kuai Liang with your left. You bit the back of Tomas’ uniform before diving into the sea. One second they were on the rock with you and the other they were being flung up into the air and landing on the wet sand. Kuai Liang rubbed his head after that rough landing while Bi-Han was trying to catch his breath after inhaling too much seawater. Tomas was booking it down the shore and was already jumping in the water to catch you. He grabbed onto your tail and begged you to not leave him. You almost felt bad for doing it but you knew he couldn’t stay with you so you had to push him off. He swam away quickly, leaving them in an uncomfortable situation.
“I think Tomas is still in a trance.” Kuai Liang said.
“No, I just wanted to have her around for a little bit longer,” Tomas replied in a sad tone, the waves pushing his body back to the shore.
Bi-Han finally caught his breath and realized what happened. That was unpleasant and he could not forgive himself for falling for that. He grabbed Kuai Liang and Tomas and started dragging them in the opposite direction of the sea.
“Wait, where are we going?” Tomas asked, “Aren’t we supposed to-“
“I AM NOT GOING BACK UP THAT CLIFF!”
For the first time, the brother will return to Liu Kang empty-handed. Bi-Han can tell Liu Kang to get it himself because he is not going through that again.
Yap notes: I hate posting late I'm sorry. And yes I did make a Mandela Catalogue reference. I don't really have much to say so yeah. Adiós!
#mortal kombat#mk1#mortal kombat 1#mortal kombat x reader#mortal kombat x you#mk x reader#mk x you#mortal kombat1#mk fanfic#bi han#bi han x you#bi han x reader#bi han mk#bi han sub zero#bi han mortal kombat#mortal kombat bi han#kuai liang x you#kuai liang x reader#mk1 kuai liang#mortal kombat kuai liang#kuai liang#tomas vrbada x you#tomas vrbada x reader#tomas x you#tomas x reader#tomas vrbada smoke#tomas vrbada#lin kuei brothers
71 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Fated Apple: Part Three
Pairings: Loki x Reader
Warnings: Language
Summary: You have questions. Loki has feelings. You have questions about Loki’s feelings…
A/N: I am overwhelmed by everyone’s responses. Thank you again for reading, I’m having so much fun with this one. Part four was almost done but then I did some editing and rewrites to part three and it changed a few things. I’m hoping by tonight or tomorrow I will also have part four ready to go. Thank you all again! Enjoy your💚
Part One
Part Two
The following morning you go to breakfast in the main hall. You see Jane already sitting with the royal family and see and empty chair next to her. Once she sees you she waves you down.
“Y/n! Come sit!”, Jane says happily.
You smile and walk up to the empty chair. Before you sit you politely greet everyone at the table. Loki just gives you a slight nod. It’s almost like he’s refusing to look you in the eye.
“What are your plans today y/n? Thor is taking me to the observatory so Heimdall can show me a few constellations I have not seen yet.”
“I’m actually meeting a friend.”
She looks at you suspiciously, “a friend, who?”
You nod as you start filling your plate, “I met a wonderful lady yesterday. She taught me how to paint some flowers.”
Jane’s eyebrows raise, “you?…you painted something?”
You roll your eyes, “I didn’t say it was a great painting. But it was peaceful and she was very nice and easy to talk to. I enjoyed my time with her very much.”
Unbeknownst to you, Loki was smiling into his goblet. He places it down after taking a long sip. “And what is this mystery lady teaching you today?”
You look over to Loki to respond but again he is not actually looking at you, “umm…I’m not sure actually. Maybe some more painting, I really had a great time yesterday.”
Loki takes note, nods and moves on with eating his meal.
“I’m glad you’re keeping busy. If you want to come with Thor and I to the observatory you’re more than welcome.”, Jane offers.
Once again, Loki listens closely but does not look toward you having your conversation with Jane. He doesn’t move his gaze off the plate in front of him.
You notice his body language and can’t help but feel he is purposefully trying to avoid your gaze. “Thanks but I’m looking forward to meeting up with Ana.”
Jane smiles.
So does Loki.
Frigga being Frigga is watching her son like a hawk. She has seen his every reaction to your conversation with Jane and knowing her son he is definitely up to something.
When you’re done with your breakfast you leave to make your way to meet Ana. When you get there you see her standing in the middle of the empty room.
Loki, disguised as Ana greets you, “hello y/n. How are you today?”
You smile at Ana, “I’m great thank you. How are you?”
Ana smiles, “I’m well. What would you like to do today?”
“I would like to paint again if you wouldn’t mind. I had such a great time yesterday.”
“Of course, anything in particular you would like to paint?”
You shake your head, you honestly had no idea. You never bothered painting at home so you never really thought about it.
Ana smiles brightly, “how about….Yddrasil?”
“Yddrasil, the world tree?”
“Yes. The great tree of life.”, she confirms.
“I’ve read about it, it’s the connection between all of the realms…Asgard…Midgard…Vanaheim…Jotunheim…Nilfheim…Muspelheim…Helheim and…umm…dang what was that last one? Don’t tell me! Don’t tell me!”
Loki is amused by your attempt to recall a history you had only learned of because of your visits to Asgard. He found it endearing that you would try to learn the history, you were under no obligation to but you clearly enjoyed learning new things. Something that you and Loki have in common.
“Sva….Svar…Svartalfheim!”
Ana giggles, “well done!”
Loki couldn’t help but feel a little pride, he was proud…of you.
You nod, “thank you my lady! So how do we paint this amazing tree?”
Ana smiles at you, “I’ll show you.”
*********************************************************
“Well? What do you think?”, you show Ana your attempt. It looked kind of like a tree. Definitely nothing like Yddrasil though.
Loki is trying his hardest not to laugh. He’s afraid if he starts he won’t be able to stop and it will break his illusion of Ana. So he collects himself and responds.
“It’s…definitely a tree…”
“It’s awful.”, you say with a bark of laughter.
“It’s not awful…it’s just not…”
“Oh come on! It looks like a child painted this.”
“Don’t insult children. It’s unbecoming of a future princess.”, Ana says jokingly.
You respond with a bark of laughter. “Yea sure a princess. I doubt that.”
“Why such doubt? The Norns have deemed your union so yes?”
You nod, “yes but…how can I spend eternity with someone I don’t even know.”
“Well. What do you wish to know about him?”
You take a second and think about her question and the answer is simple, “everything. I want to know what he likes to eat, what he likes to do during his spare time. What type of books he likes to read. I already know his favorite color, the man wears it enough.”
Loki almost lost himself to start defending his choice of color for his clothing but he caught himself before he can give himself away.
“I’m a sure you can learn all of those things by simply asking him yes?”
“Sure, if he would actually talk to me. I almost died of shock when he asked me about what I was going to be doing with you today. Keep in mind he won’t even look at me while he’s talking to me so..”
“Do you want him to talk more to you?”
You take a moment to answer and Loki isn’t sure why he’s nervous to hear what your answer is.
“I think so. I mean, from what everyone keeps telling me there’s no getting out of this so I might as well try right?”
Loki takes a deep breath, getting ready to be vulnerable for the first time in a very long time.
Ana takes your hand, “as long as I have been here Prince Loki has kept to himself. Usually skulking somewhere in the palace getting into mischief. But always alone. Whenever I would see him with his brother, Sif and the Warriors Three he always looked like he was looking for a way to escape. Usually to go find a book in the library or perhaps learn a new spell from the Queen. Besides her, I truly don’t believe he has had anyone in his life that understands him.”
“That’s so sad.”
Loki needs to reign in his emotions or you’re certainly going to figure out Ana is not who she says she is.
“Yes. That is really all I know about the prince and all of it I learned from afar.”
You nod, “Jane says I should try. Maybe he just hasn’t had anyone in his life that has actually tried for him.”
Loki looks deep into your eyes, “no. No I don’t believe anyone truly has.”
You and Ana lock eyes, the green in her eyes and the emotion behind them holding your gaze hostage. Why would someone who has never met Loki have such a strong emotion about him?
You got so lost in thought you don’t notice Frigga walking through the door.
“Here you are Lady y/n.”
You and Ana rise and both curtsy to the queen.
“And this is your friend, Ana? Is that right?”
Your brow furrows in confusion, “yes. I thought you two would have met since Ana uses this place so often.”
Frigga looks over at Ana again, “of course! Forgive me Lady Ana! There is so much going on lately I can’t keep my head on straight.”
Loki knew he was caught in that moment.
Fuck.
“It’s lovely to see you again your majesty.”
“Yes it is.” Frigga turns her attention back to you. “Lady y/n, I have the royal seamstress waiting for you in your chambers. I hope you are planning on extending your visit under the circumstances.”
Your eyes widen, “I hadn’t thought of that actually. I’ll have to figure out how to tell my job I’m not going to be back for a little while longer.”
“I believe Heimdall can help you with that. I will send word to him and he will let you know what he can arrange.”
You smile, “thank you my Queen.”
“Call me Frigga my dear. Now I hate to cut your visit short but Lady Tayla is waiting for you.”
“It’s ok I’m sure Ana is done being tortured by my art work for one day.”
Ana smiles at you, “we’ll practice more tomorrow.”
You nod and head out the door.
Loki, still in his illusion tries to make a swift exit himself. “Well your majesty, I must be off as well. It was an honor to see you again.”
Before he can step foot out the door, “a moment….Lady Ana….”
Shit.
Loki turns around, “yes, your majesty?”
Frigga walks closer, using her seidr to close the door and force Loki’s illusion to drop.
She looks at him with a disappointed stare, “Loki..explain yourself.”
“I truly did not mean to trick her mother. She stumbled across this room while I was getting ready to paint in peace. I had already cast the illusion so when someone came looking for me they wouldn’t know it was me.”
“Why didn’t you tell her the truth then? Why drag this out? To embarrass her?”
“No mother, I promise you that was not my intention.”
“Then what is you intention?”
“To get to know her. The real her.”
“You could’ve gotten to know her as yourself my son.”
He closes his eyes, “I know…I just…I was..”
“You were what?”
“I was afraid she wouldn’t want to get to know me. Yesterday when she walked in, I had a true conversation with her…I watched her learn and have fun while doing so…saw her smile. Mother it made me feel things I have told myself countless times I would never feel. And today? Today was…. wonderful.”
Frigga looks at Loki sadly.
“My son. You cannot continue this lie. I cannot allow you to deceive her so. You must tell her the truth. Tell her the way you told me, surely she will understand.”
“She will be angry with me for taking away her friend. Angry with me for deceiving her.”
“She might be angry at first yes but my son you cannot build the foundation of your relationship with a lie. She deserves better.”
Loki nods, “you’re right mother. I will tell her. Tomorrow when she comes here to meet with Ana.”
“Alright.” She pulls Loki into her arms for a tight hug. “I love you Loki.”
“I love you too mother.”
*********************************************************
Lady Tayla showed you a few designs she had in mind for gowns. You told her that you were only planning on staying for about 2 weeks. Even if you decide to try and work something out with Loki you still have responsibilities back on Earth.
For tonight’s feast Lady Tayla put you in a gown that was light and flowy. A pretty yellow this time with matching hair adornments and your makeup was done subtlety. Just the way you like it.
Jane walks into your room going on and on about what Heimdall showed her. You were happy your sister wasn’t so depressed about her relationship ending with Thor that she couldn’t enjoy the rest of her time here.
“Have you talked to Loki at all today?”, Jane asks you.
“Just this morning at breakfast.”
“Maybe he’ll talk to you tonight.”
“Or maybe he'll ignore me like he usually does.” You take a deep breath, “I don’t know Jane. I talked to Ana today and she made it seem like Loki is lonely, but from what I can tell it’s self inflicted.”
Jane nods, “well he is very different from Thor and everyone else. Maybe he just hasn’t found anyone he can truly connect with.”
“That’s what I was saying to Ana. Maybe I should..I don’t know…try just being his friend first and then…see where it goes?”
“Baby steps sis. There’s no need to rush things when realistically you have like 5,000 years.”
You nod knowing she’s right.
You both walk arm in arm to the feast hall where it is already loud from chatter and music. You and Jane spot Thor and Sif sitting with the Warriors Three.
“Hello everyone!”, Jane greets. You wave at the group.
“Ah Lady Jane, Lady y/n! Please, join us!”, Fandral requests boisterously.
You sit down next to Fandral while Jane sits next to Sif.
“So, Lady y/n. Tell us. How are things going with our gloomy second prince?”, Fandral asks clearly drunk.
“Um. Nothing new to report honestly. We haven’t spoken much since the ritual.”
“Ah yes, he does keep to himself doesn’t he? I am truly sorry the Norns chose someone so surly for you.”
“I don’t know if I would call Loki surly.”, your feeling of needing to defend Loki growing since your conversation with Ana.
“Oh? And how would you describe him then?”, Fandral asks.
You take a moment to think before you answer, “I’m not sure honestly, I don’t know him that well. A loner maybe?”
“A loner?”, Fandral asks confused.
“Yes, a person that prefers their own company.”, you explain.
“Yes, well that does sound like Loki. I on the other hand love company. Would you like to accompany me for a walk my lady?”, Fandral asks you.
“Um. Yea sure.”, he offers you his hand to help you stand and you both make your way to one of the balcony’s.
Loki sees you from afar and feels the hot feeling of jealousy rip through his body. He decides to follow you both outside, covering himself in an illusion obviously.
You lean against the banister when you and Fandral get outside. You’re taken aback by how beautiful the garden is at night you almost forget someone was there with you.
“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Fandral asks.
You nod, “it really is.”
“Tell me my lady. What is it you plan on doing with your situation?”
“Well..I’m probably going to try and get to know Loki a little bit better before I make my decision.”
“Yes of course. I must say my lady you are…stunning.”
You step slightly away from Fandral, “thank you, that’s very kind.”
“You are most welcome. I doubt Loki will say such things to you.”
“I beg your pardon?”, feeling the irritation with this man rise and rise.
“I only mean that Loki does not say kind things to anyone. Well, maybe Frigga but honestly I have never seen or heard him pay a kind word to anyone else. You deserve someone who will treat you with care and kindness.”
Upon hearing Fandral, Loki decided he didn’t want to stay to hear the rest. He didn’t need to hear you say you knew how little affection he would show you as his wife. What a failure he would be. So before he could hear those words fall from your mouth he left.
“Fandral, I appreciate your concern and your advice but I think I’ll decide for myself what kind of person Loki is.”
“Then I wish you good luck my lady. You’re going to need it.” Fandral walks back into the feast, so drunk he can barely walk in a straight line.
“You know as drunk as he is. He’s right.”
You look over and see an older man staring out into the garden.
“I’m sorry. Who are you?”
“I am Lord Alarian. One of the Allfather’s high councilmen.”
“Well Lord Alarian, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but I prefer to learn what type of person Loki is myself and to be honest I’m getting really sick of people trying to convince me he’s a bad one.”
You turn to leave but the councilman is quick to grab your wrist, “you know as well as I do this union is a mistake.”
You rip your arm from his grip, “I thought the Norns didn’t make mistakes.”
“Oh they make plenty of them. One of the biggest was bringing that boy into this world. Even with all of his flaws another realm was willing to give one of their daughters to him as a match. To make Asgard stronger. And then this damned ritual ruined it all.”
“Well I’m sorry I ruined your plans for world domination. Now if you don’t mind, I believe my sister and Prince Thor are expecting me.”
You don’t give the creep the opportunity to approach you again. You make a mad dash for your seat next to Jane but Loki stops you in your tracks.
“Had enough male suitors for the evening my lady?”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh you are excused indeed, it would be a terrible shame if I kept you from all of your admirers.”
“Spying on me were you?”, you ask. You grab your wrist, feeling a bit of discomfort from where the councilman grabbed you.
“Not spying…just…observing..”, Loki sees you grab at your wrist. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine Loki. It’s not like you care for my wellbeing anyway.”, you immediately feel guilty after you said it. Here you are telling everyone that asks about your feelings towards Loki you want to give him a chance and get to know him but one of the few times you interact with him you say horrible things.
“I care if someone has hurt you, let me see.” He doesn’t give you the opportunity to deny him, he takes your hand in his and inspects your wrist.
It’s starting to swell slightly and you can already see the beginning of a bruise forming.
“Who did this? Was in Fandral? I’ll gut him like the pig he is.”
Loki turns to go and find Fandral but you stop him, “Fandral didn’t do this Loki. Don’t worry about it it’s fine.”
“It is not fine.”
“I just need to ice it. It will be better by morning.”
Loki looks down at you, your hand still in his. “Come.”
He gently pulls on your arm so you can walk with him out of the feast hall. He then leads you to a place you have never been before since your started visiting Asgard. His rooms.
He opens the doors and it is as grand as you thought it would be. Green and gold everywhere of course.
He takes you over to the massive sitting area and walks you over to his enormous couch. You sit down and he sits down next to you, your wrist still in his hand.
“Loki really I’m fine, all I need is some ice.”
You suddenly feel a cold sensation on your wrist. When you look down at it you see Loki’s hand has turned a beautiful shade of blue.
“Does that feel better?”, he asks softly.
You nod, “a little yea. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He suddenly stands and walks over to a different room. When he comes back he has a small vial in his hand.
He sits next to you again and motions for you to give your hand back to him. He opens the vial and pours a drop of its contents on your wrist. He rubs it in gently, his hand turning blue again.
“That will help with the bruising. The cold will help with most of the pain and swelling, I cannot imagine you want me to hold on to your hand longer than what I already have.”, his skin starts to change and he releases your hand as soon as the icy blue was completely gone.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to.”
“Of course I did. The Goddess Idunn said it herself, you are mine to protect and care for. No matter what any of us feel about our situation, nothing will change that.”
You stare into each others eyes for a moment until Loki breaks the connection.
“Well, I imagine you want to get back to the feast. Your wrist should be completely healed by tomorrow morning, just in time for your painting lessons.”, he smiles. A genuine, adorably shy smile.
He knows he should come clean now but he is enjoying this moment of closeness with you. He doesn’t want to ruin it.
“I think I’ve plateaued when it comes to my artistic abilities.”, you laugh thinking about your time earlier with Ana.
Loki pats your knee, “don’t be too hard on yourself.”
You look at him again and you can’t help but stare in his eyes. They are so…green…they look so…familiar. Then it hits you…Ana has the same color eyes..
“What are your plans tomorrow?”, you ask him suddenly.
“Umm. Nothing of importance. A council meeting in the morning and then I will be available for the rest of the day.”
“You should come by Ana’s workshop after your meeting!”, you say excitedly. If your suspicions were correct, Ana and Loki being in the same room might clear up some things.
Loki feels sudden panic. He could always cast a double of himself but that type magic was incredibly draining. It seems like you were not going to take no for an answer and to be honest he wasn’t sure he even wanted to deny you. You looked so excited about the prospect of him meeting your new friend. He felt terrible that tomorrow he was going to take her away from you.
“I would like that very much.”, he smiles at you.
You can tell you caught him off guard and you can’t help but feel a little proud at yourself for throwing him off a little. You just had a feeling and you had to be sure before you go accusing him of anything.
“Are you going back to the feast?”, you ask him as you stand to leave.
He shakes his head, “no I think I will retire for the evening.”
He walks you to the door and instructs the guard on the other side to escort you back to the feast hall.
Before you leave, Loki takes your hand and gives you a light kiss on your knuckles. “Goodnight Lady y/n. I shall see you tomorrow.”
You nod, “tomorrow.”
You get back to the feast hall and Frigga immediately rushes over to you. “There you are! Your sister and I were about to send out a search party.”
“I’m sorry Frigga, Loki and I were talking. He’s going to come to Ana’s workshop with me tomorrow.”
Frigga’s eyebrows shot up, “is he now? Well that’s…exciting.”
You can tell from Frigga’s reaction that she wasn’t expecting that and you sense a bit of concern from her. Frigga unknowingly confirms your suspicion that something else was going on. But now you know the Queen knew what that something was.
“Is everything alright My Queen?”, you ask sweetly.
She nods and smiles, “yes dear, everything is fine. I’m happy you and Loki are going to be spending some time together.”
You nod, “may I ask you something Frigga?”
She smiles, “of course.”
“I had a slight incident with one of Odin’s councilmen, Lord Alarian. He said that Idunn’s ritual ruined a betrothal between Loki and a princess from another realm. Is that true?”
Frigga rolls her eyes, “that man will be the death of me. It is true and it is also not true. There were talks with Vanaheim about arranging a marriage between one of their princesses and Loki. It was meant to strengthen our already strong bond with that realm and…honestly, I did not want Loki to be alone any longer. His heritage has become a a bit of a roadblock for him.”
“Heritage?”
“You know Loki is adopted.”
You nod, “yes, but I don’t understand why that would cause issues. There are plenty of adopted children on Earth.”
“Loki is from the realm of Jotunheim, they are hated by most beings. Especially here on Asgard.”
“Oh. Is that why his hand turns blue?”
Frigga looks at you in shock, “he showed you his true form?”
“Not entirely, it was just his hand. When Lord Alarian approached me, he grabbed me by the wrist to stop me from leaving.” You lift your wrist to show Frigga your now healing wrist, still slightly red but the swelling was gone and the bruising that was developing had disappeared as well. “I don’t believe he did it on purpose but the swelling and the bruising started to develop quickly. Loki saw me on my way back into the feast hall, he saw my wrist and took me to his chambers to help. He used his hand to ice my wrist.”
Frigga smiles, “I’m sorry you were injured by that awful man but I must confess I am elated that Loki took care of you as any good mate should.”
“So no one else can turn blue here?”, you ask.
Frigga laughs, “not unless we have another hidden Jotun heir somewhere in Asgard, no. No one else can change to that form.”
You nod, another piece to the puzzle that is Loki. No wonder he feels so alone. He’s literally the only one of his kind here and on top of that he’s surrounded by people that hate his kind. Why wouldn’t he feel alone? Or want to be for that matter.
“Well, it is time for me to retire I believe. I hope You have a wonderful visit with Loki tomorrow. I just ask that you remain as open minded as you have been. Loki is a complex being and he sometimes makes rash decisions when he feels like he has no other options. He will make mistakes y/n, but with a little patience I promise you, the love and the devotion you will receive from him will be worth all of the trials you face.”
You smile at Frigga, “I will try Frigga, thank you for explaining those things to me.”
“Of course.”, she gives you one final smile and turns to leave with her ladies.
You watch her leave feeling a combination of comfort and confusion. Something is definitely going on and you were pretty sure Frigga knew what it was.
Tomorrow. You have a feeling everything will reveal itself tomorrow.
To be continued….
Tag List: Tagging works sometimes and then decides to not work other times. So I hope this works 😁
@mintfrostflower @lotrefcp @mostlymarvelgirl @tekutiger @missingdadneto @rcailleachcola @fire-in-her-veinz @glitterylokislut @yelkmelk @talesofadragon @multifandom-world8 @firedrakegirl @enchanteddreameruniverse @skittslackoffilter
#loki fanfiction#loki x reader#loki#loki fanfic#imagine loki#loki smut#loki imagine#loki fluff#mcu loki#jotun loki#thor and jane#eventual happy ending#eventual fluff#eventual smut#loki x reader smut#smut and fluff#tom hiddelston loki#enemies to lovers
95 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter Eight
Wishes (M) (Season One)
Summary: After a long day of classes, Min Yoongi decides to take a break at the music hall that has become his second home. He walks in with his cigarette lit and his blank expression quickly changes when he sees a girl playing his piano. The moment their eyes meet, their lives become complicated and Yoongi blames himself for her future pain. Was the love we had honest?
Genre: Gang au!, college au!, strangers to enemies (one-sided), strangers to lovers, slow burn, friendships, romance, angst, little comedy, and smut
Main pairing: Gang leader! Min Yoongi x Pianist! Reader
Warnings: Explicit language, smut, mature themes, gangs, violence, smoking cigarettes, drugs, and alcohol usage
Author's note: I worked really late in the past two days and I had to stay longer! I’m sorry this is late but something big happens in this chapter to make up lol
⇜ Masterlist ⇝
There’s something about the silence that's comforting. It’s this unspoken feeling that makes you feel at home. There’s no one to take it away and it's something that never changes. It’s always there. No matter how hard you try. Even in moments when you're with people that make you feel something, silence is always there. You're the one to blame for the silence and you have to take responsibility before things get worse. Before things get worse...
Y/N stared at him and it was a look that he never wanted to see, “Y/N...”
“You lied to me...You’ve been lying to me.”
“I did it-”
“Don’t repeat it. I trusted you...all this for what? To make me look like an idiot?”
Yoongi shook his head and brought her into him as she tried to push him away, “You're not an idiot...don’t ever say that about yourself.” He glanced down at her to see her standing still and he wiped the blood off of her forehead, “Y/N, I couldn’t tell you.”
“Let. Me. Go.”
“I won’t...I will never let you go...Never.”
Four Days Ago
Y/N watched with amusement and waved at her. She walked towards Yoongi with her arms over her chest, “Déjà vu.”
“At least I know your brain works.”
“I wish I could say the same about you.”
Yoongi shook his head and glanced at Namjoon, “We’ll talk about it later.”
“Fine.”
Y/N watched Namjoon walk away with annoyance in his step. She turned back to Yoongi and frowned, “What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing, let me take you out.”
She raised her eyebrow and pursed her lips, “Taking me out?”
“That’s what I said right, Bambi?”
She snickered at this and sighed, “Fine, if I must. Where are you taking me?”
“Seeing Lana.”
The two walked side by side and this time Yoongi was the one that grabbed her hand. She glanced down and she couldn’t help but smile at the scene before her. Yoongi saw the smile and he couldn’t help but smile to himself. He rubbed her knuckles as the fall winds guided them to Lana’s restaurant. He opened the door and he raised his eyebrow, “If you're going to do that, lock the doors.”
“What’s happening?”
Yoongi moved his body to cover the scene from Y/N. Lana was on one of the tables with Hoseok on top of her. It was clear they were kissing with the lipstick stains on his lips and his flushed face. He was thanking god that he still had pants on. Hoseok let out a small cough and helped Lana off the table as she gave him a shy smile, “H-Hey...Why are you here?”
“You're a restaurant owner, what do you think?”
He felt a small punch to his back and he glanced behind to see Y/N frowning at him, “Be nice.”
He rolled his eyes and glanced back at Lana, “I wanted to eat with my Bambi.”
“Bambi?”
Yoongi moved to the side and Y/N smiled at Lana, “Good afternoon.”
Lana glanced at Hoseok who was just as surprised as her. She looked back at Y/N and waved, “I was wondering when I would see you again.”
“I’m glad I made a good first impression.”
Hoseok glanced at Yoongi and saw a look he had only seen once. He watched Y/N going towards Lana with excitement and he turned towards his boss with a smile, “Happiness looks good on you.”
Yoongi raised his eyebrow at him and shook his head, “Don’t say stupid things.”
“It’s not stupid when it's the truth. You called her “My Bambi”, or am I hearing things?”
Yoongi let out a small cough, “Get back to work.”
Hoseok let out a laugh and glanced at Y/N, “Where there is love there is no darkness...remember that.”
Yoongi looked towards Y/N who was laughing with Lana and it felt like a freeze frame from a movie. All he saw was her smile and compassionate eyes. Something he wasn’t used to and never will be but he wants to be especially with her. He looked back at Hoseok with a frown, “With my darkness, it will just suck her up...and then what?”
“You’ll save her.”
“Hoseok are you leaving?”
Hoseok turned towards Lana and frowned, “Yeah but I’ll come by tonight.”
She nodded her head and walked towards him with a smile on her face. She leaned towards him and placed a kiss on his cheek, “I’ll see you tonight.”
Yoongi glanced at Y/N who was watching the scene with a smile and Yoongi could sense the feeling of wanting. She walked towards her and pushed some hair off of her shoulder, “What’s with that look?”
“What look?”
“It's a look of wanting.”
She frowned and glanced at Lana and then back at Yoongi, “Having someone sounds nice...that’s all.”
“Am I invisible now?”
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, “You know what I mean.”
“Do I Bambi? Use your words.” He pushed some hair from her forehead and she glanced up but he ignored her eyes, “For someone that likes to talk, you're silent.”
“So....do you guys want ramen?”
Yoongi moved away from her at record speed and nodded his head, “Yeah, can we have what we had last time.”
Lana smirked at him and nodded his head, “Of course.”
Yoongi wrapped his arm around Y/N’s waist and headed towards the back. He glanced down when he felt her head leaning on him. It was a nice feeling. They sat in the booth and he placed his hand on top of hers. She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and he continued to play with her knuckles, “You want someone?”
He felt her stiff and he looked up to see her flushed in the face, “I think everyone wants someone...to love.”
“Have you ever been in love, Y/N?”
She let out a small laugh and shook her head, “No...never. Have you?”
He looked her into her eyes and smirked, “Slowly.”
She was confused and went to open her mouth but it was stopped by ramen bowls. Lana placed the bowls and smiled, “If you guys want any drinks just let me know.”
“Thank you so much, Lana.”
Lana smiled at Y/N and winked at her, “Anything for you Bambi.”
Yoongi glared at Lana, “I’m the only one that can call her that.”
“Yes, Mr. Min.”
Yoongi turned back to Y/N to see her smiling as Lana left, “What’s with that smile?”
“Nothing.”
After eating, Yoongi took her to something he never showed anyone. Not even Namjoon. The walk was long and he offered her a piggy-back ride but she denied it (with a red face). He unlocked a gate and he felt her eyes on his back but he didn’t want to ruin the surprise. He grabbed her hand and smiled, “Do you trust me?”
“I trust you.”
They entered the small garden and he watched her eyes brighten up at the sight. There was a variety of roses blooming with lilies in the mix. He let go of her hand and placed his hands in his pockets as he watched her go towards the flowers. He smiled when he saw the excitement in her eyes. She turned back and was shocked at the sheer amount, “What is this?”
Yoongi leaned against the wall and took a deep sniff of the garden, “It’s the last thing I have of my parents. When they died, they left a notebook with an address and the address is this. It was their garden, they wanted......they wanted me to show someone I care about.” Someone I love...
She glanced down at the lilies and smiled, “White lilies....”
He walked towards her and picked up the flower. He placed it in her hair and she stared at him with those wide doe eyes he came accustomed to, “Purity.”
“They can also mean rebirth...fitting for you.”
He raised his eyebrow and creased her hair, “How so?”
“You don’t even realize that you're changing with me.”
“Everything comes naturally with you.” He picked up a purple rose and placed it in her hands, “Everything.”
“Purple rose?”
“A purple rose, Bambi. Decipher it.”
She glanced down at the delicate flower and then back at him, “You tell me...”
He leaned down and their forehead touched as she kept her eyes on his. He saw her eyes craving for an answer but he was a man that didn’t talk all that much. He leaned down and placed his lips on his and he let his actions tell her. He tilted his head and she followed his actions. The kiss wasn’t sexual like how he was used to but it was like the white lilies, pure. But it was also like the purple roses, love.
When they leaned away, he placed his forehead on hers and she looked up at him, “A tyrant that’s poetic...how rare.”
He chuckled and creased her cheek, “What’s rare is finding someone like you.”
He watched her enter her house and he couldn’t help but feel like a teen again. A teenager who got his first kiss. It made him want to kick his feet up in joy. He started to walk back but stopped by Y/N’s school. He walked into the yard and looked around with full caution. He heard rumors about the school and how they had cases of gang action. The rumors were about a girl named Ana Jeon. Her father is a well-known mafia leader but her mother is a famous painter. They used the mother’s job as a cover-up. He just hopes that Ana isn’t involved with Y/N in any way.
He continued to walk around the campus and his eyes landed on an opening. A door that was left open. He raised his eyebrow at this, for a rich school their security should be better. He quietly went through the door, without touching the dark wood and entered. It looked like he was in a hallway and he tilted his head. There was a light at the end of the hall. His hand immediately went to his knife as he made his way slowly.
He overheard a familiar voice and bit his lip, “The party is in two weeks. Remember that.”
He heard an annoyed sigh as he kept his back to the wall, “Why her? Out of everyone, her?”
“She’s a L/N. The amount of power and money she has is more than any of you, Jessica, Ana. Remember your role.”
“Whatever Eunwoo.”
Yoongi glared at the ground and had to hold back a curse. Y/N is too involved with this case and he didn’t like it. His only job is to protect her and protecting her is what he will do. He made his way out of the hall and quickly made his way back to the headquarters.
He slammed the door and tossed his knife on the coffee table. Everyone looked at him with confused eyes but no one dared to say anything. It wasn’t until Jin left the kitchen to stand in front of Yoongi with worried eyes, “What’s wrong?”
Yoongi ran his fingers through his hair and looked at Jin with pure anger, “That son of bitch Eunwoo...”
Jungkook glanced at Taehyung and then back at Yoongi, “What about him? We’re still collecting information on him.”
“He wants...” Yoongi bit his lip and for the first time, his emotions took over him. He let tears appear and looked at Jin, “He wants Y/N. I-I don’t know what he wants but he wants her....fuck he wants her.”
Yoongi dropped to his knees as Jimin made his way towards him in worry, “Yoongi...”
Namjoon watched with a frown and looked at the rest of the team, “Taehyung, keep a close eye on Y/N. Jungkook, you're going with him in case anything happens.”
Yoongi looked up at him and let out a mocking laugh, “Why because she’s evidence?”
“No, because my brother is in love and the woman that he's in love with is in trouble.”
“I never said I’m in love-’
“Let’s come up with a plan.”
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
He heard the familiar piano playing in the large music hall and he felt at ease. The delicate music sent warmth to his heart and he slowly walked towards her with a cigarette in his mouth. He let out a puff of smoke and smiled, “Your music sounds happier.”
She turned around and smiled, “I have many reasons to be happy.”
He raised his eyebrow and leaned against the piano, “Want to tell me the reason?”
“I think you can figure it out.”
“Can I?”
She rolled her eyes and let out a laugh, “If one can figure it out then another can.”
He smirked at this and put out his cigarette under his foot. He sat next to her and glanced down at the keys, “Do you know someone named Cha Eunwoo?”
She raised her eyebrow and nodded his head, “Sadly. I’ve known him since I was a child...why? Do you know him?”
I want to kill him, “No, I just heard his name through other people.”
She nodded her head at this and he could tell that she did not like Eunwoo, “That makes sense. He's talked about by everyone.”
“Why is that?”
“Rich and popular. I like his dad more, his dad is friends with mine. He was nicer and not weird at all.”
Yoongi played two notes and then nodded his head, “Eunwoo was weird?”
“He’s always been weird towards me. My mom wanted me to marry him because of how close he was with my dad. My dad never said no but he also never said yes. He’s always trying to capture my eyes...it’s annoying.”
Yoongi stopped playing and turned towards her with seriousness in his eyes, “Stay away from him.”
She let out a small laugh and turned towards him. Her smile dropped when she saw the seriousness in his eyes, “Is everything alright? And don’t say it's nothing, your eyes tell me otherwise.”
“He’s trouble.”
“I already knew that...You don’t need to tell me to do something.”
Yoongi sighed and placed his hand on top of hers, “I know just be safe.”
“I will.”
“That party you’ve been talking about, when is it?”
She raised her eyebrow but answered, “It’s in two weeks. Why?”
He reached into his pocket and placed a red lily in her hand, “Y/N, I would like to be your date.”
She laughed at this and raised her eyebrow, “It’s my event. You do realize I should be the one asking you.”
“Never traditional.”
“Clearly...I was going to ask you but now I don’t want to answer you.”
“Bambi.”
She rolled her eyes and looked away from him, “I guess I’ll have you as my date.”
“You guess?”
“Yeah, I guess. I have a question for you.”
Yoongi turned towards the piano and started to play, “Sure.”
“Why did I see Taehyung and Jungkook near my house?”
He stopped playing abruptly and looked at her, “What do you mean?”
“Yoongi, I saw them. I also saw them at my school. Why? Tell me the truth.”
Yoongi bit his lip and didn’t know what to say. The truth can hurt her but a lie can be agonizing. She was the beautiful garden with the different colors and he was the fire. Everything he touches turns into ash, everything. Maybe Namjoon was right. He shouldn’t be near her because look at where she is. In a problem that could cost her life and for what for selfish reasons. If he continues to see her then he's just as selfish. He wished this was another life with no problems and it was just them. That’s all he wanted.
He swallowed some spit and let out a small cough, “Watching just in case they come and hurt you.”
“So they're doing your job?”
“It’s extra security for you. It makes me feel better to know they’re there when I can’t be there for you.”
She looked away and he knew that it was because she was flushed in the face, “Why?”
“Because I will always be there for you. No matter what.” I just have to be strong enough to walk away from you when the time comes...
Tag List:
@hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @secfir @amberpanda99
@yoongibaybee
#bts reactions#bts scenarios#bts imagines#bts jungkook#bts namjoon#bts seokjin#bts taehyung#bts jimin#bts yoongi#bts x reader#bts hosoek#Bts#min yoongi x reader#yoongi x reader#bts fanfction#bts fanfic#wishes
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬
pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary: you find yourself in a marriage that you never wanted in the first place. your husband seems to hate you and you begin to wonder if anything you used to think of him was even true. who would have though a marriage to gojo satoru would be so difficult?
warnings: 18+ mdni, arranged marriage, misunderstandings and just not talking shit out, mentions of cheating, slight angst (with comfort), eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, gojo doesn't really know how to husband for some of it
word count: 10.9K (whoops)
note: part two is up! i really had a lot of fun writing this so reblogs and comments are always appreciated! as always, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading <3
jjk masterlist
never did you think that you’d be stuck in a marriage to a man who didn’t love you, but there’s a first for everything.
you should count yourself lucky that he’s not old and bald. he’s pretty. in fact, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. his eyes are the bluest, bluer than the sky. his hair mirrors the winter snows, and his back ripples with muscles whenever he fights.
his agility is unlike any other man. he fights swiftly and cleanly, never taking more than a couple minutes to get rid of whatever it was that stood in his way. he’s charming with his words (or so you’ve heard), and he knows how to make somebody swoon if he really wants them to.
and he seems to despise you.
you had known gojo since you were a child, the two of you running around each other's fields as you chased him with your wooden sword. you remembered watching him in training, wishing him good luck whenever he went on a hunt. you could even remember how he would stutter whenever he tried to talk, something he must have worked on because he never seemed to stutter anymore.
he was always nice to you, his cheeks rosy whenever you kissed him goodbye. he was kind back then, grinning brightly whenever he saw you.
but as time grew and you with it, and it was only a matter of years before the two of you went your separate ways. it didn’t help that once he turned thirteen he had to leave for training and fighting in whatever it was that was needed of him, but you had hoped that he would be able to write back.
you would send him letters whenever you could, it was tradition whenever the two of you were separated for too long to do so. each letter telling him about new experiences and embarrassing things that happened in your life, but he never responded. you liked to send one every week, sometimes including little tokens you thought he might enjoy. but you stopped sending them after the first two years and stopped asking about his whereabouts after three.
but you were hopeful that when you saw him that night so many months ago, he’d be civil with you. you were nervous, sure, but who could blame you? you had recently gotten news that his time to serve his clan was over and that he was finally back home. it wasn’t as though the two of you had left on bad graces, so you were hopeful that he would at least remember you. but he could barely meet your eyes whenever you tried to catch him from across the room, acting as if you had never existed.
he looked so different since the last time you had seen him. he was taller than most of the people in the room, his white hair just as bright as it used to be. he had gained muscle mass almost everywhere, and you felt yourself wondering just how much training he had to go through to look this way. you could see him talking to a girl, a smile on his face as he tilted his head to look at her better. you gave him some time to socialize, not wanting to intrude on anything.
after an hour you decided that it was long enough, and tried to weave your way through the crowd to get to him. you had tried to call out to him, waving to him despite your mother quickly shoving your hand down, saying how improper it was. he heard you and you knew that he was purposely ignoring you, so you began to feel heavy-hearted after a couple of attempts at trying to catch his attention, eventually giving up.
and now, despite you wanting to, you can’t even blame him for hating you.
ever since your mother caught you, alone with him, a man you hadn’t seen in so long, she had swiftly and promptly proposed the idea of marriage only a few days later. it was really to save face for the two families, but it helped that this marriage would unify the two clans.
you were sure he had ladies lined up to marry him, and you weren’t somebody he was actively trying to pursue. you didn’t even know if he was in love with somebody else if he shared a connection with a girl who was surely not you and cursed you for taking that away from him.
not that it mattered now.
all you wanted was to reconcile, to catch up on all the things happening in your lives. you wanted to hear all the stories he must have racked up over the years, not for this to happen. all the things he wanted for himself were ripped away because of one night from one simple act of kindness, and so you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate him for the way he acted.
you rarely come down for dinner whenever he’s there, but when you do, you feel those eyes turn icy, tracking your every movement till you sit down opposite of him. he doesn’t say much, just mutters a quiet “good evening” and you’re sure he’s only doing it so the maids don’t start to gossip.
whenever your hand brushes his you feel him snap back, flexing his hand as though your touch burned him. he rarely came by to ask you about how you felt, and so you stopped trying to act kindly towards him if he didn’t want anything to do with it.
any semblance of romance you had dreamed of as a young girl quickly dissipated when you realized your husband wanted nothing to do with you, so you didn’t try to pursue any sort of love, deciding it’d be easier if he just did his part and you did yours so the two clans wouldn’t worry.
he was always gone, which might be the best for the two of you. when he’s not training new men then he’s gone in a hunt. if he’s not in a hunt then he’s somewhere in his endless home, hiding away.
you don’t know if he does this for him, for your sake, or for everybody else.
“did you see your husband this morning?” one of your maids said excitedly as she tugged the undergarments over your raised arm, a gleeful smile on her face as she rambled about something gojo had done. you couldn’t help but return a smile of your own, although it didn’t quite meet your eyes.
“yes, briefly. he’s busy with having to worry about the feast,” which wasn’t a total lie. you’d seen him hurriedly brush past you, quickly glancing at you as if he had forgotten you were his wife. you felt your chest tighten up with the way he glanced at your hand, and then quickly left.
it was only a few nights away and you knew that it was the only buzz of news anybody seemed to talk about. unfortunately, for you, it meant having to socialize with other clans. you were fine with that aspect, you’d been doing it since you were young, but this time they had a right to be nosey. you knew there would be endless questions asked about the honeymoon stage of your marriage, to which you had no answer.
sure, you’d been making up answers to hypothetical questions, but you didn’t know what gojo would be answering with, so you were only praying some of your responses would line up.
for a night the two of you would have to pretend to be husband and wife, and while the people around you knew you were anything, you knew you had to commit to the role for the sake of you and your family’s dignity.
but all this worrying isn’t good for your head, you could already feel the pang as you squeezed your eyes to try and get rid of it. you tried to move on from your worries, going to comment on her necklace, it seemed new, but a knock interrupted you. the two of your heads popped up, looking at where the sound came from.
“come in!” you called out, buttoning up the last bits of your top as you thanked myra. she nodded, bowing as she went to open the door. you could hear her faint footsteps, not bothering to look up as she greeted the person behind. you guessed it was franchesca coming with the fabric samples.
“sir,” you heard myra say, and your head swirled around, only to see the topic of your conversation make his way into your room, excusing your maid with a swift motion of his hand. she glanced once at you and then to him, ducking her head as she left, closing the door behind her as she left you two alone.
you felt heat prickle at the back of your neck as he looked at you and then to your room. the two of you slept separately, as per your request the first night. you couldn’t bear the agonizing silence between the two of you, and he obliged.
he was dressed for sparring. he had a loose-fitting tunic on, and pants that would allow him to move freely and without constraint. it was in moments like these that you were reminded of the fact that gojo was the strongest warrior that any of the clans had seen, that the child who once splurged on sugar in his tea was capable (and has done so before) of taking down entire armies.
he had matured so much since what you last remembered from him. he no longer acted rashly nor spoke without thinking about what it was he wanted to say. but you still saw him eating sweets with the same fervor he did as a kid, and it never failed to make you smile, hiding it behind your hand so nobody could hear your quiet giggle.
it had been a while since it was just the two of you, alone, and all you could think about was that night. your cheeks heated up just thinking about it, and it seemed that gojo could tell your discomfort with the way he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair as he began to speak.
“good morning,” he started, his eyes darting around, never setting on yours. it was funny if it didn’t cause your heart to hurt irrevocably, at how the strongest warrior in all the land could barely look at his wife.
if only you knew.
“good morning.” you offered him a quick, disingenuous smile, moving around until you found your vanity, rummaging through your laid-out earrings as you kept your back to him, not trusting your face to give you away if you were to look at him for too long.
you heard him take in an audible breath, but he continued whatever it was he wanted to say.
“with the feast coming up, i want to clear some things with you,” you turned around, looping the earrings in as you nodded for him to continue. it was such a shame he was so stunning, effortlessly attractive as the sun caught off his cheekbones, bouncing off of his chest. he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, and you wondered if being here was just as painfully awkward for him as it was for you.
“we should act like we’re…” he trailed off and you felt yourself itching to leave, knowing what he meant without having to say it.
“in love?” you finished and he slowly nodded, gnawing on his lip as you brushed past him, going to find the mirror so you could adjust your jewelry. you could see him fidgeting in the corner, and for once you could see a hint of nervousness and unease on his features.
and a part of you hurt. you would never admit out loud that you harbored a crush on him for as long as you could remember. it hurt knowing that you acting like you were in love was perhaps the lost genuine form of love you could show.
“what if they ask about the night we met?” you ask after a couple of seconds, looking up from what you were doing. deep down, you knew somebody was bound to ask. even if it was just your mother who had caught the two of you alone in that garden, the news of it somehow spread (she was always one to talk).
he scratches his head, shrugging as he eventually settles on an idea.
“just tell them the truth.”
the truth.
tell them how he followed you after you had run outside, sick to your stomach after a man, who was as old as your father, had introduced himself as a possible suitor. how gojo, the most ruthless warrior in all the land, had carefully put his hands on your back as you retched, offering you a towel he had fetched from inside to clean yourself up.
tell them how you hadn’t seen him in years but the first thing you had done was to hug him tightly. how his hands wrapped around your back as though they were the only things keeping you afloat. perhaps they were.
tell them how he murmured words in your hair to bring you back to reality, his thumb running up and down your arms to calm you down. how it seemed like even though it had been years since you two last saw each other, it felt so right, so normal, to be back in his arms.
tell them how he had looked at you with such worry, such care, unlike anybody else had looked at you, and you for once felt safe in somebody’s arms.
tell them how your mother found you two in such a compromising position, with your head nestled in his chest as he tried his very best to soothe your cries. it was humiliating and embarrassing to be caught with a man you had only seen back in your teenage years, and especially so in such a vulnerable position.
you shake your head, scoffing at the idea, “i’ll just come up with something,” was your answer and he nods along, realizing how the story would be too private to share with people you barely knew.
“and we need a reason for why,” he cleared his throat once again, pink dusting on his cheeks as his eyes dropped to your stomach. your eyes met his in the mirror, and one of your eyebrows raised, “well, you’re not exactly looking like you’re carrying a child at the moment.”
you quickly looked away, the tension in the room increasing as you moved away from the mirror, doing anything you could to keep your hands occupied. you flushed at the comment, your throat drying up as you glanced at your stomach.
the two of you have barely touched, much less been intimate with each other. you were glad he hadn’t forced the idea onto you, instead, leaving it to you to bring up the topic. you only talked about it, once, the night of the marriage, and then never again. you knew that it would have to happen eventually, but you couldn’t do it right now, not with your state of mind.
you scrambled to say something. in all honesty, you had been dreading this question. you hadn’t been answering any of the letters your mother sent, and you knew people were expecting to hear the news of a pregnancy.
“we’ll just say we’ve been so busy and preoccupied with the politics of marriage that we couldn’t… consummate.” you offered and he just shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this was the biggest inconvenience to him.
you knew that this marriage was brought upon quickly and before either of you could object to it, but at least you tried to hide it away. if only he hadn’t acted so rashly that night, his hands on your shoulders, eyes bewildered as they racked over your figure. if only he had been more careful, or you were smarter in picking some place to be more concealed, you wouldn’t be put in this position.
but neither of you was thinking ahead, and here you were. but he was certainly making sure that you knew of his contempt for this arrangement far more than you were. it was irritating, it scratched at your skin and ate away at your mind the more you saw each other.
“look,” he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, off of the way you were fiddling with the ring he had delicately placed on your hand so many weeks ago, “i can come up with whatever they ask, so just try your best to do the same.” you say, your voice tinged with anger, the ring on your finger acting as an anchor to the depths of the sea with the way it weighed down your movements, feeling your chest swell as he stayed silent, watching you as you opened the door.
“i don’t-”
“um, i won’t be joining you for dinner, so don’t wait on me…i apologize, i need to work on some things for the feast…have a good day.” you swiftly murmured, shutting him in your own room as you left, your heart thumping erratically in your chest as you almost ran down the hallway.
you had no idea how you were going to persuade the masses that this marriage was working if you couldn’t even persuade yourself.
---
the feast of clans came earlier than you expected.
you found yourself perched at the end of the table, gojo next to you, your stiff bodies mirroring each other as the people around you joyously helped themselves to the vast variety of food offered.
you could barely touch the meal in front of you, your stomach churning uncomfortably with the sheer number of people that surrounded you. back home, you hated these feasts, opting to leave after a couple of bites and finish the rest of what you could pocket in your room, but here, as the clan leader's wife, you had no such luxury.
“are you not hungry?” you looked to your side, gojo staring at your plate and then to you, his eyes squinting as he tried to decipher what you were feeling.
“i can’t eat,” you murmured, playing with your utensils as you swallowed thickly, “i don’t do well in large crowds.”
he nodded once, looking out into the sea of bodies as he inched a little bit closer to you. he was donned in expensive fabrics, although his hair still messily fell all over. the candle that was lit in front of you had different hues of oranges and reds bouncing off of his pale skin, and if you didn’t know any better, the blush on his nose and cheeks could have been from the frigid winds from outside.
“i’ll have myra save you a plate,” he said, giving you a curt smile as he went back to eating.
you were momentarily taken aback by his comment, but tried not to show it, going back to fidgeting with your ring as you looked at the sea of people. nobody had thankfully come up to you and bombarded you with questions, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t going to eventually happen.
“thank you,” you say, glancing at him and then back to your plate.
“anything for my wife,” he replies. it’s only for show, you remind yourself, after all, when was the last time he referred to you as such?
“gojo,” an old man had walked up to your table, his face lined with wrinkles and a beard, dressed in orange as he offered gojo his hand to shake, “i’m glad to see that you finally settled down.”
gojo blushed deeply, trying to offer him a smile as he motioned to you.
“it’s hard to resist marriage when such a woman offers it.” he says, and you feel your eyes widen as you try to laugh off his statement.
“yes,” the old man chuckles, eyeing the two of you. he looked familiar, and you were sure you had seen him around these sorts of gatherings before, “it was only a matter of time before it happened. we all knew just how much you liked her back when you were children.”
the two of you sputtered on your coughs, and you felt a little smile grow on your face as gojo did what he could to usher the man away.
you could tell with the way he shifted uncomfortably in his seat that gojo wasn’t expecting that, and before you could realize what you were doing you found yourself talking.
“i’m not a fan of feasts.” you quickly said, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. it’s not like you felt you owed him an explanation, but you said it regardless.
gojo looked up from his plate, grabbing his cup so he could wash down his bite.
“any feast?” he asked, and you could feel the way the air shifted. he was glad you brought up a different topic.
“one’s as big as this,” you twisted your ring back and forth on your finger subconsciously, “i get nervous in big crowds.”
“i remember,” a small smile grew on his face as he thought back to when the two of you were children, “you would hide under the tables and force me to come with you.”
you chuckled, blood rushing to your ears at the fact that he remembered this about you. it was the bare minimum of what you remembered from him, but you had convinced yourself that he had washed every memory of your last selves from his mind.
a rush of distant memories came to your head; nights spent under the tables, laughing as you two tried to keep your voices down as you tried to dodge the feet. you could still hear his whispers of staying quiet, trying to sneak out so he could smuggle in some pastries for you to eat.
“the adults scared me; they were always loud and insistent on asking personal questions.”
“like they are now?” he replied back, a tilt in his voice as you nodded feverishly.
“yes!” you covered your mouth with your hand as you let out a laugh, a genuine one as you tried to look as put together as you could, “i swear, it’s even worse than when we were young. just the other day a wet nurse came to me and told me the best positions to get into when giving birth!” it really was a mortifying moment, your eyes darting all around as the old lady even took it upon herself to demonstrate the movements, but gojo didn’t seem to mind, laughing along with you. his eyes twinkled as they took in your giggly state, years since he had last seen you like this.
“i feel like i should apologize,” he starts, having to cover his own infectious smile as he ducks down his head in shame, “i had her sent up to your chambers.”
your mouth dropped open in shock, lightly smacking his arm as he grinned at the look on your face.
“to mortify me so that i would never leave?” your thumb moves your ring back and forth and gojo watches you as you do it.
“you seemed sick at breakfast, but i guess she thought it was a different sort of sickness.” gojo tells you as he cuts off some of his meat, not knowing just how much his words affected you.
you had forgotten how simple and easy conversations were with gojo. although this was under a guise to fool people, you felt at ease with him, as if you didn’t have to be on guard with your emotions when he was around.
“do you still want to hide under the table now?” he asked a couple of seconds later, chewing on a potato as you shrugged, looking around before your lips grew into an apologetic smile.
“…yes,” you admitted bashfully and he smiled at your honest response.
“if you want to hide, i’ll-”
“satoru!” a booming voice interrupted your endless spiral of thoughts as the two of you glanced upwards at the sound, “it’s been too long!”
a man with hair as dark as night and a smile wider than any ocean had come up to your table. he was the first one to do so all night, but gojo didn’t seem bothered by it. he seemed to smile, crescents forming around his eyes as he took his friend's hand.
“too long,” he emphasized with a charming grin, motioning to you and then back to the man in front of you as if he suddenly remembered the two of you and never met, “suguru, this is my wife, y/n. y/n, this is one of my oldest friends.”
you extended your hand outwards and the man, suguru, took it, placing a soft kiss on the back of it as he shot you a playful smile. he wasn’t at the wedding, but then yet again, it was a rather quick one. the only people who had attended were your families.
“it’s a pleasure to meet you.” he greeted, and you nodded in agreement, sitting back down next to gojo. you felt his long fingers reach for yours, enveloping your hand in his as your heart sputtered at the touch.
“likewise,” you answered and the man grinned politely before he slightly tilted his head, looking at the two of you sitting next to each other.
“he’s not bothering you, is he? i know satoru can be fiendish when he wants to be, so call for me and i’ll take care of him.” he teased and you could only smile tightly and laugh along, gojo’s fingers slightly tightening around yours as he moved your hand to rest on his thigh.
“i can take care of him when he’s fiendish. i just have to take the sugar away, right?” suguru snorted and gojo glared, but it was playful the way he looked at you.
his hands were warmer than you would have expected. you could feel the indents of calluses on his fingertips, could feel his thumb moving back and forth on your skin in a calming sort of manner. he didn’t look over at you as he did it, playing it off as second nature.
“i apologize for not having much time to get to know you, but i have something i need to talk to gojo about. would you mind? it will only take a minute?” he asked, and gojo let go of your hand at the time of his friend's voice. you had to control your urge to roll your eyes, shifting in your seat as you motioned for suguru to talk to your husband, watching as he stood from his seat, leaving with the man as they went somewhere a little more secluded.
you watched as gojo leaned down to hear whatever it was that suguru was whispering in his ear, pulling back with a frown on his face. he snapped something that only caused suguru to reel back, cast a quick glance at you, and then shake his head in clear annoyance.
you saw gojo look up, his eyes landing on somebody from across the room, and you followed his stare, only to land on a girl.
she wore a dark yellow tunic and skirt, colors from a neighboring clan. you hadn’t seen her before, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t known. just one look at the men surrounding her and you could pick up on their lovesick expressions.
she motioned for gojo to come to her with a bend of her finger, slyly brushing her hair out of her face to make it look as though it was nothing, exiting from the dining area and vanishing into one of the halls.
you looked down in case either of the men glanced over to see if you were staring. your eyes pierced through the meat on your plate, bile rising up your throat.
you gave yourself some time, counting up to a minute before you looked back to where suguru and gojo were, finding suguru standing alone. you looked at where the girl was and saw a flash of white hair before it disappeared, your heart sinking as you glanced back at suguru, only to find him looking at you.
you looked back at your plate, picking up a knife and fork as you stabbed the meat. you couldn’t keep anything down but it’s best to pretend.
---
gojo didn’t return until half an hour later, and you refused to talk to him.
“did anybody bombast you with questions?” he teased, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. he didn’t seem to pick up on your darkened mood as your fingers dug into your dress.
“i had a woman ask me if you had disappeared with your mistress, but that was it.” you remarked, silence filling the void between the two of you and you realized that all you had thought of him was crumbling down.
you didn’t care for your image anymore, giving curt answers to any questions somebody had asked. you could feel his stare on the side of your face but you didn’t humor him in looking over, focusing on your plate instead.
so what if he was seeing somebody else? you would have been naive to think that he wouldn’t wander. the two of you barely touched each other.
once all the guests had left over the course of the following days, you did everything you could to steer away from gojo.
you no longer came down for breakfast or dinner, choosing to eat in your own quarters. if he wanted to have his own secrets, he could do whatever he pleased.
though you rarely saw suguru after the feast, he did try to talk to you the morning after it took place. he cornered you after you had left from breakfast, his once playful demeanor turned serious as you tried your best to end the conversation.
“what you saw last night-”
“is none of my business,” you finished, raising your hand as you cut him off, “if gojo has his own private matters to deal with, i’m indifferent to them all.”
“you know that’s not what it was.” his hand hovered over your arm, careful not to touch you but not wanting you to leave either.
“i ruined his life, didn’t i?” you tilted your head a bit in questioning. after all, that’s all you could hear from the women who gossiped as they folded the laundry, or behind the hands of the girls who watched you and gojo interact and the mothers who wanted their daughters to be set up with him only sneered at you from across the tables.
“you…where’d you get that from?” his brows scrunched together in confusion as you scoffed, hoping he couldn’t see the tears welling in the corner of your eyes at the sting of your own words.
“i can see it on his face. if gojo wants to have his own affairs, he can have them. it’s not like we’re in love. hopefully, i find my own way out so that the two of us look happier and this marriage looks somewhat presentable to the public.”
you didn’t want to see the look on his face, but you’re sure he reported this all back to gojo because he didn’t look at you once after it.
you heard from a maid a week later that he was gone for another meeting with a clan, a southern one from what you picked up, and that you should probably go and wish him some luck.
leading up to the night of his departure you anxiously paced around your room, your feet padding on the floor as your nightgown swished behind you.
you hadn’t talked to gojo at all that day, and purposefully so.
it was petty, you know it was, to not want to see him, but a part of you still aches when you look back on that night. at how he didn’t explain where he was even after you asked, at how it was suguru he had sent to fix his dirty work for him.
“y/n?” a muffled voice came from outside your door.
your head shot up at the familiar sound, quietly dragging yourself out from your bed as you grabbed the candle, hovering on the other side as you waited for him to say something else.
“are you awake?” you heard a soft thud from his side, almost as if his head or arm had hit the door.
you didn’t answer, still, waiting.
“i’m leaving tomorrow and i wanted to see you before i left.” your heart skipped at his words, careful not to make a sound as you near the door.
“if you’re sleeping i won’t bother you anymore but if you’re not,” you could hear the old stutter he had coming back, his words meshing together as he tried to regain control, “and you’re choosing to stay quiet, i…” he sighed, his forehead thumping down as he rested it on the door, “i wanted to apologize for the feast. i shouldn’t have left you alone, and if you’d open the door, i would explain why…” he could see the flicker of the candle from underneath the crack, and saw the way it blew away, darkness following suit.
you walked back to your bed, turning your back to the door as you set the candle down on your table.
“goodnight,” his voice was quieter than before, and you felt guilty, but pushed the bitter feeling down.
a couple of seconds later you heard him let out a sigh of defeat, his footsteps leading away from your bedroom as you curled into yourself, hoping you would let your heart stop taking control of what your head should be doing.
---
gojo didn’t return for a while, and you grew more impatient by the day.
it normally took him and his men a week at maximum, and once two had passed, you felt yourself growing uneasy.
you tried to act as passive as you could, but even myra could pick up on your growing apprehension. you have never voiced your worries over your husband before, but she knew this wasn’t like any other time.
when you went to bed, the only thing you could dream about was that night, your brain re-running the images as you tossed and turned.
“are you alright?” he asked, his hands on your elbows as you could barely speak, your blurry vision impairing your sight. you could only see a mop of white in the darkness, your stomach betraying you as you tried to keep the sick down.
“i don’t feel too good,” you mumbled, trying to put some distance between the two of you as you pushed him away, only to feel him coming closer as he placed a hand on your forehead and then to your cheeks.
“you’re burning up,” he muttered under his breath, guiding you gently so that you wouldn’t trip over your feet.
“i’m sorry, you can go back inside, i don’t want to keep you out here.” you were slurring your words as you tried not to throw up on him. you wiped at your eyes so that you could see him better, only to reel back in utter shock to see the face of your childhood friend frowning down at you.
your mouth formed in the shape of his name, going to say something else, before you hunched over, feeling his strong hands pat your back and keep the hair out of your face as you felt your world tilt on its axis.
you ate your dinner at the table, eyeing his empty seat as you tried to shove his last night out of your mind. you shouldn’t feel this way, especially about a man who feels nothing towards you, but your little heart was churning in its confines the more you let yourself think about it.
sitting in the same spot where the feast took place only brought back the venomous taste in your mouth, and so you pretended that you were back home, eating somewhere without the worry of your life weighing you down like a thousand weights on your shoulders.
myra tried her best to distract you, but she could see the distant look in your eyes, how your voice never seemed too genuine. she began to worry for you, but it seemed like your mind was fixed on one thing.
until you found yourself pacing around your room, just like you were the night you last heard of him, playing with the ring on your finger as the moon carded through your window.
“my lady,” you heard myra through the door, her voice shaky and a bit more on edge than usual, “there’s-” but before she could finish it slammed open, revealing the man you’d been biting your nails over, standing in the flesh.
his eyes were a dark blue, squinted as they looked right through you. his chest heaved as he looked like he was trying to catch his breath. you could see the streaks of blood that lined his usually clean clothes, the red that stained his cheeks and jaw.
he looked feral, and it was throwing you off balance.
“out.” he snapped at myra, and before you could scold him for his tone she fled, the door shutting roughly behind her.
the two of you could only stare at each other. you didn’t know what to think after weeks of uselessly worrying over him, not knowing about his well-being, to see him here, in front of you, but looking different than he ever had.
“are you alright?”
you could barely get it out, the works sticking on your tongue as you took a tentative step forward, not knowing what to do with his state of being.
he eyed the blood on his shirt, wiping at his cheeks as if he had forgotten it was there. he didn’t look too dirty, less dirty than one would expect from a five week endeavor through the woods, but he didn’t look too good either.
“you were awake.” is all he says, his chest still moving up and down as though he couldn’t breathe properly.
“that night i came by, you were awake. i saw your candle, i heard your footsteps.” he says this as though it’s fighting its way out of his mouth as if it’s all he could think about to tell you.
“i,” you pretend that you don’t care, shrugging, “i wasn’t up to talk.”
“you were with suguru.” he snaps, his tone shocking you, and he steps back as if he had shocked himself. he jammed his palms into his eyes, tilting his head upwards before he looked back at you.
“for five weeks you were all i could think about. i wanted to come back, i wanted to tell you what i felt but we kept running into issues with other tribes and clans.”
“what could you possibly think about that occupied your mind for five weeks?” you so desperately wanted your voice to come out strong but it sounded weak, as though you were hanging off of his every syllable.
“you had told suguru that you were going to find your…own way out,” he took a step forward, and here you could see the scratches on his chest, the cuts on his arms, “i was praying to every god there was that you hadn’t found somebody in these past weeks, that you hadn’t…”
you could barely believe his words, not knowing if you should feel offended, shocked, worried, or a mix of all those three.
“what business would it be to you if i did?” you hate that this was the response you settled on. hurt flashed across his face but he tried to regain his composure.
“you are my wife-”
“and you are my husband!” you snapped and watched as he was momentarily taken aback by your outburst, but you continued your nose flaring, “you cannot argue with me on this when you left with some girl in the middle of our feast!” you felt all your emotions finally pouring out and you had no control over them, “everybody was talking about it, everybody was looking at me in pity!” your voice cracked, tears poking at your eyes as you pointed an accusatory finger at him.
gojo looked down, running a hand through his hair as he pointed a finger back.
“if you had let me explain myself, you would have known that she was trying to do what you thought she was. i left as quickly as i could but you would barely look at me!” you wanted to rip your hair out, cursing yourself for ever feeling any sort of worry for this man.
“i know that this marriage was the last thing you wanted but at least you could play the part of a husband! you didn’t send a single note, anything to tell us that you were okay, that you were alive!” you heaved, fidgeting with your ring as you wiped at your cheeks, “and you come back here accusing me of adultery? all everybody could talk about was the fact that you were warming somebody else’s bed! they said a meeting never takes this long unless something…somebody else comes up.” your voice wobbles at the end, and you find yourself furiously rubbing your tears away, hiding your sniffing as though that would do anything.
he paused upon seeing you cry, his face falling as he tried to step forward but you angled yourself away from him, hoping he’d get the hint.
he wanted to hold you, to tell you that all the rumors you were hearing were false and that the only room he had left in his heart was for you. but he couldn’t blame you for feeling or thinking this way. hell, he was so sure that he’d open the door to find another man comforting you that he didn’t even stop to consider what must have been going through your head all these weeks.
“one of the clans tried to attack us, and we weren’t ready for it. that is why we took so long.”
you sniffle again, not caring for his explanation although it did soothe a part of your past self.
“you could have at least sent a letter telling me what happened,” you fidget with your ring, your thumb running over the diamond, “everybody asked me questions that i should have had answers to, but i had no idea where you were or what you were doing…” he nods, his lips pressed into a thin line as he agreed with you.
“you're right,” his voice was thick with emotion, the words slurring in his mouth as he found himself anchored in place, not knowing what to do. but you were rambling, your thoughts going on and on and you couldn’t stop yourself.
“…but i know you don’t like letters, so the least you could have done was send a parchment saying i’m alive or something like that.” you rub at your nose again, feeling like all the weeks of worry we’re coming to a standpoint.
he looked confused now, if anything, and scratched at his jaw.
“what do you mean?”
you scoff at the audacity, rolling your eyes as you feel anger prickle at your skin.
“you never once responded to any of my letters. in my eyes, that must mean you have some sort-”
“letters? what letters?”
you glance at him, taking in his shaking form.
“come on gojo,” you feel embarrassed as he urges you to speak, having to spell it out for him, his eyes pleading with you to continue, “the ones from when you left for training.”
his mouth opens and then closes, looks at the ground and then back up to you as he shakes his head. you could hear your fireplace crackling in the background. the only sounds circling the room were the pops of ember and your breathing.
“i…” he feels like there’s cotton in his mouth, hoping that you’re lying, “i never got any letters.”
the fire crackled once again and you could almost hear a pin drop as you shook your head vehemently at his statement.
“n-no, no you did. i wrote to you every week, i sent one every week for two years and you never responded and my mother said that you must have forgotten about me…” and you trail off, the tears in your eyes stoning as he furiously wipes at his own eyes, and for the first time since you had seen him fall down when he was a kid, you saw his own tears staining his cheeks.
“nobody gave me your letters. i thought that you,” he takes a deep breath, tongue poking inside his cheek as he tried to control himself, “i thought that you didn’t care for me anymore.”
you hug your midsection, your emotions running wild at his words.
“i was under the impression that you hated me.” you admit, and he looks as though you stabbed him through the heart. if only others could see the powerful warrior now, stripped bare to his conscience and all he could think about was you.
“why…why would you think such a thing?” you two inch closer without knowing it, longing to touch each other, wanting to know that the other was really there and that this wasn’t a figment of your imaginations.
“gojo, you could barely looked at me that night at the gala and now it seems as though you, well, look at you - you’re flushed!” you’re grasping at straws, motioning towards his face, twinged with pink as you rub at your nose, “you seem angry whenever i am near-”
“the only person i am angry at is myself.” gojo whispers, but his voice echoed around the expanse of your skull.
“yes, i’m aware,” you feel cold despite the fire in the corner, your tone carrying an air of know as you scorn, “i know the last thing you expected by comforting me was a marriage but-”
“you think i am angry because i married you?” he was moving closer, his hands shaking, his eyes wet. you could see the ring on his finger glow in the dim light of the fireplace, how it shined brighter than any of the night skies, “the only good thing that has happened to me these last few months was being able to introduce myself as your husband. i know that i stripped you bare of any love you may have had for any other man, but call me selfish for feeling glad that i did.”
you could barely focus on what was happening, his words sinking deep into your skin, going to your bones.
“i told myself that you had forgotten about me those years i left. when i saw you that night i was so sure you had come with the intention of finding a suitor that i didn’t want to distract you, but then i saw that man come up to you…” and he couldn’t finish, choking on his words as he stuttered, and you saw a glimpse of the boy you had fallen in love with so long ago.
“and i followed you out. if i knew that simply being alone with you would have gotten me married to you then i would have cornered you in a closet the moment i saw you enter the dining hall.”
a tear rolls down your chin, splattering on the ground beneath you as you struggle to make sense of what he was saying. it felt as though the months of being married to him were weeks spent pacing around your own rooms, thinking the same worried thoughts, and not having the strength to confront each other about it.
“you…you don’t hate me?” your voice is timid, almost not believing yourself as the statement tumbled out. gojo had the audacity to laugh a bit, shaking his head as strands of his hair fell into his face.
“my every waking moment is spent thinking of you. when i was in training, you were all i could dream about, hoping that when i’d come home i could finally have you to myself.
“you have control over my emotions, my mind, my soul, and i cursed myself for taking away your options for a husband, but the only thing i’ve wanted to do these past few weeks was to hold you in my arms. to tell you just how deeply i yearn for your love back.”
he wiped at his cheeks, glistening in the faint light. he looked angelic, despite the grime and blood that decorated his clothing. you didn’t want to think about the men he had killed just to come back, to come back to you, and the thought of ever losing him hurt you more than when you spent nights wondering why he never responded to any of your letters.
you couldn’t stop your feet from leading you toward him, and you could only watch as he met you in the middle, catching you with all his strength, holding you as if you weighed nothing, and it only took a few seconds before your lips collided.
it was rushed, and messy as you felt his hands holding you as if you carried the weight of the universe. your teeth clashed, your tears staining each other's skin as your hands gripped at his hair, using it for leverage as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, enjoying the whimper that escaped your lips when he nipped at yours.
it was what years of longing and desperation felt like. how it felt like you two just molded into each other as if your bodies were cut out with the other in mind. you felt like your heart was about to stop beating, and you knew gojo felt the same with the way he’d whine against your lips, wanting you more than you could have ever imagined.
“we’ve been stupid people, haven’t we?” you whispered as you pulled away, trying to catch your breath as he smiled against you. if only you knew just how much he’d been wanting to kiss you like this, to see your swollen lips as you looked at him from beneath your eyelashes. you were his venus, his only saving grace, and he could only vex himself for ever making you feel anything but love.
“very, “ he pressed a kiss to the corner of your eyes, “very,” to your nose, “stupid,” his lips were on your cheeks, feeling like he was breathing in new air at the sound of your laughter, “people.” he pressed his lips to yours again, cherishing in the way you whined at the harshness.
he had spent months convincing himself that you no longer cared for him. weeks of perilous training to only come back to a bed and dream of a girl who didn’t share his emotions when in reality you did. he wants to track down the letters you had sent him, to read every word carefully, as if each sentence carried its own riddle inside of it. he wanted to apologize for never having the honor of experiencing your skilled penmanship, for leading you to believe that he had simply forgotten about you.
“gojo,” your fingers curl in his tunic, your heat transferring, trying to be rational in such an irrational state of being, “you’re bleeding, i should call for the doctor.” he didn’t stop kissing your face, moving to your jaw as he smiled hearing you shudder.
“it’s not my blood,” he murmured and you wanted to smack him for how cocky he sounded, “and don’t call me gojo.” he nipped at your lips again.
“husband?” you found yourself smiling at the title, but he shook his head. you saw how he was trying to hide his own grin.
“sire?” you tested it out teasingly, hating how it sounded. he seemed to agree with the way he grimaced at the name.
“my lord?” he wanted to bottle up your laughter forever, knowing he could get drunk off of the sound. his nose nudged up at your jaw, pressing wet kisses wherever he could.
“hmm, what about my liege?” you're curling a strand of his hair around your fingers letting him settle you down on your vanity as you spread your legs so he could slot between them.
“my men call me that.” he says, cringing as it falls off your mouth. you pretend to think, not knowing how you were able to live without this banter for as long as you did.
“satoru?” you felt breathless saying it after so long. but he still didn’t seem to find it satisfactory enough, a pout on his lips as he wanted you to find a better one.
“close, but only when you’re angry with me.” you tuck that information in the back of your mind for if you ever need to scold him, your cheeks flushed as he interlocks his fingers through yours.
“‘toru…?” his lips broke into a giddy smile, and you had to control yourself as he swooped back in for a kiss. his eyes were so much softer when he laughed, the kind ones you fell in love with so many nights ago.
“there it is,” his voice was husky, raw as your fingers gripped at the baby hairs at his nape. he was taking your air away with him and you couldn’t find it in yourself to fight back for it.
“i forgot how cheeky you can be,” you bite your lip to keep the moans inside, feeling feverish as his tongue ran over his love marks, not knowing what to do yourself as you scrambled to grab onto something to keep you afloat.
“you have no idea how much self-control it’s taken not to ravage you,” his breath is hot on your skin, and he’s tugging at your shirt, fingers slightly brushing upon your breasts, “every night you’d come down for dinner i wanted something different to eat.”
“stoppp,” you mewled, not used to this. he chuckles as his slender fingers work to untie the knot keeping you together, tugging at the string until it falls, revealing your naked chest, heaving as the fabric pooled at your hips.
you wanted to cover yourself up under his heavy gaze, to take the fabric and hide, but you felt pierced by his stare. his eyes darted to yours as if checking to see if you were okay. when you gave him a timid nod, it seemed as though it prompted him to finally move.
his fingers were gentle as they ran across your waist, large as they covered the soft of your stomach, eager as they went upwards. he looked like he was crazed and starved, as if you were his last meal and he couldn’t wait for the sweetness death would give.
your breath stuttered as his fingers found your mounds, rubbing a soothing thumb over your nipples as his pupils grew. he was eager as he flicked them over and over, a cheshire grin growing as they hardened under his touch.
“you’re perfect,” he murmured, dropping down so he could suckle at your tits, his spit shining in the light of the fire, and you tilted your head back, soft moans escaping as his tongue drew circles around your buds.
“f-fuck, ‘toru, that’s,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, his second hand coming to cup your other tit, not wanting to leave her unattended as he sucked and bruised, wanting to forever leave his mark on your untainted skin.
“good?” he’s so cocky, and you want to smack the smug smirk off his devilishly handsome face.
his knee is purposefully rubbing against your clothed clit, and you feel yourself subconsciously rubbing yourself against it. you hope that he can’t feel how drenched you are from him just sucking your tits, but he pinches you, pressing his tongue flat against your skin as he looks up through his lashes.
“horny from just me touching you?” he’s teasing you, it’s so painful the way you want, need him like oxygen. you tug on his hair roughly, bringing his spit-soaked lips back to yours as you bite down on his lower one, enjoying the groan you draw out from him.
“don’t be mean ‘toru,” you taunt, and you feel him melt in your fingers, nodding to your request as he lowers himself down.
he presses wet kisses down your torso, stopping just above your hips, his fingers hooking along the rim of your underwear, being careful and slow in his movements as he waits for any objections, making sure you’re okay with this.
but you were in your own world, hitching your leg over his shoulders, drawing him in closer to you, sweat dotting your forehead as he licks a stripe over the cotton on your pussy, smiling to himself at the taste of you.
you were so sweet, sweeter than any desert he’d indulge himself on. he was sure that once he had a taste of you he’d be able to repent, to go before any god, and to tell them that you were his religion.
he had spent countless nights, tossing and turning in his bed, the only thing putting him to sleep being the idea of coming home to you. running after you that night was him running home to you, regardless of where you were. he was glad he got your hand in marriage, but if he had to, he’d wait another ten years just to hold you in his arms again.
he peels your underwear off, a string of your arousal connecting to it, and he tucks it in his pants, for safekeeping.
“you’re going to be the death of me.” he says against your heat, his nose rubbing against your clit as your eyes wring shut in pleasure. his hands grip your thighs, making sure you stay in place as he kitten licks around where you need him the most.
“don’t let…don’t let any of your enemies hear,” your voice comes out in bits, your hand resting on the back of his head as your leg tightens around him, “don’t want them to come after me or something.”
he snorts, pinching your thighs as if anybody could come within a ten feet radius of you without losing an eye.
his lips come closer to where you desperately want him, a finger prodding at your tight entrance, his tongue finding your clit as he begins to suck.
it’s all too much, the sensations far better than your own fingers have ever proved to be.
his fingers are skilled, long enough that they reach deep within you. he sinks one fully in, your walls clamping around him as he continues sucking your clit, his teeth grazing it every so often, making your head thump against the wall.
“talk to me, how do you feel?” his mouth discontented from your bud and you whine at the loss. he sinks in another finger to make up for it, but he doesn’t move them, waiting for your response.
“‘s good,” one of your hands is fisting your discarded robe, trying to hold onto your senses as you desperately nod, “don’t stop ‘toru, please,” and he obliges, loving the sounds of your begging, but loving the sound of your pleasures more.
his fingers stretch you open and you welcome the sting, your nails digging into him as you long for more.
he switches his mouth with his hand every now and then, his tongue taking the place of his fingers as it licks at you, groaning at your taste as he eats you out with his entire being, his chin shining with your essence and his spit as his thumb rubs furiously at your clit.
“mmhhh, just like that, fuck!” you’ve never heard your voice at this pitch, never knew it was possible to feel this way. his other hand reaches up to flick at your nipple, the extra sensation making white dot around your vision.
you feel yourself getting closer to the sweet release, feel your wall clamp around him even tighter as that knot in your stomach builds to a crescendo.
“come on, let go f’me, know you want to, know you can.” he spurs you on, his fingers unrelenting as they piston in and out of you, reaching that gummy spot that makes you go dumb.
“fuck, ‘toru, m’gonna, m’gonna come!” you cry out and you’re sure anybody walking past you could hear the debauchery. your thighs were starting to shake and you felt it all go black as you reached your high, your orgasm washing over you unlike anything you’ve ever felt.
you creamed around his fingers, gushing around him as you wailed out, tears dotting your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling. you squeezed around him, wanting to never lose what this felt like, trying to catch your breath as his mouth never stopped sucking at your nub before he was sure your climax was over.
when he finally pulled away the only thing that could be heard was the two of you, trying to come back down as stupid smiles made their way onto each of your faces.
he was boyishly charming as he stood in front of you, licking yourself off of his fingers as he grinned at the taste. you couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed after having him just between your legs, but you still felt a heat blossom in your chest.
“so…” you awkwardly start, sweat dripping down your face from just how hot the room had suddenly gotten as you avert your gaze, “what now?”
he shrugged nonchalantly, despite the fact that his heart was about to beat it’s way out of his chest. you let him pick you off of the vanity and tucked you safely away into his chest as he led you to your bed, gently setting you down in your mountain of pillows and blankets as you felt sleep etch away at you.
“i’m going to clean you up,” he pressed a kiss to your hair, smiling at the way you giddy smiled at whatever he did, a dopey grin on your face as your hand searched for his, interlocking you fingers with his as if you didn’t want to watch him go, “if you let me.”
you yawn, your head tilting as he sat down at the edge of your bed, still not letting go of your hand as your fingers run through the soft pelts beneath you.
“and what about you?” your chin points the obvious hard-on growing in his pants. he looks down as if suddenly realizing, and he plays it off by looking back up to you with a wink. you felt your mouth going dry at the size of it, not knowing if you could even be able to take something as big as that.
“for another day,” he promises, and you’re sure he’s not going to forget it. not like you want him to.
“and then?”
your question lingers in the air. you don’t want to wake up to him acting like this never happened, as if your feelings were only a figment of your wildest dreams. but his eyes hold onto yours, never letting go as he brushes some strays away from your face.
“and then i get a bigger bed for my room because there’s no way i’m letting you sleep here alone after this.” his thumb runs along the palm of your hand, his fingers tracing patterns into the soft of your legs.
“and then?”
“and then you tell me all the things i missed out on when i was gone. i’ll tell you about the time suguru shaved my head, and you’ll tell me about anything on your mind.”
“what if i run out of things to say?” sleep is overtaking your voice, and you’re already nodding off, not even truly knowing what you were asking.
“then i’ll make up stories so that you’re not bored.” he finds a clean towel, soaking it in water from a nearby pitcher as he drags it slowly across your body, as if your fragile and made of porcelain.
“how do i know you’re not a dream? you might just be,” you yawn, rubbing at your eyes as your finger traces his ring, “you might just be my own mind tricking me.” your eyes are shutting, but the teasing smile on your face never leaves.
“because a dream wouldn’t hide under a table with you if you asked.” he whispers, kissing your lips with a soft peck as he pulls the blanket over you, letting you sleep into a slumber as he crawls in next to you, holding you to his chest just as he did that night, just as he will every night from now on, and just as he longed for those nights he wished you next to him.
#gojo x reader#gojo x reader smut#gojo x you#gojo x you smut#gojo x reader angst#gojo x you angst#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x reader smut#satoru x reader#satoru x you#gojo satoru smut#jujutsu kaisen#gojo x reader fluff#gojou x reader
13K notes
·
View notes
Text
##most desired
y!vox x reader // y!alastor x reader // y!adam x reader
synopsis: two overlords and an angel who are insufferably in love with you. // she / her pronouns
beware: DARK THEMES // obsessive behaviour, heavy yandere aspects, stalking,
notes: the most y/n thing i ever made
you were one of the first overlords of hell that remained in the same rank to this day. everyone knew of you and dared not whisper your name in fear that you would come for them. they saw you in the streets or at downtown bars, sometimes at a corner table of ozzie’s. you were a mystery that preferred bringing misery.
little to no people knew of your background. it was swept under the rug to never be looked at again, and maybe lucifer helped with that. you were an angel before, way back when the rules were more strict and heaven was nothing more than a guarded kingdom.
“just one chance, y/n!” adam urged. “one date — that is all i ask for!”
you scoffed at his antics, growing used to his advances of being asked for your hand. “how many times do i have to say i’m not interested? i have work. get going before sera is on my ass.”
sera. your old boss and best friend — everything you worked towards was being at her level — instead came crashing down when you disagreed with the exterminations. adam watched you fall, but sera was the cause.
downstairs, lucifer helped cover it up. it was big talk around hell for quite some time until it was thrown under the rug and you could live in peace. while your power cannot compare to the rulers of hell, it comes close. you’re just careful of not showing that.
the radio demon always shown great interest in you — not that he knew you personally — but enjoyed your story like an old tale. while he isn’t sure which story is the real one, he enjoys the theories that you were just a hellborn that came up.
it was rosie who connected you both. she was a friend of yours, and one of the best cooks you’ve ever known.
“oh my stars! alastor! you have to come meet one of my good friends, you are going to love her!” rosie beckoned. “she is such a pumpkin and the cutest thing! oh, there she is! y/n!, over here sweet pea!” she strides towards your seated area.
you watched your friend gleefully place a hand on the man’s arm, her signature grin tugging at her lips. “this is alastor. alastor, this is y/n.”
it was nice to finally place a face to the name! he had a fondness to you from the start: sat with you at the small of your booth and chatted until nightfall, completely in awe of your welcoming personality.
but why wouldn’t you be welcoming? you are one of the main overlords, what is there to fear when nearly everyone is below you? alastor felt a sort of connection, a relation that you are no different than him.
his admiration only begins to grow from here and continues the more you interact. slowly, he becomes a part of your daily life and starts showing you off to the world that you are an “acquaintance.”
now it was no lie that your name started to spread around hell like a wildfire, especially to know your hiatus is officially over. back to the present of downtown bars and corner table at ozzie’s for dinner — your face was back up to being recognizable — and it was a wonderful change
it would not be until recent years when you would finally meet vox at an overlord meeting: his personality nearly matched yours. if not, then you both had a click that had you both in deep conversation right after.
you could imagine alastors dislike towards that interaction
“so you’re the big talk of hell, huh?” the host approached you with confidence inside and out. “my, what a pretty face! it’s practically made for television, how about we do something about that?” the moment brought your hand to shake his, vox brought you to his side with an arm over your shoulder as he walked you to your seat.
“what do you have in mind?” now, normally you don’t condone this behaviour — but he really piqued your interest. “it’s not like my face isn’t already noticed on the streets, for what reason does it need to be on billboards?”
“stunning features like yours should be shown off, and not just for the streets,” he emphasized. “here’s my card, we could talk more later, dear.”
alastor had a full front view of this interaction and a perfect angle of vox’s smug expression when he watched you tuck the card in your pocket.
now don’t get me wrong, adam has been watching.
he couldn’t let his sweetheart just go to hell like that! littered with sinners and demons and— you get the point. it was hard to recognize him with the mask he now wore, especially since he never made the effort to show himself to you.
what if you were angry at him? he seen your face fall when the topic of exterminating these wretched souls came up. he made a point to his angels that they do not touch a strand of your hair.
he can’t keep himself away from you though, not when there’s no bastards that are getting too cozy with you. his plans of coming back into your life needing to take a charge and fast.
coming down as he pleases to just see you, often keeping his mask on so no demon can see how he looks like. whisking you into the sky so you won’t be able to get away from him
he has your wings on display in heaven, don’t worry about it.
vox and alastor coming to find out someone from the heavens is coming to see you? this is by far the first time in history they will ever come into an agreement of something: no angel hands should ever touch your skin.
alastor makes it a point to constantly whisk you to the hotel, or sometimes his radio station to hide. “they won’t find you here, sweetheart! i’ll keep you safe.”
the way all three of them would become more and more possessive the more time you are with one or the other. you can’t say no, there is denial when wanting to just stay home alone. someone is always at your hip.
there is only so much time where you either kill one of them or they take you and hide forever: but forever isn’t long when adam has his angels searching for you each year.
“c’mon babe! we could go back up to heaven, i’ll pull some strings!” adam often confides.
“we could rule over hell with no one to undermine our power if we took the chance!” vox would persuade.
“we could hide forever and live however you desire if you just take my hand.” alastor chimes.
having these 3 men after you is something you do not want, especially when their obsession levels keep rising. at this rate, murder is an option. it’s only the matter of time.
#ᥫ᭡.#hazbin hotel x reader#vox x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel headcanon#hazbin hotel imagine#vox imagine#vox x yn#vox x you#hazbin hotel vox#alastor x yn#alastor x you#hazbin hotel alastor x reader#alastor imagine#alastor x reader#adam x reader#adam x you#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin hotel yandere#hazbin hotel adam x reader
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
To Know You…
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Summary: Benedict knows you better than anyone. But does he know himself well enough to know what he truly wants?
Warnings: none really… fluffy fluff. Childhood friends, class differences, marriage mart shenanigans, dancing, marriage proposals, Benedict being adorable while also a complete dumbass, unrequited to requited love, love confessions.
Word Count: 10.4k (yeah, it's a long one, folks)
Authors Note: this is a request fill for @curlsincriminology (ask HERE) about Benedict showing you all the wonderful things he sees in you, but will he figure out his own feelings before it's too late? Thanks to the complete trooper @colettebronte for beta reading this monster one-shot. Enjoy <3
I: To Know You….
“I would rather not, Miss y/l/n,” the young man clips, walking away from you at a brusque pace.
You sigh and look down at your feet. Mrs Parsons will be so very disappointed, is all you can think.
—
Benedict may not have heard the words spoken, but even from his vantage point at the other end of the ballroom, he could see the disdainful way the young man uttered his parting words to you. It makes anger flare hot in his chest, his fist forming reflexively at his side.
He watches as you look down, shoulders hunching, folding in on yourself physically, as if the rejection for a dance has manifested in a body blow. He feels a pang in his gut—of sympathy, indignance on your behalf and mainly at the injustice of it all. To him, you are a wonderful, intelligent, caring person worthy of a good match. Still, the circumstances of your upbringing seem to stymie your attempts to join so-called ‘polite’ society at every turn…
—
You look up with a defeated mien until your eyes land on one person who has always been able to ameliorate any of your more morose moods—Benedict Bridgerton. Instantly, you feel lighter. You give him a polite nod across the crowded room, and, to your delight, he returns it, a hint of a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. It is just so very characteristic of him to offer silent support, to understand, from witnessing a moment of interaction, precisely what you are feeling. A large part of you feels so wistful that there is no other man quite as nice as him. Suddenly, your overwhelming need is to leave this stuffy ballroom and catch some air.
You grew up under the tutelage of the kindly doctor’s widow, Mrs Parsons, whose house is not far from the vast Bridgerton estate in Kent. The naturally born daughter of nobody quite knows whom, you were taken in as her ward when you were abandoned upon her doorstep at a mere two years old. Her reputation for kindness towards young waifs and strays is likely why you were left there. It is an event you were too young to recall, so all you have known your whole life is her generosity and kindness, raising you as if her own.
And now that you are of age, she takes you to events around Kent in the hopes of securing you a respectable husband, the most prestigious being tonight’s Hearts and Flowers Ball at Aubrey Hall. The Bridgertons have always been gracious enough to invite local families, those without the means to partake in the London season, to events at their country estate—a kindness that allows for your attendance tonight. It’s just such a pity that the one bachelor Mrs Parsons was so very keen for you to meet, one Mr Reeves, just rebuffed you so thoroughly.
You glance down at the remaining empty slots on the dance card tied to your wrist and sigh again. Now that you are out on the terrace in the fresh evening air, the light breeze is at least a partial balm, allowing you to recover from the sting of rejection away from the hubbub of the ballroom.
“I will never understand how the men of this county can consider themselves anything approaching mannered.”
You would know that refined voice anywhere. It haunts your dreams. Just the sound of it making your ribs tighten. You turn to see Benedict sauntering towards you, two drinks in hand, that sympathetic smile still in place.
“You are far better off without such rudeness,” he adds dryly as he pulls up beside you, arching an eyebrow for your entertainment.
“You are far too kind, Mr Bridgerton,” you answer, taking the glass he offers with a meek smile, trying not to let your ardent admiration for him be too evident.
“Mr Bridgerton?!?” he scoffs, “What happened to BenBen?” he teases gently, recalling your childhood name for him when you were a mere four and he was nine.
“We are at a formal event; I should address you as such, should I not?” you reply playfully, a warmth spreading inside as it always does when you get the chance to have a witty, convivial exchange with him.
By gosh, if there is one man to whom you would pledge yourself without hesitation, it is him. But, of course, he is the second son of an illustrious family. To think you would have any chance to win his heart would be as likely as a future king to marry a commoner. Still, you can dream…
“At least call me Benedict, Skylark,” he winks over his wine glass as he takes a sip, butterflies erupting in your tummy at the affectionate nickname he has used since you were small; you have to avert your eyes to avoid blushing deeply.
Just as he goes to speak again, his brother, the Viscount, materialises at his side. Looking to all intents and purposes as if he is trying to escape the ball as much as you are.
“Mother is best avoided tonight, brother,” Anthony warns sagely, taking a large gulp of his champagne. “She is under the erroneous impression I am suddenly in want of a wife.”
You can't stop the giggle that bubbles up from within at his wry observation of his predicament.
“Hello, y/n,” he greets warmly, just noticing you are also there, his face morphing into a youthful, playful grin. If Benedict is the husband you have always dreamed of, Anthony is the elder brother you have always yearned for. In fact, that is always how he has treated you, akin to Eloise and Daphne, who you grew up playing with, being of similar age.
“Hello, Anthony,” you chime back. “How was the hunt earlier? Did the infamous Bridgerton brothers kill another prized stag?” you inquire, keen to engage both of them for as long as they will entertain you. Just being around them always lifts your spirits to no end.
—
Benedict observes you as you listen intently to Anthony’s recounting of the hunt earlier that day, impressed by your resilience. He has no doubts any other woman would feign an attack of the vapours had a man rejected her so harshly. But here you are, politely listening to his brother’s boasting, even though he can tell you are hurting inside.
Perhaps it helps that your snub went primarily unnoticed. You are unknown to the Ton; any witnesses likely dismissing it as the business of ‘country folk’ unworthy of note. Which, frankly, he could scoff at, seeing as he holds you in higher regard than all of the other attendees combined.
“How about you?” Anthony ends his story with a question to you, interrupting Benedict’s train of thought. “How has your experience been at our fine event this evening?”
“Oh, the house is splendidly decorated and the music wonderful,” you obfuscate behind flattery. Anthony appears to buy it, but Benedict sees behind your facade, the flame behind your usually bright gaze dimming a little, making something ache in his gut to see it.
Damn that idiot for ruining your evening! This just won’t do…
—
You can feel Benedict’s eyes upon you as you respond abstractly to Anthony.
“Y/n here is too polite to say it, but she was treated harshly by that young Reeves chap from Tenterden,” Benedict edifies as you bow your head, embarrassed. “Let’s be sure to rescind his invitation to future events, brother,” he appends with a surly tone.
“Duly noted,” Anthony nods sincerely, a brush of confusion flitting over his face regarding his brother's vehemence.
“No, there is no need…” you begin to protest weakly but halt mid-sentence under the intensity of Benedict’s gaze.
“I bore witness. Believe me, He shall not darken our door again,” he states firmly.
It appears the matter is very much decided, and you don’t want to put up much of a fight, seeing as it ultimately benefits you. You do, however, want to bathe in the warm glow inside whenever Benedict defends you. It's wonderful to have someone looking out for you, especially one so handsome and kind.
—
Two days later, you are taking afternoon tea with Mrs Parsons at the local tea shop when Benedict breezes in, looking so majestic dressed in Bridgerton blues that you grind to a halt. Luckily, he has not seen you as he makes a beeline for the counter.
“‘Tis rude to stare, my dear,” Mrs Parsons lectures sotto voce, nodding to your teacup, frozen in mid-air.
You shake your head a touch and place said item back in your saucer as she turns briefly to look at what or who caught your attention. Then she reaches out, her lace-gloved hand gently patting yours.
“It would be prudent to set your sights a little more realistic…” she advises with a sympathetic air. “Not that I fault your choice,” she adds, so quietly at first you're not sure you heard her correctly, but there is a tiny playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Your mouth falls open fractionally, and you stare as she shrugs. “I may be old, my dear, but I am not blind.”
Well, I never, Mrs Parsons!
As you take a bite of food, Benedict twists around from speaking to the proprietor, and he sees you. There’s a jolt down your spine as he breaks into a huge smile that claims his whole face. And you almost choke on scone crumbs as he makes a beeline over to you rather than the exit.
“Good afternoon, Miss y/l/n, Mrs Parsons!” he greets effusively. “Would it be terribly impolite to ask to join you briefly?”
Mrs Parsons' face is a picture of surprise. “Not at all; the pleasure is ours, Mr Bridgerton,” she responds affably, gesturing to the spare chair at your small round table.
As Benedict sits, Mrs Parsons shoots you an incredulous look. It's your turn to shrug fractionally.
“Mrs Parsons, I feel it necessary to tell you Mr Reeves was excessively rude to Miss y/l/n here at the ball, and I wanted to assure you that he will not be welcome at Aubrey Hall again,” he divulges sincerely.
Mrs Parsons looks taken aback and turns to you. “Why did you not tell me, my dear?”
“I-I did not think it necessary…” you twist your mouth into a bashful pout, biting your lip.
“Mr Bridgerton, thank you for bringing this to my attention, and I thank you for your generous offer, but that sort of action does not seem warranted,” she replies accommodatingly.
“That is what I said…”
“That is what she said…”
You and Benedict speak in unison at the exact same moment, and your eyes ping to each other, both laughing then bowing your heads immediately. You know your cheeks are flushed.
—
Benedict loves the look in your eye sometimes. That spirited sparkle with glowing cheeks. In his opinion, that is the only look you should ever wear; no one, especially one as unworthy as Mr Reeves, should be allowed to rob you of it. He feels a strong compulsion to do everything in his power to keep you looking like that—carefree, happy, stunning. It’s what motivates his subsequent words.
“If it is not considered too impudent for me to do so, I have a suggestion for Miss y/l/n’s introduction into society,” Benedict offers sincerely. “I believe you should be able to find her an excellent, worthy match by casting a wider net.”
“What are you proposing, Mr Bridgerton?” Mrs Parsons inquiries, almost warily.
“That Miss y/l/n come to London and partake in the remainder of the season as a guest of my family. My mother seems to think it an excellent idea, and I know my younger sister Eloise is already a good friend. I do not see why they could not attend events together,” he shrugs genially.
Mrs Parsons's face is a picture again. “You have already spoken to the Dowager Viscountess of this matter?” she checks, unable to modulate the astonishment in her tone.
“Of course,” he confirms with a nod. “I made such a suggestion this morning when your names came up. She heartily concurs. Miss y/l/n here is too bright and good of a person to have her marital choice limited by geography or circumstance.”
His eyes fall on you, and his heart gallops at the searing look you are giving him.
—
You don’t even try to temper your doe-eyed expression as you look upon Benedict, him extolling your virtues to the audience of the tea room.
Even distracted by all the wondrous things he has to say, you can detect the noise level on the surrounding tables has reduced; everyone in town always keen to eavesdrop on a Bridgerton conversation. Especially one that contains such noteworthy gossip as a local young lady being invited to the London season at the family’s behest.
“My dear, I trust that Lady Bridgerton will look after you well,” Mrs Parsons professes. “I have no objections should you desire to seize this opportunity.” Her tone pointed, very much encouraging you to do so.
“That would be just wonderful, Mr Bridgerton,” you exhale with a grateful smile. “I cannot thank you enough for even thinking to raise such a petition.”
“Think nothing of it, Miss y/l/n,” he smiles, standing up and giving you both a brief, shallow bow. “I shall see you anon, no doubt.”
And with that, he sweeps out of the tearoom, your eye line tracking his concave outline through the curved glass as he rounds the corner out of sight.
“Well, well,” Mrs Parsons puffs out her cheeks. “I am not sure what you did to inspire such actions in a gentleman. But bravo, my dear, bravo,” she holds her teacup aloft in a toast.
You are a jumble of emotions and could not even begin to answer Mrs Parsons about what you could possibly have done. Mostly, you are just elated by the prospect of the chance to attend the whirl of the London season, even if there is also a small pang of regret that Benedict is so keen to see you matched.
II: …Is To Love You
The following Tuesday, as your carriage pulls up outside the grandeur of Bridgerton House, you have nothing but butterflies. And as Lady Bridgerton - Violet as she insists you now call her - and her lady’s maid show you to your charming guest room, you cannot temper your excitement.
“Get yourself freshened up, my dear. There is a soiree this evening at the Queen’s new residence no less, and there is no time like the present to begin your introductions,” the dowager viscountess warmly counsels.
You nod your thank yous, and after they take their leave, you twirl excitedly around the room, taking in the elegant furnishings and airy sunlight flooding in. You pull up in front of a large sash window and are delighted to see bounteous gardens beneath. The rear of the property is very much an oasis of calm in the heart of the city. But one sight in particular draws your eye: a majestic oak with two swings attached to a stately arm. It looks like a place of refuge, and you feel oddly compelled to take a seat there.
Three hours later, walking into the palatial Buckingham House, you are in a different world from the one you know in Kent. Candlelit crystal chandeliers glint like towering clusters of jewels, spraying thousands of shards of light around the room. Every railing is bedecked in hundreds of drooping flower garlands, and the walls groan with enormous portraits of royalty. The mellifluous strains of a chamber orchestra fill the air. Your grip on Eloise’s arm is tight as you try not to look agog at all the opulence surrounding you.
“And I thought Aubrey Hall was grand,” you murmur quietly, and she just guffaws.
—
Benedict arrives late to the soiree from his bachelor lodgings, bustling in as stealthily as possible, knowing he will likely catch his mother’s ire for his tardiness.
But then he sees a sight that makes him temporarily stop dead in his tracks. There, hanging on to his little sister, surveying the room utterly lost in reverie at its grandeur—is you. He has not seen you dressed up as you are now, made over with the full attention of the Bridgerton staff. And he isn't afraid to admit to himself, at least, that it catches his breath. How they have applied cosmetics and styled your hair, emphasising your already evident beauty. And the dress they have chosen… well, he is almost ashamed of the heat pooling low in his gut; he has never seen you in such tailored, refined silks.
Whosoever marries you shall be quite the luckiest man indeed.
He doesn't miss the way you inhale sharply when your eyes finally land on him, his chest swelling slightly with pride as your lips part in surprise before breaking into that winning smile which always seems to brighten every room, tonight being no exception.
As he pulls up to the family, he hears his mother opining to you about the men attending the ball.
“Y/n, I would like to introduce you to Lord Shelton; he is a fine young man with many interests, and he has a lovely estate near Hove,” his mother recounts as you listen intently.
“Oh god, no,” Benedict immediately intervenes, “Shelton has amassed significant debt at the Pudding Lane gaming hell…”
Violet looks up surprised, then raises an eyebrow. “Pray tell dear son, how do you have knowledge of such? Benedict Bridgerton, you had better not be frequenting the hells of the East End,” she threatens quietly, in that stern maternal manner that has any grown man quaking in their polished shoes.
“No, of course not, mother,” he bristles, his eyes cutting briefly to you, not wanting you to think such things of him. “It is an open secret at Whites’, and why he is currently banned from the card room there.”
—
You cannot tear your eyes off Benedict as his mother side-eyes him.
Violet hums sceptically before declaring. “Well, not to worry, there are plenty of other options available for Miss y/l/n…” She steers your attention towards another crowd of young men, all talking and sipping champagne. “Baron Corning, Lord Jennings, Viscount Tewkesbury,” she recounts, nodding subtly to each one. “Any would make a fine addition to your dance card, my dear.”
“We can do much better than any of them,” Benedict chides.
You are slightly taken aback at how very much he sounds like Anthony tonight; apparently very invested in curating who you should dance with. The problem is, with each additional suggestion his mother makes to you, he roundly dismisses them out of hand.
Is no one in attendance up to his standard?
“Benedict, dear, a word?” Violet states pointedly after a third round of his withering opinions. “Get yourself another lemonade,” she smiles at you, patting your hand before looping her arm in her son’s and dragging him away.
—
His mother’s arm is surprisingly strong when she needs it to be.
“Darling, may I remind you, while Miss Y/l/n is indeed a wonderful person, I do not think we can afford to be too picky for her prospects. Her background is rather… unestablished,” Violet points out diplomatically as soon as you are out of earshot.
“We can do better than braggards, bores and philanderers,” Benedict shoots back, raising a pointed eyebrow.
She looks up at him and sighs. “Well, that is true.”
“As I thought, mother,” he winks as she affectionately swats his forearm. “Why not benefit from my knowledge? In fact, perhaps it is prudent I assist in your search for a suitor.”
“Oh, is it now?” Her tone suddenly filled with intrigue, her face entirely too scrutinising for his liking. “And does not my second son wish to join their ranks?” She adds entirely unsubtly.
“I have no time for romance; I have my art. I am most preoccupied.” He waves a dismissive hand, but even he knows his answer is tellingly brusque.
“And yet, you do not seem too busy to assist with the search, dear…” she points out archly.
Benedict has no response to that.
—
The day after the grand ball, you are sat in the dappled shade in the gardens of Bridgerton House, attempting needlework. It's never been your strength, frankly. You would much rather be allowed to partake in more physical pursuits, like archery or fencing, a want to burn off nervous energy as you await the arrival of any suitors. You did end up dancing with a couple of gentlemen, both of whom were…. fine… in your estimation.
After messing up yet another stitch, you throw down the embroidery hoop and emit a deep sigh when a familiar chuckle rings out behind you.
“Not your favourite pastime?” Benedict correctly guesses.
“You can say that again,” you grumble, twisting to smile at him, a little frisson in your belly at his mere presence, alone as you are.
He rounds to take a seat opposite you, across the table.
“So let me guess,” his face charmingly skewed into a thoughtful mien. “You would prefer to be doing something, hmmmm, more athletic?”
You giggle and cast your eyes downwards briefly, abashed he seems to know you so well. “Correct again.”
“I remember you being a crack shot in archery,” he smiles nostalgically before continuing with genuine curiosity. “Why did you not continue it?”
“I was informed ‘tis unbecoming for a lady,” you rue, the mental image of Mrs Parsons deeming such things ‘unladylike’ flitting through your mind.
He scoffs. “Since when did fearsome little Skylark care one jot for societal expectations?” he teases gently, with a wink, as again he invokes the nickname he bestowed upon you a long time hence.
You smile briefly before you become more sanguine. “Since I have been informed I must find a husband…” you sigh.
He frowns a touch. “Any man would be lucky to have a wife who can keep him company on the archery field. I know I, for one, would greatly appreciate a spouse with whom I could share such a pastime.”
A bittersweet twinge in your gut that one day he will indeed be married to some deserving, no doubt elegant, lady.
“I would venture that you are not like most gentlemen in that regard…”
“Perhaps not,” he agrees, looking thoughtful, “but then you are not like most ladies, Skylark.”
“I am not a lady…” your counterpoint softly-spoken, almost ashamed.
“You are more lady than any other member of the Ton,” he asserts, his gaze suddenly intense, as if he is willing you to believe his point. “And you should be free to pursue any pastime you wish.”
You say nothing, just smile wanly, wishing you could believe it was true.
—
How you constantly doubt yourself causes a little stab behind Benedict’s ribs. A sudden burning need to prove that you should do as you please. He slaps his thighs and stands up swiftly.
“In fact, I am going to go set up the archery targets right now,” he nods decisively, making a beeline for the far corner of the garden where he knows the targets are kept, hoping you will follow.
“Coming?” he calls, twisting to look back at you. “I won't tell anyone…” he adds with a conspiratorial wink, seeing from the involuntary bounce of your leg how much you wish to join in.
He cannot help the smile that engulfs his face as you jump to your feet with a mischievous giggle. Nor can he help deliberately aiming badly, letting you roundly defeat him at target practice, basking in the victorious glint in your eye as you tease him gently for losing.
He also pretends not to notice his mother watching from a high window, her expression riveted and so very telling.
—
Later that day, you are reading quietly with Eloise when Violet sweeps into the drawing room with her lady's maid.
“Y/n, Sir Denton is here to see you,” she smiles brightly.
“Oh, I…” you stutter, sitting upright, surprised.
“I can send him away, Miss?” The maid offers, intuiting your disquiet.
“No, no, it is fine… I am just surprised, that is all. ‘Tis almost 4pm. I was not expecting that anyone would be calling, given the late hour.”
Benedict suddenly materialises in the doorway. As ever, there’s that trademark flutter in your chest.
“Any reason Denton is lingering in the hallway?” he inquires airily, grabbing a teacup and pouring himself some.
“He is here for y/n,” Violet breezes as his eyes cut to you, a wave of irritation seeming to cloud his face.
“Well, we should dismiss him,” Benedict sniffs, pausing in his action, his face souring.
“Why?” Violet frowns.
“I had a chance to look into his past since I acquiesced to his dance with y/n last night…”
“Acquiesced?!” Violet scoffs, but Benedict ignores her interjection, save for a curt eyebrow raise.
“I have subsequently discovered he has vastly overstated his assets,” Benedict bristles imperiously.
“Who woke up and made you Anthony?” Eloise pipes up witheringly.
Benedict shoots her a look of irritation. “Anthony has deputised me to run family matters while he is away on business this week, sister,” he reminds pointedly.
“Yes, but you did not have to adopt his personality as well,” Eloise shoots back, disgust evident on her face.
“I take finding y/n here, a suitable match, seriously,” he volleys. “Do you wish to see your good friend married to someone unworthy of her?”
“Well, no…”
“Then kindly permit me to handle matters,” Benedict orders with finality, uncharacteristically forthright in his opinions.
“I do not wish to see her married at all…” Eloise mutters under her breath as he stalks away to dispatch Denton before anyone can argue.
You just sit there mildly dumbfounded, unsure what to make of it all.
—
The following evening, you are attending a music recital with the Bridgertons; Benedict is notably absent, which makes you a touch melancholic in a way you don’t want to dwell on.
However, the evening turns for the better while you are taking refreshments at the interval. A friendly-faced young man strikes up a conversation with you after an introduction from Violet.
“Are you enjoying the music tonight, Miss y/l/n?” he asks genially.
“It is very nice, Lord Glassborough,” you offer politely, trying to stifle your slight boredom. You enjoy music, but a two-hour concert is a little too much for you. You much prefer a short set of songs as they play at balls.
“I find it rather dull myself,” he opines quietly, leaning in. “I much prefer a lively song one may dance to.”
You know your face is a picture of surprise that his opinion is an exact mirror of your own.
“Have I offended you so?” he checks, looking mildly contrite.
“Not at all, my lord. I was actually just thinking the same myself,” you chuckle quietly.
He looks inordinately pleased and breaks into a friendly, toothy grin. He seems like a nice, agreeable sort. A pleasant, if not particularly handsome, face. Over his shoulder, you see Violet looking inordinately pleased you appear to be getting on so well.
—
“I am not sure I can do this...” you sigh as Ms West genially taps the metronome.
“You can, dear; just remember your finger placement,” she encourages as your fingers fall to the cool ivory keys.
And so you begin again. Attempting to master this tricky piece, your eyes tracing the lines of music as you play the pianoforte. Violet is so keen for you to brush up on your skills, given Lord Glassborough’s interest in you yesterday. You could not find an adequate excuse fast enough, and so here you are, in a slightly reluctant music lesson, trying your best to recall how Mrs Parsons taught you to play a few years ago.
“Men do so appreciate a lady who can entertain them with exquisite music,” Ms West nods approvingly as you play.
Mostly, you are relieved when you make it to the end with no mistakes, at least none glaringly obvious.
“I much prefer to sing…” you admit tacitly as Ms West shuffles the sheet music.
She looks at you surprised, then shoos you from the piano stool. “Sing for me then, my dear…” taking a seat and beginning the opening bars to a song that, fortunately, you know well.
You begin to sing along, growing more confident with every note, allowing yourself to get lost in the words, the story of a lady awaiting her true love.
“Exceptional!” she peals delightedly over the sound, and you feel bolstered to continue, her playing the perfect accompaniment.
—
Benedict stops short as soon as he enters the house. The most lilting, beautiful sound echoing gently down the marble hall.
“Who is that Jenkins?” he asks of the butler who takes his coat.
“I believe it is Miss y/l/n, sir.”
He draws inexorably closer, finding himself watching you through the crack in the doorway, listening to you sing a touching tale of love that sounds so hauntingly hypnotic in your mellifluous tones. Your eyes are closed, and you sway to the melody, lost in reverie, in the narrative you weave.
The piano stops abruptly.
“Can we help you, sir?” an elder lady calls crisply.
Benedict realises the door has crept open slightly before him, enough for him to be seen by your music teacher. He watches as you swing around and look horrified that you may have an audience. It makes him take a resolute step forward into the room.
“Do you need us to desist? Is it perhaps too loud?” the lady checks deferentially, likely assuming him to be the head of the household.
“No!” His reply is a touch too forceful. “Please continue,” he modifies. “I was merely drawn by the splendid sound I heard. I am not sure I have ever heard such a wondrous voice,” he adds, keeping his gaze steadfastly upon the lady, not able to look you in the eye as he confesses as such.
—
You are mortified when you realise Benedict heard you singing; you have always managed to keep it private, until now at least. But now your heart is suddenly pounding at his extolling words.
“She does indeed have a most excellent voice,” Ms West concurs with his sentiment, looking at you expectantly as Benedict walks further into the room, his face with the same hopeful expression.
“I am not sure I can…” you stumble, nervous for an audience, most especially him; his is the opinion that would matter to you the most—you would be crestfallen should he not like it.
“Sing more for me, please, Skylark?” His ask is gentle, beseeching as if it were just the two of you alone.
“Skylark?” Ms West sounds enchanted.
“My childhood nickname for Miss y/l/n,” Benedict explains as he takes a seat.
“Skylarks have a wonderful song,” she sighs wistfully.
“Indeed,” Benedict chimes, his eyes still upon you. “I never knew how appropriate it was until this very moment.”
Something warm cracks in your chest at his sweet words, making you courageous. At least enough to nod when Ms West looks to you again from the piano. And so you restart the song for your special audience, heart in your mouth. The words coming easily to you, an extra layer of meaning he will never know as you sing words of unrequited devotion, looking to him in your braver moments. His face is enrapt, leaning forward, his eyes soft and expressive.
As you reach a high note at the end of the song, holding it, Benedict bursts into applause, jumping up from his seat and taking you by surprise, grabbing your gloved hands in his.
“You should always be singing Skylark…” he pronounces. “Truly beautiful. Please promise me, no matter what happens, that you will always, always sing…”
You duck your head briefly, unsure how to deal with his effusive praise. Ms West’s face is a picture as you stand there, your hands still trapped in his, feeling a tingle where the warmth of his skin seeps through the layers to yours.
“I-I-I promise,” you reply meekly, a touch dazed as you raise your eyes again to meet his, the intensity making your lungs restrict.
“Thank you.”
Two words have never sounded so sincere or loaded with significance.
III: … And I Do.
A few days later, it is the Trowbridge Ball, a decadent affair that is usually the most talked about of the season, apparently. You share a carriage ride there with Benedict and Eloise, trying your best not to stare at him—so handsomely dressed in a white cravat and black velvet cropped jacket that clings to his tapered shape. But mostly, you fail. Your skin flushes hot the more you look at him. You could swear that his gaze strays to you, too, subtly sweeping the fine teal silk Madam Delacroix has expertly tailored for you.
“You look beautiful this evening, ladies,” he offers politely to both you and Eloise.
“What do you want?” Eloise cuts across your reply, narrowing her eyes at her older brother, instantly suspicious of his flattery.
“Can I not compliment without an ulterior motive?” he frowns, their usual sibling dynamic emerging.
“Not usually,” Eloise sniffs, with another suspicious glance, before looking out the carriage window.
You take the opportunity to mumble your thanks to him. His responding smile warms your entire being, his hazy eyes lingering in a way that makes your skin prickle. And when he offers a chivalrous hand to assist you down from the carriage, you could swear his hand lingers upon yours a few seconds longer than is necessary.
Around an hour later, as you go to partake in a refreshment, a sneering Lady Cowper utters something cruel under her breath as you pass, her sour-looking daughter smirking beside her. You do not hear all of the words, but you do not need to. One sideways glance tells you all that you need to know. It seems so unnecessarily cruel, never having even exchanged so much as a word with you, but even as you feel a lump in your throat, their attention is already elsewhere.
“Ah! Mr Briddgerton,” her entire demeanour changing to oleaginous charm, “my daughter looks particularly stunning tonight, does she not? I do believe you should secure a place upon her dance card before there are none left!”
You watch Benedict blanch at the very words.
“I do not dance, Lady Cowper, but I bid you ladies a good evening,” he responds, polite but firm.
You try your hardest not to giggle at the disdained look on their faces as he sweeps past them, and you feel light as air as, instead, he draws up to you and winks.
“That woman does not realise she is doing her daughter’s prospects more harm than good with her brashness,” he comments dryly as he grabs a glass of champagne from the stand next to you.
“I am not so sure the daughter would do much better without her; she seems perpetually furious about her own hairstyle,” you opine sardonically, making Benedict snort loudly into his champagne glass. A lightness fizzles in your being as he shoots you a look of unmistakable admiration for that remark.
“I daresay you are a much better dancer than her,” he contends, not breaking eye contact, placing aside his drink before leaning in and continuing in a hushed voice. “Perhaps you would do me the honour of a dance, Skylark, to confirm my suspicion?”
There is a vault in your chest as he employs your private nickname in public and, not only that, is offering you a dance when, just a moment ago, he declared publicly that he would not.
You can only nod, heart hammering, as he breaks out into the most handsome smile, offering you his arm and leading you to the centre of the room as you hear a ripple go through the nearby crowd. Apparently the sight of one Benedict Bridgerton taking to the dancefloor is a rare occasion indeed.
—
As he takes your gloved hand in his and curls an arm around your shoulder, he realises this was perhaps a mistake. An impromptu offer, the hollow thrill of petty revenge for the insult he observed the Cowpers sling at you. But now he realises it has rather backfired upon him.
He cares not a jot for the gossiping, people nodding and pointing to you both as you begin to dance. No, the problem is much more concerning than that.
It is how discombobulated he feels having you in his arms.
How your body seems to fit and move perfectly with his. How, when you dare to look up at him, his mouth goes a little dry. He has never truly noticed how striking your eyes are until seeing them this close. Indeed, the evident beauty of your face, the way you seem to glow from within, more tonight than ever. It makes his chest - and somewhere else on his body - feel entirely too tight.
—
Nothing could have prepared you for this.
The feeling of literally being swept off your feet. With Benedict's handsome face smiling down upon you as you seem to float around the dancefloor.
Surely, this is what dreams are made of?
You know it is a flight of fancy, but it seems as though the floor beneath your feet is a shower of diamonds rather than candlelight refracted through chandeliers. The warmth and strength of Benedict’s embrace caged around you, respectful but so close it makes your lungs feel too small to gasp the air you need to keep moving. But you never want to stop. A whirlwind of sensation as you twirl, carried away by the music, the man, the moment.
“Thank you, Benedict,” you breathe, knowing you are likely looking up at him far too adoringly but unable to mask it, a burning need for him to know how grateful you are for this dance, not even noting your over-familial use of his first name at a society event.
His eyes flash and you could swear they dilate a fraction before you must turn your back to him, following the steps.
“I was right,” he rumbles cryptically from behind you now, his large hands wrapped around yours as you hold them aloft together, following the moves of the dance. “It is indeed an honour to dance with you.”
Your belly flares as you turn in unison and realise that you are now dancing right in front of Cressida, her expression murderous. It makes you bolder than you have ever been, tilting your head sideways a fraction so your cheek almost brushes Benedict’s, fuelled by the envy you feel seething from within her.
You could swear he sighs ‘Skylark’ as his hot breath tickles your ear, your chest pounding, a flavour in the air you can taste, a powerful stirring low in your belly.
—
Benedict knows this is a dangerous path and yet is powerless to do anything but walk it. Breathing your nickname into your hair as he inhales your scent, heightened by the movement of your dancing. A light, sweet floral perfume but underneath the smell of you, familiar from many years of friendship but altered now, more decadent, an undercurrent of tart berries that thrills and stirs deep within him. Even while knowing his ever-vigilant mother is watching, an inscrutable expression upon her face.
He is almost grateful when the music ends before he does something foolish. But then you are staring up into his face, all doe-eyed expectant beauty and his tongue feels unexpectedly tied. He is almost grateful when an interrupting hand wraps around his shoulder.
—
You watch Will Mondrich whisper in Benedict’s ear, and before you know it, he is offering apologies to you with a shallow, polite bow before hurrying away. Coming back to reality with a bump, you drift awkwardly from the dance floor, feeling judgy eyes upon you, suddenly flooded with concern your behaviour was entirely too wanton.
Before your thoughts can spiral too far, however, someone materialises at your side.
“I do so hope your dance card is not full tonight, Miss y/l/n,” a newly-familiar, chipper voice cut in.
“Lord Glassborough,” you breathe; your relief at seeing his cordial face is palpable. “I am available to dance right now,” you smile politely, taking his proffered arm and letting him lead you back out to the spot you and Benedict had just vacated.
As the music begins and you move together, the difference is… noticeable. Gone is the frisson over your limbs, that excitement as if your skin could vibrate off your bones. Instead you feel comforted, almost a brotherly presence as he leads you in the dance. He is technically proficient, but it feels lacking—that tension, that heat burning in the space between you. It makes you yearn for Benedict even though he was just with you. It makes your stomach settle with a leaden weight you realise you will have to settle for less than what you truly desire.
Still distracted by your mental comparison, you absently acquiesce to his suggestion to take some air upon the terrace as the dance ends. You sense Violet, ever the vigilant chaperone, follow as he leads you into the cooler air outside.
“Miss y/l/n…,” Lord Glassborough begins cautiously. You sense a nervousness in his being, pulling your full focus to him. “I think us most compatible, would you not agree?”
“We make most excellent friends, indeed, Lord Glassborough,” you hedge, not wanting to appear overzealous.
“And friendship is the most appropriate foundation to build something more… tender,” he argues with a smile. “I do believe I could offer you a most agreeable life.”
There is a strange twinge in your chest as suddenly, you realise what this is. The moment everyone, except perhaps yourself, has been awaiting all season.
“I would be honoured if you would consent to be my wife, Miss y/l/n,” he humbly offers a sincere kindness shining in his eyes.
And there it is. An offer of marriage from a perfectly nice, respectable gentleman done in an appropriate manner.
To one side, you see Violet clutch a hand over her chest, face delighted, even as you form fists within your delicate gloves, wishing this moment were not happening so soon after a truly breathtaking dance with the man of your dreams. Who is not the same man as the one before you, nervously shuffling from foot to foot, awaiting your reply.
“I am honoured, Lord Glassborough,” you answer cautiously, bowing your head demurely. “This is a big decision to make. Please allow me time to give you my proper, considered answer?”
“Of course,” he bows chivalrously, his accommodating nature making this moment all the more bittersweet. He is indeed a lovely man.
He is just not the one you want with every fibre of your being.
—
That night, you cannot sleep. Knowing you have the most significant decision of your life to make. So, in the small hours, you find yourself drifting to the deserted kitchen of Bridgerton House to do what you do best when you need to think calmly—baking.
An activity you have grown up doing with Mrs Parsons. Many hours spent happily with flour dusting your hands, sun streaming into her grand but homely kitchen. A perhaps slightly maverick pastime for a lady of her social standing, with staff to do such things for her should she wish it, but so very enjoyable nonetheless.
Throwing a large, heavy baking apron over your nightdress and robe, you potter around, the flagstone of the basement floor cold underfoot, a grounding feeling that stops your mind from racing too much.
You have no idea how to respond to Glassborough’s proposal. On one hand, he is a seemingly nice man, certainly of a good family. You are sure he would be a perfectly acceptable husband, unlikely to be mean or untoward. It is just… a nagging voice is telling you to turn him down despite him being an imminently sensible choice, your heart wanting, well, the impossible. A man that excites you, not just a safe, practical option.
You are onto your second batch of lemon and rosemary biscuits when a voice makes you jump out of your skin.
“What on earth…?”
There in the doorway is Benedict, looking confounded to find you here. The very man who makes your heart skip, always. He is dressed the most casually you have ever seen him— also barefoot, in a white frilled shirt and dark trousers, brocade braces slung around his hips. You swear you may have to grab the bench before you to stay upright.
“Y/n! We have cooks you can call upon at any time should you need food!” he fusses, instantly concerned, moving to ring a bell on the wall.
“No! Please do not!” You exclaim, rushing to stop him, grabbing his sleeve in your haste. “I-I enjoy baking. It is relaxing; it helps me to think.”
His brow knits and his eyes flick down to your hold on his sleeve, a warm vein pulsing under your fingertips. You snatch your hand away quickly, a blush staining your cheeks, mumbling an apology as you scurry back to your biscuit-making.
“Alright,” he concedes slowly, still appearing confused. “When I saw the sconces lit from the rear stairwell, I assumed one of the staff was still down here.”
You find it bemusing that he seems at pains to justify why he might also be in the kitchen, especially to you, a guest. This is Bridgerton House, and he is a Bridgerton. He may go wherever he pleases, surely? And yet here he is, doing so.
“I was rather hoping for some hot cocoa,” he explains with that soft, crooked smile that always makes your heart flutter.
“Oh! Well, umm, I could make you some cocoa?” you look down, wiping your hands upon your apron and moving to do so.
—
That you would make such an offer, as if seeing yourself as unpaid help, spurs him into action.
“No, you certainly will not!” He decries, moving swiftly towards the larder before you can. “I am perfectly fine with some cold milk,” he assures, re-emerges with a bottle and pouring himself a glass, leaning back against the sink to take a sip.
Despite the lateness of the hour, he finds your heretofore secret pastime strangely fascinating. A lady who bakes. By choice. So he watches as you return to making your biscuit dough, entertained as you begin to beat the mixture quite furiously with a wooden spatula.
“Have those ingredients caused you some sort of personal offence….?” he jests lightly, nodding to the bowl.
He observes a flit of contrition across your face before you answer.
“I, umm, have a decision that I must make; baking helps me think,” you explain vaguely, then appear to rapidly change the subject. “I am, however, sure of one fact - some biscuits are a must to accompany milk. There is a completed batch over there.”
“Genius,” he opines with a wink, enthusiastically moving to grab one from the cooling rack you signalled to, delighting in the blush that darkens your cheeks. But he decides to push the topic you abruptly avoided. Concerned there could be a topic you are genuinely wrestling with. If his opinion on the matter can ameliorate your burdens, he would be most honoured to assist.
“What sort of decision must you make?” he inquires before temporarily losing the power of speech. There is an explosion of tart lemon and earthy herb on his tongue that melts into a buttery sweetness, utterly divine. “Lord alive, these are delicious!!!” he exclaims around the mouthful.
“Thank you,” you answer softly.
You are always so modest about your talents; it sometimes makes him want to grab your shoulders and shake you gently. To make you see what he does.
“To answer your question, it is a perplexing matter that needs serious consideration,” you explain, stopping short of detail. It appears you are not yet ready to share the news with him. Something about that makes him a touch sad, but he also does not want to pry if you are reluctant to divulge.
—
Benedict swallows the bite he has taken, and you find yourself staring at the movement of his throat as he does. Knowing one thing to be true—if it were his proposal, you would not even hesitate for a split second. That wistful thought makes you suddenly melancholic, and you sigh, pushing aside your mixing bowl, realising this may be an issue baking will not fix.
“I do so hate to see you doubt yourself, Skylark,” he offers quietly after a beat, mien so earnest. “Trust yourself. You will find the right answer for your dilemma; I am certain of it.”
He is so remarkably supportive that, ironically, you almost want to scream at him.
“I should leave you to your thoughts,” his tone is gentle, reluctant.
“Please, there is no need, Benedict,” you try to assure. “To be honest, in all of this world, yours is the company I enjoy the very most…”
That truth is out of your mouth before you can censor it.
You sheepishly glance over to be met by a surprised look on his face. He takes a few steps towards you, probably without realising it, and suddenly, he is very close, faint wisps of his woodsy, citrus cologne tickling your nose.
“And I, yours, Skylark…” he rumbles, his gaze falling to your lips.
Time seems to stop, and you feel pinned under glass, staring up into his handsome face as he breathes slightly ragged, your body rioting as he engulfs your senses, definitely too close to be considered gentlemanly, polite…
…But then, he takes a sharp inhale and steps back as if coming to his senses. He turns heel with a hastily muttered goodbye, and before you know it, he is gone. Leaving you bewildered, your thoughts scattered.
—
The following day, Benedict is idly reading the paper, partaking in a leisurely lunch of tea and cake, when his mother swans in, reeling off a set of instructions for her lady's maid.
“Oh, and lastly, do not forget, we should secure an appointment with the modiste, in case Miss y/l/n should know her answer today…” Violet concludes breezily as she takes a seat.
“Yet another ball we must suffer, mother?” Benedict drawls drily, folding down his paper and taking a hearty bite of zesty lemon drizzle.
She shoots her son an exasperated look before neatly smoothing a serviette into her lap as she is served her usual afternoon Earl Grey by the butler. “Miss y/l/n will be in need of a wedding dress, Benedict, dear.”
He spits an array of crumbs onto his newspaper, coughing in shock. “She will need what?!?” he wheezes, barely recovering.
“Lord Glassborough proposed to Miss y/l/n last night, my dear, at the ball. She has yet to give her answer, but I am certain she will. They are a fine match,” Violet declares, taking a sip of tea.
“Why did she not mention it to me?” he mutters, more to himself than anyone, his forehead creasing heavily in a frown as he swallows the rest of his mouthful.
“Why would she have?”
“We talked last night…” letting slip perhaps too much in his perplexed state, lost in his own tumbling thoughts.
“When last night? We returned from the ball very late,” a suspicious tone in his mother’s voice, belatedly releasing he should know better than to think aloud; she is sharp as a tack.
“I-I found Miss y/l/n baking last night… in the kitchen when I went for cocoa… she told me she had a dilemma she was wrestling with…” he admits, looking down at the paper, the words now a jumble before his eyes. “Mother do you think it is possible she will say yes??” Benedict's head snaps up, his heart suddenly pounding in his ears.
“She would be a fool not to,” Violet points out, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow at him. “Unless there was another, perhaps more wanted, proposal she could consider. Do you possibly know of one? Son?”
Even he can read between those lines.
“I-I am late,” he abruptly changes tack. “I promised to meet Anthony today to discuss the soil at Aubrey,” he bustles rapidly, standing and fleeing the room before he can allow his mother to see how much of a complete lie that is.
—
Benedict spends the afternoon at White’s, downing perhaps one too many whiskeys as he grills his fellow patrons upon the Glassborough family. Looking for any reason he can find to object to the betrothal while steadfastly refusing to examine why he feels so passionately about the subject. He also spends time checking the hefty tomes of Debrett’s the club holds.
He returns to Bridgerton House just as dusk settles in, the sky streaking red and pink as he enters.
“Where have you been, dear?” Violet asks as he rounds into the parlour.
“Researching,” he gruffs economically.
“What? Or rather whom?” Violet inquires, revealing she already has a firm idea of what she asks.
“I can find nothing wrong with him!”
Benedict paces, an energy emanating from his being as if he is rattled by that very fact.
“That is a good thing, is it not, son?” Violet reminds pointedly. “We want y/n married to a good gentleman…”
Benedict shoots her an exasperated look but relents. “I suppose…”
“Is not your reluctance perhaps for another reason, my dear?” Her question is gentle, if not particularly subtle.
He slumps into a wingback chair with a defeated sigh. “Go ahead. Say your piece, mother.”
“I have watched you, darling,” she begins gently, watching him tip his head back and screw his eyes shut. “I do not know exactly when, but your regard of Miss y/l/n has altered, and I am not the only one to observe it.”
Benedict's eyes fly open, and he tips his head down with a frown as his mother continues.
“Even Colin has marked a change in you. If you feel anything, my dear, then Miss y/l/n has the right to know. Before it is too late. The right to make an informed choice if you are bold enough to give her one. Son, I have only ever wanted my children’s happiness. And if your happiness lies somewhere that perhaps even you have not realised until now…. well then I encourage you to follow it. Follow your heart.”
Her impassioned speech suddenly makes the pieces of a jumbled jigsaw before his eyes arrange into a pattern, a way forward that is suddenly clear and sharply in focus.
It makes him leap to his feet, an urgency thronging in his being.
“Where is Miss y/l/n?” he almost barks.
“I do not know,” Violet confesses, “but I do know she has not yet seen or written to Lord Glassborough,” she adds.
“Good…” he rasps, headed determined out of the room to find you.
—
The verdant lush grass is cool between your toes as you curl them over, sighing heavily, the night now dark, a twinkle of silver among the navy sky, soon to be black. The swing under the big oak, a refuge you have sought many times since staying at Bridgerton House, feels a particularly poignant place to be tonight as an internal war rages within you, your decision swaying back and forth as much as the wooden seat you are perched upon, the rope digging into your cheekbone as you slump against it, flummoxed.
You know what your answer to Glassborough should be. Indeed, what it should have been from the moment he asked.
A resounding yes.
In every practical measure, this is the best possible outcome of your London season. A proposal from a thoroughly decent, acceptable gentleman, way above the station you were expecting, given your less than prestigious certainty of lineage.
And yet.
And yet.
There is a large part of you, your heart, that wants to turn down the proposal, foolhardy as that may be. Wanting to feel akin to what you felt as you danced with Benedict last night. You are not so foolish as to believe he would ever propose, but perhaps there is someone else out there for you that may evoke something similar for you? Even if only half, it would be enough. Enough for you to build a future around and feel contentment in your heart, to not just settle for what your head knows to be a sensible choice.
—
Having searched the house, he rounds into the garden and stops short, heart leaping into his throat as he spies you, swaying gently upon the swing, looking thoroughly lost in thought. It makes his chest ache that you are so melancholic about a decision that should indeed be joyous. The selfish part of him celebrating, hoping that perhaps you are not. His memory recalls with perfect clarity how you have looked as lost as he now feels every time you have been close. The unbearable lightness of hope seizes his legs and draws him inexorably closer.
—
You whip around as you sense company and have to take a deep breath as your eyes fall upon Benedict. His face pinched with a restless intensity.
“I was hoping I would find you,” he exhales.
“You have,” you shrug, still confused by his crackling energy, him seeming in a rush to say something.
“Skylark, you deserve the very best of everything. Sincerely. And part of that includes that you should know the truth in the hearts of those lucky enough to know you…” a slight quake in his voice as he takes a step closer.
“Alright…” you respond cautiously, your brow creasing as you sense the nerves emanating from him.
You gasp as he rapidly drops to one knee before you, a hand clutched to his chest.
“I have been a fool to not see it before now. My own ardent admiration for you, for your talents, for your beauty. I realise now, perhaps too late, that you are truly the most wondrous, precious being in this world. You may not always see it, but it would be my greatest honour to show you, every day, if you will permit me, what I see when I look upon you. What I have always seen if I am honest with myself. A light that shines brighter than any other, a bird that soars higher and sings more sweetly than any other. A soul that it would be a privilege to be bound to. I know it is perhaps the worst possible timing, seeing as you already have a proposal from a perfectly acceptable gentleman. Still, I could not let you get married without letting you know the contents of my heart.”
You are stunned. Speechless.
Your heart pounds in your ribcage as you sit there stupified for what must be an age, Benedict looking upon you expectantly, breath slightly ragged from his long speech. Somehow, convincing yourself this could only be a dream. That the man you have adored since before you can remember has just made the most beautiful poetic confession of love you have ever heard. And it’s to you.
So, you do the only logical thing that comes to mind. Pinch your own leg. Hard.
—
Benedict is momentarily confounded at your actions.
“Owwww!” you yelp. “Not dreaming then…” is your muttered follow-up, rubbing your own knee as his face morphs into the most enormous grin, a lightning bolt of joy tearing through him as he realises what you are doing, that you can scarcely believe this is happening any more than he can.
“It is really me, Skylark,” he chuckles softly, seeing the way your eyes dilate rapidly as he can't help the lopsided grin that claims his face, a warmth behind his ribs that is just for you.
“I realise that now,” you sass back, and there is a stirring in his trousers at the tone you employ.
“I love you.”
It's a reflex; he doesn't even realise he says it. But as soon as it's out of his mouth, it's like an invisible burden has been lifted from his entire being. The truth. Plain. Simple. Honest.
—
You know your face is aflame as you snap back at him, entirely without meaning to, but then he says three little words that tilt your whole world even more.
“I-I-I love you too.”
You are bewildered when you say it aloud.
The truth. Plain. Simple. Honest.
“Marry me? Please. My darling, wonderful friend,” he implores, his bare hands grabbing yours, tingles shooting over you as your skin touches his.
“Yes!! I will!!!” you answer breathlessly, not even a second of hesitation.
He leans in and captures your lips with his. They are warm and soft as they move gently with yours. And when he opens your mouth with his and his tongue rolls delicately over yours, it feels as if all the fireworks you have seen in the sky live now inside you, popping and exploding in a riot of colour. A whole new world of sensual pleasure is promised in that one move.
“Are you certain?” you murmur as you break apart for air, a flash of insecurity that this is happening so fast, even as there is a strong pull inside, a want to keep kissing him over and over.
He smiles, tilting his forehead to yours, a wistful look in his blue eyes.
“To know you, truly know you, is to love you, Skylark,” he sighs, his words a blanket settling over your quaking heart. “And I do. I truly do.”
Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @notanotheruniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies
#benedict bridgerton fanfiction#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton fluff#benedict bridgerton imagine#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton#bridgerton fluff#bridgerton imagine#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton x female reader#benedict bridgerton x you#benedict bridgerton x y/n#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x female reader#bridgerton x you#bridgerton x y/n#1k notes#2k notes
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
SLOWLY LOVING YOU — SUGURU GETO.
જ⁀➴ synopsis: Before Yaga introduces you to the third years, Suguru is a little unsure of you joining them. And then he meets you, and suddenly his heart doesn’t know how to slow down.
જ⁀➴ content warning: fem!reader, reader gets a few cuts and faints, swearing and a lot of fluff.
જ⁀➴ word count: 4,2k
જ⁀➴ note: thank you to the sweet @duhsies for commissioning me! I had so much fun writing it<3!!
“Yaga says there’s a newcomer,” Satoru had a habit of speaking with a mouthful, which Suguru really hated. A hand is smacking the back of the white haired’s head who hisses at the contact before glaring at his best friend.
“Hey!” He protests, his sunglasses resting at the tip of his nose.
“Swallow your food.” Suguru presses, taking a sip from his drink. He had heard long ago from Yaga about this newcomer, and wasn’t really sure how to feel about it. It’s not that he wasn’t good with new people (he wasn’t), but he felt like it was a little odd to transfer someone and have them be with him, Shoko and Gojo right away. They had to have a good cursed technique, a great control of their cursed energy, otherwise they’d just get in the way of everything and—ouf, this was too negative.
Who was he to judge? Sure, a part of him was skeptical, but he was trying to awaken the other side that usually reassures him that everything will turn out just fine.
“I wonder if it’s guy or a girl,” Satoru speaks again, and this time (surprisingly) he swallows his food before opening his mouth. Suguru shrugs at his best friend, grabbing a fry from his tray of food.
“It won’t really change much, I just hope they’re good at what they do,”
“Oh Suguruuu,” Gojo whines at his friend’s negativity, pushing him but not too hard. “Don’t be such a kill joy, I’m pretty sure that they’re good. Otherwise, Yaga wouldn’t look so excited.”
“Why are you the one telling me to be nice?” The black haired male raises an eyebrow, carefully picking out a fry that didn’t have ketchup on it.
“You rubbed off on me,” Satoru wiggles his eyebrows to which Suguru rolls his eyes at.
“Don’t.” Suguru presses, but it’s too late to stop his friend’s funny joke.
“That’s a little fruity—“
“Finish your food.”
When they head back to the school grounds after having lunch, they’re pleasantly surprised when they find Yaga, Shoko and an unknown girl standing near one of the school buildings. From the looks of it, you weren’t that nervous. Sure, you were checking out your surroundings as the school was new, but nothing about your demeanor suggested that you were anxious. Not even a little.
Suguru raises his eyebrows at this, and although he tries not to stare too hard at you, Gojo is quick to notice it and nudges him with an elbow.
“Hey, think that’s the new girl?”
“I mean, it looks like it,” Suguru mumbles a response and stops walking when Yaga starts to approach them.
“You finally decided to show up,” Oh, an ass-whooping is on the way.
“The mission took us way too long,” it’s Satoru who tries his luck as his usual, and the grin on his face draws a similar one on Suguru’s lips.
“Yeah, but we managed to get it done with. That’s all what matters,” if it wasn’t for Satoru’s love to piss off their teacher, Suguru is sure that he wouldn’t bother. But it’s fun, and it gives the students something to laugh about.
You watch the scene unfold before you and you raise your eyebrows at how easy going the pair standing in front of you was. Did they not fear Yaga? You had been introduced to the man a couple of weeks ago before you were transferred to the school, and despite the comforting vibe the man had, you still felt like you owed him some sort of respect.
Something the two guys bickering with their teacher seemed to lack. Or maybe it was just an act.
Yaga gives the two guys a comical smack to the back of their heads and you hear Shoko snicker next to you. You fight back a smile of your own, until you feel Shoko pat your back, almost in reassurance.
“You can laugh, they won’t be offended.” You relax at this, and before you could even say anything in response, Yaga is clearing his throat to get your attention.
“You can introduce yourself,” oh, he’s talking to me. You’re suddenly aware of the three pairs of eyes fixated on you, and you fidget nervously.
“Hello, my name is (name) and I’m—“
“That’s boring!” The white haired male cuts you off, and your eye twitches. Well, that’s offensive. Before you could even glare at him, he’s approaching you while taking off his sunglasses and your heart stills at the sight. Those eyes felt like they were staring into your soul.
“Show us your technique, that’s a much more interesting way to introduce yourself,” your body relaxes at this, and you can see Yaga signaling you to go along with what your classmate was saying.
“Oh, okay then,”
Suguru’s eyes are cat-like as they fixate on you. You get in position to show off your technique and suddenly, everything goes quiet. He could feel the energy shift when you stepped away from them, and so he was anticipating a big show. Perhaps, you were a show-off like Gojo.
Suddenly, the air feels a little different—why is it wet? He touches his skin to make sure he wasn’t imagining things, and before he could even process things, fog had engulfed him entirely. This was new.
You were nowhere to be seen, maybe that was your technique—a little weak, Suguru thought. But it felt like you read his mind because right in front of him was standing a carbon copy of himself. A clone.
“What the—“ The clone stands still as Suguru gets into a fighting position, ready to unleash a weak curse at it, but the clone is quick to do the same and releases a different curse—the clone knew about his technique?
Before things could escalate further, he heard a snap of fingers from behind him and his eyes widen when the fog and the clone both disappear at once. You were standing right behind him. Being so focused on the fact that what was standing in front of Suguru was a literal doppelganger, he failed to notice you sneak up behind him. He assumed that you snapping your fingers was to deactivate your technique, but it was also a realization that you made him so unaware of his surroundings—and that was the beauty of your technique.
Everyone looks amused by Suguru’s confused expression. He was staring you right in the eye, and your confidence and the relaxed expression painting your face would normally sned shivers down anyone’s spine. It was awkwardly silent for a few moments before Gojo decides to break the silence.
“That was rather impressive, wasn’t it?” Shoko agrees with her classmate, clapping almost ceremoniously. Yaga steps away from the two to approach you and Suguru who was still staring at you, this time with less resentfulness. Sure, he hated having someone sneak up behind him. And the fact that you had chosen him out of the three felt a little strange, but he tried not to overthink it.
Maybe it’s because I looked like a bitch.
He immediately brushes off the thought when you flash him an unapologetic smile, the confidence you gave off a few moments ago replaced with something he couldn’t quite decipher—were you getting shy?
His lips part almost in shock at the way your cheeks are slightly pink, and you take two steps back and away from him before apologizing out loud.
“Sorry, I just thought you looked a little bored.”
Oh, not anymore.
“That to you, is a Grade 1 sorcerer.” Yaga announces very proudly. Usually, Grade S sorcerers would be the one to be introduced like this—with so much pleasure and honor. But Yaga didn’t care about that. He saw potential in you and embraced it like you were his top student.
Geto couldn’t shake off the giddy feeling in his chest. He watched as Satoru came over to your side and ruffles your hair, promising that you were going to have a good time at school because he was there. And you played along, the playful expression you wore on your face not matching the blush on your cheeks—you were just easily flustered having this much attention on you.
“What do you say, Suguru?” He snaps out of his thoughts at the mention of his name, and he finds his best friend staring at him with those eyes. He caught him looking at you, didn’t he?
“Sorry, I zoned out.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but he wasn’t going to say that you seemed so interesting that he found himself so lost in his thoughts. He didn’t like this, he didn’t like how you seemed so unaware of the fact that you were breaking down his walls one by one, and all of this happening in less than an hour of meeting you? Unbelievable.
“I said, we are all gonna get along so well, right?” Glancing at you, he notices how you seem to shift your attention back to him the moment his name is mentioned. You’re almost eager to find out what he has to say next, sparkly eyes and a tight lipped smile making you look so fucking adorable—oh fuck, no.
“Yeah, we will.”
He was officially and totally fucked.
--
It’s been a few months since you officially transferred to Jujutsu high, and things were going great. You felt like you fit in so perfectly, you were a bit nervous that you would be a burden since the trio seemed to have a dynamic of their own, being the one to ruin the dynamic—or worse, feel left out would just be the highlight of your school year. But they were so nice. Each in their own way.
While Gojo felt like a troublesome sibling with his many pranks and jokes, Shoko truly felt like a close friend. You could crack jokes with her, share food and even watch movies during the weekend. The friendship you shared with both seemed very genuine and you were so grateful for that.
And then there was Geto.
Suguru Geto, tall and handsome, with long dark luscious hair and cat-like eyes. A smile that seemed precious since it appeared way less than you would want. A voice that felt like he was purring in your ear and a personality that had your heart stuttering in your chest.
He had caught your eye the moment you saw him walk on the school grounds. You tried not to make your tiny crush on the man obvious right away, but it felt like you blew your cover when you chose him as your target when asked to show off your technique.
Things weren’t exactly bad between you and the tall male, but they weren’t that good either. There an awkwardness that always lingered when you were both left alone, your heart would beat so fast and so incessantly when you felt his eyes on you before he places a piece of his chocolate on your desk.
“Was gonna share it with Satoru, but he pissed me off today.” You’re almost shocked that he’s even addressing you when neither Shoko nor Satoru were in the classroom.
“Are you sure? He does like sweets,” you still grab the sweet treat and place it in your mouth, to which he chuckles at.
“Well, you ate it immediately. Seems like you don’t care.”
“Well, he did piss me off too today,” you’re grinning, playing with the wrap of the chocolate. Suguru raises his eyebrows at your remark and continues to tease you.
“Was it another joke about how bad his clone was? I mean he’s not entirely wrong—“
“Stooop,” you groan out, resting your head on your desk in defeat. You were too embarrassed about the recent incident, and no one seemed to want to let go of it.
Rather than being embarrassed that his clone was that ugly, Gojo’s sudden and quick realization that your clones had an immediate link to your photographic memory lit up a bulb at the top of his head. And so the teasing began.
How come Suguru’s was so accurate on day one!
Do you have something to share with the class?
It was horrible, and you remember how Yaga had to smack the white haired male in the back of his head to get him to stop. He caught onto your little crush on Suguru faster than you had anticipated, but you were glad that when asked what he was teasing you about, Satoru chose to save you the embarrassment and just say that his clone was so ugly, you needed more practice.
“I just need more practice,” you say, a little muffled from having your face in your arm. Suguru stares at you for a few moments from his seat, then he suddenly gets up and walks towards you. He crouches down in front of your desk and you quickly raise your head in question.
“Hm?”
“You don’t hate me, right?” He could’ve asked that question from his desk, he knows that. But it would’ve seemed a little cowardly cause he knows he would avoid looking you in the eyes. But eye contact was important when communicating things, and right now was one of the few moments where Suguru felt like he was going to pee his pants waiting for an answer.
“Hate you?”
“I’m aware that hate is a big word—it’s a strong feeling too, but I just need to know if you feel that way about me.” Suguru was supposed to feel stupid, maybe a little insane for asking you something like this. But he noticed how things always got quiet when it was just you two alone. It didn’t necessarily mean you hated him, but a part of him wanted to make sure you didn’t resent him for mysterious reasons.
“I don’t hate you,” you pause your words, and Suguru watches as your face slightly reddens as you avoid his eyes. “Uh, just nervous.”
Now, why did I say that? It’s one thing to know that he makes you feel this way, but it’s another when you fully admit it to him and watch as he raises both of his eyebrows, almost in shock.
“Nervous?” At first, he’s scared that the word has a bitter taste to it—but it slowly dissipates when he sees the blush on your face darken because why did he have to say it like that.
It sounded like he was saying it for the first time, carefully tasting each letter and syllable. You felt nervous around Suguru.
“You are kind of intimidating,” the small smile painting your lips eases Suguru’s nerves despite having another word describe him. But he’s heard this one before. In fact, he likes it. He likes the way it makes him feel, the ego boost it gives him when he sees people quiver in his presence.
But he didn’t want to have this kind of effect on you. You didn’t need to fear him or avoid his eyes for him to know that he was a powerful sorcerer—he wanted you to feel safe with him. He wanted to rid you of any problem weighing you down, have that smile on your lips for a long time. Whatever Suguru felt for you, he was coming to terms with it and accepting it.
Slowly that is.
“If I’m intimidating, then is Yaga like a monster to you?” Suguru teases you back, and he stands up from his crouching position. He stares down at you with a grin, his sharp eyes making eye contact with your own bright ones. A contrast like this looked so endearing.
“Yes.” You don’t hesitate as you reply, and Geto immediately bursts into laughter at this.
“Wow, you didn’t even hesitate.” Wow, I made him laugh.
“But he is scary! I mean, he’s very nice… but I don’t think I’d wanna piss him off like Gojo does,” you mumble the last part, but Suguru hears you loud and clear.
“Satoru pisses off everyone, so you’re safe.”
Having a conversation like this with Geto felt nice. It wasn’t that often that you two chatted or even had the time to sit down and give each other normal classmate updates. So to be able to talk to him like this, make him laugh until his stomach hurts before walking to your dorms felt new. But you weren’t complaining.
--
Over the last few months, you’ve gone on a couple of missions with both Suguru and Satoru. They were all successful, and you always got done with them in half of the time.
But today was different. You were going on a mission with Suguru.
Yaga mentioned how you both seemed to work really well together, and while Suguru might’ve been stronger than you, you had so much potential that couldn’t get wasted. Suguru seemed like the perfect fit for a partner and a sort of mentor.
The mission was going to take place in another city, which is why you find yourself on the train with the tall male who was trying to get some sleep.
Sitting across from each other, you couldn’t help but steal a few glances at the guy. He looked too good from this angle, you could feel your body tingling in embarrassment.
The guy’s just trying to sleep
Over the last few months, no matter how hard you tried to brush your feelings for Suguru, they resurfaced not only a day later when he did something that would make your heart stutter in your chest. You remember him making you food when you were sick, giving you his scarf when you got too cold, suggesting to style your hair for you—how could you not fall for him?
But you were terrified of rejection. You were scared that those feelings could potentially ruin the friendship between you two, and God knows how horrible that would make you feel.
“We’re there,” you were so lost in your thought, that you didn’t feel the train stop. Only Suguru’s hand on your shoulder was able to snap you out of it.
“Oh sorry,” you stand up and make your way out of the train with Suguru following close behind.
“Did you manage to get some sleep?” He asks from behind you, and you slow down your pace to match his footsteps before shaking your head.
“Not really, I wasn’t that tired.”
“Oh but you will be after the mission, that’s always how it is.” He was referring to the many times you and Gojo would end up falling asleep on each other on the way back home, and he would secretly take pictures of the white haired male drooling on your hair to show it to you when you both wake up.
“Thank god he’s not here to drool on my hair,” you say with a hint of annoyance, but it’s harmless.
“Oh, you never know,” the playfulness to his voice makes you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face gives away that you were anything but annoyed.
You arrive to said location after ten minutes of walking. And at first sight, it seemed like any normal abandoned building; a little creepy, no color painting its exterior and most importantly lifeless. But the smell—god, the gut wrenching smell that came from it made you cringe.
“God, it smells horrible.”
“Then we’re at the right place.” Suguru is the first one to walk in, and you follow close after. You take careful steps, eyes darting around the area to scan it for any clues.
“I have a horrible feeling about this,” you mumble to yourself. You knew you were sent to this place to find the source of its gloominess, but the farther you walked down the hallway, the tighter your stomach got.
“It was an orphanage.” Your heart sinks at the revelation, watching the old toys scattered on the floor, filled with dirt and dust. You could only imagine what happened to the kids.
The room is silent for a few moments before both of you and Suguru stand still. Almost on guard.
“Do you feel it?”
“Yeah, I do.” Whatever took over this place was huge. It didn’t necessarily feel like a strong or dangerous curse, but the way it was staring at you from down the hall had you standing in a fighting position.
Before you could even process the fact that you were dealing with that big curse, it charges at you—and fast.
It’s too fast for its size!
Mist engulfs the creature almost immediately, it would only serve as a distraction for a little bit before it would rage even more and decide to charge at you.
“Go hide, I’ll take care of it.” You watch as Suguru calls in two of his powerful curses, both enough to do the job. But you don’t want that.
You don’t want him to do the job on his own, or worse hide while he does everything. It wasn’t why you became a sorcerer, why you chose to even join the school. And so you stood still, grabbing one of the daggers attached to your thigh. You ignore Suguru’s cries telling you to step away from the huge curse.
“You’re gonna get killed if you don’t move!”
“Shut up!” The mist slowly morphs into something else—something Suguru has never seen you done before. It shapes itself into a beautiful scenery, one where flowers are blooming and the sun is shining and—he was hallucinating.
And so was the curse. The technique might’ve not been the most powerful, but it still managed to blind the curse for a few moments. You fill your sharp dagger with cursed energy before slicing it open in one swift motion. It’s messy and sloppy, and blood covers your clothes and the floor like a paint. You stand still and stare in awe at what you’ve just done.
I killed a huge curse on my own!
What you fail to see is the multiple cuts on your body, and how all color leaves your face as exhaustion washes over you. Shit, you were passing out.
The last thing you remember hearing is Suguru calling your name before everything goes silent.
--
Suguru is a mess. That was the only word that could accurately describe the state of the poor guy as he paced back and forth in front of your dorm room. No matter how much Gojo tried to convince him that you were okay, he refused to budge.
He was mad at you. You were so reckless back there, refused to listen to him when he asked you to move—he was filled with all kinds of emotions.
And so when Yaga finally gives him the green light to visit you, the first thing he does is scold you.
You’re sitting up in your bed with bandages wrapped around your body, and you look so tired. But despite all of that, you still manage to flash him a warm smile when he walks inside your room and closes the door behind him.
“Yaga told me I was passed out for two days, I hope I didn’t worry you—“
“What you did was reckless.” Suguru cuts you off, voice sharp and cold that you flinch. Your eyes stare at your lap, avoiding his because he was right. You were reckless, refused to listen to him and powered up your technique faster than your body could handle.
“I know,” you don’t apologize. A part of you wants to, but you were still going to stand your ground if he tried to guilt trip you about the situation.
“And I was very mad,”
“I know.”
It’s silent for a few moments, and Suguru takes in how despite the tears blurring your vision, you refuse to give in and apologize about anything.
“But that’s only because you scared me to death,” he hears you sniffle, and he sees you blink away the tears before staring at him in shock. Suguru takes a few steps towards you, and for a moment you see the hesitation in his action. He quickly brushes it off as he gently rests his hand on your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek.
“You have no idea how terrifying that was.” Your heart starts racing at his words, and his touch left a tingling feeling behind when he pulled away to pat your head.
“I don’t want you to do that again, but I gotta admit,” he ruffles your hair, the scowl on his face morphing into a soft expression.
“That was really cool,” your smile is on your lips almost immediately at his words, and you take your hand and wrap it around his wrist. You pull his hand down and place it again on your face, a bold move that has the both of you slightly blushing.
“You think I’m cool?” your voice sounds sweet when you ask the question, and Suguru thinks he’s never heard you sound like this before but he nods anyway.
“The coolest.”
Neither of you move or say a thing after this, but the prolonged eye contact had the tall male leaning down a bit hesitantly at first, making sure you were okay with it. So when you pull him closer and place your lips on top of his, Suguru is convinced that it was the right thing to do.
The kiss is short and sweet. You pull away after a few seconds and the blush on your cheeks spreads across your entire face when he leans in to give you another kiss. Then another and another.
“Sugu—“
“Shhh, you look cute when you’re flustered.”
2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.
#moon's works#geto suguru#geto x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk geto#jujutsu kaisen scenarios#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#geto x you#geto fluff#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen getou#jjk getou#jujutsu geto#getou suguru x reader#geto suguru x reader
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
Push him
masterlist ko-fi ao3
Avenger! Bucky Barnes x PR manager! Reader
Summary: When you became Avenger’s PR manager, you basically got your dream job, but one particular man, who had been staring at you every single time you were around, made you wonder whether it was because he hated or liked you.
Word count: 6.8K
Warnings: smut, bucky is obsessed with your short skirts, bucky is recovering, grumpy x sunshine, good friend natasha romanoff, office sex, oral sex (f), unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, pet names
Author's note: ‼️so if you haven't seen my previous post, this is my new account. you may have seen this work on my old one (@inmyicyworld) but it was terminated and @support doesn't respond to me. please, follow and share this work. I'm going to reupload all of my old fanfics and hope to get your support ❤️
The work at the Avengers Tower wasn’t what you expected it to be. Tony Stark found you while you were working for another company a little bit more than a month ago. He was amazed by the way you were dealing with problems, by your charisma, and by your ability to find a common language with everyone. That’s how he knew that he had to have you as his partner and a part of the team.
The next day, you got a call directly from Tony, asking you to quit your job and accept his offer to work as Avenger’s PR manager. It would be an understatement to say that your jaw dropped to the floor when you heard your salary.
He said that you were totally worth it and that working with a group of such different people was not easy, but he was sure that you would be perfect at this. So on that exact day, you decided to take a risk and accept the challenge.
One thing that you hated about your previous job was the strict dress code. It was simply far from your style because you hated wearing the same basic and boring clothes every day. Tony said that it was the last thing that he cared about, and in that building, no one was obligated to wear certain clothes.
You knew that it was your lucky ticket.
He was actually really friendly and funny in person. You talked a lot during your first day while he was showing you all the necessary places in the tower: your office, his lab, common rooms and kitchens, avenger’s rooms, and even a beautiful garden on the roof. By the way, Tony allowed you to decorate your office however you wanted and gave you the number of the person who was responsible for this.
In short, it was perfect.
You were giddy with excitement on your first actual day of work. According to the plan, you had to meet with the Avengers and then arrange a few meetings for Tony.
It felt like you spent hours before your mirror deciding what to wear. Your whole room was a mess, and when you finally completed your look, which consisted of a short black skirt, beige long sleeve and a brown leather jacket on top, it was already time to go.
Everyone in the room heard you before they saw you because of the sound of your heels clicking on the wood floor.
“Don’t tell me that this is our PR manager, Stark.” Black Widow looked you up and down with a smirk on her face. “You look good, hun. Finally, someone with a taste in this boring group of losers, besides me and Wanda, of course.”
“Hi.” You nicely smiled, not ready to get a compliment as soon as you stepped into the room.
“Ohh, she’s also the sweet one.” Another red-headed woman, Wanda, said with a smile.
“You both, shut up.” Tony stood up from the armchair with a pack of chips in one hand and threw the other one over your shoulder. “Want some?” He asked you, showing the food, but you slightly shook your head. “Whatever… Now, you all listen here, this is Y/N; she’s our new PR manager. I stole her from someone because she’s incredibly smart and good at her job. Starting from this moment, she’s going to cover up your asses and organize all this stupid media stuff.” You blushed at his words but were still silent. “So, this is Natasha, Wanda, Steve, Bucky, and Th—wait, you already know them, right?”
“Yeah, of course I do.” You chuckled. “By the way, it’s nice to meet all of you. I hope we can work together, and I will have a chance to be helpful.” You took a look at all the Avengers in the room, and everyone looked at you with a smile except one person, whose eyes sent shivers down your spine.
When you looked at Bucky, you saw that his eyes were scanning your body with an unreadable expression, and you suddenly felt really weird in your short skirt. Your eyes met, and his famous death stare was really quite scary. He didn’t like you? You two were staring at each other for a few seconds, and you believe that the rest of the team noticed it because Steve loudly cleared his throat to get your attention.
He asked you a few questions about you, and Clint and Sam made a few jokes. Everything was fine as you all chatted for a little bit until Tony said that everyone should get ready for tomorrow’s mission, and you too have a lot to do.
You went back to your office only with the thought that, during this whole time, Bucky was staring at you like he wanted to burn a hole in your head.
Later that day, Bucky was sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of already-cold coffee while Steve was making himself dinner. It was quiet besides the sound of the cooking food, or at least Bucky didn’t listen to Steve’s words because he was too deep in his thoughts.
Well, he was mostly thinking about you and his mixed feelings about this interaction. As soon as you walked into the room, you had his whole attention. He couldn’t help but stare at your body, at your open legs, and at your smiley face. He knew that he sounded like a total creep and that it was inappropriate to look at other people this way, but he had never seen women dress this way. Was it normal right now? Was it new fashion trends or something? The only women that he had been interacting with for the past few years were women from Wakanda, and in the tower it was mostly Nat and Wanda, and he had never seen them dress like that. Or, at least, he just didn’t care enough to notice it.
When he saw you today, he felt something in him, and he didn’t like that feeling. It was something new, something that he had never experienced before, but his body became tense and his stomach tightened. It was weird.
“What, you're still trying to process her?” He was distracted from his thoughts by Sam, who came to the kitchen to grab a bottle of cold water from the fridge. Bucky looked at him and furrowed his brows when he saw a shitty smirk.
“What the fuck are you talking about? And why are you smiling like an idiot?” Bucky growled.
“Because you’re thinking about Y/N.” His words caught Steve’s attention, and he came closer.
“That’s why you two were staring at each other like that?” Steve said this while drying his hands with a towel. “Do you like her? I think she seems cute.”
“No, I don’t. She just looks... different.”
“Oh, the old man got excited by the beautiful woman and her short skirt.” Sam’s smile got even wider as he started teasing Bucky. “You know, I wanted to ask her out, but I can take a step back if you like her.” He leaned on the table so he could get under Bucky’s skin even more.
“I do not like her.”
“So you’re okay if I ask her out? Maybe I should go to her office right now.” Sam pretended like he was really thinking about this.
“Sam...” Steve said.
“You both are just getting on my fucking nerves.” Bucky’s chair almost fell to the floor when he angrily stood up. “Do whatever the fuck you want, I don’t care about you or her.” With these words, he stormed out of the room, and Sam started to laugh out loud.
“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” Steve shook his head like a disappointed mother whose kids always fight.
“That was fun, and maybe it’ll push him to ask her out. She’s hot, but not my type; I’m just trying to help this idiot.”
You have been working with the Avengers for over a month now. This work was literally a dream from any angle. You were making a lot of money, doing the job that you really liked, and found a lot of close friends.
Almost everyone on the team was very close to you. Natasha and Wanda were particularly your best friends. Sam was the funniest person you’ve ever met, and he always found time to tease you or to make a compliment. Bruce and Clint were like your uncles—a little bit old and annoying, but always with a piece of advice for you. A few times, you and Steve met at the gym when you came to work too early, so he was happy to train with you. Who would’ve thought that Captain America himself would teach you how to throw a punch?
The only pain in your ass was Bucky Barnes. Well, to be fair, he didn’t do anything. You’re not even sure that you heard his voice. He was always just staring. Any time that you came to the room and he was there, you either saw him from the corner of your eyes or felt his burning gaze on your back.
To this day, you had no problems with your job. You organized a few interviews for Tony and Steve, talked to the newspapers and magazines, and held some meetings, but right now, sitting on your white chair, you felt weirdly nervous.
Bucky had to come here any minute to talk about a recent accident. Apparently, he almost knocked out someone on the street. All the press and news sources were taking advantage of the situation and using loud headlines to cast a shadow on Bucky and get more views. “The Winter Soldier is back?”. “The Winter Soldier almost killed an innocent man on the street.”
It has been the biggest topic on the internet for the past few hours. Most of the people were furious and wrote too many inappropriate and rude things. So you asked FRIDAY to call Bucky so you could know the whole situation and give comments to the press as soon as possible.
You started thinking about what you should do, or, to be more honest, how to behave around Bucky, because a few days ago two red-headed women that you now considered your best friends assured you that he is in love with you and just doesn't know what to do with it.
You told them everything about his weird actions—that he always looked at you, checked your clothes, and stayed silent. Natasha and Wanda just looked at each other with smirks on their faces.
“Why are you looking at each other like that?” You arched an eyebrow and crossed your hands across your chest.
“Please, don't tell me that you don't understand his behavior.” Natasha looked at you and sipped her coffee.
Well, I wouldn’t have asked you if I knew the reason.”
“Honey, he lust likes you and thinks that you’re hot. You remember that he’s actually an old man, right? Women from his time didn’t dress like that, and you look really sexy.” Wanda’s words made Nat nod her head as you looked weirdly at both of them.
“That’s bullshit, Wanda. This can’t be true. I'm sure that he just doesn’t like me and thinks that I look too revealing. Or he just hadn’t had a girlfriend in a long time.”
“Some time ago, I came to the kitchen at like 2 a.m. just in my lingerie because I thought everyone was asleep. Barnes was sitting there with a book, and you know what? He just said “Hi” and didn’t even look at me again while I was making a sandwich. And when he sees you, he just can’t take his eyes away and stares like an idiot.”
You stayed silent, thinking about the girls' words, because everything seemed pretty reasonable.
“And what should I do?”
“I don’t know, seduce him or something.” Natasha just casually said it, and your eyebrows flew to your hairline.
“Wait, do you like him?” Wanda asked you, and Natasha huffed like it was obvious.
“I mean… he’s beautiful. I didn’t have a chance to talk to him, but Steve and Sam love him, and I trust their opinion.” You stopped trying to put together your thoughts. “To be honest, sometimes I think about the fact that he’s probably one of the hottest people I’ve ever seen. When we studied history at school, all the girls fell in love with America's Boy, and I with his best friend.”
“Then don’t wait. Just give him some hints, because I swear, for the ladies’ man, he’s too slow.” Natasha’s words made you smile. “Try to get closer to him; I don’t know, flash him with your boobs and look at the reaction. Push him a little bit. He’ll break.”
The loud knock on the door almost made you jump out of your chair.
“Come in.” You said this as you stood up and fixed your white dress and cardigan.
Bucky came probably to the lightest and most cozy room in the whole tower. A lot of white and pastel colors, comfy sofa and armchairs, and paintings on the wall. And in the middle of this was you—always perfectly looking, in heels, in a too-short dress, and with a smile on your face. He couldn't stop himself from looking at the smooth skin of your legs. It’s probably so soft...
“Em– Hi.” You awkwardly stood while his eyes were scanning your body. He didn’t answer; he just nodded. “So I think that we can sit there, it’s more comfortable.” You wave your hand at the sofa with a fluffy cover on it. “Do you want anything? Tea, coffee, water, soda?” Bucky just shook his head while he was trying to comfortably sit with a frown on his face.
You deeply inhaled while trying to be a professional. You didn’t know what was wrong with this man, but his behavior started to get on your nerves.
“Bucky, we can’t work together if you keep ignoring me. You can say if you don’t like something, because I don’t want to be on bad terms with anyone.” You sat across from him and crossed your legs.
“I don’t know what I should say.” His deep voice filled the room. Bucky took a pillow that was lying near him and started playing with the fringe. “I feel weird when I’m around you, and I don’t like it. I have thoughts that I shouldn’t have.” His eyes scanned your body once again, and you wondered if he was talking about what you thought.
“Can I do something to change it?”
“No.” He deeply inhaled. “It’s my own problem, and it’s not your job to try to fix it. Anyway, why am I here?”
“I think you know why. I need to ask you about the recent incident because I have a meeting with the press in less than an hour, and I have to give them a good reason why you did that. People didn’t take all that information too well.” You saw that Bucky sadly smiled and looked you directly in the eyes, making goosebumps appear on your skin. “So, tell me what’s happened.”
“You know that whatever you say won’t change people’s opinions about me, right? No one forgave me, and they’re still looking for a chance to call me a murderer.” He tried to hide behind a smile, but you saw everything written in his eyes. Bucky hurt himself with his own words.
“I understand how you feel about this whole situation, but we should address all those rumors because things might get worse.” You leaned on your knees with your hands, and Bucky’s eyes immediately fell on your boobs.
Push him a little bit. He’ll break.
You tried to hold back a smirk.
“Fuck.” He mumbled. “ I– um– I was walking from the coffee shop to the tower. It was another busy street with hundreds of people, but I still didn’t expect someone to touch me. That man jumped on my back or something, and my instincts just worked. I threw him over myself on the ground and put a hand on his throat. Turned out he wanted to take a picture. But I panicked because there are many people who want to take revenge and who might want to do it literally any second. I’m always ready for this.” He shrugged like it was nothing, but you could hear the pain in his voice.
You felt deeply sorry for the man before you. Even if he was cold and acted weird around you, you knew that it was his way to protect himself. After everything he came through, you couldn’t blame him.
“Do you still go to the therapist?” You gently asked.
“Yes, two times a week.” Bucky nervously ran his right hand through his hair while still holding your pillow in the metal one.
“Okay, that’s good; I can work with this information.” You nodded and reached for your journal on the coffee table. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Bucky. I really appreciate it. I’ll do my best to convince people that it was not your fault, okay?”
“Thank you, Y/N.” Bucky stood up, carefully putting your pillow in its place, and left your office without another word, while you were sitting there with a smile.
Maybe the girls were right.
After that day, everything between you and Bucky became even weirder. Yes, he wasn’t totally silent now, and you’ve got a few “Hi”, but his stares felt different.
It was like you two were playing some kind of game. Since you knew that he didn’t actually hate you, you tried to do as Natasha and Wanda said—get his attention and push more. And God, you loved that game.
Almost every day you found an opportunity or excuse to see him in common rooms or in the corridors of the Tower, and you made sure that Bucky noticed you. You wore tighter clothes, walked right past him, and looked at him with a smile. You knew that it was working because a few times Bucky just suddenly left the room while he was mumbling something.
It was almost 8 p.m., but you were still working on schedule for the next week. There was some kind of charity event, and Tony required you to convince everyone to go there because more Avengers can attract more sponsors and money. As always, Bucky was the one who refused to go there. He simply sees no reason for him to be there, and he doesn’t want to be there alone because he knows that Captain America will be the biggest star, and such a social butterfly as Sam will leave him in a second.
You decided that it would be better to talk to Bucky in person, but you didn’t want to lose a chance to get his attention, so you went by yourself instead of asking FRIDAY.
You looked in the small mirror to check your makeup and hair and went straight to where you knew Bucky was spending his evening. As you walked in a dark room filled with only light from the TV, you saw Sam and Steve sitting on the couch and Bucky on the armchair near them. You quietly walk to him and just casually sit on the armrest. His eyebrows flew to his hairline, and you heard that the chewing from the boys stopped. Bucky had no choice but to put his metal arm on your lower back.
“I need you in my office. You have to talk about the next charity event. Could you please give me some of your time?” You quietly asked and lowered yourself closer to him. Bucky was just staring at you for a few seconds, but then slightly nodded.
Bucky followed you to your office, not without getting smirks from the boys,and then stood near your table with his hands in his pockets.
“Don’t you want to sit?” You said and stepped closer to him.
“No.”
“Um– okay.” You took the papers from your table and stood in front of Bucky. “So, you know that there is going to be a charity event, and I’m responsible for getting all the Avengers there, and you are one of them.”
“I’m not going, I already told Tony.” He just shrugged.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not needed there. I’m not an actual hero, people have no interest in me, especially when there will be Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor, you know? Plus, I have no interest in sitting alone the whole night.” You saw that Bucky tried to be casual about it, but he just put salt on his own wound.
“Don’t say that, Bucky. There are people who want to see you there, you have a lot of fans. You know, I’m going there too, so if you don't mind, we can–”
“What game are you playing with me?” He interrupted you. Bucky straightened his shoulders, which made him look even bigger, and started moving closer to you, putting you in a trap between him and your desk.
“W– what do you mean?” You couldn't control your body as you started to tremble a little bit from the power that this man had. As soon as you bumped into the table, his hands landed on both sides of you, and his face was right in front of yours.
“Don’t act clueless, Y/N. I see what you’re doing.” He stopped for a second, studying your face. “You know, I tried to convince myself that you do all of this by accident, but now I’m sure that you’re just playing your little game. Am I right, doll?” You two were staring at each other, and you felt almost nauseous from different emotions.
He was so fucking beautiful up close. Piercing blue eyes, pink lips, and light stubble You know why many women thought that James Barnes was charming. If he had more confidence, he would’ve been unstoppable.
Your eyes slowly shifted lower to his arms and chest as you remained silent. He was big, with well-trained muscles that were seen through the tight black t-shirt. Both arms were stretched near you, so you had a really good opportunity to look at the smooth tanned skin and beautiful dark vibranium. You felt how your lower stomach tightened just from the thought of getting those pretty hands on your body…
You were pulled out of your head by a sudden movement of Bucky’s hand, which gripped your face and pushed your lips together. He was obviously dominating in the kiss, as if he were desperate to taste you. The tip of his tongue brushed over your lips, asking for entrance, which you happily gave him. The moan came out of you when Bucky moved away and looked you in the eyes, still holding your face.
“This whole fucking time I thought that I was a creep for looking at you, but now I know that you did everything on purpose, doll.” His eyes moved between your eyes and mouth. “All these short skirts and dresses that almost showed me everything underneath it, all these innocent smiles and looks... You did it to tease me?”
“Not at first...” You mumbled. “But you were acting so weird, and girls said that you liked me and just didn’t know what to do. I wanted to find out whether it was true or not.”
“Fuck, if I knew earlier that this was your plan, I would’ve bent you over the nearest surface, baby.” Bucky moved a little closer, brushing his lips over yours. “Do you know how fucking hot and gorgeous you are? I haven’t felt that way in many, many years. Just wanna kiss you and make you mine.”
“And what’s stopping you from this, Sargent?” You asked with a smile and moved your hand to the back of his neck to gently play with the baby hairs.
“You’re gonna be my death, doll face.” He mumbled before leaning closer and kissing you again.
This time, you started to touch each other's bodies. Bucky’s warm and cold hands landed on your thighs, playing with the hem of the skirt and rubbing your soft skin after he lifted you up a little bit and helped you sit on the table, staying in between your legs. Your own hands were moving up and down his broad chest, discovering all of his muscles.
“Bucky…” You whined into the kiss when his finger brushed against the edge of your already wet panties.
“Tell me.” Bucky moved away from your swollen lips and left a path of kisses down your neck. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.” He sucked a sensitive spot under your ear, which made you moan.
“I don’t know. Just do anything, please.” You both breathed heavily. You felt like you were too hot; your lower stomach ached, and your underwear was soaking wet. Bucky was looking at you with such lust in his eyes that you wanted him to destroy you.
“Lay back.” He ordered you as one of his hands went higher under your skirt and slid your black lace panties down your legs. You didn’t miss how Bucky shoved him into the back pocket of his jeans with a smirk on his face.
You quickly followed his instructions and just threw all the papers from our table on the floor. You’ll regret it later, but now you don't care. The sudden move of Bucky's metal arm grabbed and pulled your shirt, and all the buttons scattered on the floor, making you gasp in disbelief.
“Bucky! It was expensive.”
“Sorry, I’ll buy you whatever you want, I promise. But now I need to see you all.” He growled and fell to his knees before you. “Fuck, doll, such a pretty pussy. I’m gonna make a mess with her.”
Bucky’s hands grabbed both of your legs and threw them over his shoulders. He dragged your skirt higher, not wanting to take it off of you. His head fell on your right legs as he left a few kisses on your sensitive skin.
“Bucky please! Don’t tease me!” You desperately whined.
“I need a moment to appreciate both of you. I haven’t done it since the 40's, you know that?”
You wanted to say something, but his mouth on your most delicate part of your body left you speechless and made you grab his hair. Bucky’s tongue was gentle at first, just to get a taste of you and tease you a little bit. His tongue started to play with your clit, circling it and applying different pressures to find out what made your body twitch. It looked like he was enjoying it too; you felt deep grunts escaping his mouth as he was trying to catch every drop that came out of you.
Your loud moans filled the room as Bucky found the perfect place and made motions that made you see stars. A hand in his hair tightened even more when you felt one of his fingers at your entrance.
“M-hm, so wet and tight for me.” He pulled away a little bit, looking at how his two fingers came in and out of you, all shiny with your juices. His darkened eyes were firmly glued to your pussy, which was trying to get more, and his mouth opened a little bit at the sight. “Taking my fingers like a good girl.” Bucky attacked you with his mouth again. This time he was licking your folds, mixing his saliva with your juices. When the feeling of his nose touching your bundle of nerves came through your whole body, you gripped Bucky’s dark locks even harder, particularly trying to ride his face, and he had to put his metal hand on your hips so you wouldn’t move.
Your body tensed when he curled his fingers right on your g-spot, sucking your clit like a hungry man.
“Bucky—fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m gonna cum, please don’t stop!” You whined with tears running down your face.
A few more movements of his magical mouth, and you fell over the edge. Your legs tightened around his head, tingles went all over your body, and the loudest moan mixed with Bucky’s name came out of you as you were riding on the wave of your orgasm.
Bucky didn’t stop, though.
He made sure to lick every drop that came out of you, to the point that you had to beg him to stop because you were too sensitive.
“That was—“ You were trying to catch a breath. “That was the best orgasm I've ever had, oh my god. If you did it for the first time in like seventy years, I can’t imagine what you can do with practice.”
Bucky dragged you up by your neck, so you would be at the same level with him. His hand moved your hips closer to the edge of the table, and you felt how hard he was through those jeans.
“I can practice whenever you’ll allow me, doll.” He put his warm hand on your face to kiss you. The taste of your own release on his tongue made you moan.
“Need you inside of me, please.” Your hands automatically started to pull up his shirt, but he stopped you.
“We don’t have to take it off if you don’t want to.”
You were silent for a few seconds. “Why wouldn’t I want to take your shirt off?”
“You know, my arm and scars...”
“Do you really think that I care about it?” You left a few kisses on his cheek. “I think that your arm is hot, by the way, and I want to feel your skin on mine, Sarge.” It was enough for Bucky to pull off his shirt and stay before you half-naked.
Your hands moved to trace every muscle, every birthmark, and every scar on his chest, and you felt that this moment was so intimate, especially because of Bucky’s stare. He looked at you with such adoration and softness that you wanted to melt.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” He mumbled and kissed you with even more passion.
Bucky ripped off the rest of your shirt and quickly took off your matching black bra, gripping your breasts with both hands and taking your left nipple in his hot mouth.
You dug nails into Bucky’s back as he was sucking and licking your nipples, leaving them wet in the cold air. It felt good. So fucking good—his mouth was truly amazing. But the emptiness inside of you was almost painful, and you were clenching around nothing.
“Bucky! Sarge, please, I need you.” You almost cried and dragged his head by the hair back to your mouth.
“Baby, baby, wait– “ His hot breath was touching your lips, but he stopped your hands, which were unbuckling his belt. “Baby, I don’t have a condom. Fuck, do you have one?”
“We don’t have to use it... I’m on the pill. And I’m clean.” Your legs wrapped tighter around Bucky’s waist and put him closer to your naked core. He swore that he could feel your heat through his jeans and boxers.
“Fuck, I love twenty-first century... I’m clean too, can’t even catch a disease with this serum shit.”
His words were like a green light to you. You didn’t want to wait even a second more. So you just took off his pants with such speed and impatience that it made Bucky chuckle. With the last movement, all of his clothes were on the floor, and you sat on your table, frozen because of the sight before you.
Bucky’s thick and perfectly long dick was the best fucking thing that you’ve ever seen. Pink and a little bit curled to his abdomen. Your mouth watered just thinking about tasting it. Or how well he’ll stretch you out. You didn’t even notice how your mouth opened a little bit, and you unconsciously wrapped your hand around him.
“You’re gonna destroy me, Bucky.” You mumbled, to which you heard only a deep chuckle. Your eyes moved back to Bucky’s smiley face.
“I hope so.”
Two different hands landed on your thighs again, spreading and lifting them up. You both looked down at where his cock almost touched your bare folds, and the first contact made you moan loudly. Bucky took the base of his cock, giving himself a few pumps, and moved the tip up and down your pussy, moving easily because of the mixture of your juices.
You grabbed his forearm and whined at the action.
“Ready, doll?” He was trying to be tough and strong, but you saw how he nervously licked his lips, the tremble of his flesh hand, and the tension in his abdomen. But you still vigorously nodded.
It was different from everything you’ve ever experienced. He was big but tried to be as gentle as possible, not wanting to hurt you. He only pushed a few inches, but you already wanted to cry from all the feelings inside of you. Pain mixed with extreme pleasure.
Bucky was trying so hard to control his motions and go slow, but God, it wasn’t easy. From the first touch of his cock, it felt like he had gone to heaven. He knew that sex was good, he remembers it, but the feeling of you and your warm body that so gracefully greeted him inside made him feral. Bucky felt such a need to kiss you that it was almost painful, especially when your swollen lips were a few inches away from his.
He leaned in closer to your lips, but it made him slip deeper into you, which made you both loudly moan into each other's mouths.
“Fuck– doll, you’re so warm and tight, oh my god.” Bucky mumbled as the grip on your hips became harder. It’ll probably leave bruises, but you didn’t care.
The feeling of him inside of you was overwhelming. He was so deep and stretched you just the way that you wanted, and you almost cried from pleasure.
“Please, Bucky, please move!”
His hips slightly moved once, and it felt like his mood instantly changed. You were suddenly pushed back on your table, and your legs, still in heels, were thrown on Bucky’s shoulders. His metal hand stayed on your thigh, and the other one fell on your stomach to push your skirt higher on your waist.
“All dressed up for me, baby.” He started slowly moving, burying his cock deep inside, and then leaving only the tip to tease you. “You know how long I wanted to do that, huh? Bend you over and just fuck the shit out of you until you can’t say anything except for my name.”
“Bucky– Sarge, please go faster. Just fuck me, do whatever you want.” You were desperate, yes. But you couldn't help but beg, because you really needed him to keep his promise and fuck the shit out of you.
You reached for his hand on your stomach and interlaced your fingers together.
“If you keep calling me that, I won’t last too long, doll.” His thrusts became harder and faster as your body moved up and down on your table.
Bucky was looking at your drunk-looking face with a slightly open mouth because you couldn’t keep your moans quiet. Your hair was deshiveled, your skin glimmered with sweat, and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen.
“So beautiful, baby.” Bucky murmured, fucking you harder. The room was filled with loud noises from slapping skin and moans. “You love it when I talk to you like that, huh? Want me to tell you what a good girl you are?” His words definitely did something to you, and you unconsciously tightened around him. “Almost choking my cock, baby, fu-u-ck.”
“Mhm, Sargent, I’m so full of you.” You couldn’t see straight as the tip of his head pressed at the perfect spot with every thrust, it was too much and not enough at the same time.
The wet kisses on the inner side of your thigh sent shivers down your whole body when Bucky started to suck tender skin. His rough movement didn’t stop for a moment, and you knew that your orgasm was getting closer. The warm feeling in your belly slowly became bigger. It was hard for you to cum from sex, but Bucky did it so fast and without even touching your clit.
“C’mon, doll face. I feel ‘ya. Feel how your perfect little pussy is squeezing me. Cum with me, baby, cum on my cock.” His movements were still rough and confident, but you felt the slightest change in the way he was looking at you, how his body trembled a little bit, and the prettiest quiet noises escaped his mouth as Bucky was coming to his own end.
You were completely lost in your pleasure, with strong arms on your body and Bucky’s hard cock that was completely destroying you, so when fingers on your clit started to move in circles, your body slightly jolted up from your table.
“Bucky, Bucky, please—ohmygod, I’m coming!” You cried out loud and grabbed the hard wood under your arms.
“O-oh, fuck, doll, cum with me, please. Yes, squeeze my cock harder, make a mess. ‘M gonna cum.” With the last few pushes of his dick inside of you and movements of the fingers, you both fell from your heights, and the room filled with loud moans of pleasure. The feeling of his hot seed on your walls almost made you faint.
Bucky fell down on your body as your leg slipped from his shoulder. Two strong arms wrapped around you, and Bucky’s face nuzzled into your neck. You don’t know how long you two stayed silent, trying to catch a breath, while your hands gently rubbed Bucky’s back.
When he finally lifted himself up with a metal arm near your face on the table, the look in his eyes sent millions of butterflies to your stomach.
“I don’t even know what to say…” He chuckled and cupped your face with his right hand. “You look so fucking beautiful, Y/N.”
“Even when my makeup, my hair, and my clothes are completely destroyed?” You playfully arched an eyebrow and enjoyed the feeling of his fingers on your hot skin.
“Well, I did it, and I’m satisfied with it. You still look so hot, especially with my dick still inside of you.”
“Bucky!”
“Sorry, sorry. But I’m serious, though. Will you let me take you on a date? Maybe yesterday for lunch or for dinner after work?” His eyes had this little bit of doubt, and you couldn’t stop your wide smile because he was really thinking that you would say “no” after that.
“I will be glad to go out with you, Buck.” You dragged his face closer and gave him the sweetest kiss you could.
Bucky moved away, gently slipping out of you, and you hissed at the empty feeling. He helped you stand up on your shaking legs and handed you your clothes.
“Fuck, you completely destroyed my clothes.” You said as you were standing in front of the mirror. “How will I go home?”
“You can stay in my room.” Bucky came closer to you and helped you make your blouse look more presentable, even without buttons.
“Really?”
“Of course, doll. Just hold your shirt in case we bump into someone in the corridor, but I think everyone is already in their rooms.” Bucky finished dressing up, and you saw your underwear sticking out of his pocket.
“Don’t you want to give me my panties?”
“Na-ah, you’ll have to walk with me dripping out of you.” He gave you a cocky smile and turned all the lights off before wrapping his arm around you and leading you into the hall.
It was completely empty, but the second that you stepped out of the elevator, you saw Bucky’s best friends looking at you. All of you were looking at each other for a few seconds before Sam started hysterically laughing.
“You owe me fifty bucks, idiot!” He said to Steve, who was as red as a tomato. “Good job, Buckaroo, but I really thought that we were gonna ask her on a date first.”
“Fuck off, Willson.” Bucky growled, protectively stepping forward to protect you from their looks.
“Okay, okay, relax, no one’s touching your girl.” He said with a cocky smile on his face. “Let’s go, Steve. You’re too innocent to look at things like this.” Sam took his friend and led him in another direction.
“Asshole.” Bucky growled.
“Everything is okay, Buck, let’s go.” You stepped closer to his room, but he was still standing in his place. “I have to take a shower. Will you come with me, or will you stand here the whole night?” You smirked.
It was everything he needed to finally get closer to you, scoop you into his arms, and carry you into his room to the sound of laughter, which soon turned into moans.
#bucky barnes smut#the winter soldier#bucky barnes#marvel#bucky x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky x you#james bucky buchanan barnes#winter soldier#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#marvel smut#marvel imagine#marvel x reader#marvel fanfiction#mcu x reader#marvel fanfic#bucky smut#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
😾Really Nice Guy Who Hates Only You
*part of the reverse trope series*
Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Celebrity!Reader
Genre: Fluff/Miscommunication/Humor/SMAU
Summary: Oscar was known to be the epitome of a polite cat. His reputation is that he is genuinely nice to everyone. Well, everyone except for you.
*once again, I have loved writing for this series and it seems like everyone loves these chapters (as they have the highest notes out of all of them). I'm really excited for what is to come! I have loved making all the special tweets and other additions to the posts!*
TAG LIST IS CLOSED
Oscar had been in a bad mood. The garage could practically feel the cloud that surrounded the Aussie as he walked through the garage on Saturday morning for the sprint. The scrunch of the nose and the constant side eyes also gave it away.
Normally, Oscar tends to be more on the quiet side. But today, he was even quieter. Gone was the polite cat, and it was replaced by a very grumpy feline.
“Hey Oscar! Come meet our guests!”
Oscar let out a sigh as he turned around and put a very fake smile on his face. This is the moment he had been dreading ever since you stepped into the garage. He did, or couldn’t, understand why you were wearing his number on the back of the jersey you wore.
It disgusted him.
You were very pretty though, he had eyes. Your hair went very well with the papaya orang and your smile could pretty much kill a man in a 10-foot radius. Except that right now, Oscar wanted your perfect hair to catch on fire and he’d avoid the smile.
When he finally got closer, he stopped a few feet in front of you, not wanting to get too close. Two hands clapped him on the shoulders as Lando started to shake him.
“So Os-cah, this is Y/n L/n, 2-time Grammy Award winner and probably the prettiest guest we’ve ever had.”
All right, so Lando was a gonner.
Oscar fought the urge to roll his eyes right into the back of his head so he wouldn’t have to look at you anymore. But your smile was oh-so pretty. You looked at him with wide eyes as you held out your hand for a shake.
However, Oscar just looked at it, then looked at you.
“Welcome.”
Lando reeled back, confused at his younger teammate’s coldness. The two watched as your smile faltered just a bit. (If Oscar had any remorse, he didn’t show it.) You were quick to recover and spread another smile, even if this one wasn’t as real as the first.
You put your hand down as you greeted, “It’s such an honor to finally meet you! I’ve been a fan for what feels like forever.”
Oscar grunted. “Can’t say the same.”
You absolutely wanted to whimper. You had been waiting to be invited to a Formula 1 garage ever since you won your first Grammy. And well, you had other offers from Red Bull or Ferrari, but the McLaren garage is the one you wanted to be your first. So, you had declined and declined until you knew that you could meet the driver that you had been following for so long.
But now that you finally met him, you wondered why he was such an asshole.
You pushed down your feelings and continued. “That’s ok. My music isn’t for everyone. But I wanted to congratulate you on your rookie season last year!”
“Thanks.”
Ok, Lando knew something was up and he couldn’t take the hurt-puppy-eyes coming from you anymore. The Briton was about to say something, but Zak had decided to interrupt with another celebrity guest.
“Guys, this is Sabrina, she’s also joining Miss L/n in the garage today. Ladies, we have two headsets for you in the back when we’ll go over some last minute car things if you’d like to listen in!” Zak explained.
It only hurt when Oscar eyes lit up at your fellow musician, brushing past you to personally introduce himself. Lando was now left with a very sad Grammy winner on his hands. He gently put his arm around your waist to bring you to the side.
When a long sigh escaped your lips, Lando felt awful.
“Y/n, I swear he’s normally the nicest person on the planet. Oscar always seems to love everyone, no matter the guest.”
Your eyes flitted over to where Oscar was now animatedly talking to Sabrina about her new album. You let out a scoff.
“Yeah, everyone but me. Maybe I should have just taken the offer from Red Bull or Ferrari.”
Lando pouted. He knew that you had been a fan of Oscar’s way back to the start of his F2 season. And then you had purposefully put the word McLaren in many different songs. Hell, your newest album titled “Momentum” was basically a love letter to your beloved team. You even had plans to become an investor once you could make the first payment.
The Briton felt lost. “I was going to find Max and Charles if you’d like to join me?”
You took one more look at Oscar, not surprised to see him glare at you from the side. That action made up your mind and you agreed to go with Lando.
Taking with Max and Charles was like a breath of fresh air. The two were great conversationalists and pretty funny. The Monegasque even invited you into one of the media buildings to look at the behind the scenes, which put you in awe.
The two rivals, thought, couldn’t understand why you were attached to Lando when you had a giant 81 on the back of your jersey.
“Have you met Oscar yet?” Charles asked. When you tensed, he knew that he had asked a wrong question. Your expression quickly became sad.
“Yeah. But I don’t think he likes me very much,” you muttered.
Max scoffed. “That’s absurd. He’s quiet, but he’s nice to everyone.”
Lando winced. “But for some reason, he was being really rude and just standoff-ish.”
You looked so dejected. “At first I thought he might not be a fan of my music, but then he was super smiley with Sabrina and we co-wrote most of mine and her songs. So it’s not the genre.”
The Briton wanted to try to bring your spirits back up, but he noticed the time and said that you and him had to be back at the garage. You said your goodbyes to the Dutchman and Monegasque before you followed Lando back to the garage.
On your way in, Oscar sent you yet another glare as he got ready to be in the car.
Although he had been mean, you still said, “Good luck.”
Maybe he heard you or didn’t, but he never responded or acted like he took it to heart.
When Oscar was able to overtake multiple cars and finish the sprint in P2, you were ecstatic. His terrible attitude did not hinder your joy for the Aussie. You didn’t secretly call yourself the #1-Piastri fan for nothing. Sabrina laughed next to you as you hopped up and down, glad that your driver finished well in the points.
It was sad for Lando who didn’t make it past P5, but the Briton explained that qualifying for the actual race is when it truly counted.
You watched with stars in your eyes as Oscar walked up after Charles to be interviewed by Jensen Button.
The former driver asked the first question.
“Oscar, first congrats on the P2, you did a lot of overtaking. Was that in the strategy?”
The Aussie laughed, really showing that he indeed was polite to everyone.
“Well the strategy is always to win, but we were close with all the upgrades. It’s been good and I’m ready for the races to come.”
A few more questions were asked and exchanged before Jensen somehow brought you up.
“So we saw that Y/n L/n and Sabrina Carpenter were both in the McLaren garage. And we all know that Y/n is a massive McLaren fan as well as your fan. Have you listen to any of her songs?”
Many people definitely saw the change in facial expression when your name was brought up. The smiley Oscar was replaced with a bored one.
“Well, I don’t really listen to artists who bash or make fun of my driving.”
Jensen gave me a very curious look. “She actually praises you in most of her songs.”
The Aussie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like the one where she said she crashed her McLaren like Piastri.”
Your eyes widened, along with everyone else in the garage. Those were definitely not the lyrics to one of your songs. Lando also had wide eyes and he was looking right at you, who seemed to be on the verge of a mental breakdown.
“I would never do that,” you said, looking into Lando’s hazel eyes. The Briton looked puzzled. He had specifically played or sung songs for the Aussie that mentioned McLaren or Oscar.
You kind of just sank into the background, trying to process what could have gone wrong. Lando on the other hand raced to catch Oscar as he was walking into the garage.
“Mate, what are you doing?” Oscar asked as Lando was directing him to one of the driver rooms. Lando slammed the door and turned to Oscar.
“What are the lyrics to Y/n’s song?”
There was another eye roll. “Lando you sung them to me like two weeks ago.”
Land shook his head. “But tell me.”
Oscar huffed, “Small talk, big love. Act like you don’t care but I disagree. When I crashed my McLaren like Piastri.”
“Stop!”
The Aussie cocked his head.
Lando continued, “Those aren’t the lyrics you muppet. It’s ‘When I crashed my McLaren like past me.’ A few years ago, Y/n used to wreck a lot of cars at a teen. She got better and decided to buy a McLaren when your seat was announced for 2023. And then she crashed it on accident after she got broken up with.”
A look of realization washed over Oscar’s face and then a look of dread. A giant sigh left his lips. Lando thought he was going to pass out or something but the second Papaya driver quickly ran out of the room. He stopped short of where you had sat in the back of the garage and quietly started to step closer.
Your head was in your hands but you looked up when you heard footsteps. You were shocked to be looking at Oscar, who had a guilty look on his face. You shot up out of your seat and began to ramble.
“Oscar, I swear, I would never back and diss you in any of my songs. You’re truly my favorite driver and I was so excited to meet you. I have put your name in my songs before, but it’s only been praise. I’m so sorry that you’ve been thinking that I’d make fun of your driving and-“
Oscar held out a hand to stop you.
But now it was his turn to ramble, hands flying everywhere.
“You’re sorry? I’m sorry. I’ve been an utter asshole to you all day. That was horrible of me. Lando sung me the song a few weeks ago, but it was pretty mumbled because he couldn’t remember some of the words and I heard Piastri instead of past me and I just thought the worst and…”
Lando was having a field day watching you watch Oscar with stars in your eyes as he apologized over and over again.
The Briton pretended to dust his hands off as he watched Oscar pull out his phone and offer it to you.
“Another day, another matchmaking completed.”
y/n_l/n has posted
y/n_l/n thank you so much McLaren for the amazing day today! It was truly a dream come true to meet my all time favorite driver!
little surprise for everyone else - Florida is yours (inspired by a special someone) 🧡
liked by mclaren, its_papaya, oscarpiastri, landoscar, and 3,205,195 others
queeny/n OH MY GOSH NEW SONG AFTER THE MIAMI RACE??
y/n&f1 wouldn't the song be written for Logan then?
y/nxoscar she said inspired - didn't mean that it's actually about him
oscah81 P2 SPRINT RACE AND POSSIBLE NEW WAG
landonorris I too would like a song pls
charles_leclerc we all know she wrote golden about me ♥️
maxverstappen1 I claim midnight rain then
landonorris ☹️
y/n_l/n it's ok lando - working on one now!
y/nsgrammy to think that Oscar thought she dissed him when she's like his biggest fan ever
oscargirlie y/n get's us with the second picture
oscarpiastri was the second picture necessary? and Florida? when did you have time to write that??
y/n_l/n 1. yes, it was very necessary, 2. I wrote it when you ignored me
oscarpiastri and you still wrote me a song?
y/n_l/n of course! most of my songs had you written in mind ☺️
oscarpiastri so. . . dress?
y/n_l/n 😳🤭
loscar-land your honor I love them
TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis
#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x reader#Oscar Piastri#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#formula 1 x you#formula one x y/n#formula one x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula one smau#formula one x you#formula one fanfiction#f1 x y/n#f1 x female reader#f1 x you#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x female reader#formula 1 x reader#oscar piastri x fem!reader
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
that guy ⊹ steve harrington
summary: After he's been to yet another failed date with yet another random pretty girl, Steve Harrington, your best friend, stops by at the diner your family owns for a late-night chat, same as he'd done a thousand times before. Steve is totally unaware of how much he's hurting you with his endless parade of dates, because after all — the two of you are only friends and nothing more, right? It's not like you have any secret feelings for him… | 2.6k words
── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──
The moment Steve steps through the glass doors of the diner, you wonder, for about the millionth time that month alone, what is it that you've done so wrong to deserve this kind of punishment.
It's Friday night, and on Friday nights, Steve Harrington goes on dates. It's just like clockwork, really: he meets a pretty girl, thinks she's the one, takes her out on a date, realizes quickly enough that she isn't quite what he was looking for, then comes here after having dropped her back home to sulk with you, in the diner that your family runs, still clad in the outfit he'd chosen especially for his failed date.
To be honest, he never looks sad, per se — more like disappointed. Frustrated, maybe.
You watch as he weaves around tables occupied by laughing friends, past booths filled with couples sharing desserts, then slides into a seat in front of you at the bar. Steve sits down with an exhausted sigh, ruffling up his hair before shooting you a tired smile.
"Hi."
You don't look up from where you're polishing the counter. "Bad date again?"
"Not even close. She talked about horses non-stop."
A quiet laugh slips past your lips despite yourself, and finally, you tear your gaze off the dark wooden surface of the counter to look up at him; he's got this pleased little smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the way they always do whenever he succeeds at making you laugh, even if just a little.
How are you supposed to keep acting like nothing's wrong when he looks at you like that?
You clear your throat awkwardly and make yourself busy stacking clean glasses next to the coffee machine.
"So...not the one, I take it?"
Steve leans forward against the counter and props his head up with his hand, sighing deeply.
"I'm starting to think she won't ever show up," he says quietly, running his other hand through his hair. You chance another glance at him and note how genuinely worried he looks. It breaks your heart almost as much as it annoys you. "What is it that's wrong with me, huh? I just don't get it."
"Nothing is wrong with you."
"You don't need to be nice to me. We've been friends since forever, remember?"
The word 'friends' makes you wince a little bit inside, but you hide the reaction behind a neutral frown. "Do you think there's something wrong with me? Because I haven't found the one yet either, you know."
Steve's expression softens as he looks at you, and once again you feel that horrible twinge in your stomach that you wish would just stop already.
"It's different. I mean—you're not actively trying to find someone." He reaches out to pull one of the half-melted mints out from the glass bowl on the counter and pops it into his mouth with a shrug. "I go out looking for her and she just doesn't come. If she even exists, that is."
"She does."
"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, but I wouldn't hold my breath. God, why am I such an idiot, y'know?" Steve slumps over the counter with a groan, burying his face into his crossed arms. "My love life is a trainwreck."
"At least you have one."
He glances up at you curiously and lifts an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"
"Nothing. Forget it. Do you want some pie?"
You're not about to tell him what you've only admitted to yourself mere months ago — that you're actually hopelessly, madly, stupidly in love with him, and that you have been ever since the two of you were just dumb kids racing around your parents' diner.
What makes it even worse is that you had no idea your feelings went that deep until Steve started going on these dates of his again. Before then, everything was normal — you met up every weekend and binged on candy, watched bad movies on your couch, drove around town together blasting The Clash on his BMW's speakers...it was good.
Until it wasn't.
"Wait, c'mon, you can't just leave me hanging like that," Steve presses. He shifts a little on his stool to better face you, then gestures at you with his hands. "You've clearly got something you wanna say, so, like—hit me. Lay it on me."
"Nothing. I'm just saying...at least you're trying, you know," you say carefully, measuring each word before speaking them. "And at least you're the one doing the rejecting. Could be worse."
Steve's eyebrows rise high up on his forehead and he looks at you incredulously. "Whoa, wait—are you trying to tell me you've been rejected?"
You busy yourself by filling two tall glasses with soda, then slide one to his side of the counter and keep the other for yourself. "Uh...kind of, yeah. But it's fine."
"But who the hell would even do that?" he blurts out. There's anger in his voice all of a sudden, a defensive fire in his eyes that makes you feel as if someone has punched you in the gut. "To you? You're like, the nicest person on the planet, and super pretty to boot. That's just—that's crazy!"
Your heart gives a violent little jump in your chest. He thinks you're pretty. Steve Harrington thinks you're pretty.
Pretty as a friend, you correct yourself immediately, and sigh as you sip your drink. Of course, it's nothing more than that — just meaningless words spoken in a moment of unthinking kindness.
"Seriously, who?" he presses on. "Give me a name. I'll fight him."
"You mean like you fought Jonathan Byers?" you smile behind your glass, looking at him from over its rim.
Steve looks embarrassed at the memory and drops his gaze for a second or two before meeting your eyes again with a playful little smile of his own. "Different situation, okay, but that's not the point. So? Who's the guy?"
"You...don't know him," you hedge.
"It's Hawkins. I know the stray cats here by name."
"Fine, well, even if you did know him, it doesn't matter. He didn't reject me, exactly...not really."
Steve frowns a little. "Okay, you're gonna have to start making sense now. This is hurting my head."
The funny thing is, he actually looks confused, as if he can't possibly fathom the idea of someone rejecting you. It's sweet, really — way too sweet for your liking, especially when you know fully well he doesn't see you in the way you'd want him to.
You lower your gaze to avoid his and instead focus on drawing random shapes on the counter with your index finger, where tiny droplets of condensation from your glass have pooled up on the dark wood. "I mean, I never really told him how I felt. Not directly. It just…never happened."
"Oh. Well, then how do you even know if he feels the same way?" he asks you, looking rather doubtful.
You steal another glance at him and almost regret it instantly. His eyes are trained on your face, patient and attentive like you're the only thing worth watching in the world. It makes you feel horribly small and selfish and guilty, because after all, what right do you have to want him when he so clearly wants someone else?
You feel like you could cry. You might, if you don't distract yourself with something fast enough.
"I just know. Do you want some pie? I'll go get you some pie."
Without waiting for a response, you rush off to the kitchen even though there's plenty of pies sitting on the display counter at the bar, and you make a beeline straight for the back exit.
The alley behind the diner is blissfully empty as usual, just a lonely dumpster and a handful of sad-looking shrubs and weeds peeking out from under the concrete.
No, you aren't going to cry.
This is stupid.
You press your back against the rough brick wall of the diner and breathe in deep the warm night air, then exhale slowly as you count to ten in your head.
When the door opens behind you and the diner's familiar chatter and clatter of cutlery spill into the alley, you wince, mentally cursing yourself for being so goddamn weak. You should have known better.
You don't have to look up to know that it's him.
"Are you hiding from me?" Steve's voice comes, quiet and curious and maybe just a little bit hurt, even.
"I got...suddenly nauseous," you explain weakly, still refusing to look up and meet his eyes.
There's a long stretch of silence, and you feel Steve move closer to you until he's leaning against the wall by your side. You finally look up and find him smiling, this gentle, amused little thing that makes your traitorous heart skip a beat.
"You look just fine to me."
You stare up at the sky, head against the wall. "I thought I was gonna throw up."
He's still watching you, you can tell; you're keenly aware of his eyes on you, so much so that your skin prickles at the attention. "No, you didn't."
"No, I didn't," you admit with a sigh, and turn your head to finally look at him. He's got this little half-smile on his lips, the very same one you fell for years ago, and you curse yourself silently for never learning how to let him go. Really let him go.
"Hey. Listen. You don't have to tell me, okay?" Steve says gently, pushing himself off the wall to step closer to you. He brings his hand up to your face and tucks a loose lock of hair behind your ear, letting his fingertips linger on the edge of your jaw for the briefest of moments, just long enough for you to wonder whether he knows what he's doing to you.
You don't dare to move. You're afraid of breaking whatever spell has seemingly come over him.
"I should've never asked. That was selfish."
"Forget it," you say.
He's standing close now, close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to be able to look up at him properly. There's a strange kind of tension in his eyes, something dark and unsure and tentative, and his gaze darts down to your lips just the slightest bit.
You're fairly sure you're just seeing what you want to see, your foolish heart playing tricks on you. But you panic nonetheless, feeling a sudden, irrational fear that if he moves any closer, he'll realize the truth — that you're a liar and a coward, that you've been harboring these feelings of yours for him for years.
"I should—I should go. Back inside," you mutter, pointing vaguely at the door with your thumb. "In there."
"Sure, yeah. Okay. In there," he echoes, not making a single move to leave. "Not out here."
"Yup. Exactly. In there."
"So you said."
"Yep."
The wall of the diner is digging into your spine uncomfortably, and your mouth is dry, and your knees feel weak, and your stomach is doing somersaults, and the longer he stares at you with those eyes of his the more you feel like you're burning from the inside out and—
He's not moving. All he does is look at you, really look at you, as if it's the first time he's really looked, as if he's seeing something that wasn't there before.
"Okay, so—"
You try to push past him towards the door, but Steve grabs your arm, making you stop dead in your tracks. He lets go as soon as you look up at him, lifting his hand in front of him in an apologetic gesture.
"Sorry. I'm sorry," he says. He swallows hard and rubs his palm on the front of his jeans, a nervous little habit you think he's always had. He runs his hand through his hair, mussing up the carefully gelled strands, and it's probably the first time you've ever seen him look so flustered.
He laughs nervously and gestures at the ground with his hands as he speaks. "Look, this is just—this is just crazy, okay, but I think I, uh, maybe sort of realized something."
You blink at him, not quite certain you're hearing him correctly.
"Realized what?" you ask, the words barely more than a whisper.
Steve clears his throat and nods at you, seemingly pleased that you've finally spoken. "Yeah, well, this is stupid, but you know how you're always telling me to listen to my gut?"
"You're not making a whole lot of sense right now, Steve."
"Just bear with me for a sec, okay? This is like, totally new to me." He holds his palms up, and you notice his hands are shaking a little. "I just need a minute, alright?"
He breathes in deep and exhales slowly, then shoots you an apologetic look.
"Sorry, this is just...really weird," he confesses. "Weirdly real."
"You're freaking me out," you tell him, but Steve only smiles at you.
"Maybe I should just show you. Because, I mean, what if I'm wrong? That'd be terrible, obviously."
"Steve."
"Yeah, I know, but hear me out, okay?" he says quickly, and takes another step closer. You stand your ground this time, if only because you don't trust yourself to actually move without your legs giving out. "So, look. Here's the thing. You're, like—you're one of the most important people in my life. You've been there for me when nobody else was, and I...you mean a lot to me."
"Steve—"
"Shut up, you're ruining the moment."
He takes another step forward until he's crowding you against the wall, hand coming to rest next to your head on the brick. He's close, so close that you can smell the scent of his cologne and shampoo and laundry detergent, and if you were to lean in even the slightest bit, your faces would bump.
Steve is a little out of breath, his lips parted ever so slightly. And he's still looking at you with that strange, searching expression of his.
"Is this okay?" he whispers.
"I don't—what?"
Your voice catches in your throat. There's no room for doubt in his eyes now, not even the tiniest, slightest sliver of uncertainty left.
"This," Steve murmurs.
He tilts his head to the side a little and leans in until you're sure your noses are touching, and you feel your eyes slip closed in anticipation.
"Is this okay?" he repeats in a whisper. "Please tell me I'm not crazy."
"I think I am."
His lips brush yours. It feels like an accident, doesn't last long enough to be anything but a dream. You can still taste the faint, sweet trace of sugar and mint on your tongue when he pulls away, though.
"Just to be clear," Steve whispers, his fingers brushing lightly over the skin of your neck, tracing invisible lines that make you shiver, "am I the guy from earlier? The one you like?"
You don't have it in you to deny it anymore.
"Yes. It's you."
A wide grin breaks out across his face, and suddenly he's everywhere; he cups your face in his hands, pressing eager, fervent kisses along the line of your jaw, trailing hot and open-mouthed down the side of your neck.
You giggle helplessly, grabbing Steve by his collar to pull him away from you and up to your eye level. He's breathing just as heavily as you are, his hair messy and his eyes bright.
"How do you do this to me, huh?" he pants, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. "You just—you just completely knock me out."
A pleasant little thrill rushes up your spine at that.
"Oh yeah?"
"Completely."
You kiss him this time.
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve x you#steve x reader#stranger things fanfic#stranger things imagine#steve harrington scenario#steve harrington oneshot#steve harrington one-shot#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington headcanon#steve harrington headcanons#steve harrington hcs#steve harrington hc#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington drabble#steve harrington dialogue#steve harrington fluff
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
1405 Peach Tree Lane
Pairing: Older!Neighbor!Eddie Munson x Reader
Summary: You like to watch your older, tatted shirtless neighbor now his lawn. He likes to watch you laying by your parents’ pool in those swimsuits that make his mouth water. Eventually, the inevitable happens when he invites you across the street for a drink.
Word Count: 8.2K
Tags: 🔥SMUT, modern au, age gap (Eddie 40s, Reader 20s), daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, slight breeding kink, spitting, light dom/sub, unprotected sex (reader has an iud), oral sex, p in v sex, shower sex, masturbation in a hot tub
(A/N: This is some of the filthiest shit I think I've ever written. You're welcome. Also I was very quick with the proofread, so if you see any spelling or grammar mistakes, no you don't.)
💜💜💜
Everyone in the posh gated community of Forest Hills knew about 1405 Peach Tree Lane.
The house was beautiful, as were all the houses in the upper-crust neighborhood- but the house wasn’t what people paid attention to.
Every housewife in the neighborhood knew that if they were lucky and timed their morning jog just right, they’d catch a glimpse of the toned, inked-up adonis who lived there while he shirtlessly mowed his lush green lawn.
You might not have done much speaking with the housewives in your parents’ neighborhood, but you knew about 1405 Peach Tree Lane- you had a perfect view of its front lawn from your lounge chair by the pool in your parents’ backyard. Luckily for you, all that separated your backyard from 1405 was a short wrought iron fence and a narrow stretch of road.
You didn’t mind living with your parents during the summers you spent home from college; they gave you plenty of freedom and while they were at work during the day, you got to spend the afternoon lounging by the pool, reading a book and soaking up the sun.
As well as soaking up the view of the way that same sunlight glinted off Mr. 1405’s sweaty, ink-riddled skin.
You didn’t speak to him- what would you even say? “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, my favorite part of the day is guessing what your tattoos mean.”? Or maybe, “Hey there neighbor, mind if I count the freckles on your shoulders? It’s for science.”
Eventually, the inevitable happened- he caught you staring.
He didn’t make it awkward, though. In fact, from the way he simply smiled and waved at you, you wondered if he thought your eyes meeting him had just been a coincidence, and you hadn’t been ogling him for the past thirty minutes and some change. You’d smiled back, thankful for your huge sunglasses that hid the way your eyes had widened under his attention, and waved in return.
An even bigger surprise had been that he spoke to you this time.
“That book any good?”
His voice, heavy with labored breathing under the exhaustion from finishing up his lawn work, had caught you completely off guard. You’d laughed nervously, sticking your bookmark between the pages and pushing yourself up from your face-down position on the flattened lounge chair.
“Oh! Ah-ha, uhm, yeah!” you shifted your weight back until you were sitting on spread knees and looking up at the source of the voice. On the other side of your parents’ fence stood Mr. 1405 Peach Tree Lane, sweaty and slightly sunburned on the tops of his shoulders. His curly brown hair had been piled into a messy knot atop his head, and you took note of the details that you hadn’t noticed from far away- a smattering of silver studs that decorated his ears, along with one on his nose. Five o’clock shadow that dusted his jawline. A more detailed view of his tattoos, some of which looked older than others but all of which looked very, very sexy on this man who had so much sex appeal already.
The crinkling of his plastic water bottle as he squeezed about half of it into his mouth filled the silence between you. After a loud gulp he piped up again.
“What’s it about?”
Your brow wrinkled confusedly before you remembered that he had just asked you about your book. “Oh!” you replied dumbly, looking down at the book as if you had completely forgotten that books even existed- looking at him had taken up your entire mental capacity, apparently. “It’s, uh, it’s a memoir! It’s this cool old lady’s life story, she does not hold back, so the narration is pretty hilarious a lot of the time.”
The inked-up Greek god smiled and nodded, eyebrows raising in interest. “That does sound good.” he mused, and his voice took on a slyer tone when he added, “What’s your definition of old, like thirty-five?” He chuckled as if he’d just told a funny joke, but your smile had all but fallen from your face.
“That’s not old,” you replied, not taking the joke, “This author was in her late seventies when she published this book, but even with that being said, this book is just told through such a youthful spirit- it’s easy to forget how old the author is when looking at her words.” You gripped the paperback a little tighter in your sweaty hands. “Plus, old people definitely don’t have the energy to mow their own lawns, and I have a feeling you’re not thirty-five.”
That seemed to catch him off-guard. A surprised laugh escaped him, exploding from his lips before they formed an intrigued grin and his arms crossed over his tattooed chest.
“Oh yeah? How old do I look, then?”
You grinned back, making a show of removing your sunglasses so that you could peer at him with greater focus. “Hmmmmmm…thirty-six?”
Another laugh, this one heartier than the last. “You flatter me, sweetheart.”
God, his voice is like brown sugar.
You tried again. “Forty, then.”
“Older.”
“No way.”
His grin became a smirk. “Are you patronizing me right now?”
You threw up a girl scout salute. “Scout’s honor, I would never.”
He chuckled. “Well, girl scout, I’ll be forty-five next month.”
“I’ll be sure to warn my parents about the rager you’ll be throwing.”
He peered up at your house behind you, like he just now noticed its- and your parents’- existence. “Nah,” he said, “No ragers for me, that ship sailed when I was your age.”
You smiled sweetly, placing your sunglasses atop your head. “At least let me bake you a cake, then, wouldn’t be neighborly to let you have a boring birthday.”
“You’d bake a cake for ‘lil old me, sweetheart?” His tattooed hand splayed over his heart, sweaty and shining in the blaring afternoon sun.
You giggled. You could get used to Mr. 1405 calling you ‘sweetheart’.
“Sure thing, just tell me what name to write in between ‘happy birthday’ and ‘forever young’.”
A flash of dazzling white teeth replied, “Eddie. Eddie Munson.”
That was when you rose a step above the housewives of Forest Hills- to them, he was still Mr. 1405, but to you? He was Eddie Munson.
You entertained yourselves with little conversations here and there whenever Eddie worked out on his lawn. You, always in a swimsuit and him, never wearing a shirt. You would ask him about his tattoos- what they symbolized, which ones he’d drawn himself before they were replicated on his flesh. He would ask you about what you were reading- it was always changing. Sometimes nonfiction, sometimes romance, fantasy, lit fic… he seemed impressed by your insatiable reading habits.
One day, however, he’d been particularly interested in a book whose cover bore a bare-chested gentleman and particularly busty woman in a corset.
“What’s today’s read, girl scout?” Eddie had greeted you with a nod toward the obviously risque reading material and a knowing smirk as he let his arms dangle over the black bars of your fence.
You looked up, glowing from the sweat that’s gathered on your dewy summer skin and smiled tightly. “Oh, just a period romance. Ball gowns, forbidden love, the scandalous touching of hands without gloves on- things like that.”
“From the looks of that cover, I don’t think their hands are the only naked body parts touching in that story.”
You laughed, glancing at the cover as Eddie waggled his eyebrows. “You’re probably right, but who knows? I’m only on the second chapter. I’ll keep you posted though.” you punctuated that last part with a wink.
“Oh please do, princess,” Eddie said with a wolfish grin. “I love a good smutty romance novel.”
You gawked. “No way you read this shit, you’re bluffing.”
Eddie raised a hand as if swearing on a bible. “Scout’s honor.” he said, mimicking your swear from the day you’d met.
You shook your head, smiling ear to ear. “You must be the first man I’ve met who openly admits to reading smut, and I respect that.”
Eddie shrugged. “Easiest way to know what women want- they’re literally writing me an instruction manual. It’d be stupid not to read them.”
You bit your bottom lip before you could stop yourself, making a mental note of that little tidbit of information. “And you enjoy them?”
“It’s porn, sweetheart,” he said, gazing at you incredulously. “Who wouldn’t enjoy it?”
“It’s porn with a plot.”
“I’m a sucker for a good plot, especially if the plot involves sucking.”
You barked out a laugh. “And one could also argue that it’s more emotional porn than physical.”
“Are you insinuating that I don’t have a heart? Because I’ve got one, princess, and it bleeds, it yearns-”
Eddie pantomimed grasping at his own heart in his chest, putting on a fucking one-man show as he hung onto the fence for dear life as if his heart were truly bleeding out. You laughed- that was something that seemed to happen more when Eddie was around- you laughed more than usual, so much that you found your cheeks aching whenever he walked away.
This time, something else ached as you watched him return to his lawn. As you continued to read, you were acutely aware of the heat between your thighs, the wetness that accumulated as you pictured corseted girls and muscled viscounts making eyes at each other across a sea of dancing courtiers. You imagined yourself, cornered in a rich rose garden bathed in moonlight, struggling to stifle your moans as a man in a tailcoat left a mark on your neck. You felt his hand hiking up your layers of petticoats until it reached your thigh, the only thing separating skin from skin being the white fabric of his gloves. You pictured his eyes, brown and bottomless as he moaned at the feeling of your hands tangled and tugging on his soft brown curls-
Uh oh.
You took a deep breath, bookmarked your page, and slipped into the cold water of the pool. You sincerely hoped that Eddie hadn’t been serious about an update on the smut in your novel; you didn’t exactly want to let slip that at some point, you’d stopped picturing the viscount and started picturing him.
But would he mind? Would he be upset to know that you’d pictured his hands on you, his lips on your pulse, your fingers in his hair?
You weren’t sure he would.
In fact, you had a feeling he might actually picture you in situations that weren’t too different. After all, you weren’t blind- you’d noticed the way his eyes would flit down from your face when the two of you were talking. He didn’t seem to put much effort into hiding his once-overs, his raking gaze that seemed more than pleased by the way your swimsuits hugged your curves, pulled your cleavage together, cut higher on your hip than your shorts ever would. Whenever you pulled yourself up from lying on your stomach, you’d seen how his eyes followed your ass hungrily as it left his line of sight.
That was the moment that you realized- Eddie Munson, more than likely, wanted to fuck you.
And you definitely wanted to fuck him.
So the next time he came over to see you after mowing his lawn, you offered him a beer.
“I’m already halfway through mine,” you said, leaning back to give him a full view of the way the sweat on your breasts shone in the hot sun. “don’t make me day drink alone.”
A salacious grin curled on his plush pink lips. “I could be tempted,” Eddie peered at the cooler beside you. “What are you drinking, sweetheart?”
You opened the cooler so that he could see the six pack of light lagers in shiny green bottles. Eddie wrinkled his nose distastefully. “Alright, young padawan,” he sighed, unlatching the gate to your backyard. “It’s time you learned your first lesson from Master Munson.” He didn’t enter the backyard, simply opened the gate and waited for you to join him outside your parents’ property.
You quirked an eyebrow; this was new territory. That wrought iron fence had always served as a sort of barrier between the two of you, never occupying the same space and keeping each other at arm’s length- flirty banter, but with boundaries.
Now, you smiled shrewdly as you slipped on your flip flops and crossed the threshold into Eddie’s space, following him across the narrow street to his driveway.
“Oh so I’m your student now, Master?” you quipped, launching him into a dark chuckle and a shake of his curls.
“Christ,” he cursed under his breath low enough that he probably thought you hadn’t heard- but you did. “Well, your college friends are obviously shitty teachers if your drink of choice is a basic ass bottle you can grab at the goddamn gas station.”
You scoffed, “Oh, what- are you trying to say you’re one of those pretentious beer snobs who only drinks micro-brewed IPA’s named after bad puns?”
Eddie laughed out loud, smiling ear to ear at you over his shoulder. “Oh that’s exactly what I am, princess!” The harsh sunlight finally relented as the two of you crossed into Eddie’s garage, and you followed him in a beeline to the old refrigerator in the corner opposite from his impressive-looking toolbench.
You nearly moaned with relief when the cool air from the fridge hit you as Eddie opened the door and grabbed a couple of unmarked silver cans from the middle shelf. You eyed them cautiously, which Eddie saw and snorted at when he saw your expression. “Not poisoning you, sweetheart, no need to worry.” He opened a door beside the fridge that you guessed- judging by what you could see past the doorway- led to his kitchen. “A friend of mine is a home-brewer, he gives these to me and the guys for free. Way better than any cookie-cutter shit you’ll find at a college party.” He held the door open for you, nodding his head toward the doorway. “You coming inside? It’s hot as hell out here.”
You hadn’t expected him to invite you into his home; it occurred to you suddenly that you were still only wearing your swimsuit. Smiling shyly, you stepped through the doorway, the chill of the air conditioning rolling goosebumps over your damp skin. Eddie stepped into the kitchen and immediately began opening the cans, handing one to you.
You eyed the can cautiously, raising an eyebrow at him. “Do I want to know what I’m about to drink?’
He smiled mischievously, inclining his head toward you as he held his can aloft. “First lesson, padawan- trust your master.” He tilted the can in your direction, to which you sighed and tapped your can to his.
Your eyes widened in surprise when the cold, bubbly liquid hit your lips. It wasn’t anything like you were expecting- instead of the tepid wheaty taste that you were used to. At first the drink was tart, but after a second it faded into a fruity dryness that reminded you of white wine. Its flavor was so light that you couldn’t even tell you were drinking beer.
“This is beer?”
Eddie chuckled. “Technically it’s a sour, but yes- it’s a type of beer. Dustin said it was a champagne sour, so if you like wine then hopefully this’d be up your alley.”
You smiled as you took your second sip. “I do like wine.” you murmured, testing the flavors on your tongue. “Like this, too. Your friend ever think about selling what he brews?”
“Dustin?” Eddie asked, laughing as if the question were something funny. “Oh I have no doubt he’ll try to sell it one day, but he’s not going to even think about it until he knows he’s perfected his recipe.”
As you took another sip of the cold drink, you felt another wave of goosebumps run through you. Coincidentally, this was the moment that Eddie fell perfectly silent. You peered over your can- his eyes were fixed on your chest. You became acutely aware that the goosebumps had resulted in your nipples growing so hard, you thought if something-anything- were to accidentally brush against them, you might moan from the sensitivity.
Stifling a smirk, you shivered and hugged your upper arms. “Brrrrr it’s cold in here!” you said coyly, “I guess my body temperature got a little too used to the heat.”
Eddie’s chest heaved slightly at the way your tits bounced and squeezed together when you shivered. He cleared his throat, looking down at the beer can in his hand for a moment. “I’ve got a hot tub, you know,” He spoke up, peering at you to gauge your reaction. “Downstairs. You’re welcome to it.”
You took another sip. “Only if you join me.”
His dark eyes snapped up to yours, lips curling up at one corner. “Yes ma’am.” he said, his voice lowered an octave and a bit huskier than before. You held his eye contact, mirroring his lopsided grin with a charged, heavy-lidded gaze.
Eddie led you to a staircase down the hall and said he’d be right back with a towel for you after he changed into swim trunks.
“Aw, no speedo?” you smirked. Eddie appeared unphased. “Mental note,” he murmured to himself, “the princess is eager to see my thighs.”
You giggled, “There might be more tattoos there I haven’t seen yet,” you countered, “How am I supposed to keep figuring you out if I don’t know the meaning of each and every one?”
Eddie placed his forearm above your head on the wall, leaning into it until he was close enough for you to feel his breath on your hairline. “You know, you seem to spend a lot of time staring at my body, kid-” You bristled at his blatant omission of the nicknames you liked. “-I’m starting to feel objectified.”
You forced the smile from your face, looking up at him defiantly. “I could say the same thing about you, Mr. Munson,” you replied, “-and I’m not a ‘kid’.”
His position didn’t change as his eyes raked over your nearly naked body, drifting from your eyes to your lips and catching on your cleavage. “Don’t I know it, sweetheart.” he whispered, before pushing off the wall. “Hot tub’s already heated, just push off the cover and hit the green button. I’ll be down in a sec.”
And then he was walking down the hall to what you could only assume was his bedroom. For a moment, you thought about following him… but if you were honest with yourself, you were actually pretty curious about this hot tub. So down the stairs you went, carrying a silver can of sour in each hand.
Eddie’s basement was cozy, but he had utilized the space to its full potential. The majority had been filled with workout equipment to create a home gym, the walls lined with floor to ceiling mirrors that created the illusion of a larger space than it actually was. Sitting on stylish wooden slats was the hot tub, topped with a brown leather cover. To the right of the hot tub was a door with a small window that was just at your eye level. Upon closer inspection… yep, that was a sauna. Eddie had a sauna.
Shaking your head in disbelief, you made a mental note to ask Eddie what he did for a living- as far as you could tell, he was the only one who lived here. How did a single guy in his forties have so much money to burn?
Placing yours and Eddie’s drinks down on a nearby surface, you removed the cover from the hot tub and pressed the green button as Eddie had instructed, and settled into the hot, bubbling water. God, it was relaxing. Just then, you heard footsteps descending the stairs.
Eddie appeared, his hair let down from his normal messy bun so that it fell in dark chocolate curls that cascaded over his shoulders. His swim trunks, simple and black with little white skulls lining the cuffs above his knees, hugged his thighs in a way that made you salivate. Tattoos you'd become all too familiar with danced across his skin, and you suddenly felt the need to taste them.
Eddie smirked when he saw you getting an eyeful without even trying to hide it. “How’s the water?”
You hummed, relaxing further into jets against your back. “Sooooooo nice.” You sighed.
Eddie climbed into the hot tub to join you, making you squeal as he practically fell into the water, splashing you as he submerged his head just enough to wet his hair and shake it out like a golden retriever.
You giggled, doing your best to ensure that your hair wasn’t wet enough to make you look like a wet rat. “I’m starting to think you’re a teenage boy trapped in the body of a middle-aged man.”
Eddie narrowed his eyes at you, tattooed arms stretching out over the edges of the tub as he relaxed into the seat across from you. “Hey now,” he said, voice laced with warning. “Careful with the term middle-aged there, kiddo.”
You matched his gaze, challenging. “Kiddo?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Eddie’s gaze was heavy, cocky as he looked down his nose at you. “Practically a baby.”
You grinned. “That one, I don’t mind.”
Eddie’s smile grew in tandem. “Oh, she likes to be ‘baby’, but not ‘kiddo’, huh?”
You leaned back into the water, looking up at the ceiling with a smug smile on your lips. “That’s right, grandpa.”
Suddenly, you felt a tug on your ankle and you were underwater. You emerged, spitting chlorine out of your mouth, struggling to force it from your nose as Eddie’s cackling rang in your ears. You gasped, sputtering in shock as you tried to catch your breath.
“You are a child!” you squealed as he tugged your ankle again- you hadn’t noticed his hold still grasping tightly- not forceful enough to bring you back under the surface but enough to remind you that he could.
“So not a grandpa, then?” Eddie teased, stroking the curve of your ankle with his thumb.
You gritted your teeth together, strategizing. “No, that would be too kind. You’ve got the maturity of a teenager. Luckily for me-”
Using Eddie’s grip on your ankle as leverage, you forcefully pulled yourself forward by your leg and launched yourself right into his lap, bending your knees so that a second later, you were straddling him.
You watched triumphantly as Eddie’s eyes widened, looking up at you with breath that hitched in his throat as you finished your sentence.
“-I know how boys like you think.”
The humor between the two of you dissipated in that instant, Eddie’s eyes blown wide and dark as he watched the way the water in your hair dripped down your neck and between your breasts, which were now inches from his face. If he leaned forward, he could catch that bead of water with his tongue. If he reached up, he could hold your tits in his hands, test their weight. Press them up, squish them together, squeeze…
You felt him growing hard beneath you, and smirked triumphantly. “See?” You said smugly, grinding against him teasingly. “Right on schedule.”
Eddie chuckled, his breathing strained as he shook his head exasperatedly. “Got me all figured out, do you princess?”
You nodded, finding your rhythm as you continued to grind against his hardening cock through his swim trunks. “I think I’m starting to.”
You shivered despite the warmth as Eddie trailed his hand from your ankle up your leg, your hip, your waist…finally resting at the apex of your sternum to splay across your neck. You hadn’t been expecting that- you faltered, breath hitching as he tested out a gentle squeeze and hummed to himself.
“Mmmmm…” He looked you over with passive attention, taking account of the way your eyes widened and your pulse quickened under his thumb. “...you know, I’m starting to figure you out too.” His other hand cupped your hip, pulling you to sit directly on his erection and holding you in place so you couldn’t grind. “You’re used to getting away with shit you know you shouldn’t do, isn’t that right, baby?” You sighed softly in response, pinned into place by his lust-blown eyes. You balanced on a precipice- on one side, obedience, which you knew would satisfy him. On the other, eventual obedience with a little bit more fight; more of a gamble, but you were willing to bet that he would enjoy that best.
“You really thought you could eye-fuck me every damn afternoon,” Eddie said, his hand on your neck moving lower to fondle one of your breasts over your swimsuit. “-and there wouldn’t be consequences?”
You breathed heavily, chest rising and falling under his hand. “I mean…” you drawled, still smiling smugly despite his authoritative tone of voice. “...I was kinda hoping for consequences.” you brought both hands out of the water, gesturing vaguely to the room around you. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
A second passed before Eddie’s hands suddenly grabbed both of your wrists, forcing them behind your back. You gasped, cheeks hot from the water and the position you were in, straddling his lap with both shoulders shoved back to force your breasts front and center. He saw the look in your eyes and leaned forward, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“I can get rough sometimes, baby.” he said, voice low and husky. “Tell me it’s too much at any point and I’ll stop, okay?” You nodded, a shy little mm-hm escaping your bitten lips. Eddie crossed your wrists over each other, holding them behind your back with one hand as his newly free one reached up to caress your cheek.
“Fucking Christ, you’re cute.” he mumbled. “Cute little baby, all alone in her parents’ big house all day, so bored she had to go and be a slut for the neighbor. That right, baby?”
Your eyes were wide and wet, mouth opened in a slight pout as you ground your freed hips on his hard cock once again, whimpering needily. You nodded your head up and down, eager to hear more filthy words tumble from his lips.
Eddie wasn’t satisfied with that. A hand came up to grasp your hair at the base of your neck, tugging on it firmly but not painfully to force your head to nod up and down emphatically. “Use your words, baby, say ‘yes, daddy, I was a slut.’”
You gasped, surprised. You’d never called anyone daddy besides your actual father, and you’d certainly never called anyone that in the bedroom- or a hot tub, for that matter. However, his brazen demand that you call him that while you straddled him like this sent rolling waves of pleasure straight to the apex of your thighs.
“Y-yes… daddy…” You struggled against your instinct to be embarrassed, arching your back against your restrained hands and looking down shyly at your cleavage. “...I was a slut.”
“Look at me.”
Your eyes flicked up to his, wide and obedient. He was smiling at you, beaming with pride and adoration. His hand slid from your hair to the back of your neck, pulling your face to his. “Good girl, baby.” he praised, “I’m gonna kiss you, is that okay?”
You nodded eagerly. “Yes, please!”
That earned you a chuckle. “So polite, baby girl, good job.”
Eddie’s lips felt like the most comforting thing that a person could feel on their skin. His kiss felt like fresh sheets still warm from the dryer. His tongue was like a strawberry that was perfectly ripe, sweet and wet and a rush of relief. He explored you, he learned you, his lips devoured all they could reach and whenever they couldn’t reach, his tongue took over to fill in the blanks.
As you whimpered and squirmed in his lap, Eddie cooed, “What’s the matter, baby, something wrong with your legs?”
You shook your head, moaning into his mouth. “I need something on my clit, Eddie.”
“Something? You’ll just take anything on that clit baby? Is that what you're saying?”
You panted, straining against his rock hard dick for some kind of friction. He was right, you would take anything. “Yes, please touch me, Eddie.”
He made no move to do so, only looking at you pointedly with his eyebrows raised. When you realized your mistake, you corrected, “Please touch me, daddy.”
He smiled smugly, a cat watching a mouse. “Good girl,” he praised, “but I’m not sure you’ve earned that.”
Your face fell, eyes going wide as your lips formed a full-on pout. “But-” you began to stutter, but Eddie wasn’t finished.
He let go of you, pushing you gently off you and guiding you under the water to one of the seats in the corner of the tub. The jets coming off it were strong, nearly too much on your back as you turned to sit, but Eddie stopped you before you could settle into the seat.
“Princess, I want you to keep your knees open and ride your pussy on that jet stream until you cum.”
Your jaw dropped open. Whipping your chin over your shoulder to look at him in his seat opposite you, you stared and waited for him to specify or maybe apologize for misspeaking- there’s no way you heard him right. But then he repeated himself, and you realized that yes, you had.
“Press your pussy up against that jet stream under the water, and make yourself cum. Don’t use your hands. Don’t rush. I want you to fall apart in my hot tub, and I’m going to stroke my dick while I watch you do it. That okay, sweetheart?”
You were learning a lot of new information about your neighbor today.
You smiled devilishly over your shoulder at him, taking in the sight of him lounging in the opposite corner of the tub as he took in the sight of you. “You’re a kinky motherfucker, aren’t you?”
Eddie reached across the tub and wound an arm around your waist, pulling you in for a quick but heated kiss. “Yeah, I am.” he murmured into your lips before pushing you back toward the jets. “Now make yourself cum, I want you tight.”
He laughed at the pathetic little whimper that you let slip involuntarily as you situated yourself against the jet stream. You balanced your weight on your knees, spreading your legs enough to open your pussy further inside your swimsuit. Once the pulsing stream of water made contact with your clit, your automatic impulse was to flinch away; the stream was strong, almost too strong. However, with a little shifting and repositioning, you eventually found an angle that pulled a moan from your mouth that sounded almost pornographic.
“That’s it, baby girl,” you heard Eddie’s rough voice behind you, and you couldn’t help but sneak a peak over your shoulder at him. Eddie sat with legs spread open and one arm slung over the lip of the tub, his other hand palming the erection you knew was only growing harder over his swim trunks. This told you he was a patient man, a man who liked to be teased a little before taking what he wanted. A man who liked to play with his food before he ate it.
You could play, too.
You pulled your eyebrows together, pouting your lips the way you’d seen him react to earlier. “Am I doing it right for you, daddy?” You moved your hips up and down against the jet, putting on a little show for him.
Eddie raised a brow, amused. “I don’t think I can answer that question for you, sweetheart.” he said, sighing heavily with pleasure as he tilted his head this way and that to take you in from every angle. “Don’t worry about me, baby, just make yourself feel good.”
You smiled shyly, nodding in response and turning your attention back to the jets. You maneuvered your hips against them, grinding on the strong jetstream as it hit your clit at angles that you didn’t even know existed. You lost yourself in the sensation, letting your eyes fall closed and humming little sounds to yourself as your heart rate picked up, that familiar pleasure bubbling up in your lower belly as your movements grew faster and more desperate.
Eager to see if Eddie was enjoying himself as much as you were, you glanced over your shoulder to look at him. What you saw was breathtaking- Eddie, his wet curls clinging to his dewy skin, muscles flexing under his tattoos as he fisted his cock underwater. You couldn’t see it clearly due to the raging bubbles, but the flesh-colored underwater blur was enough for you to know exactly what he was doing. You had known he would jack off to you- he’d outright told you he planned to- but seeing it was enough to turn you on so much that it became the thing that pushed you over the edge.
“Daddy, I’m cumming!”
You moaned, mouth hanging open as you rode out your orgasm against the harsh stream of the jets, overwhelmed and overstimulated by the physical feeling and the intense eye contact that you held with Eddie the entire time as your body gyrated and spasmed. He watched you with hungry eyes, lapping up the scene in its entirety and committing every second to memory.
“Good girl, good fucking girl, keep fucking that jet, baby.”
You whimpered, hips jerking away from the stream as it hit your clit at an angle that was a little too intense, and your limp, still-needy body floated over to Eddie. He chuckled, still stroking his cock lightly in the warm water. “Aw, I’m sorry baby, was that too much?”
You shook your head, still eager for him- he’d barely even touched you, and yet you were so desperate for this man. “No, I can take more.”
His eyes had a darkness to them that made your breath hitch. “How much can you take, sweetheart?”
You moved to straddle your knees on either side of one of his thighs, not close enough to grind against his cock, but certainly in a perfect position to rub your pussy along his leg, teasing him. “I’ll take whatever you wanna give me, daddy.”
A low groan sounded from deep in Eddie’s chest. “You might regret saying that one, babe.”
You couldn’t resist matching his warning with a challenge. “Bring it on.” you said sweetly, and it incited a little chuckle in him. He reached back and pressed a button on the hot tub, causing all of the bubbles to stop.
“Get out, dry off.” he said, nodding to the neatly folded towels he’d placed beside the hot tub. “You look like you could use a shower.”
You stayed put, confused. “You… but…”
He cut you off, cupping his wet hands against your face. You could feel the pads of his fingers on your cheeks, wrinkled from prolonged time under the water’s surface. “Sorry, sweetheart, I forgot you don’t like following instructions unless you know you’re getting something out of it.” You scoffed at his condescending tone, but all he did was smile. “What I meant to say was- get out. Dry off. I’m going to fuck you in my shower. Mmkay?”
Your eyes widened, excited by his words and elated by a strange submissive, post-orgasmic euphoria. “Okay.” you replied, but when you saw his testy look in response you quickly amended, “Okay daddy.”
“Good girl.”
The two of you dried off before heading back upstairs. Eddie let you down the hall to his bedroom, which you were sure was filled with so many interesting mementos on the walls that you were sure it would take you hours to study all of it. The first thing to catch your eye was the golden record, framed and mounted beside his dresser. When Eddie saw you looking at it, he supplied an answer without waiting for you to ask.
“Ever heard of a band called Corroded Coffin?”
You searched your brain but came up empty. “No, I don’t think I have.”
Eddie chuckled to himself, like you’d just participated in a joke you weren’t in on. “Most people haven’t. But I bet you’ve heard the song Upside Down on the radio, yeah?” He hummed a couple bars of the chorus, which you recognized instantly.
“Oh yeah! I love that song!”
Eddie grinned. “‘Preciate it, babe.”
Shocked, you glanced up at the record and back to him. “Wait, you wrote that song?”
He shrugged as if to brush it off, but you could tell he was proud. “It was a group effort, my band and I wrote and recorded it together. After that, though, when the offers for record deals and tours and shit started pouring in, it became clear to most of the band members that this wasn’t what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives- band broke up on good terms, we just had some differences when it came to future plans.” He reached up and stroked the frame affectionately with his thumb. “But one-hit-wonder money was still enough to get my name out there, make some smart investments. I’m a music producer now.”
So that’s how he made all this money. The big empty house made sense now. “That’s pretty cool, actually.” you said, smiling at Eddie. You relished the sensation of his hands as they slid around your waist.
“You wanna see something even cooler?”
Before you could answer, Eddie was scooping you up into his arms and tossing you over his shoulder. You squealed, laughing as his palm hit your ass cheek with a loud smack! He carried you into his bathroom, placing you on his vanity counter before kissing the laughing smile right off your face. You felt his hands as they worked your bathing suit off you, freeing your breasts from the confines of the damp fabric. Eddie wasted no time, pulling one of your tits into his hand and encircling your nipple with his mouth, sucking sensually. You moaned, hands fisting into his hair. He only left your skin to turn around and turn on the shower, giving the water a chance to heat up.
Once the bathroom had sufficiently filled with steam, Eddie picked you up from the counter, pulling your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. You kissed him greedily, wetly, and hungrily as he walked the two of you into his spacious tiled shower, which was larger than your dorm room closet back at school.
You relaxed your legs around him in a silent ask for Eddie to put you down, which he obliged. The moment your feet hit the wet tiled floor, you began to sink to your knees until…
You snorted.
“Why do you still have your swim trunks on?”
Eddie had taken the time to take off your bathing suit, but you hadn’t even realized that even after carrying you into the shower, he hadn’t even taken a second to undress himself.
He looked down, noticing this for the first time, same as you. “I, uh… I don’t know. I was-” he flashed you a smirk that was equal parts embarrassed and sexy. “-preoccupied, I guess.”
You couldn’t help but laugh as you knelt before him, now eye-level with the drawstring of his swim trunks. “Well let me fix that, then.” you said softly, working your delicate fingers into the waistband and pulling his trunks down until they hit the floor.
God. He was a sight to behold. And you were right, he did have thigh tattoos. They were large, twisting images of hellish creatures, undoubtedly older but still in good shape since- judging by the paleness of the skin they decorated- they probably never saw the light of day.
You reached up, lightly tracing them as you turned your gaze to his cock. It was at full mast, eager and waiting for your mouth to encircle it and, hopefully, make Eddie moan your name.
Which he did.
The way your lips covered the head of his cock, the way your tongue generously licked the shaft under, over, around, the way your hands were warm and welcoming as they lightly played with his balls- all of it made him moan, gasp, groan your name. He called you baby, called you princess, moaned and pulled your hair as he fucked your mouth, and you just about burst into flames when he shoved his cock so far down your throat that you swallowed on it accidentally, pulling a growled “Goddamnit, sweetheart, fuck-” from his lips.
When he pulled you off his dick by your hair, his eyes were humorless and hungry. He crouched down, leveling your eyes under the hot water from the showerhead.
“Are you on birth control, sweet girl?” he asked.
You nodded, “I have an IUD.”
He kissed your forehead firmly, one hand still fisted in your hair. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Now I can grab a condom, they’re right over there in the cabinet under my sink.” he continued, nodding vaguely in the sink’s direction. “But baby, I have been fantasizing about the way your pussy’s gonna feel for a long ass time and I hate to ask you this, and you’re allowed to say no, but-”
“Fuck me raw Eddie.” You wanted it. You needed it. You needed him. “I fantasize about it too. I think about it every day, I touch myself to you before going to sleep and wake up wishing your cock was the thing waking me up. When I’m lying by the pool reading those stupid smutty novels and some lord is fucking a lady in waiting up against a wall, I can’t focus on it! I can’t because I want it to be you and I want to feel your cock inside me, and I want it to be your cum that drips down my thighs and your lips on my-”
He cut you off there, splaying his free hand on your neck and kissing you until you were laid horizontally on the hot, wet floor. He climbed on top of you, and in a moment your mouth fell open at the sensation of his hard cock splitting you open from the inside. He didn’t spend a moment waiting for you to adjust to his size or murmuring praises into your ear- he knew you wanted all of him, and you knew he wanted all of you, and that was all you needed. You moaned, you practically screamed, and above all you clutched him for dear life.
“Dirty girl,” Eddie growled into your ear, thrusting into you deep and hard. “Dirty books, dirty mind-”
He leaned back so that his face was directly above yours and grabbed your cheeks, squeezing to force your mouth open. Your lips parted, and Eddie spat harshly into your mouth before shoving your mouth closed around it. His eyes were feral, wild with lust and dominance. “Swallow.” he commanded, you obeyed in an instant. He felt your throat moving against his hand and smiled deviously. “Dirty mouth, too.”
He picked up his pace, spearing into you at a pace so relentless that you couldn’t even keep track of the noises coming out of your mouth- an incoherent stream of sounds and swear that would have made a sailor blush. He matched your dirty noises with his own, all the while dicking you down into his shower floor as your brain went haywire at the lewd noises of skin slapping against skin that echoed through the bathroom.
“God, this pussy is so fucking tight,” Eddie groaned, “good girl, cumming so hard for daddy back there. You gonna cum on my cock this time?”
You moaned, “Need something on my clit, daddy.”
Eddie pecked your lips with his own, and the way it made your heart skip a beat was like a reward. “Good girl, always tell me what you need, okay?”
You nodded, smiling giddily from the sudden subby euphoria. “Okay, daddy.” You made a mental note that kissing Eddie Munson while his cock was inside you gave you your new favorite kind of high.
Eddie reached down and began drawing small, soft circles with his fingertip on your clit. The richly gentle sensation was decadent, pulling deeper, louder moans from you as Eddie continued to fuck you. “Oh I feel you getting tighter, baby girl, that feel good?”
“Yes!” you practically yelled it.
“Yes what?” He taunted.
“Yes daddy!” you cried, arching your back against the tile. He was fucking you ruthlessly, ravaging you mentally, and the way his dirty words melted into you made your brain go so hazy that you weren’t sure if your vision was clouding or if it was just the steam in the air.
Your release was growing closer, that heat in your core coiling tighter and tighter, ready to burst with pleasure. “I’m gonna cum soon, daddy.” you whined.
Eddie’s dick hit you in that perfect spot inside over and over, and you leaned your face against his hand as he cupped your cheek affectionately. “Yeah? You gonna make a mess all over daddy’s dick?” You pouted, nodding ‘yes’ in response. Eddie smiled at the way you could be so cute and so filthy at the same time- he fucking loved it. “That’s probably gonna make me cum, sweetheart, you want that? That pussy’s gonna grip my cock so tight that it fills you with cum, huh?”
You were whimpering and pouting and letting the sluttiest little sobs fall from you now. “Yes, daddy, fill me with cum, please!”
“You want me to fill you with cum? Fuck all that cum inside you?”
“Yes!”
“Yes what, sweetheart, gotta tell me whose dick you’re cumming on-”
“Daddy!” you cried, “Daddy’s dick, I’m cumming on daddy’s dick!”
“Fuuuck, yes, cum on daddy’s dick you little slut-”
Eddie’s filthy words tumbled from his lips as your pussy pulsed around him, fluttering walls squeezing him tight from the aching pleasure that shot through you. His cum filled you, and the size of his load reflected just how long it had been since he’d cum into anything that wasn’t his own hand. When he finally pulled out, a stream of both your releases oozed out of your hole and onto the floor. Eddie stared at it, fascinated, and he silently used his finger to catch the milky liquid and push it back into your hole. You whimpered, overly sensitive and puffy, your pussy lips inflamed and screaming, but Eddie was gentle as he sheathed his finger completely inside you, ensuring that his seed stayed exactly where he’d put it in the first place.
He pulled you up to a sitting position, smiling gently. “Hi.” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on your temple.
“Hi.” you giggled, a giant smile stretching out across your face, blissed-out and more than satisfied.
Eddie stroked your wet hair out of your face, gazing down at you adoringly. “I’m sorry if that was a little… much,” he winced. “I may have gotten carried away, usually I would talk to you to see if that kind of stuff would be okay, but I was just so fired up-”
“Eddie,” you interrupted softly. “I loved it.”
He grinned, grateful and relieved. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Eddie pulled you against him, your body fitting itself nicely against his naked chest as water poured over the two of you from above while you sat holding each other on the floor of his shower. He sighed, completely and utterly content. “Yeah.”
***
The rest of the summer days in your parents’ neighborhood went like this:
Wake up imagining what you and Eddie would do today. Touch yourself when necessary.
Do whatever chores needed doing around the house, sometimes making batches of lemonade for Eddie when you knew he would be working on his lawn that day.
Lounge by your pool and read a book- this part hadn’t changed.
Spend the rest of the afternoon at Eddie’s. These afternoons usually consisted of activities like discussing the whatever book you were reading, drinking whatever strange new beer Dustin had come up with, and fucking each other’s brains out.
The next month, Eddie celebrated his birthday. He didn’t throw a rager (true to his word) but he did have a little get-together. To your surprise, he invited you.
You got to meet his friends, their kids, their dogs- and see the way Eddie smiled for hours without reprieve when they were around. This whole summer, you’d been figuring this man out bit by bit, but it wasn’t until that night that you truly felt like you knew him.
You baked him a cake, as promised. Three layers of funfetti sponge, vanilla frosting and decorated with oreo crumbs and rainbow letters that spelled out “Happy birthday, Eddie, forever young”.
He wasn’t this way with the rest of the neighbors. To them, he would always be Mr. 1405 Peach Tree Lane, but with these people? With his friends? He was Eddie Munson. Now, you were included in that group of people who were allowed to know him, and how wonderful he really was.
You felt so incredibly lucky that you were a part of that.
#eddie munson x reader#older!eddie munson#neighbor!eddie#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson#eddie stranger things#stranger things fic#modern au
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
friends with benefits with gojo satoru.
pairing: gojo satoru x afab reader
words: 5,100
contains: oral sex, squirting, pronebone, choking, and gojo being unserious.
mood: playful, sexy, sincere.
author’s note: thank you for the kind reaction to lazy sunday morning 🙇♀️
You squint at him as you take in his request, wondering if he’s just messing with you as usual. You’re sitting next to him in your apartment unit; the balls of your feet digging on the edge of your couch as you slurp on a cup of boba tea.
“Dude. That’s not funny,” you manage to reply after a long, confused silence. “Like, I know it’s fun when we mess with each other but isn’t this a bit out of line?”
He scoffs dramatically. “I’m serious! Do I look like I’m joking?”
“Honestly? I can’t always tell,” you reply. “Kinda feels like everything is a joke to you sometimes.”
“Well, I’m not. I’m asking you nicely here. Do you wanna do it? With me?”
You open your mouth to respond, but then you realize you don't even know what to say.
Satoru scoots closer to you and leans forward, looking at you from above his sunglasses, his voice dropping into his teacher tone as he explains.
“Look, okay?” he starts. “We’ve been teasing and flirting with each other since the day we met. And I know it’s all jokes but still, there’s obviously some chemistry here. Not to mention that you're fucking hot. And I know you think that I’m hot too. Plus, all your Tinder matches are assholes. And I don’t even have the time to date or meet new people. So you and I are like, our most logical, convenient choice here.”
You huff and smile in disbelief. “Did you just assume that I think you’re hot? Someone’s a little cocky.”
“Come on. You have eyes. Get with the program.”
Your eyes cast a flickering gaze over his body, taking in the chiseled contours of his muscles underneath his– Oh. Ohhh. So that’s why he came wearing a compression shirt. And sweatpants. On a Friday evening. With your favorite cup of boba tea. He shoots you an impish grin as you shake your head at him and set his bribe down the coffee table.
“Fine,” you say. “I won’t deny that we’re kinda, sorta, maybe, compatible. But here’s the thing. I like our friendship the way it is. Why complicate it with some dumb, meaningless sex?”
“No, no, no. But it’s not gonna be dumb and meaningless,” he replies. “Cause it’s you.”
His words snare you speechless, your cheeks flushing red.
“Wait. Dude, what do you mean by that?” You stammer, laughing awkwardly.
“I’m saying I care about you and you mean something to me. If there’s anyone I’d wanna fuck on the regular, it’s you.”
“Satoru!” You lean away. “You really don’t have a filter do you?”
“I’m just being candid here! I trust you.”
He scoots even closer to you, holding you by the forearms. “And you trust me too, right? I promise I don’t wanna hurt you and I’m not playing tricks. I’m just asking.”
“And am I the first person you asked?”
“You’re the only person I’m gonna ask. If you say no, my dick is gonna concave. It’s over,” he replies.
You laugh at his words, and he laughs from the pleasure of making you laugh. Then his smile melts into an unwavering gaze, his eyes soft and sincere, pleading like a touch-starved cat.
“But seriously,” he continues, his fingertips graze your neck. “I meant what I said. You mean something to me. I don’t wanna hookup with some random stranger or a girlfriend who might break up with me. It has to be you, okay? I just know that whatever it is that we have it’s definitely gonna last. Whether it’s friendship or… something else. Something more. I don’t know.”
You can’t help but lean into his touch, “Your logic is so weird.”
“You’re weird.”
“No, you.”
You huff and smile. And then your gaze falls down to his lips. Soft, glossy, and inviting. The air is suddenly warm and still. And the silence between you grows heavy and pensive. With the shared understanding that you are sitting with him on the edge of a crumbling threshold. You look back into his eyes and notice that he’s looking at your lips too. His breathing becomes shallow and heavy with longing.
“What if we just kiss and see where it goes?” you ask.
He swallows hard, his lips parting, “Yeah…”
Satoru takes off his sunglasses and you lean towards each other. Slowly. Seeking reassurance, offering permission, with every inch of space you close between yourselves. At some point, his eyelids fall shut. His silver lashes flutter as he moves closer and closer. You can smell his sweet breath, feel the warmth radiating from his skin, and the firmness of his thumb against your cheek.
You close your eyes and press your lips against his, softly, then with a swift gradation of hunger as Satoru grabs the back of your neck, pulling you against him, deepening the kiss.
“Mmnh… ” You hear a soft hum of pleasure from deep in his chest.
His lips feel soft like rose petals, puckering and relaxing as he relishes the feeling of your lips against his. He’s kissing you. You’re kissing him back. And you start laughing against his lips as reality cuts through that fog. He pulls back, surprised by your reaction.
“What?” he asks, laughing now too. “Don’t tell me I suck.”
“No, no, you’re fine,” you reply. “It’s just—I can’t believe I’m kissing my friend. On the mouth.”
He smirks, “You wanna kiss something else?”
You smack his shoulder, blushing and laughing, “Shut up!”
“Hey, I was quiet,” he yells, gesturing to himself now. “You’re the one who started laughing!”
“Okay, fine! I’m sorry! I just couldn’t take it seriously.”
“We never really took anything seriously. That’s what makes it so fun,” He says, placing his hands on your waist. “I like that we can laugh about everything. Even things like this.”
You smile, “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
You lean towards each other and kiss once again. This time, you part your lips, and his tongue swipes softly against yours, gentle yet demanding, coating your mouth with a sweet, buttery taste. His hands are warm as it rests on your collarbones. And you feel his fingers crawl upwards to the back of your neck, grabbing you by the scalp to hold your head still.
The rest of the world starts to sway and melt into open water. And you cling to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you afloat. You break the kiss to gasp for some air, hoping to feel solid ground again. While Satoru presses his forehead against yours. His eyes shut and his lips trembling, hoping you would let him taste you again.
“We’re gonna keep going aren’t we…” you whisper, breathlessly.
“Hell yeah,” he whispers back.
His hands slide under your thighs and he pulls you to his lap. You lean down to kiss him once again. Satoru moans and grabs your hips to press you down to his crotch, craving some pressure against his aching, hardening cock.
“I just… need your weight… right here…” he mutters in between kisses. His hips press upwards to meet you, and you gasp as you feel his thick girth squeeze and rub between your legs. Shuddering as you wonder how he’ll cram all that cock inside of you.
“You feel that? That’s your fault,” he hisses, sighing in relief.
“Aww, are you that pent up?” You tease as you start rocking across his length, following the slow rhythm of his hips.
“You know it… It’s been a while.”
A strangled sound leaves his throat and his head hangs back from the couch as you grind on him. His eyes shut and his lips parted in relief. He grabs you firmly by the backside, keeping you pressed against him.
A moment later, Satoru tilts his head back up to look at you with a hazy gaze and notices your stiff nipples underneath your oversized shirt. He leans forward and nips at one of your buds with his teeth.
You yelp at the sudden prick of pain, “What the fuck!”
You recoil and cover your chest with your hands.
“Hehe, I've always wanted to do that,” he says. He takes your wrists and pries them away from your chest, holding them tightly behind your back with a single, large fist. “You never wear a bra when I’m coming over. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Or were you hoping that I would?”
“It’s my apartment. I would’ve worn a bra if I knew you were gawking,” you retort.
He leans to press his lips softly on your breast, soothing the sting in your nipple through the fabric of your shirt. You sigh and bite your lip.
“You’re not answering my question,” he says, looking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So maybe I’ll just think however I want. And I think you wanted me to see it.”
Satoru starts kissing the base of your neck as his hand disappears under your shirt; you shiver as you feel his long fingers draw a smooth trail up your spine that turns into a light scratch as his hand pivots across your rib and towards your chest. You feel his cock jump underneath his sweats the moment he feels your breast.
“Damn, you’re soft,” he sighs. He bunches the hem of your shirt and raises it up, exposing your breasts to him. “Here, hold this."
He stuffs your mouth with your shirt to hold it up.
Before you can protest, Satoru leans down to drag a soft tongue over your nipple. Then he opens his mouth to suckle as much of your breast as possible. You bite down on your shirt, holding a moan as he flicks you over and over with his tongue, and then finishing with smacking kisses before he moves his lips across your chest to tease the other. Your torso twists and recoils from the raw, yet delicate sensation. But he pulls on your wrists to keep your back arched in his direction. The ache and heat between your legs become more and more unbearable, so you continue rubbing your crotch against the iron-hard bulge in his lap. Giving yourself some much-needed relief.
“Mmmh, that’s right, keep grinding on me,” he murmurs. “Make that pussy feel good.”
You shoot him a repulsed look. Though you're unable to snark at him through the makeshift gag he shoved in your mouth. Satoru laughs anyway, knowing exactly what you’re thinking. You’re such a sleaze.
“Oh come on. I’m how you like me,” he teases. “And if you keep looking at me like that I might actually bust.”
You roll your eyes at him and smile. And that only made Satoru greedier for any and all reactions he can coax out of your body. He grins and sets you back down the couch. Then he kneels on the floor between your legs and drags your shorts and panties down to the floor. You spread your legs for him, almost involuntarily. And he bites his lip as you show him the tender, sopping mess between your legs. His hands on your thighs feel searing hot as he raises your limbs up the couch, planting your feet on the edge of your seat.
“Play with your clit,” he tells you. “Show me how you tease it.”
Surprisingly, you obey. Your hand starts drawing languid circles around and around your bud. He leans in closer to observe you. Noting the rhythm, the pressure, how tightly or how widely you stroke yourself. You realize that he’s teaching himself how to make you feel good. And that only made you rub faster and harder in blatant, bare-faced need.
“Yes, that’s right. Keep going,” he encourages you. “Now put a finger in. Fuck yourself a little.”
You slip your finger and start gliding in and out. He nods and hums in pleasure as he watches you with unabashed lust and fascination. Like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You milk and ride your delicate fingers, stoking and tending to your own pleasure like a flame.
“Okay stop,” he says. He pulls your hands away. “I got the gist of it.”
“The gist, huh?” You taunt. “You think that’s enough?”
“You tell me.”
He parts your lips with his thumbs and glides a wide tongue along your slit. Your back bows and a moan escapes you as he licks you just like that.
Satoru doesn’t even take the time to gloat. His lips and tongue start to slurp and smack relentlessly. Making your toes curl and your stomach writhe. Grabbing a handful of his hair and nearly ripping it off his scalp as he somehow licks faster and sucks harder. With the rhythm and the consistency of a goddamn machine. You bite hard on the fleshy base of your thumb as he pleasures your pussy raw. Focusing your eyes on whatever random object you find in your living room to make yourself last longer. Cause you know you’ll never hear the end of it if you come all over his mouth within the first two minutes.
But then he slides in his fingers. Those fucking fingers. Smooth and long and dexterous as it moves in and out, over and over, curling to press that intense spot just underneath your bladder. You start to feel a deep sense of pressure, an urgency, somewhere inside your walls. That builds and rumbles and sears… and then explodes.
You grunt and arch as you feel a sudden release, something more than a climax. Your body grows taut and snared by euphoria, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your hearing muffled as your ears start to ring. But Satoru’s voice cuts through the haze.
“Whoa there! I didn’t know I was in the splash zone!”
You snap your head back down and your jaw drops at the sight of him.
“Holy shit. Did I just– Oh my god. Oh my god, I'm so sorry,” you stammer, mortified. You grab your shirt to try to wipe him.
“Haha, hey. Relax. You didn’t actually hit me,” he says with a soft, reassuring laugh. He turns his body to an angle to show your watery spent hovering centimeters before his face. “See? All safe and dry. Unlike you.”
“Oh, shut it,” you sigh, panting heavily. “That… seriously never happened before.”
“Really? Never?” he asks with a smug grin, he starts wiping himself with your shirt before tossing it down the wooden floor. "Wow… I'm flattered."
Satoru kisses your thighs and leans down between your legs once again. You jolt and push his head away.
“Wait, I don’t think I-“
“Just a few kisses,” he says in a soft voice. “Just lemme get a few more kisses in there, yeah? I’ll be gentle with it.”
You sigh and slowly let go of his head. Satoru leans in to plant a few soft kisses on your outer lips, on your folds, your entrance–your entire body twitching with every touch of his lips. Then he presses his lips tenderly on your clit. And you feel it pulse and throb as his lips linger and your legs begin to tremble. He finally pulls away, wiping his mouth on your inner thigh.
“If that wasn't one of the biggest ego boosts of my life,” he says fondly.
“Yeah, cause the one thing you need the most is another ego boost,” you retort as you wait for your bones and muscles to feel solid again. “I’ll get you for this.”
He grins, “That a promise or a threat?”
“Maybe both.”
“Alright, bet.”
Satoru stands to push his sweatpants down his thighs. Then he reaches inside his boxer-briefs to draw out…
the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen in your life.
“What the fuck,” you whisper to yourself as you watch Satoru shrug off his bottoms and straddle you. Instinctively, you wrap your hand around his cock and start stroking.
He looks at you with a smirk, “Gorgeous, right?”
His cock is long and proportionally thick from crown to root, shaped with a graceful upwards curve. His skin is glossy and flushed pink—wrapped tightly and smoothly around his organ without an inch of loose flesh. It’s almost uncanny how sculpted and elegant it looks. And the idea of his cock sinking past your throat makes your mouth water and your pussy pound.
“Go on, taste it,” he coaxes you. He doesn’t need to tell you twice.
You lean in and wrap your lips around his pretty, pink head—your tongue swirling and catching each leak of precum that drops onto your taste buds. Satoru moans and the neediness in his voice emboldens you to take more and more of him. You start swaying your head in deeper and deeper strokes; relishing the smooth underside of his cock. The thick scent of lavender on his skin and hair. The sweet and acidic taste of his precum. Satoru tries to breathe in deeply, only for his breath to shudder each time you sink your head.
“You’re pretty eager,” he teases, breathlessly. He runs his fingers through your scalp to hold your hair back, wanting to see more of your face as you work on him. “Do you want me to cum that badly? You want me to shoot my little babies down that throat?”
He yelps when you slap his inner thigh, your brow furrowed as you look at him with a flustered and reprimanding gaze. Though Satoru finds it pretty hard to take you seriously with his dick in your mouth. So he chuckles fondly instead.
“Or you can do that. I like it when you try to hurt me too,” he says.
You grab him by the back of his thighs, nails digging into his flesh, and you sink him deeper into your mouth. Satoru hisses and starts moving his hips, meeting your head downstroke. His cock starts to edge towards the back of your tongue, testing your gag reflex with every thrust. But you relax your throat and match your breathing with the swing of his hips, and soon you manage to bury him down your throat to the root. Your nose pressed firmly against the fluffy, white hairs of his crotch. Screw it. You let him hit the back of your throat over and over and over.
"Fuck," he moans. "At least try to make me last."
His hips pick up the pace. And you feel his muscles contract as his cock pushes towards release. You moan and pleasure him with the vibrations in your throat, wanting desperately to fill your taste buds with his cum.
But then he stops moving. His hands holding you stock-still against his crotch. You feel his cock twitch and throb in your throat, threatening to burst. And you can hear the strangled noises and whimpers coming from Satoru’s lips. You look up to him and see the look on his face; his brow is upturned, his eyes closed, and his jaw tight as he bites his lower lip. Looking like an angel in ecstasy. His eyes flutter open to peer down on you.
“Just a little more. Bear with me here,” he sighs. Then the twitching stops and he pulls his cock out. You gasp, forgetting you were holding your breath.
You shoot him an accusatory look.
“Did you just edge yourself?” You ask.
“What if I did?” He asks back.
“That’s not fair! I was winning!”
You lean forward towards his crotch but he holds you by the shoulders, laughing.
“It’s not a competition! I didn’t come all this way just to cum in your hand. Or your mouth,” he says with a smile. He reaches behind him to slide two fingers between your slit, gently caressing your inner lips. “I wanna cum here."
He starts gliding those long delicate fingers, up and down. Parting as he stretches you open. Your eyes glaze over as you feel that familiar heat building between your legs. Perhaps he’s right. Perhaps you would rather feel him burst inside you instead. You start moving your hips to rut against his fingers, your hands rolling your breasts as you gaze at him with cock-starved eyes. Satoru twitches as he relishes that look in your face. Wanting nothing else but to thrust and wring that neediness away.
“Bed?” He asks you.
“Bed,” you answer.
You yelp and giggle as he hoists you up and jogs to your bedroom. He doesn’t want to waste a single second. He flops you down on top of your sheets and takes his shirt off. His naked torso tightens as he notices you admiring his body. Taking in his broad shoulders, his square chest, his tiny waist and those grid-like abs. Eight packs… How many abs does a person need?
Satoru aligns his groin between your legs and lays his cock across your stomach like a ruler; measuring how deep he's about to go inside your body. You shiver as his tip caresses your belly button. Your pussy throbbing in equal parts fear and delight.
"You think you can take all this?" He asks you with a devious look in his eyes, with his lips curled into a smirk.
You bite your lips and mirror his gaze, almost provoking him to try and split you apart.
"Come and find out."
He rubs the tip of his cock against your clit and pushes it inside you. You moan as his thick head stretches you with just enough hint of pain to compliment the pleasure. He leans down and sticks his tongue out, prompting you to suck it and caress it with your own. The sensation of your soft tongues circling each other sends you into a fucking frenzy. You feel your inner walls contract and his groan spills straight into your mouth.
“Shit, you’re actually sucking me in,” he pants. He grabs you by the hair to tilt your head down, making you watch the way his cock sink between your legs—one girthy inch after the other. “Look at it go. Watch how well you're taking me right now.”
You both groan in relief as his cock disappears inside your soft cunt, his tip pressed flush against your cervix. You both take a moment to stare at your interlocked groins in fascination.
And then he looks at you to flash a nasty grin.
“Hey bestie…” Satoru purrs, his voice dripping with mischief and lust. “Guess who’s inside you?”
“Oh, come on!” you groan, smiling deliriously as you turn your head away from him. You try to cover your face, but he pins your wrists to the bed.
“No, say it. Who’s inside you? Who’s fucking you right now?” He insists, giggling. He tilts his body to face you again, preventing you from escaping his gaze. He withdraws his hips and drives his cock upwards with a rough thrust, knocking you backwards. You tilt your head back with a moan as he hits you in the womb.
“Say it,” he urges.
“Who else am I supposed to say? Jesus?” you reply, laughing as he does. “You are. You're inside me. Happy?"
“What am I doing?” He asks again. He starts rolling his hips, fucking you slowly. His crotch rubs against your clit in languid strokes.
“You’re fucking me,” you gasp. Your breath catches as you turn dizzy and nearly cross-eyed from ecstasy.
“That's right,” he replies, now caressing your face. “I got you, okay? I’m gonna make you feel so good.”
“You better,” you reply, wrapping your arms around him.
Satoru withdraws and flips you to lie flat on your stomach. Your legs pressed closely together as he parts your cheeks and aims his cock towards your entrance.
"Try not to gush all over your sheets, okay?" He teases. Then he nibbles your ear and plants kisses on your shoulders.
You sigh, “I just knew you were gonna bring that up.”
Satoru slides inside of you and you squirm and groan against the pillow instantaneously. The friction between your legs feels heightened as your muscles squeeze around him. He starts gyrating his hips, the tip of his cock hitting all the right spots with each downstroke. You grab the sheets and groan as you start kicking your feet from the raw, unadulterated pleasure.
He braces his hands on the small of your back. Then his hips move faster. Harder. Deeper. The slap of his skin nearly echoes inside your bedroom as he fucks the sanity out of your brain with each thrust. Your senses are overwhelmed by all things Satoru–the powdery scent of his skin, his pretty little moans in your ear, his smooth skin against your back, his comforting weight, and his thick cock pumping inside of you. With an angle so perfect and a rhythm so right that you wonder if his body was made for you. You squirm and writhe underneath him as the pleasure engulfs you like a flame. That he stokes and tends until it’s wild and uncontrollable.
You know it’s just sex. You know you’re just friends. You both just wanted to try something fun. Let off some steam. And yet you never felt used for a single moment. And despite all his teasing and provocations you’ve never felt insulted or uncomfortable. Satoru makes you laugh. He also makes you moan. And if he keeps fucking you like this he might actually make you cry.
Satoru collapses on top of you and starts groaning and whimpering against your neck, his abs flexing into stone as he stokes an impending climax.
"Fuck, fuck, I'm so close. Take me there, baby, take me all the way there, please," he rambles. “I want it, I want it, I want it. God, I wanna cum so bad."
He grabs you by the neck to tilt your head up and shoves his soft, sweet tongue inside your mouth. Kissing you with open lips. Saliva dripping down your chin. Then his hand starts to squeeze you, choking you gently and tenderly, and your body dissolves into a pleasurable haze. Your inner walls clench and your stomach tightens. You know you're getting close, too.
"Yes. That’s right. Good girl," he whispers into your lips. "Stay with me, baby. Stay close to me, I can't do this without you."
The pleasure builds, and builds, and builds, and then it shatters you. You start thrashing under his body as your climax rips through and seizes you. White light dances before your eyes and your hearing weakens from the strength of your pulse. Your pussy clenching so hard around his cock that he explodes inside you as well—his cum hot and searing like ignited oil. Satoru’s hips begin to stutter, helpless against the strength of his own spent as it shoots out and fills you straight to the womb until it leaks past your plugged entrance. He cums inside you in choking whimpers and grunts… that fade into a long, satisfied sigh.
“Hah… fuck… holy shit,” he pants. “What was that?”
“I never came so hard in my life,” you whisper, mindlessly.
“Me too… I thought I was gonna shoot my balls out.”
Satoru remains flat on your back, kissing and nibbling your nape as you unwind from the strength of your orgasms. Your bodies stay suctioned together, as still as the air that surrounds you. You seek comfort and grounding from his crushing weight and the heady sweetness of his scent as your mind slips into that blissful, post-orgasmic headspace. He tugs at his dick to pull out, but you’re still clamped and wound up tightly. That’s fine. He didn’t want this to end either. Your walls are just too soft, too warm, and too plush for him to just leave. He smiles and rolls your bodies to the side to spoon you; his arms wrapped around you like a blanket.
Satoru starts rubbing his face against your neck like a sweet, satisfied cat.
“So what do you think? You wanna do this again sometime?” He asks.
You could only hum in approval, your mind and your body feeling weightless and malleable.
“How long have you been meaning to sleep with me?” You ask. “Just curious.”
“… A while,” he answers after a pensive silence. “Does that bother you?”
"I guess not… But we’re still friends, right?” You ask. Wondering if you should even bring this up while he’s tucked inside you to the hilt.
"Friends with benefits, I guess," he shrugs. "But really, we can be anything you want. You already know how I feel so… ball's on your court."
He raises his head to look at you. "Why? You wanna get married?"
You laugh, "Maybe not that!"
“Why not? Lots of people marry their best friends.”
You turn your head and smirk at him, “I let you hit once and now you’re thinking about marriage. I must’ve been such a good lay.”
He smiles fondly and nuzzles your cheek, “You are, though. Seriously, who else can bring me to my knees like that? You’re the best I ever had.”
You roll your eyes and smile, “Now you’re just glazing.”
“It’s true,” He leans back down to kiss a trail from your ear to your shoulder. “I don’t care how you take me as long as we’re together. I like being with you. And now I know I like fucking you too. You’re not getting rid of me now. And like I said before. Whatever it is that we have, it'll definitely last.”
You stay silent, wondering where this all leads. Will the friendship really last? Will it fizzle out? Would you prefer that over a certain, bitter end? Is your friendship now contingent on sex? Will he be worth the heartache if you ever get attached?
Satoru laughs softly at your brooding.
“You don’t have to decide right now, you know?” He says. “Let’s just feel this moment together. Just feel me here with you. We don’t have to worry about anything else.”
He starts rocking his hips gently again, thrusting inside you with a pace so relaxing that you feel your consciousness sinking. He whispers softly against your ear; telling you secrets and sweet reassurances. Promises and high praises.
Satoru has leapt from that crumbling threshold. That boundary. That made you seek forgiveness whenever your fingers touched his hand. Or worry if you’ve taken your jokes too far. And he has opened his arms to you, beckoning you to take that leap and sink into that limbo between friendship and beyond. Promising you that he will catch you when you fall.
i wanted to capture that 'you cryin'?' energy of his and stretch it to a whole fanfic.
though i hope it wasnt too much of a tone whiplash (•᷄- •᷅ ;)
i just think annoying people is his love language. and he probs gets a kick from your reactions.
pls let me know what you think! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و
and thank you for giving this fanfic a chance!
originally posted on ao3
title is based on blurred lines by lauren layne.
art by blooneey on pixiv
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jjk fanfic#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk gojo#gojo satoru#gojo satoru smut#gojo x reader smut#satoru x you#satoru x reader#yasu1234#yasu*#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo#gojo smut#gojo x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
lessons in lust
ellie williams x fem reader
synopsis: ellie meets with her hot tutor for calculus and somehow ends with an anatomy lesson!
CW: 18+ MINORS DNI, dealer!ellie (throwback asf), tutor!reader, slightly dom!ellie, cunnilingus, public sex (they don’t get caught tho), a bit of teasing, both reader and ellie are just sluts basically. not proofread :3
a/n: heyyy the way i wrote this in literally 2023 and it's just been in my notes… hence slight dealer!ellie appearance LOL its also barely relevant to the story but I just think tutor!reader x dealer!ellie is a hot pairing. also ellie being lowkey dominant in this is so funny cuz i'm really in my sub!ellie era… but its still hot honestly. anyways hope y'all enjoy!
——————————————————————
ellie sighed as she looked at her current course score, knowing she was about to fail her calculus class if she didn’t start getting decent grades soon. she cursed herself for picking astrophysics as a major, recalling how she ‘thought it sounded cool’ and failed to consider that she would need to take difficult math classes.
she didn’t hate it, but she was falling behind as she allowed her ‘business’ to take up most of her time. it was easy to get caught up, and she was pretty proud of herself once the money really started raking in, but was quickly humbled when she remembered she couldn’t afford to retake a foundational course to her major.
that was how ellie found herself tapping her shoes against the library chair, waiting for her calculus tutor to arrive. she blew out a sigh from her pursed lips as she scrolled mindlessly through her phone, in a daze—so much so that she hadn’t noticed you walk up to the round table until you said, “hi, are you ellie?”
she looked up, a bit startled by your voice in the quiet library, especially because she had picked a spot in the back, away from other people and their chatters.
she took a second to respond, partially because she had expected some kind of geeky math nerd to be her tutor--especially since it was through the school. however, the main reason for her delayed response was because she knew you.
well, knew is an overstatement, you were a bit of a crush that ellie had in one of her classes. she had never made a move to talk to you, but she often indulged herself by staring at your legs, barely covered by the short skirts you wore to class, and fantasizing about the sounds you’d make with her face between them. she noticed you were wearing a similar skirt today and her mind already started racing, but she quickly snapped out if it.
“hi, yeah that’s me.”
“i’m y/n, i’ll be working with you today,” you said, smiling at her. she felt her heart rate increase, but she made sure to play it cool. “oh, nice, thanks.” you gave her a slight smile aam pulled your chair in next to her.
“so, where should we start?”
—————————
after several minutes of going over the subjects taught in the course, ellie’s mind had started to wander back to your short skirt and your words faded into the background as she wondered how quiet she could be while fucking you in the library. you can feel her eyeing you up as you spoke, and try to keep your voice steady regardless of how nervous she’s making you feel. how are you supposed to teach her while she’s practically undressing you with her eyes?
“so, can you show me how you could solve this kind of problem?”, you ask. after a few moments of silence and ellie scratching her head, you giggle, noticing she looks a bit spaced out.
“jeez, am i that boring of a tutor that you’re zoning out?”, you tease. she chuckles and shakes her head, “no, not at all. these kinds of problems just confuse me is all, i really don’t know where to start.”
you scoot your chair closer to her and aren’t sure if you imagine hearing her breath hitch.
“okay so, show me exactly where you’re having problems."
—————————
“holy shit. you’re a fucking genius. or a saint. both—whatever. i can’t believe i actually understand this,” ellie scoffs in disbelief.
you smile at ellie and and shrug, “you had it in you. sometimes it just takes a bit of a push. i’m sure you’ll do great on your tests.”
ellie looks at you with a suddenly soft expression, suddenly realizing her appreciation for your help and being so patient with her. she also realizes that she might have a thing for nerds. she would be lying if she didn’t find your intelligence extremely sexy, as if you weren’t already hot enough.
“so, how am i going to repay you for this, y/n?” she asks, leaning towards you and brushing a hair out of your face.
you let out a shy laugh at her sudden boldness, caught off guard by the cute girl’s fingers brushing against your skin.
funnily enough, you had heard about ellie before. there was a small number of queer students on campus, and an even smaller circle of queer girls. and as it usually happens, lots of you knew of each other. in fact, you and ellie were both hooking up with the same girl, which was how you knew about her. just based on this, you assumed she was a bit of a womanizer, and her obvious flirting with you now seemed to align with this idea.
but you aren’t put off by this—in fact, it only makes her more intriguing to you. behind your studious math-nerd image, you aren’t all that innocent either.
“please, i already get paid to tutor. i’m just doing my job, so you don’t have to thank me any special way,” you reply, amusement laced in your tone.
“i know i don’t have to,” she states simply, “i want to. you helped me out, and i think it’s only right that i return the favor.” as she says this, ellie places her hand on your thigh, slowly moving it up as she looks into your eyes, waiting for a reaction.
you raise an eyebrow at her, but once you smirk, ellie knows it’s game over. you lean in forward and lower your voice. “y’know, i think you might be right. i did, after all, save your grade in this class didn’t i?”
you decide you’ll play along and see where this goes. after all, she was fucking hot. when she smirks at your response, you almost start drooling. 5 minutes ago, you were focused on integrals, but now all your brain can think is how fucking badly you want those long fingers to keep moving up your leg.
“so how exactly are you going to repay me?” you ask, although you already had an idea of what she had in mind.
even though ellie was hoping for this situation, she couldn’t believe you were actually down. when she realizes this, it goes straight to her clit. was she really about to fuck her hot tutor?
ellie suddenly starts lowering herself under the desk.
“i think i can help you better down here.”
you just about come right in that moment, looking down at her mischievous green eyes from beneath you. your breath hitches and you look around to make sure that nobody is watching.
“fuck. that’s so hot. okay… you just-you have to tell me if i’m being too loud, okay?”
ellie nods and can’t seem to wipe that smirk off her face as she crawls forward and positions her face so she could look under your skirt. you spread your legs slightly for her access and you can immediately feel her hot breath on your inner thighs, causing you to shudder. she looks up at you, making direct eye contact as she leaves wet kisses on your thighs, teasing you, even in this moment where she should be going quickly as to not get caught.
you bite your lip when she drags her middle finger over your clothed heat, then slowly rubs your clit through the pink fabric. you hear her curse to herself and you feel yourself getting wetter as each excruciating moment passes. after a few moments, she pulls your panties to the side to view your soaked pussy.
“you’re already so wet,” she quietly groans. you almost whine when she brings her mouth so close to your center, looking up at you from her hooded eyelids and just holding herself there to tease you just a little bit longer.
ellie takes a mental snapshot of your desperate expression as you look down at her, with your lips between your teeth and eyebrows furrowed. but she can’t wait any longer herself. needing to taste you, she licks a long strip from up your pussy and you immediately find yourself choking back a moan.
ellie seems pleased by your reaction and starts leaving wet kisses on your clit, sucking lightly as she pulls away and alternating with gentle flicks of her tongue. its driving you absolutely crazy how gentle and slow she’s being, and you start to roll your hips to satiate her relentless teasing. she knows that it’s not enough but she’s also aware of how much more wet it’s making you.
she sucks a little harder on your clit and your head falls back as you gasp in pleasure. then she pulls away, lightly smacking your thigh.
“uh uh, keep looking at me. i want you to watch me while i make you feel good, baby,” she murmurs before she dives back in.
you pull your head back down to watch her with your mouth slightly agape and see her low-lidded eyes are clouded with lust. your back arches as you feel her the pressure of her tongue increase and watch her bob her head up and down under your skirt. ellie isn’t holding back and you can hear the messy, wet noises her mouth makes against your cunt in the quiet library. everything about the situation was borderline pornographic, and you almost feel dizzy from how much it was turning you on. without stopping her mouth movements, you feel her one of her fingers rub against your entrance before plunging deep into your cunt, causing you to let out a little moan. her eyes flick up back to yours, giving you a dangerous look as a warning. one of your hands clasps over your mouth to muffle your sounds as best you can.
“feels good, doesn’t it?” she whispers, and you nod in response, causing her to tsk at you. “i want to hear you say it. tell me how good i’m making you feel,” she demands, slipping in a second finger.
when you remove your hand, you accidentally let out another small whimper, and you respond as best as you can, “it f-feels so good. fuck, it’s too good,” you whisper, eyes rolling back into your skull.
satisfied with your answer, she reattaches her mouth to your clit and sucks harshly, forcing you to bite your fingers to hold back your sounds. her fingers speed up as well, and you can hear the lewd sounds of your wetness even louder now. you’re getting dangerously close, and she can tell by how your insides clench around her fingers.
“s-shit, i’m close, ellie,” you half-whisper, half-whine.
“i know, baby.”
she continues her assault with her tongue and fingers, doing her best to drive you crazy. she can feel her own wetness growing between her legs as she listens to your muffled sounds. when she sees your face, all fucked out and desperate, she nearly cums on that alone. “you gonna come for me?”
“mhmm,” you whimper, unable to respond properly as your mind and body are completely clouded with pleasure. your hands find her hair, needing somewhere to grab as the intensity became too much for you, causing her to moan into you, and the vibrations of her voice push you over the edge.
your body freezes up completely for a moment, then jolts as your release hits you, hard. you can’t help but moan and your legs shake as she keeps her pace, prolonging your orgasm for as long as she can. when the overstimulation becomes too much, you push her head away from you causing her lips to detach from you with a pop. you gasp for air and your body trembles as you come down from your high.
when your vision unblurs, you see her still between your legs, lips and chin covered in a combination of your wetness and her spit, and watch her smirk before she cleans her fingers off with her mouth. it’s the most erotic view you’ve ever seen—you could cum a second time.
she helps you put your panties back on and slowy rises from under the table, looking around to make sure the coast is still clear. she chuckles when she sees you still slumped in your chair, recovering and wraps her arm around your waist to help you up.
“how was that for repayment?” she teases.
you chuckled, still out of breath, and hoped that she’d be setting up more sessions with you in the future.
#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams smut#ellie x reader#ellie smut#ellie williams fan#ellie williams fanfiction
1K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
sovereignity
Xena
biographytalk0
Biography Talk
boomdafunk
BoomDaFunk
pxap
nadie en especial
vildmarkshunden-blog
Vildmarkshunden