#this is all jest and in good fun to be clear
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Can't believe I saw someone claim that Veth would go to Barbie over Oppenheimer. Veth? Veth Brenatto? Co-creator of the Fluffernutter, Master Gunner who mans the cannons on The Ball Eater, Veth stole-a-gun-and-shot-Beau-in-the-ass-with-it Brenatto? Veth who canonically killed a party member with an exploding arrow and never lived it down? Mrs. Brenatto has a front row seat to Oppenheimer actually, to ogle the explosions at the very least
#this is all jest and in good fun to be clear#she would actually see and love them both (as would the rest of the nein)#but she is the queen of explosions. we cannot erase this from her#veth brenatto
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cry baby
bucky barnes x fem reader
words: 7.3k
warnings: **18+ ONLY** smut, edging, overstimulation, crying during sex, mentions of flushed cheeks, friends to lovers, misunderstandings, lapslock.
a/n: this is arguably one of my absolute fave fics i've ever written. she is near and dear to my heart :') i've provided the link for ao3 if you prefer to read it there! it's originally posted in two parts but i've combined them here. any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged & appreciated ♡
“the boys are running late,” natasha informs you when you make your way to the table she’s conquered in the busy cafe. “sam texted a couple minutes ago and said he and bucky got stuck in traffic.”
it’s the second tuesday of the month, which means it’s brunch day. it’s a running tradition that’s stood for the four of you since your college days. the time and place has changed over the years, but everyone does their absolute best to attend every time. these tuesdays are your favorite, naturally.
you plop into an empty chair across from her with a heavy sigh. “good, that means i have time to bitch about how fucking horny i am before they get here.”
she snorts, taking a delicate sip of her latte. “what’s new?” she wonders sarcastically.
“you don’t understand,” you begin, leaning into the table, gripping the edge tightly. “it’s been months, and not like, a few, i mean it’s coming up on a year.”
natasha’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “a year? what about that guy you went on a few dates with a while back? didn’t anything happen with him?”
“no,” you grumble, sitting back in your chair and crossing your arms. you huff. “and even if something had happened, i doubt it would have been satisfying. i can probably count on one hand the amount of times sex has been even kinda pleasurable for me.”
“sounds like you’re picking shitty partners.”
you scowl. “i know that, but it’s not my fault. all these stupid men keep promising they’re gonna fuck me ten ways to sunday and not a single one of them can even get me to wednesday.”
natasha laughs. “you poor thing.”
“you’re really not helping me here,” you whine with a pitiful pout on your lips. “you are getting routine dickings, you have sam! i am not so lucky here.” you notice her attention flicks to somewhere behind you, but you’re not finished with your rant. “nat, i’m serious. all of my sex encounters are the equivalent of asking someone to scratch my back and then they scratch literally anywhere but the spot that itches. i want to be fucked so good that i cry, just—completely reduced to tears. is that too much to ask?”
nat is hiding her smile behind her hand, amusement painted across her sharp features. someone clears their throat behind you and you pinch the bridge of your nose. sam and bucky occupy the empty seats, sam next to natasha and bucky next to you. they’re both sporting wide grins, looking far too pleased about stumbling into this conversation.
sam opens his mouth, no doubt to make a smartass comment, but you cut him off before he can get a good inhale in.
“not a fucking word,” you grouse with a finger pointed in his direction.
he presses a hand to his chest, expression offended. “i would never make a joke about your truly tragic excuse of a sex life.”
bucky snickers quietly, but turns into a cough at your glare.
“i’ll murder you,” you promise.
“leave her alone, boys,” natasha says, rolling her eyes, though she’s visibly biting back her own laughter.
you huff, digging your wallet out of your purse. “i hate all of you,” you announce before getting up and going to stand in line to order.
bucky follows a moment later, coming to stand at your side and throwing an arm around your shoulders.
“that bad, huh?” he asks.
you don’t have to look at his face to know he’s probably smirking right now.
“fuck off,” you retort, not bothering to push his arm away since you know he’d only put it right back.
“aw, come on, don’t be like that,” he jests, “you know we just like to poke a little fun.”
you roll your eyes, throwing him an exasperated look. “yeah, but that was something only nat was supposed to hear. i hate talking about sex with you and sam because you two wouldn’t understand.”
“that’s not true,” bucky insists, which makes you roll your eyes again. “it’s not!”
“first of all, sam’s got natasha, so we both know they’re more than satisfied.” bucky tilts his head in acquiescence. “and you don’t have to worry about if you’re gonna have an orgasm when you hook up with somebody. men have it so easy.”
it’s probably not the best thing to talk about in line of a busy cafe (especially since you haven’t decided between a blueberry muffin or the ham and cheese croissant, and there’s only one person ahead of you now and you’d really rather not be discussing your lack of sex in front of an innocent barista) but it sort of feels good to get this off your chest, even if it’s to bucky.
“okay, definitely not true,” he replies with a frown. “i’m not always guaranteed an orgasm.”
you give him a skeptical glance. “i find that hard to believe.”
this time, it’s bucky who rolls his eyes. “whatever, whether or not i come when i have sex with someone isn’t what i was gonna talk about when i came over here.”
the person in front of you finishes their order and then you’re stepping up for your turn.
“hi, what can i get you today?” the young barista asks with a smile.
“a large mocha iced coffee with sweet cream and a blueberry muffin, please.” you pause, contemplating, then add, “and a ham and cheese croissant.”
if you can’t get fucked within an inch of your life then food will become your lover, you reason.
“just a black coffee for me, please,” bucky tells the girl, taking his wallet out of his back pocket and handing over his card to pay before you can stop him.
“i could’ve paid for mine,” you mumble.
“you also could just say thank you,” he replies with a short laugh as he ushers you to the side to wait for your order.
you pinch his hip, pouting. “thank you.”
“why does your gratitude come with violence?” he asks, rubbing the sore spot.
“you know how i am when people do nice things for me.”
“you should be used to it by now,” he points out.
“well, i’m not,” you huff. “anyway, what did you come over here to talk about then?”
bucky reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, uncharacteristically shy all the sudden. “uh, well. i dunno, i just thought… you know, since you’re not—i mean, not that you couldn’t be, just—you haven’t been, so maybe… fuck.”
“spit it out,” you say with a giggle, wondering what in the world’s got him so tongue-tied.
“why don’t you let me?” he blurts, averting his gaze immediately after.
you tilt your head in confusion. “let you what?”
he sighs heavily, working his jaw in frustration. “you know…” he begins, digging his thumbnail into a knick on the countertop in front of you. “let me fuck you until you cry.”
“what?”
just then, your order is called. bucky quickly grabs it and turns to make his way back to the table, but you grab his arm to stop him.
“i don’t think so, you come back here right now and explain yourself,” you demand.
his eyes lift heavenward. “it’s just an idea, okay?”
“bucky, you’re talking about crossing a huge line. you can’t just throw that out all willy nilly!”
“i know,” he replies earnestly. “and it’s not—“ he grimaces at the phrasing, “willy nilly. you’re one of my best friends. i wouldn’t jeopardize that for anything, and i wouldn’t offer this if i thought that it could. this is something that’s obviously affecting you negatively in your life and i’m willing to help. i trust you, and i’m pretty sure you trust me, yeah?”
“of course i trust you,” you say, frowning.
he shrugs. “so, then it’s just… a friend helping another friend.”
“you make it sound so simple,” you muse in wonder.
“think about it?” he implores.
you swallow roughly, biting the inside of your cheek. “fine. i’ll think about it.”
he nods and walks back over to the table where sam and natasha are waiting. you hesitate for only a split second before following.
needless to say, you’re distracted for the rest of brunch.
***
you: what even makes you think you could fuck me until i cry anyway?
it’s been nearly a week, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re actually considering taking bucky’s offer. it’s all you can think about since he brought it up. you can’t lie, you’ve always thought bucky was attractive, but ever since you were gently but firmly placed in the friend category back in university, you never allowed yourself to think of there ever being more between the two of you. he’s a wonderful friend to have and you’d have been an idiot to pass it up. bucky is kind and generous and just enough of an asshole to keep things interesting without it being a problem.
but this… this has left you reeling. why would he make such an offer after only ever keeping things strictly friendly and platonic in your relationship? and more importantly, where does he get the confidence to think he could follow through?
bucky: experience?
you make a face at your phone, furiously typing your reply.
you: ew. do you realize how douchey that sounds?
bucky: well, it’s not douchey if it’s true.
you: says you
bucky: and a few other people :)
bucky: you’d know it too if you’d let me fuck you
you exhale harshly through your nose, tapping your foot on the floor anxiously, carefully thinking of what you should say next.
you: it’s apparently a tall request, and thus far, nobody’s been able to deliver. you can understand my skepticism…
bucky: if i don’t leave you shivering and twitching with aftershocks of pleasure, in a mess of sweat and come, and tears stained on your cheeks, then i will have failed you.
your thighs squeeze together at the mental image that brings you. jesus christ, if he’s half as good at fucking as he is dirty talking then he just might do as he’s promising.
bucky: so? what do you say? wanna give it a try?
biting your lip, you give yourself a moment to weigh the pros and cons in your mind one last time.
it doesn’t take you very long to make your decision.
you: okay. we’ll try.
***
it’s a slightly overcast sunday when bucky comes over with the direct intention to fuck you. it should be weird, but strangely, all you feel is anticipation. maybe it’s because you know him so well and know that, no matter what, he’d take care of you.
(or, maybe it’s because those repressed college-aged feelings are doing their best to resurface, even though you steadfastly continue to ignore them.)
you’d taken a thorough shower earlier to ease the little bit of nerves you had when you’d woken up. cleaning up the small mess your apartment gathered over the last couple weeks helped, as well, and soon you found yourself standing in front of your lingerie drawer with your lips pursed.
you weren’t sure if you should even bother with it, but it felt you wouldn’t be putting in any effort into this encounter if you didn’t at least pick out nice underwear. so, with a pleased nod, you settle on some simple black lace panties and a matching bralette. not too much, but enough to satisfy yourself, and hopefully bucky. you pick out a simple sundress to put on over it, since you won’t be wearing much of anything once bucky gets here. that thought has you flushing, but you ignore it to put on some makeup, just to freshen up your face.
by the time he knocks on your door, you’ve already finished a glass of wine and are pouring yourself a second.
he smiles when open the door, a bit boyishly, greeting you with a quiet, “hi.”
“hi,” you return, just as soft. you open the door wider. “come in.”
he walks passed you, stopping to toe his shoes off and hang his jacket on one of the hooks.
“do you want a glass of wine?” you ask as you head to the kitchen to retrieve your own from the counter.
bucky follows, stopping in the entryway with his hands in his pockets. “no, thank you.”
you nod, taking a sip from your glass, trying to figure out what to say. the air feels a little awkward and you’re not sure how to fix it.
“nervous?” he wonders curiously.
you shake your head. “not really.”
he quirks a brow. “then what’s wrong?”
“i don’t know,” you murmur. “i guess i’m just worried we’re making a mistake.”
he hums. you take a larger sip of your wine.
with cautious steps, he comes closer to you. “what if i promise that things won’t be weird after?”
“you can’t really promise that, though.”
“sure i can,” he says, smiling. “it’s me and you. we’ve been friends for so long. plenty of people have sex and stay friends after.”
you’re not just ‘people’ to me, you think.
you sigh, frustrated with yourself. you can’t deny how badly you want this. it’s all you’ve been able to think about since that day in the cafe. but the thought of losing bucky is heartbreaking, and you don’t want your stupid horniness to be the reason that you ruin a friendship, even if he was the one to offer sex.
“why don’t we go make out on the couch for a little while first?” he suggests after a moment’s pause.
you snort, in spite of your thoughts. “like a couple of teenagers?”
his eyes crinkle on the sides when he grins. “yeah. we’ll just see how we feel about that, and if it leads to more, then…” he trails off, shrugging.
“that’s not a bad idea,” you concede.
“great! finish your wine.”
you laugh and do as you’re told, downing the little remaining wine in one go, sitting the glass down on the counter resolutely as you swallow.
“let’s do this,” you say, determined.
bucky huffs a laugh, grabbing your wrist and tugging you behind him as he makes his way to the couch. he settles slightly facing you as you tuck your legs under you beside him.
“do you wanna talk, or do you want to jump straight into it?”
“if we talk anymore i’m gonna change my mind. just kiss me already, bucky.”
“yes ma’am,” he sasses before doing exactly that.
he cups your cheek with one hand as the other is placed on your knee. he guides your face to his and kisses you chastely. you’re not sure where to put your hands at first, but you tell yourself to quit being a goober about it and place them on either side of his neck, your thumbs brushing under his jaw.
it’s an okay kiss, you have to admit, but it’s not really doing anything for you yet. he has soft lips, softer than you thought they’d be. you’re beginning to wonder if maybe this confirms you shouldn’t go any further when he tilts his head, and… hm.
he parts his lips, taking your bottom one between his, kissing it, then nipping it. you wouldn’t say the sound you make is a gasp, necessarily, but it’s close. his tongue lightly caresses the seam of your mouth and you don’t even think before you open up for him, letting his tongue sweep in, flicking against yours. you hum, scooting a tiny bit closer to him, chasing the feeling. his kisses turn insistent then, teeth biting at your bottom lip and tugging, soothing the ache with his tongue. he kisses you like a man quenching his thirst, like you’re the best goddamn thing he’s ever tasted, and it’s leaving you dizzy. you sway more into his space and he pulls away from your mouth.
“c’mere,” he whispers, gripping behind one of your knees to drag it over his hips so you’re straddling him. “much better.”
you don’t have a chance to process anything about the moment, his mouth back on yours in a blink. your fingers wind themselves into his hair, getting a good grip on it as you lick into his mouth. he lets out a soft noise at that and you try your damnedest to pry it out of him again, pressing your chest to his so there’s not even a sliver of space left between you.
his hands travel, down the sides of your torso to your thighs, back up to your hips where he holds on tight. it doesn’t take long after that before you find yourself grinding into him. you both moan at the same time, breaking the kiss to pant for breath.
you swallow roughly. “okay,” you murmur, “i think it’s safe to say this could work.”
bucky laughs quietly. “yeah? wanna move to your bed then?”
your squeeze your thighs around him, shifting minutely on his lap and feeling the beginnings of his erection beneath you. “yes,” you breathe.
quickly, you rise from your position and step back, allowing bucky to stand, then grab his hand and lead him to your bedroom. once you’re standing beside your bed, you turn to face him. he meets your halfway, pulling you into another, filthier kiss. you reach for his belt buckle, unfastening it and sliding it through the loops, tossing it to your floor. next are the button and zip of his jeans, shoved down his legs until he steps out of them and kicks them and his socks aside. he obediently lifts his arms when you slide your hands under his shirt and begin pushing it up, breaking the kiss to nearly yank it off, making bucky huff in amusement. once it’s tossed with the rest of his clothes, bucky grabs fistfuls of your dress and pulls you into him.
“my turn,” he says against your lips.
carefully, bucky helps you out of your dress, eyes raking over every bit of new skin shown to him. he bites his lip when he sees your lacy underthings.
“you got all dolled up for me?” he asks.
shifting under his stare, you nod. “wanted to look nice,” you admit.
he hums. “beautiful.”
he kisses you again, a little softer than before, but no less passionate. the urgency returns as he backs you up until your thighs hit the mattress. gently, he guides you onto your back, never breaking the kiss as he follows you down and settles over you.
you soon find yourself in need of air and pull away with a gasp. bucky is undeterred and instead presses his kisses down your jaw, to your neck where he decides to bite and suck until he’s left a mark you’ll have to reprimand him for later. he licks his way up to your ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth, drawing a whine out of you.
“bucky,” you whisper, hands gripping his sides as you squirm below him.
“hm?”
you close your eyes tightly when he makes his way back down to your collarbones.
“please,” you whimper.
“please what, sweetheart?” he asks, pushing himself up to look you in the eye.
“t-touch me,” you beg, cheeks flushing.
his lips quirk into a smile. “i am touching you.”
“bucky,” you whine.
“where do you want me to touch you, hm?” he wonders. one of his hands trails across your shoulder and down the center of your chest. “here? or… here?”
when his fingers glide, barely there, over your pebbled nipples, you push into the touch eagerly.
“or…” he continues, his feather light touch making a path down your stomach. your breath quickens in anticipation. “here?” he murmurs as his fingertips stop on your pantyline.
“yes, there, anywhere,” you agree hastily, “just —please. please, bucky, don’t tease me.”
he kisses you again, deep, full of promise. “you beg so prettily for me.”
he rearranges your positions until he’s between your spread thighs, sweeping his hands across the inside of them. he nods to your panties.
“may i?”
“yes, please,” you reply, lifting your hips to help him take them off.
he doesn’t give you a chance to close your legs in shyness, firmly grasping your knees in each of his hands and spreading them once again. the way he’s looking at you makes you feel unbelievably desirable, has excitement crawling up your spine.
“don’t forget,” you remind him, making his eyes flick up to yours in question, “you better make me cry.”
a slow, dangerous smile graces his lips. your stomach swoops eagerly.
~
a whine, high pitched and drawn out, escapes your lips. after you unwittingly challenged him, bucky took it upon himself to torture you—with sex. so far, he’s only used his fingers on you, in you, thrusting them steadily but never enough to bring you to climax. he’s taking his time and being a smug prick about it. you go to complain, again, hoping if you beg enough he’ll let you come, but before you can do more than open your mouth he’s quickening his pace.
“oh!” you gasp, clutching the sheets in your hands.
bucky slides his hand down your thigh, bringing his thumb inward to swipe around where his other fingers are buried inside you to gather your wetness and using it to rub circles on your clit. your back arches, head thrown back against your pillows as you feel your orgasm build. it’s not tears, but damn, it feels good enough.
just as you start to clench around his fingers, legs spasming, he stops.
your eyes open in a hurry, brows furrowing in confusion. “no, please, don’t stop,” you plead.
bucky smiles. “i gotta get the right build up.”
you groan in frustration. he laughs quietly and lets the inferno burning within you simmer down to embers, then starts inching his way down until he’s lying on his stomach, mouth poised above your pussy. the feel of his warm breath makes you shiver, and with no warning whatsoever, he leans in and sucks your clit into his mouth.
“fuckin’—oh my— bucky!”
you’re pretty sure you black out for the next several minutes, the only thing you’re aware of is the thudding of your heartbeat in your ears and the feel of bucky’s mouth on you. you’re lost in a mindless haze of pleasure, unable to think or feel anything else. you feel your orgasm cresting for the second time, and just as before, bucky pulls away before you can succumb to it.
“why,” you hiccup on a moan, wanting nothing more than to just come already, but he’s not letting you.
he shushes you, softly kisses your knee. sitting up to take his underwear off, bucky keeps his eyes on you, expression hungry.
“gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he promises. “just a bit more. you’re being so good for me, yeah?”
“please,” you whimper, feeling completely pathetic.
he makes quick work of putting a condom on and then settles between your thighs. you sigh in relief when he wastes no time and pushes in, being careful not to go too fast. once he’s fully inside you, he pauses, wanting to give you time to adjust, but you’re back to whining.
“bucky, please, please just—fuck me,” you beg, squirming beneath him.
he takes mercy on you, finally, and sets a hard pace. your hands fly up to push against the headboard, moaning and gasping from his harsh thrusts, loving the stretch of him inside you. his thumb is back on your clit and you cry out, clenching hard around him, but his thrusts don’t falter. all too soon, you can feel yourself getting close. you hear your own voice chanting please, please, please, mixed in with bucky’s grunts and the sound of him fucking you.
you whimper, eyes squeezed shut as your climax hits the point of no return, crashing over you in waves. you think you might scream, but it’s hard to pay attention to anything other than the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. part of you thinks this’ll be it, bucky will come now and then you’ll have had one of the best orgasms of your life and he’ll be on his merry way home. but no, that’s not what happens.
instead, bucky keeps thrusting relentlessly into you, dragging out your pleasure to the point of oversensitivity.
“s’too much,” you breathe, gasping for air.
bucky shakes his head, face contorted in concentration. “one more,” he tells you, voice gruff and deep.
unbelievably, you feel tears beginning to gather in the corners of your eyes. bucky’s still rubbing your clit, still keeping a steady rhythm of his hips, and fuck, he’s so beautiful. you watch him fucking you, wondering how the fuck you got to this moment, how you got lucky enough to bear witness to the sight of bucky fucking, let alone be the one he fucks. his body is ridiculous, looking like it’s carved from marble. you know how much strength it holds, as well, know that if he really wanted to, he could probably fuck you against a wall.
it’s with that thought, with the added bonus of the way bucky touches you, looks at you, like you’re something treasured and gorgeous, giving you such intense pleasure, that the tears threatening to spill over finally fall from your lashes.
bucky notices, because of course he does, and he thrusts into you just a little faster, a little harder, and your body seizes up and then you’re falling into another orgasm. it spreads through your veins, slow like honey, making sure this one settles deep into your bones. bucky groans as he, too, reaches climax, hips twitching into you in aftershocks until he stops moving altogether.
you both pant for breath, sweat gathered in every crevice on your bodies. you think you won’t be able to move for the rest of the weekend.
“need to pull out,” bucky says softly, breaking the moment.
you nod and he carefully pulls his hips back, grunting. you poorly suppress a whimper and close your legs, already hating the empty feeling.
“well,” he starts, plopping himself on his back next to you, “i think i deserve some kind of reward.”
when you turn to face him with an exasperated look, he’s got his arms crossed behind his head, a smug smile across his lips.
“how about i don’t kick you in the balls? how’s that for a reward?”
“i literally just did the impossible.”
“what, made me come twice? i can do that all on my own. you’re not special,” you retort with a huff.
he scoffs. “i fucked you so good you cried.”
“you can’t prove it,” you say to the ceiling.
“keep up this attitude and i won’t do it again,” he threatens, poking you in your side.
you wiggle away from the ticklish touch while trying to tamp down on the hope bubbling in your chest.
“oh, we’re doing this again, are we?” you say as casually as possible.
he rolls his eyes. “of course we are. now,” he sits up in your bed, stretching his arms as he stands and picks up his underwear, “i’m starving. wanna order takeout?”
well, you guess if you’d been worried about any kind of awkwardness before, you shouldn’t have. this is bucky, your best friend. he’d never let things change between you.
***
except, things kinda change between the two of you.
it’s not very noticeable at first, changes so subtle you miss them, until one day he showed up at your apartment and greeted you with a kiss. you stood frozen in your doorway as he rambled about how stressful his day had been as he kicked his shoes off. it was only when you heard him calling out from the kitchen that he was gonna eat your leftovers that you snapped out of it, yelling back that you’d kick his ass if he even touched your dumplings.
another day, he facetimes you and asks if you want to go to see that new movie you’ve been talking about.
“oh,” you’d said. “are nat and sam coming, too?”
he’d given you a funny look, replied, “no, i thought it would just be us two.”
“oh,” you said again. “okay.”
so you’d gone to the movies, let him buy you buttery popcorn and peanut m&m’s and a soda bigger than your head. he shared with you, despite your protests, and halfway through the film you felt his hand settle on your thigh. you blinked and stared at it for a beat, turning to him in question. he only smiled at you briefly before focusing back on the movie.
in between all of this, you continued calling him over for sex. honestly, how could you not? as much as you didn’t want to admit it to him, he was the best you’ve ever had. and if he’s so willing, why shouldn’t you take advantage while you can?
a week ago, though, you’d texted him and asked him to come over, replying to his question of what time and then started getting ready. you’d purchased a new piece of lingerie, a periwinkle babydoll nightie, that left very little to the imagination. it had a matching pair of panties and felt soft and luxurious on your skin. you’d taken extra time to do your hair and makeup, wanting to look like sex on legs, and you’re pretty sure you succeeded.
but when he got there and you answered the door in your sexy outfit, he didn’t see it right away. in one hand he held his phone, typing something on it, and in the other hand he held a grocery bag that you eyed curiously.
“i brought stuff to make spaghetti—“
when he did finally look up, his eyes widened and traveled the length of your body several times. you bit your lip, trying and failing to hold back your smile.
“how about we skip dinner?” you’d said, fisting his nice button-up shirt and dragging him inside your apartment. you grabbed the grocery bag from his hand and sat it on the floor, absently noting he was wearing his date jeans.
whoops, you’d thought, hope i didn’t pull him away from someone important.
you hadn’t let yourself dwell on it, standing up on your tippy toes and kissing him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. he’d returned the kiss, licking into your mouth, drawing your tongue out so he could suck on it and made you moan embarrassingly loud.
“wait,” he’d murmured, “we should eat first.”
“or, you could eat me,” you’d retorted with a giggle.
he groaned like it pained him to say no, gripped your hips hard and put a tiny bit of distance between you. the look in his eyes had made you want to find the nearest flat surface and bend over.
“why don’t you be a good girl for me, hm? let me cook dinner for us and after we eat i’ll fuck you however you want me to. okay, sweetheart?”
you whined, but ultimately agreed, knowing he’d make it worth it.
and then there’s tonight, where he came over unannounced, armed with groceries again and promising to cook you the best meal you’ve ever had. to say you were confused would be an understatement, but you also didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.
it’s just… well, bucky’s not really acting like a friend with benefits. sure, you hung out alone with him all the time before, but he never once cooked you dinner, and he certainly never helped wash dishes after. you guess the hello kisses could be explained away as part of the new aspect of your relationship, but something about that didn’t sit quite right with you.
after a truly delicious dinner, you find yourself on the couch with bucky as he scrolls through netflix to find a movie to put on.
“what do you want to watch?” he asks.
“mm,” you mumble, shifting closer to start kissing his neck, “don’t care.”
as he narrows down his decision and finally picks one, you make your way up to his jaw, sucking a small mark into the skin there.
“baby,” he protests softly, “let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”
you pull back, confused. first at the pet name, then at his words. he’s never denied you before, which isn’t to say that he can’t, it’s just that he’s always seemed on board. and, you know, you thought that was kind of the whole point of this thing.
“okay,” you reply after a moment.
he gives you a smile and a sweet kiss, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side to cuddle. you can’t help but frown, feeling like you’re missing something, but not knowing what it could be.
it doesn’t take long for drowsiness to creep up on you. before he showed up, you had planned on probably ordering out for dinner and going to bed early since you’d had a pretty rough day. in fact, you remember texting bucky about it just that afternoon. your eyelids get heavier and heavier, finding it harder to keep them open as the seconds pass. your head droops and in the next blink, you’ve fallen asleep.
you’re not sure how much time has passed when bucky wakes you, but you groan, pouting and burrowing into his shoulder more.
he huffs a laugh. “c’mon, sweetheart, let’s get you to bed.”
“don’ wanna move,” you mumble tiredly.
“i’ll carry you,” he offers. “up you go, baby.”
you half heartedly argue about being jostled, but let him carry you to your bed where he carefully places you, helping you out of your sweatpants and pulling your blankets up around you. you sigh in content, feeling yourself already drifting back into sleep. you hear bucky shuffling, but think nothing of it until the bed dips beside you, then feel his warm body slide in underneath the covers and press in close.
“goodnight, darlin’,” he murmurs.
you’d ask him what in the word he’s doing, but sleep is just far too enticing to ignore. you fall into slumber with bucky’s warmth along your back, his arm draped over you.
the next morning, you wake to the feeling of his fingers playing with the tiny bow on the front of your panties and his lips placing gentle kisses on your shoulder. you hum, eyes still closed, in the back of your mind thinking this is a nice way to wake up. at the sound of you, his touches get firmer, more insistent.
“good morning,” he rasps, breath tickling your ear.
you don’t really get a chance to reply. he dips his fingers into your panties, making you inhale sharply, moaning as you buck into his hand. he fingers you for a while, kissing along the column of your throat, biting and sucking marks into the skin there. when you’re begging him for more, he relents, eases your panties off and lifts your leg to slide in from behind. the angle is so nice it has you gasping.
you clutch the sheets weakly, burying your face in your pillow and muffle your whines and moans. bucky keeps a slow, lazy rhythm, acting as if he’s got all the time in the world to draw this out. it’s good, so good, and you can’t hold back your whimper when he kicks up the pace a little, tells you to touch yourself. you come seconds before he does, shuddering through it and humming happily.
as you both lie there and catch your breath, awareness trickles into your mind. you swallow roughly, staring blankly at the wall as you realize your feelings have grown far too much for this to be only casual anymore.
bucky kisses your shoulder again. “i’m gonna go make breakfast, okay? i’ll call you when it’s ready.”
“okay,” you whisper, blinking rapidly to keep tears from forming.
hearing bucky bustle around your kitchen makes your heart clench with want; want for something you can’t have.
***
bucky: dinner tonight?
you bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at the text. you know you need to cut things off with him before you get anymore hurt than you already are. it’s not fair to either of you if you continue with this arrangement when you’ve caught real feelings for him. you have to tell him, and soon. with that thought in mind, you type out a reply.
you: sure. what time?
bucky: reservations are at 8pm, i’ll pick you up by 7:45.
reservations? where was he taking you? you get another text before you can ask.
bucky: dress nice ;)
with a sigh, you text back an affirmative and try to start mentally preparing yourself for the conversation you dreaded having. you could only hope and pray that he agrees to still be your friend after.
by the time there’s a knock on your door that night, you’ve worked yourself up into an anxious mess. you open the door to see bucky standing there with a single peach colored rose and a bashful grin.
“hi,” he greets, leaning in to kiss you on your cheek. “this is for you.”
he hands you the rose and you feel your heart crack in your chest. you muster a small smile.
“thank you. let me go put this in a vase and we can head out.”
he nods and waits patiently at the door. as you fill a vase with a little water, you take a deep breath, giving yourself a mental pep talk.
this was going to suck.
the drive to the restaurant doesn’t take too long, and when you see where he’s taken you, your eyebrows shoot up. this is one of the nicer places in the city, definitely not on the affordable side. he helps you out of the car, leading you inside with his hand on the small of your back. you’re led to a small booth in a far corner with overhead lighting that feels too intimate. maybe you’d have to wait until you left to tell him…
conversation is light, a bit surface level, and you get the feeling that bucky is a little nervous. you wonder if maybe he’s gonna let you down gently first, hoping that he doesn’t, because you’d rather not cry in such a fancy restaurant.
after the waiter takes your drink orders, bucky sighs.
“okay, let me just… get this off my chest.”
oh fuck, here it goes.
“i know i’ve never really come across at the most romantic guy, especially since i’ve never felt the need to be.” he runs a nervous hand through his hair. “you’ve always been so important to me, and this last month has been so, so wonderful.”
“bucky…” you trail off, attempting to somehow stop him, but he powers through.
“i just—i never thought i’d find somebody, you know?” he says, earnest, gaze locked on yours. another crack in your heart. “especially not somebody who was my friend first, that i already had a solid foundation with. the attraction had always been there, but the friendship meant more to me, and finally allowing that to blossom into this amazing, new, fun relationship has got to be the best decision i’ve ever made.”
did he start dating someone and not tell you? oh god, has he been sleeping with someone else? at the same time? your stomach turns, eyes burning, hating yourself more and more as he speaks.
“so, i guess what i’m trying to say is,” he says, rolling his eyes at himself and smiling, “happy one month anniversary, sweetheart.”
you blink, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. “what?” you croak, beyond confused.
bucky, however, looks concerned. “baby, why are you crying?”
“i…” you blink some more, eyes flitting around the room as if you’ll get some kind of clarity that way to the situation currently happening. “what?” you repeat.
“did i come on too strong?” he asks, looking embarrassed now. “i wasn’t sure if you’d even want to celebrate, but i’ve just been so happy with you—i’m sorry, baby, i should’ve asked.”
“bucky, what are you talking about?” you finally manage, unable to keep the bewilderment out of your tone. “anniversary?”
bucky frowns. “i didn’t get the date wrong, did i?”
“no, i—this isn’t—i’m not talking about—ugh, i mean, when did we even start having an anniversary to celebrate?”
bucky’s face goes blank, sitting back in his chair. your heart is pounding wildly in your chest, so fucking confused, so fucking hopeful.
“we… we’re dating,” he says, slow, unsure. “aren’t we?”
“since when?” you ask probably too loudly, cheeks flushing.
he opens and closes his mouth a couple times. “when i asked you out?”
“bucky, oh my god, you’re gonna have to be more specific before i lose my goddamn mind. when did you ask me out?”
he huffs, his own cheeks flushing. “at the cafe! a month ago, at brunch with natasha and sam.”
your eyes widen in disbelief. “when you asked if you could fuck me until i cried?” you hiss, ignoring the scandalized look on the waiter’s face as he brings your drinks over.
smiling apologetically, you thank him and wait until he’s gone before sending a glare bucky’s way.
“that’s not how you ask a person out,” you seethe.
“i asked if you wanted to give this a try and you said yes!” he replies desperately. “i’ve taken you on dates!”
you pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking of all the times you thought he was being too romantic, more-than-friends type of behavior. you’re a fucking idiot, but god, so was he.
“at no point did you say anything even remotely close about us starting a relationship. i thought we were just fucking, bucky, i didn’t realize it was more than that!”
“you don’t—“ he starts, then stops, looking down at the plate in front of him. “you don’t want to be with me?”
“i didn’t know it was an option,” you say carefully.
“well, it is.” he meets your gaze, cautious. “i just spilled my guts to you. you know how i feel now. how do you feel? about me?”
you lick your lips. “bucky, i… i was planning to end things with you tonight.” his expression drops, even though he tries to mask it, so you’re quick to explain. “not because i don’t like you, but because i do like you and i thought you wouldn’t want anything more than just sex with me.”
“it’s never been and never could have been just sex with you,” he replies, quiet and relieved. he reaches across the table to take your hand in his. “i meant it when i said you’re the best decision i’ve ever made. i want this—the sex, the dinners, dates, all the gross and sappy shit i never wanted before… i want it all with you, if you’ll have me.”
you can’t fight the smile spreading across your lips. “of course i’ll have you, bucky.”
he smiles in return, a laugh bubbling out of him, which makes you giggle, until you’re both laughing so hard and loud that patrons from other tables are sending dirty looks your way, which only makes you laugh more.
“do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, laughter dying down. “there’s pizza and sex calling our names, i think.”
bucky moans dramatically. “i knew i liked you for a reason.”
he leaves money on the table and then the two of you quickly make your way through the restaurant, giggling and holding hands the whole way, even in the car.
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When You Have An Secret Admirer - And Doubt Them
A love letter was left at your door and now you are searching for that ‘secret admirer’ - but you doubt it's true. Perhaps you don't believe it yourself or are trying to push the obvious infatution under the rug...whatever your reason may be, your dear classmates do not believe you.
Been feeling sick so here's a spin-off of the spin-off of your classmates replies when you say:
"I don't think anyone would like me like that..."
Raising his brow, he scoffed. "Ya don't get it. Listen, the only reason someone would go out of this daaaarn big way is either 'cuz they're a total idiot dork or have a massive big crush on you. And lucky you! For you both option are the case!" Sweat rolled down his jaw as he winked. -Ace
"Uhm," His mouth became dry and his eyes avoided yours. "I-I don't think - I mean, w-why wouldn't they? Like, the roses and chocalates...the notes and...mirror, I guess...that's all romantic. Y-You're a great person and...I'm sure that admirer thinks so, too." He wishes to say more but his tongue was tied. -Deuce
"Whuat? Of course they do! Have you seen the talks and Hearts on MagiCam? Some totally envy you!" His hand lowers to his pocket but decided against fishing out his phone. Instead, he threw his arm around your shoulder. "C'mon, juniour! Have a bit more confidence in yourself! Y'know, if it wasn't for your admirer, I would have long sent you these lovey-dovey stuff. Maybe in a different way though, haha!" -Cater
A sheepish chuckle escaped him. "Oh, come on. Don't be like that. It's clear as that day that someone fancies you and there's nothing wrong with that. You get your senior's allowance to indulge in the attention!" Laughing, he hoped he could ease the tension through his lies. -Trey
He cleared his throat. Something like this wasn't his forte. "I...am not an expert in...love and courting - Well, what I mean is that anyone can see that you are very much admired by someone. You are...a very great person so of course you'd be liked. When someone goes out of their way to break several rules like that, their affection must be greater than the Queen's for her little King." -Riddle
Clicking his tongue, he rolled over to his side. "Why are you making a fuss about that? You're gonna break your little head over this, herbivore. Why don't you stop this belittling and confront that little admirer yourself and find out? If you have the guts to go into the lion's den, then you can go and ask a coward that, too." -Leona
"Huh," For a moment, he avoided your gaze and the corner of his lips twitched. "Well, I dunno. Why shouldn't anyone? If no one liked yer guts, then they would have looooong ripped you off or something - good thing I was there all the time but nothin' happened even when I wasn't there - what I mean is, no, you are likable, dummy. Shihishi..." He cackled nervously. -Ruggie
"I wouldn't know anything about that." Quickly clearing his throat, he tried to hide his flushed face, "As in...I don't know if I would agree with you. Someone wouldn't just do this for fun...I don't know anyone, in and outside of NRC, who would do this for fun, so..." He scratched his neck and hoped you'd catch his intentions. -Jack
"Wha," Sheepish laughter rang, "Oh, why...of course you'd be! Why wouldn't you be...why wouldn't they..." His hands reached for the papers on his desk as he failed to sort them, "If there are any doubts...Monstro Longue can also provide solutions for that. But only for doubts...after all, you are l-likable..." -Azul
"Nonsense. I think you are quite charming. Or, could it be that you are playing the humble one? Trying to fool the rest while you are indulging in all the love your admirer provides?" A smarmy giggle. "I jest. But even so, that would make you even cuter." -Jade
Cackling rung. "Huuuh? Actually, yeah, you're right!" He giggled and squeezed in closer into your personal space. "You are such a lost cause, Shrimpy...ya should stick with peeps like me and Jade! Rather just with me, yeah? That admirer-schmirer has been gettin' on my nerves recently and I barely got any time to squeeze you...give up on this landpeople mambo-jambo and stick with me~. -Floyd
At first he blinked in confusion yet his shining grin came a second after. "No way. You're so great! And so interesting and fun and cute!" He almost seemed like his usual self until he noticed who you two were talking about. At that, his grin vanished. "Oh...well, if I can see that, then the admirer totally too! Maybe even more than me since they shower you in so many gifts..." -Kalim
"Well, obviously not since you got a good old secret admirer like from a rom-com." His smile crooked, he hoped you'd at least chuckle but he quickly corrected himself. Best if he doesn't continue to be this nonchalant. "I'm just kidding...though not about you likable. Give yourself more credit...you deserve it." -Jamil
"Huh? What's with that...self-pityin' party - I mean, as in, that ain't true. Yer a...fine and dandy person, I mean - why wouldn'tcha be??? That kinda talk is only gonna bring you down and yer better than that. Far, far, better. Hell, you got a flyin' mirror-" -Epel
Laughter echoed and you weren't sure if it was mocking at first. "Cher Trickster, could it be that these grande professions of love are not enough?! How can you still not see that you are the apple of someone's eye? Not even I could top that! Tell me, my dear, shall I be your second admirer to prove to you how lovely you are?" -Rook
He raised a brow. "Bring me my phone for a second. Should we go over the amount of attention I get from millions of people and compare them to the over-the-top admiration of your one and only admirer? They went out of the way to insult me to compliment you. You are someone's diamond, potato." -Vil
For a moment you wondered if he even heard you. Staying still as a candle, he tried his best to avoid your gaze while his face was flushed red. "...W-W-W-W-Wha-What do you ask m-me that...??? I-I mean, if there is someone unlikable here it would be m-me...y-y'know...?" He hoped you get what he means. -Idia
"According to data I collected requested by big bro - I mean, happened to collect, there is a 0000000.01% chance that you are unbelievable, unequally unlikable." -Ortho
"You think so?" He scratched his chin, "That kind of mindset is not going to get you far. In fact, I believe you do not understand how much comfort you bring by your mere presence. If you doubt it, I can always remind you of it." -Malleus
Laughing, he slapped his knee. "Seriously? You get the exact cookie-cutter version of a highschool secret admirer sweetheart! I read those in old-school manga! And you still doubt that?" He sighs, "Trust me, be a bit more confident. Amazing things can happen if you let them." -Lilia
"Hm? But...you are being admired. By afar, by someone who truly seems to treasure you. You are like a treasure if you see it that way...ah, nevermind me. Please, believe in yourself more. I do." -Silver
"Ugh, really now?! IF I can see it, then you should see it too! It's like you are covering your own eyes! You! Are! An! Object! Of! Affectioooooonnnn!!!" -Sebek
holy shit im never doing something like this in one post again hhuuuuuaaaaaaahh
#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#gender neutral imagine#twst#disney twisted wonderland#secret admirer#riddle rosehearts#ace trapolla#deuce spade#trey clover#cater diamond#leona kingscholar#ruggie bucchi#jack howl#azul ashengrotto#jade leech#floyd leech#kalim al asim#jamil viper#epel felmier#rook hunt#vil schoenheit#idia shroud#ortho shroud#malleus draconia#lilia vanrouge#silver vanrouge#sebek zigvolt
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LIMERENCE (part I)
Gojo Satoru x gn!reader
"I can't stop loving you, no matter how hard I try."
summary: Your long-time friend stirs feelings inside you that you never realized existed. Of course they bubble up in your chest while he’s in the midst of ignoring you and discovering his own possible romance. Your mutual friend thinks she has it all figured out—or does she?
pairing: gojo satoru x gn! reader
fandom: jujutsu kaisen
genre: hanahaki sickness au, angst, hurt/comfort
warnings: mentions of feeling sick, being stonewalled kinda, usage of the word (Y/N) bc Gojo is too fed up for nicknames (in reality idk what else to use 😶), Gojo being an ass (common theme in my fics oops)
word count: 3.6k
a/n: This is the first part to my hanahaki au! I’ve had this in my drafts for the longest time, but never committed to writing it all out until now. This first bit is kinda slow and maybe confusing BUT hopefully I’ll be able to clear it up next chapter. Not proof read very thoroughly; will probably regret later 🫥
part ii
“DON’T YOU THINK you could be a bit nicer to me?” You try, clasping your hands together as you look up at him with an odd smile—a cross between apologetic and playful. You’re joking, or at least half joking. It’s too difficult to be serious with Gojo; his habit of masking emotion with jest must be rubbing off on you.
Only one corner of his mouth raises. “Good one, (Y/N)-chan. As if I didn’t use to pay your bills.”
He doesn’t look at you when he speaks, and he walks away from you without a single glance. You frown and lightly jog a few steps to catch up to him.
“Ah, and I’m forever thankful for that!” You say, cringing at how overly peppy your tone is. “But that’s not exactly what I meant.”
“Hmm,” Is all he says. His hands are in his pockets, but he doesn’t carry himself with as much ease as usual—his posture is closed off, angular and tense.
“What I meant was–” You prompt your own answer, as he doesn’t make any move to. “We haven’t seen each other in a while. I know you’ve been really busy lately, so I don’t blame you, but I think we should go out and do something. Could help relieve some work stress too, don’t you think so?”
“Maybe,” He says, the word short yet effective in its delivery. The word was sharp in his mouth, clear annoyance shaping his tongue enough for the word to have a bite to it.
You wince. He never used to be like this. Gojo has been in a state of perpetual mirth—and one could argue levity—for the entirety of your friendship, never taking anything seriously and always looking for opportunities to poke fun at you to half-jokingly glorify himself. His expression has always been infectiously positive—never molded into anything hard or serious.
But, lately, everything you thought you knew about Gojo Satoru has faded away into your memories. He never seeks out your presence anymore, which is polar opposite from your high school days, when he would follow you around and pester you until you’d hang out with him. You actually used to get annoyed at this behavior, but you’re sorely missing it now.
You feel like you know nothing about him these days, only hearing tidbits here and there from your mutual friend Shoko. It stings to know that he obviously talks to her, and quite often at that, seeing she always has new details to spill every other day.
It doesn’t make sense to you: him and Shoko were never particularly close, definitely not nearly as close as you and Gojo were. In fact, she thought of him as particularly annoying in high school, and often swore to you that she would cut all contact with him once they graduated.
Back then, you had rolled your eyes at her antics, never believing that anybody could cut Gojo out of their life, seeing as he simply wouldn’t let them. But how else could you describe what he seems to be doing to you?
You bite your lip nervously. “Satoru? Is there something wrong?”
“Not particularly,” He says with a forced smile that’s screaming for you to shut up. You pretend like it’s not the most disingenuous smile you’ve ever seen smeared on his face.
“Are you sure?” You probe. “I mean…what’s been going on with you these days? We haven’t seen each other in forever, and you don’t seem yourself.”
“Are you sure?”
His lips are quirked up, as they perpetually are, but it’s different this time. It’s mocking. A mocking smirk that’s telling you to face reality. Do you really know him anymore?
You pause in your steps, studying his expression. You can’t see his eyes, but you wish you could. He’s hard to read with that blindfold concealing those powerful eyes of his, but it never used to be a problem. It hurts that you’re now struggling to gauge him when your emotions used to feel like one.
Evidently, you can’t answer his question. Not that he seems to care.
“I’ve really got to get going. Students to teach, curses to kill, all that,” He announces, tone low and apathetic. Bored. “See ya.”
Your breath flutters in your throat as you try to bid him goodbye. You choke on your words and only end up tentatively raising a hand. Before you can wave, his form disappears. A gust of wind greets you in lieu of a proper goodbye.
You stay where you are for a few shocked moments, not even registering the hot tears that leak from the eyes he avoided.
You wander aimlessly around campus for a while, the whole interaction replaying in your head several times over. His “Are you sure?” needles its way into your brain even when you push it away, the words hitting where it hurts every time.
Your feet find themselves taking you to an empty break room – ah, this is the one that has your favorite flavor of tea. You turn the kettle on, then eagerly dig through the tea stash. You file through the individual packets quickly and thoroughly, but to no avail. It’s gone.
With a sigh, you grab a random tea bag and throw it into your mug. Frustrated, you roughly begin pouring the now-boiled water into the mug, but it doesn’t seem that was a good idea. Your hand slips for just a split second, but a sizable splash of boiling water still manages to singe your non-dominant hand. A stream of expletives leaves your mouth, and you instantly cradle your hand to your heart.
More tears appear. At least you have an excuse this time—it fucking hurts.
You trudge to the clinic, feeling quite silly, but also seeking some much-needed relief. And you’re not exactly imagining painkillers or an ice pack—no, there’s something else. Someone else.
You hesitantly knock on the door. You feel stupid, but you really have to see her.
You crack a smile at the creak of the door. Your friend and co-worker Shoko strides out with an air of confidence you wish you held.
“What happened?” She asks calmly, eyes lazily taking in your form.
“Spilled some water from the kettle,” You say lamely. “It hurts.”
That doesn’t really constitute a visit to one of the only reverse-cursed technique users in the school, and you know it. So does she.
“Mmhm,” She raises her eyebrows. “Well, come on in.”
You shuffle in a little sheepishly, not able to meet Shoko’s eyes. Now that you’re here, you start to feel unsure about your own motive—do you really want to discuss this? Won’t it just be embarrassing more than anything else?
You stall a little in your steps as the negative thoughts invade your head. You’re startled to attention by a poke to your side—when you look up, Shoko’s playful smirk fills your vision.
“Come on over to the sink and we’ll put that under some cool running water,” She says, gesturing to your reddened arm.
You cock your head, looking between her and the sink skeptically, “No ice?”
She shakes her head, sticking her tongue out at you a bit, “Nope! Running water for burns.”
You hold up your hands in defeat, smiling, “Whatever Doctor Shoko says.”
“And I do,” She says cheekily. “So get under that water!”
“Aye-aye,” You say with a salute.
She groans, “Ugh. You guys are so annoyingly similar. Hang on a sec, I gotta grab something.”
She turns away before she can see the way your expression drops. The smile is stolen from your face, leaving behind saddened eyes and a slight frown. There’s only one possible person she could be talking about.
You sigh and turn on the faucet—your disheartened sigh morphs into one of great relief as the cold water soothes your burn.
“That better?” Shoko asks upon her return.
You nod, a small smile coming back, “Yeah, thanks Shoko.”
“Is there something else wrong?” She asks, then shakes her head. “No, scratch that. What’s actually wrong?”
You take a deep breath. How are you going to broach this subject? You wait several moments, pondering your exact next words.
“Do you think Gojo is okay?” You finally ask your long-time friend, words coming out almost cautiously.
She eyes you funnily, “Why are you asking me? As if he doesn’t chase you around the school to blab on about himself.”
You smile, but it’s tainted by bitterness.
“Shoko…Gojo hasn’t talked to me for two months,” You admit quietly. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
She stops.
“What?”
You hate hearing the confusion in her voice. You hate the pity that soon fills her eyes.
“He seriously hasn’t,” You affirm, sighing. “I don’t know what I did, or if I did anything, or…or what. I just, I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Have you tried talking to him about it?”
You sigh. “Of course I have, but he didn’t seem to take my concerns seriously. Or consider them at all. It just seemed like he wanted me to shut up and leave him alone.”
Shoko looks at you curiously, lips quirking as if she has something to say, but no words come out. Is she holding something back?
You take a deep breath, willing the horrible emotion that squeezes your throat away. You look out the window to distract yourself, watching the branches of a sakura sapling swaying in the wind. It looks alone and lost, battered by the relentless wind.
“What’s he been like recently with you?” You finally ask, your gaze still on the tree.
“Normal,” Shoko says. “Annoying as ever. Noisy as ever.”
A cluster of pink petals is ripped from a branch, swirling hopelessly to the ground. When they settle on the ground, you look back to your friend.
“He’s really the same?” You ask weakly.
“Unfortunately,” She says wryly. “Besides, why do you care? We’ve both been trying to get him off our backs since waaay long ago. Sounds like a blessing in disguise.”
“Ah, that’s true,” You admit with a weak chuckle, trying to ignore the way your heart throbs painfully. “But he’s also our friend.”
“Since when? More like a thorn in my side. Maybe he finally got the message,” Shoko smirks. “You should give me instructions for that. I’d have a lot better quality of life, you know.”
You know she’s just joking around with you, but she’s truly just rubbing salt in your wound. Not very ethical for a doctor, even if unintentional.
“Yeah,” You laugh, but it’s an empty sound. “Well, I guess I’ll get going then. Hopefully your next patient gives you an easier time.”
Shoko jokes, “Yeah, this has been my toughest job all week. You fiend.”
Your head is filled with so many questions, all of them growing louder as you walk away from your friend. Your friend who you thought would sympathize with you, but only ended up making you feel worse in the end is acting suspicious. It’s not like you’ve ever wanted to actually cut ties with Gojo, even when he used to pull pranks on you in high school. You craved for a strong friendship with him throughout all his shenanigans.
Why is Shoko acting like you hate Gojo, and what isn’t she telling you?
Before you reach the door, you decide you need to know. You stop abruptly in your tracks.
“Ieiri, you’re not telling me something,” You say softly, not looking back. “Why?”
Shoko sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “You don’t miss anything, do you?”
You say nothing. The door in front of you is tempting—it’s your way out of knowing the truth. Do you really want to know?
You wait tensely for a few seconds, the silence causing nerves to bubble up in your stomach. But when Shoko begins to speak, they go don’t go away.
“He hasn’t really been acting strange around me, but he’s constantly on his phone. Like always. Whenever he comes to chat, he immediately tunes me out and starts texting or loudly takes a call,” She snorts, huffing out an exasperated sigh. “I thought he was just bored and trying to make me feel disrespected as a sort of cruel joke, but I think it’s something else. I think…I think Gojo is interested in someone.”
Your head whips around, disbelief clear in your features. Interested in someone?
“Maybe that’s why he’s been acting weird. I always thought he was crazy for you, so it didn’t cross my mind until now.”
“Crazy for me?” You immediately echo back, voice hollow and confused.
Shoko shakes her head at you, “C’mon, you can’t be that oblivious. He always followed you around like a lost puppy in high school. He never said anything to me about it, but I really thought he would confess any day for years.”
“He did that to everyone…” You shake your head. “You say yourself he bugged you so much.”
She rolls her eyes. “Trust me, it was different.”
Your heart pounds in your chest. Your vision becomes foggy at the edges, reality fizzling out.
“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” You ask. “It’s not like that matters.”
You try to appear uncaring, yet it was a fight to get those words out.
“You’re a sensitive person. ‘Didn’t know how you’d react since Gojo always seemed to chase after your attention, exclusively. But it’s not like it was the other way around—should have known it wasn’t a big deal. It’s not. Guess he’s just growing up.”
“Yeah,” You agree faintly, voice devoid of emotion. Reality is slipping through your numb fingers, the information turning your world into a nightmare. You should have opened the door and ran when you had the chance.
“It’s not,” You say with a saccharine smile, one so sickly sweet that Shoko gets chills. That’s not your usual smile—not one that Shoko has ever seen you wear. “Of course it’s not.”
When you turn on your heel and rush out of her infirmary, Shoko reaches out a hand and her lips part to call after you. It’s uncharacteristic for her—the cold doctor is rarely sentimental or emotionally affected, but she saw something ghastly in that smile of yours.
The slam of the door answers her call. The truth, now imparted, comes to bite her in the ass.
It’s been a few days. You’ve been moping around the school, around your students—trying to cope with the information that you don’t even know is true. You see him across campus sometimes; he’s so easily spotted with his translucent hair and tall frame. Every time, he’s facing away from you, and your eyes fall on the back of his head. Your chest always tightens and you end up turning away, too.
You have ignored the feelings stirring in your chest, not willing to admit something that clearly isn’t reciprocated. It has been working, you suppose, since you haven’t cracked under the mental weight of possibly being in lo—
No, you can’t even think that.
Everything has been as okay as it can. It’s not until you attempt to visit Shoko again to try sort out your feelings, however, that things take a turn for the worse.
Your hand is raised as you prepare to knock on the infirmary door, but you hesitate once you hear muffled voices.
“I don’t know…I didn’t expect it at all.”
That’s Gojo’s voice. That low but self-assured tone is undeniably his.
“Expect what?” Shoko asks, sounding bored.
His reply is so soft that it passes by as just a hiss of air, so quiet that you physically startle at Shoko’s loud reaction.
“No! What? I can’t believe that!” She shouts, laughter quickly following her exclamation.
You shouldn’t be listening—you hadn’t planned to eavesdrop on your two best friends, but for some reason your ear seeks out the wall, as if magnetized.
The next three words uttered still your heart.
“Utahime kissed me,” Gojo admits quietly.
You feel like you can’t breathe. Utahime, who has always despised Gojo even beyond Shoko’s extent. Utahime, who once cried into your chest after Gojo was harsh with her at an exchange event. Utahime, who always persisted that you and Gojo were into each other during high school.
Shoko’s unbelieving chuckle cuts through your thoughts.
Shoko laughs, “Oh, yeah, okay, as if I’d ever believe that.”
There’s silence. Your heart drops at the lack of response—no teasing refute, no playful faux playboy attitude.
Shoko absorbs his unusual silence, finally interpreting his words for what they are.
She gasps loudly, spluttering, “Oh my God, you’re being serious. What?! There’s no way…”
Gojo’s voice is even and deep. “I didn’t lie. She just did it out of nowhere. I didn’t even know how to react, to be honest.”
“So you just stood there?” Shoko snorts, trying to keep up her usual sarcastic persona. “God, you’re insufferable all the way around.”
“I kissed her back,” He breathes out, voice almost weak.
Another long moment of silence ensues. You hold your breath, terrified that your panicked pants will alert them of your presence.
Shoko recovers quickly this time.
“Still insufferable,” She sighs, and you can imagine her shaking her head. “So what now? You like her or something? This is so random.”
“I…I don’t know,” He admits quietly. “I never thought she’d do that, it took me by surprise. I…I think I liked it?”
Your heart shatters. You clutch a hand to your mouth, gagging yourself, forcing back the pained gasp that’s threatening to leave your lips.
“Oh, is that so?” Shoko says drily, but the usual edge to her voice is absent. You can only imagine her expression: contorted with pity and pain, desperately trying to maintain her poker face.
“Yeah,” Gojo reaffirms. “It was nice.”
There’s silence for a few seconds as Shoko takes it all in. Then, “Is she who you’ve always been calling and texting when I’m talking to you? You’re an ass for that, by the way.”
Gojo exhales out a sardonic sniff, “You’re spot on.”
Why are you still listening? You should leave. You shouldn’t be hearing this. Pain blooms in your chest, as if thorns became lodged between your ribs.
“What about (Y/N)?”
You freeze, eyes bulging out of your head.
Gojo sighs, sounding annoyed, “What do you mean?”
“I’m not dumb, Satoru. There was something going on during high school and frankly in the past few years as well. Are you going to deny it?”
He scoffs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Shoko. It was never like that.”
You feel like you’re going to be sick. You shouldn’t—there’s no possible way you’re actually in love with Gojo Satoru, is there?
Fuck. The thought you’ve been trying to avoid all this time has finally firmly inserted itself into your head.
You take off swiftly and immediately, and your footfalls are as light as you can possibly manage. If either of them knew you were here, you wouldn’t be able to handle the shame.
Gojo and Shoko are none the wiser to the immoral action that took place just beyond the door—so when Shoko is ready to clock out and opens the door, the presence of a school ID on the ground is nearly missed. She feels something strange crunch underneath her foot and steps away and glances at the foreign object.
You left in such a hurry that your ID flopped out of your pocket. It lays on the ground, your smiling face staring up at Shoko, who looks on in horror. She immediately knows that you heard everything. She quickly steps back onto your ID, concealing your identity with her foot.
With all the sight of his six eyes, Gojo somehow completely missed Shoko’s strategic maneuvers to erase traces of your presence. He whistles nonchalantly, not having a care in the world, apparently.
In contrast, Shoko’s mind is racing. Her eyes roam around the courtyard, searching for your form. She feels rooted to the spot—will she reveal you if she steps away? She almost forgets that she’s not alone.
“You looking for someone?” Gojo asks.
Shoko stiffens, but forces herself to relax and appear nonchalant. “Ah, I was just wondering if…if (Y/N) would still be around.”
Gojo frowns. “Hm. Not sure. Don’t they usually go home right after they get off?”
“Lately, they’ve been staying back to do paperwork,” She sighs. “Masamichi has really giving them too many missions…How come you don’t know that?”
“Haven’t had the chance to catch up, I guess,” Gojo says evasively, then quickly changes the subject. “Besides, aren’t you the same way? You coming or not? I’ve got better things to do.”
He waves his cell phone around playfully, a smirk widening across his features.
Shoko rolls her eyes, “Go ahead. I’m just going to wait here a bit and see if I can text them and get them over here.”
She hesitates for a second before adding, “Actually, why don’t you wait a sec? We haven’t all seen each other in a bit.”
Gojo immediately stiffens. He scratches the back of his head and says, “Ah, I’m actually sort of on a time crunch. Maybe next time.”
What a lie. Shoko thinks, eyes narrowing subconsciously. What is he up to?
As he trails off into the distance, the gears in Shoko’s head continue to turn. He always, always teleports home after work finishes. So why is he slowly walking around campus, head turning this way and that way as if searching?
And you! Why were you there? Why were you so affected? What is going on in your head—or rather, your heart?
Something strange is going on with her two friends and Shoko is determined to find out what.
PART II
credit 🩷:
@kiyaedits - baby pink dividers, @sweetxmelody - cherry blossom divider
*note: taglist open!! comment to be tagged in part 2 :)
#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo behavior#hurt/comfort#gojo hurt/comfort#angst#jjk#best buddie shoko#sad bc utahime and shoko aren’t together in this one 😤#Gojo is a hater
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𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝓎 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝒱 — 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒹𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓉𝑜𝓃
♕ A/N: Yeah so this hiatus has been so criminal. Honestly my “writers block” has just been insecurity. I’ve gotten into this bad habit of comparing my writing styles to others and that is such a viscous and toxic self attack. Long story short, I’m a little dummy who needs to remember why I got into fanfic writing in the first place, to have fun. If you feel like it. Please please please send feedback. There’s one final part left. Maybe some bonus chapters with the new season.
♕ SUMMARY: Oh, the most scandalous season of the year has come to pass. After quite the successful year for the Bridgerton’s the eldest son plans to throw his hat in the ring. Concurrently the Sharma sisters do just the same. One a spinster, the other hopeful romantic, and the middle daughter? What can be said about such a force that is not said when she enters the room. Good luck to all who pursue her.
♕ WORD COUNT: 4.7K
♕ WARNINGS: None
previous — Masterlist — next
BLINK. SMILE. NOD. You remind yourself every few seconds. Edwina leads the conversation with a jubilant smile.
Meanwhile, you tally each time Kate’s gaze meets your own as she watches you walk a tightrope, waiting for an inevitable fall. You sit out of place, Kate on your right and your mother on your left. Both rubbing the mustard yellow onto Edwina’s arms, your nose scrunching at the pungent wafts of Haldi. Each time Edwina’s gaze meets your own, you smile. You tilt your head, doing what you do best, offering your unwavering support—no matter how much your chest knots.
“Didi, are you okay? You are so quiet,” Edwina says, leaning forward to capture your gaze. You smile, lying through your teeth, “You are to be wed soon. I shall miss you, is all Bon.”
“You must calm yourself, Bon. Keep still,” Kate smiles down at a jittery Edwina. Her joy practically spills out, her every move indicating pure excitement.
”It is all so strange. I have faced a thousand tomorrows, but they all have been leading to this one,” You pause. Tomorrow. Every laugh, jest, slight—all of it leading to tomorrow. The day you make a fool of yourself—the mark of your first-ever regret. Though your mother speaks, the words do not reach you. The sinking in your chest renders you silent, almost queasy.
”Oh, it has...caused you doubts?” Kate’s cautious tone has your ears perking up, and your absent gaze finds Edwina. Your mother nudges you with a gentle smile, a reminder of her presence.
”Bringing the wedding forward is a sign of genuine feeling, but...well,” Edwina pauses, a sigh leaving her lips as she finds her words. Your heart was banging against your ribcage as Edwina glanced at you. “It has unnerved me. Didi, perhaps you should truly consider Lord Beauregard’s proposal. He’s a wonderful companion to you, and he seems to care. That way, we can navigate all this together.”
”I don’t know, Bon. It’s a lot to consider,” You tilt your head, a tight-lipped smile across your lips, "but right now is not about me or Lord Beauregard. It’s about you and the Viscount.”
“Your sister is right. Rest assured, Edwina, the Viscount adores you. He has devotedly courted you and made his intentions clear from our first arrival. Even going out of his way to procure (Y/n)’s and Kate’s approval. There is no lady better suited for the Viscount,” Your mother’s adoration beams on her prized child, your expression faltering nearly imperceptibly.
“I just—I still wish that when he looks at me, I could be certain that he truly loves me. Like—like—“ Edwina looks around as though the words sit in the room with all of you. Then her gaze finds yours again, “Like how Lord Beauregard looks at (Y/n). His fondness for
her is so evident, written right on his face. I fear, in fact, that the Viscount does not look at me often enough to even tell.”
Your mother and Kate glance at each other with a collective sigh. You lower your gaze, fiddling with the top lace of your peach gown and swallowing the sizzling golf ball in your throat. Kate speaks softly, this time avoiding your direction entirely, “Looks can be powerful, Bon, but also fleeting. Displays of mere passion, perhaps. Nothing more.”
”So the Viscount feels little passion for me?” Edwina exclaims, amusement dancing in her gaze as your mother chuckles. You force a chuckle from your lips, quiet and timid, the antithesis of your very being.
Clearing your throat, forcing a smile to the surface, you grin, “What Kate is failing at saying is that true love is different. It’s complicated and unpredictable. That’s the fun of it. It’s there when you least expect it. You worry now, but fear not, Bon, when it clicks, it clicks.”
“Since when have you become so knowledgeable about love, Miss, avoiding marriage and love?” Your mother teases. Each of your giggles fills the room, and for a moment, only a moment, the dread no longer exists. For a moment you are back in India, in your childhood home.
You cringe at the sudden intrusion, turmeric overwhelming your nostrils as Edwina’s hand gently swipes the mixture across your cheek. Her saccharine giggle contrasted with your wide-eyed stare. She speaks with a whimsical glint in her eyes. One like your own but doe-eyed and hopeful, not calculated and mischievous. “It is said, when spread on an unmarried person, Haldi will help them find a worthy partner that brings the complicated and unpredictable excitement too.”
”Well, Haldi can mind their business,” You tilt your head with a sarcastic smile, earning your mother's pointed stare. Kate chuckles and shakes her. Edwina turns to Kate, who offers a warning stare.
“Now, now. You shall receive it too,” Edwina says, stroking the Haldi across Kate’s cheeks. You fail to ignore the Haldi on your cheeks. It sits like a reminder that tomorrow will come whether you are prepared or not. You shall watch him marry Edwina. Your sister, nieces, and nephews shall be his—but never you.
“Hey!” You exclaim, once again pulled from your thoughts as your mother spreads Haldi across your chest. Reaching into the mixture only takes seconds before the four of you make a mess of it. The giggles are seemingly endless.
Despite the joyous moment, it’s fleeting as the hours seem to fly. Before you know it, you stand in a lavender gown that matches Kate's. You maintain an expression void of emotion, seemingly zoning out—the subtle indicators, near imperceptible. Light sweat coated your brow, and deep sighs left you as though the air was limited. You thank every and any god above for the smokescreen that keeps your beloved family from noticing. Sitting by the window as servants help Edwina prepare, you watch as Kate retrieves the gold bracelet with emeralds dancing across the band.
Edwina stands in front of the full-length mirror. Her eyebrows pinch at the sight she catches in the reflection. Her smile was curious and of awe, “Didi? What are those?”
”I brought them with us from home. I knew this season would be a success,” Kate smiles down at Edwina as she closely inspects them with a warm gaze. You keep your gaze outside the window, willing yourself to ignore every ailment that plagues you. Far too busy pondering potential ways to avoid attending Edwina’s pending nuptials.
Edwina’s head tilts as she searches for familiarity, “they are quite beautiful. How have I never seen them before?”
“They belonged to my mother. Amma wore them on her wedding day and saved them,” Edwina asks if they were saved for Kate. Kate chuckles lightly, “I brought them for you. I insist, beautiful bangles for a beautiful bride.”
”Will you wear them with me?” Edwina asks, but Kate shakes her head, assuring Edwina she will be no bride any time soon. Edwina’s gaze shifts to you, “Well then, Didi, you may very well be a bride soon. Could you wear one with me?”
“Bon—“ You sigh, your gaze meets Kate. The pity in your eyes only furthers the stir in your chest.
“I’m so nervous, but you are the bravest person I know. I don’t know, it may be silly, but wearing this, I shall have a piece of Kate with me up at the altar and knowing you’re wearing it too,” Edwina pauses, her gaze pleading as she holds the bracelet out to you, “It’ll be like we’re in this together. Maybe I can channel some of your courage.”
At the touch of your fingertips, the metal chills against your skin as it soon shackles you to your living nightmare. As Edwina returns to getting ready, you visibly falter for the first time. While your sweet little sister fails to see it, Kate’s quickly at your side. She excuses the both of you slyly, your hands trembling in hers as you both exit the room.
“Bon—“ Kate says, but you offer her a sharp, “don’t.”
You walk with haste to the nearest glass, throwing down a quick shot, ignoring Kate’s advisory against alcohol. Your eyes are misty as your defenses crumble around you. Taking a deep breath, you quickly steel yourself, marching back into the room, rendering Kate unable to console you.
It all passes in a blur as you stare absently out of the window once more. The arriving guests. The bracelets. The wedding gown. Your mother's gushing of Edwina’s beauty in her gown only fuels the fire that slowly burns from the inside out.
“Didi,” you gaze from the window onto your approaching sister. She smiles warmly, taking both your hands. Your heart caught in your throat when she said, “You love him.”
“Wha—I—uh?” You stammer, eyes widening as you try to wrap your brain around her easygoing persona.
“You should not be afraid to tell Lord Beauregard how you feel. You have been nothing like yourself, and I’ve forgotten you have not seen Lord Beauregard in some time now, and you shall see him today. Just tell him,” Edwina says, smiling sweetly. The panic fades into a tremendous relief as your shoulders fall.
“Today is your day. Don’t worry about me, Bon,” You smile, gently squeezing her hands.
“Oh, my beautiful girls,” Your mother says, her gaze moving between you. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, her eyebrow pinching, but the door opening steals her attention away. Concurrently, your body tenses.
“Come. Let us put all the nasty gossip behind us for once and for all,” Your mother stands, taking one of your hands and Edwina’s. Kate joins, taking your own and Edwina’s free hands. She offers you a comforting squeeze. “Let us give the ton a wedding to remember and show them who we truly are.”
Outside the curtains, you stand at Kate's side as if a prisoner were standing before the guillotine. Your corset seemingly constricting as your mind fails to move your legs. You grip Kate’s hand tighter, your ears ringing so loudly you can hardly hear your whisper to her, “I fear I cannot do this, Didi.”
”You are the strongest person I know, Bon. You can. I’m with you all the way. For better or worse,” she whispers. Looking up at her, you blink back tears, and a nervous chuckle leaves you with a final quick whisper: “It sounds as if we are to be wed.”
Kate lets out a soft as she gently pulls you along with her. Servants pull the sheer curtains away as you both pass through. Your gaze finds William in seconds, sitting with Aunt the Queen. His gaze was cold and focused on the groom. You never meet the groom's gaze despite it searing a hole into your head.
You curtsy to the Queen, and William’s gaze remains behind you. As you take your place behind Kate, your gaze meets the grooms for only a second—your breath hitch as you approach the entrance, awaiting the inevitable. A smile takes your face at the sight of your mother and Edwina. Despite everything, your dear little sister always amazes you with her beautiful presence.
Archbishop begins the ceremony, but his words do not reach you. The ringing of your ears grows louder, your right hand soon fiddling at your side. Your smile falters into an absent stare as the bangle on your wrist becomes more noticeable than the gown that covers much of your skin. You let out a shaky exhale, your left hand crushing the stems of your bouquet.
Squaring your shoulders, you take a deep breath and stare forward. A weak smile on your lips as Benedict shoots you a wink—the calm brief as your gaze meets the groom. You refocus on Benedict, but it’s mere seconds, and you both return. The bobbing of his Adams apple, light sweat above his brow, his gaze unfocused, hazy—perhaps you imagine it. You are in Edwina’s place, standing before Anthony, not with a joyous smile but a smug one. A reminder that each day would be a challenge, one you’d both happily accept—a future.
“My lord,” The Archbishop shatters the fantasy with a firmness, tearing your gaze from him; you focus on Kate’s shoulder.
A brief reprieve as the wedding crashes violently with the present reality. Your left hand grips the bouquet stems so tightly it rips beneath the force of your palm as your right hand trembles at your side, the bengal sliding menacingly around your wrist. You tense as your racing heart becomes your only focus, clashing with the loud ringing in your ears.
Anthony looks around the room, and again, his gaze finds you. Edwina’s eyebrows pinch as she follows his gaze. You do not look up from Kate’s shoulder, confident that one wrong move shall bring your end. Even as Edwina turns back, prompting Anthony, his gaze flicks to your unwavering stare on Kate’s shoulder. Your trembling hand matches the pace of your raging heart as you force your tears to remain in your lids.
“I, Lord Anthony Bridgerton,” Archbishop recites, his words ringing loudly in your ears as they hit you head-on. The bengal slips from your wrist, releasing you from its confines. Your eyes close with a sigh of relief as everything quiets. Anthony stands before you when your eyes open, holding the bengal out to you. You glance at Kate, her gaze panicked as she looks between Anthony and yourself.
Lifting your hand, you falter for a second; the moment has lasted far longer than it should. Your gaze locks with his own as you reach out cautiously. His thumb brushes against your own faintly at the touch of the metal. Muttering a thank you and apology, you return to your spot with your gaze low and lips pursed, holding the bengal not placing it back on.
“I need a moment!” Edwina shouts, her voice echoing through the silence. Your eyes widen, and she’s rushing down the aisle from the altar before you can even process. A sea of indiscernible chatter fills the room as you watch your mother rush after Edwina. It all soon returns, the ringing in your ears and your chest constricting. William rises from his seat, his gaze gentle as he stares at you. You look everywhere but at Anthony. Kate grabs your hand, pulling you back down the aisle out of the ceremony.
”—we will call for tea, and once you have something in your stomach, you will be strong enough to go back out there. The Viscount—“ You stand in the doorway, Kate standing a few paces in front of you, your mother a few in front of her. Edwina paces the room, taking deep, haggard breaths. Your mother fumbles to recover the moment, “The Viscount will understand, yes Kate? (Y/n), dear, perhaps you might find that tea—“
“It is not tea that I want; it is the truth!” You freeze in place as Edwina looks at you in a way you have never seen her look at anyone. Though words enter your mind, they do not leave your parted lips. Your mother voices her confusion as you stand as a deer in headlights, teary-eyed and guilty. Edwina continues mercilessly, “Still uncharacteristically quiet, sister, how telling of your deceitful nature!”
“I don’t understand what is happening,” Your mother's gaze bounces between you. Kate sidesteps in a failed attempt to hide you from Edwina’s view, your presence only furthering her rage.
“I shall tell you what is going on, Mama. Your daughter does not love chaos, as she claims. She loves destruction! Decimation at the tips of her fingers, slowly poisoning all she touches!” You blink through your tears, unable to find the words or even begin an explanation.
“Edwina—“ Kate interjects and appears to be the only intervention that deters from her verbal assault.
“Oh, you cannot deny it now, Kate! You enable her! You always have. The two of you are constantly deceiving me. Together in your deception! You knew! Didn’t you? You knew of her feelings for him, ” Edwina narrows her eyes at Kate, the implication of her words giving your Mother much-needed clarity. Meeting your mother's gaze, your head tilts, all but pleading for comfort without words.
“Alright, that is enough. No good can come from this at present. Let us all take a moment to calm ourselves, shall we,” Your mother says, moving to Edwina’s side. She sits Edwina down, dissolving into a bundle of tears. You try to voice an apology, but your Mother turns to you, speaking sternly, “I said that is enough. You have done enough today.”
”Mama, please. I didn’t want this, please. I’m sorry,” You cry, panting softly as your words spill out. The ringing in your ears returns and grows louder steadily with each passing second. Kate interjects only to receive the same sternness, “And you. You have kept so very much from me.”
”Mama, please,” You cry; reaching out for her, she pulls away and points to the door.
“Anywhere else right now, (Y/n),” She says. Rushing out of the doors, everything splinters into a heap of colors and sounds. You pant as though you have run miles rather than mere steps. When you rush into the first set of doors you find, you rush past several faces you cannot make out. Your breathing choppy and staggered, your hand trembling without pause as you pace vehemently.
“(Y/n),” You cringe at the sound of your name, shaking your head as sobs rattle you to your core. He takes your hands, guiding you to the floor. “Hey, it’s okay.”
“It’s not William. I’ve ruined everything; I’m a terrible sister—a terrible person,” You cry, shaking your head; he places a hand on your cheek, stilling you as he wipes a tear.
“You’re far from a terrible person. Stubborn, sure, but not terrible,” He chuckles, tilting his head down to meet your gaze.
“You don’t understand—“ Panting endlessly, William keeps his gaze locked on you and takes a deep breath in and out. He continues to do so until you follow, and even then, he continues for a few moments.
”I’ve made my intentions with you—my uh, my feelings very clear. And when I realized your impact on Anthony and me, I was angry and jealous. He’s so at ease with you even when you’re annoying him, and you seem to forget anyone else is around when the two of you interact,” William says with a slight smile. Your face falls at his words.
“William, I am so sorry—“ Your voice wavers and William chuckles, shaking his head before you can continue. He nudges your side with a grin.
“No apology needed. I only wish for you to be happy (Y/n) just as I wish for Anthony, and with time, your sister will share this sentiment. Of that, I am sure. I must warn you, though, things will grow far worse before they grow better,” William says, resting your head on his shoulder; he kisses the top of your head. You close your eyes, refocusing on deep breaths.
After a few minutes you clear your throat, “I should go, the last thing I need is another scandal.”
“You’re nothing but trouble, Miss Sharma,” William grins, shaking his head. A giggle leaves you as you wrap your arms around him, squeezing his tight.
”Thank you for this,” You mutter, squeezing a little tighter as he kisses the crown of your head once more. As you head back to the room, you pause as Kate sits outside with her head in her hands. She looks up at the sound of your approaching steps, quickly rising at your sight. Neither of you says a word before silently agreeing you both must face this head-on, accomplices. You knock gently upon the door, and Edwina’s face manages to sink even further at the sight of you.
“What?” She asks coldly; before you can get a word in, Kate inquires about your mother, but Edwina cuts her off, “You seem to know all. How could I possibly offer any insight of my own?”
”Edwina, please. Your anger is with me, not Kate,” You say, earning a huff in response.
“Mother is off, getting some air,” Edwina opens the door wider before moving from it entirely. You take a cautious step inside, still lingering by the door as Kate closes it behind the two of you.
“Edwina, I never wanted to hurt you. By the time I realized, it felt far too late to say something. So, I thought that I would swallow it down to avoid this because I wanted you to
be happy. I know you wanted this badly, but I didn’t realize how deep this ran. But it does not matter; I am unfit to be Viscountess, but you, you’re perfect for it,” Your voice wavers as her teary gaze meets your own. Edwina scoffs, shaking her head.
“He said the same thing. I half expected to discover that the two of you prepared it ahead of time. Perhaps it speaks to your compatibility or your deceitful nature,” Edwina shakes her head at you, her gaze cold as ice.
“Edwina, (Y/n) has always supported. You and I both know she is not deceitful. Misguided, certainly. Stubborn almost all the time. But she’s our sister,” Kate says, eyebrows pinching as her head tilts. Edwina’s gaze bounces between the two of you. Her eyes land on Kate.
“I do not know which pains me more. Both your betrayals or your pity,” Edwina says, her head held high with a conviction you never knew her to be capable of.
“Edwina, we are sisters—“ Kate takes a step toward her, reaching out for her hands but halts at Edwina’s next words, “Half-sister, with the misfortune of having (Y/n) as a sister. I want you both to recognize that I am a grown woman and for the first time in my life, I can make a decision based on what I would like.”
Edwina glances over at you, her at ease presence furthered unraveling your nerves, “I have already imagined the life I would lead with Lord Bridgerton as Viscountess at Aubrey Hall. It lives in my mind and is mine to do with as I like. So, if I choose to marry Anthony, it will be because it pleases me and no one else. I need you both to understand that. If I go through with this wedding, it will have nothing to do with either of you.”
You swallow thickly every version of reality where you have no place in her life evident. Kate's reassurances fall victim to the high pitch. Like nails to a chalkboard in your ears. Your personalized torture.
Kate remains at your side, the silence jarring. Uncertain of an appropriate reaction, you find yourself in a hazy void. You refuse the tears pushing at the edge of your lids, no words in reach to synthesize the depths of the pit in your chest. Time fuses into a distorted blend of unrelenting dread. The footman delivers the summons, the neat handwriting familiar.
Kate hesitates as you ask her to join you. Would it fuel the fire? Further the divide? Perhaps. Even still, you both cross the silks and satins of the entryway—the wedding hall. It's still as breathtaking as you all left it.
”You sent word for me?” Your eyebrows pinch as Anthony's words linger in the air. Kate answers as your lips merely part, and no words leave you. You glance at Kate, who mirrors your visible confusion. Approaching footsteps carrying the answers to each lingering question.
Edwina enters like the calm before a storm. Her hands clasped in front of her, her gait determined, and her mindset. She passes Kate without sparing her a glance, Edwina’s gaze bouncing between you and Anthony, “I have made my decision. I thought it best that you both hear it from me.”
“Edwina, perhaps we should speak privately,” Kate suggests, earning a mirthless chuckle.
“No, and quite frankly, I am giving our sister a courtesy I was not granted,” Edwina keeps her head high, her presence delicate yet commanding. She turns to Anthony, who has not looked away from you. A rare sight of pure vulnerability in your eyes as you look at Edwina. Silently pleading for forgiveness. A soft sigh leaves Edwina as she keeps her eyes on Anthony, not continuing until she has his full attention, “I cannot marry you, Lord Bridgerton. You cannot provide me with what it is I want. What it is that I deserve. What everyone deserves. I may not know exactly what true love feels like, but I certainly know what it is not. It is not deception or, wandering eyes, or a role to be fulfilled. I cannot marry you because I cannot betray myself. You will never meet my eyes in the same manner that you met my sisters on that altar today. You will never...”
Edwina falters, a sigh escaping her as she briefly glances toward you and back to Anthony, “You will never look at me the same way. I would be your Viscountess, your wife, the mother of your children, but I would never be yours because you’ll be hers.”
Your eyes find Anthony as her words seep into your bones. Edwina addresses you and Kate with words of contempt and eyes of sorrow. Her retreating form leaves a heavy silence as Kate rushes after her. Neither of you move, Anthony at the altar and yourself a few paces down the aisle.
“I thought I taught Edwina nothing, but I fear she too shares the ability to scorch the earth in a fit of rage,” You chuckle, the tight-lipped smile dissolving into a huff, “I have ruined everything.”
”You speak as though you did it alone,” Anthony says, meeting your gaze in the same spot where he was meant to recite his vows.
“I should go,” You whisper, watching as he glances off, seemingly pondering something. Clearing your throat, you square your shoulders, “Lord Bridgerton.”
”You should stay,” He says, an odd ease to his demeanor. You can only wonder if he feels the turmoil that rages within you. He tilts his head, “Your sister is braver and wiser than us both. She had the courage to act on what she sensed between us. And here we are, you ready to flee and myself standing perfectly still. We’ve felt it for months.”
You inhale sharply, and the reality is apparent: you cannot escape this. Speaking hardly above a whisper, you fidget with the skirts of your dress, “I’ve lit more than enough fires today. If I were wise, I would go.”
”Then, only for a moment, my pyromaniac, play the fool with me. Humor me in this inevitability, a fate that cannot be. Explore the untenable depths of our desires for this moment only before we face the reality waiting for us out there,” Anthony holds out his hand to you. His smile does not reach his eyes as you stare at his hand before you.
A sigh leaves you as you chew on your bottom lip. You cross your arms, raising your head high, “If I am to play the fool, you will have to address me by my proper honorific, of course.”
”And what’s that?” Anthony’s eyebrows pinch as you turn your head.
“Viscount Bridgerton, of course,” You smirk as the realization slowly dawns upon him. A hearty laugh leaves his lips as you accept his hand with a gentle grin.
“The sky could be falling in, and you would find a way to jest,” Anthony smiles as he shakes his head. You nod, chuckling beneath his gaze, far closer than you were a few seconds prior. Neither of you, aware of when or how you got so close. The warmth brings a merriment that blurs the line between what can and cannot be.
The violins.
The flowers.
The gossip eager Ton.
The bride and groom at an altar without wedding bells. ”I fear I have destroyed my relationship with my sister.”
“And I, with my best friend.”
You give his hands a gentle squeeze on your own, gasping as he pulls you forward. The touch of your lips light at the climax of your shared fantasy. As you both pull apart, the warmth chills. You are not husband and wife; you are a scandal.
A smudge on both of your reputations.
#bridgerton imagine#Bridgerton#bridgerton fanfiction#Bridgerton x reader#Anthony Bridgerton imagine#Anthony Bridgerton x reader#Anthony Bridgerton fanfiction#Benedict Bridgerton imagine#colin bridgerton imagine#Daphne bridgerton imagine#Eloise Bridgerton imagine#Penelope featherington imagine#Kate Sharma imagine#Kathani Sharma imagine#Edwina Sharma imagine#bridgerton au#Bridgerton au imagine#Anthony bridgerton au#Francesca Bridgerton imagine
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John Hancock - NSFW Alphabet
Only out to have a little fun! Enjoy (or not)! This is just my take on his character.
3.8k words (oops).
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A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex):
No matter how you decide to do the deed, Hancock has your best interest at heart, as long as you stay in his good graces. He wouldn’t necessarily baby you after sex, but he’ll make sure you’re all right, as you may wind up participating in several experimental or unusual scenarios. But in the end, John wants to make sure his little ray of sunshine is well-rested for round two.
He'd offer you chems for a bit of a pick-me-up, a cigarette precariously hanging from the corner of his mouth—he needs a smoke after. It just “feels right.”
He would pat his shoulder as a place for you to rest your head, then pull you in nice and tight before sharing a drag with you, going insofar as to place the filter against your lips, held loosely between two fingers. No uncomfortable post-coital silence—unless you’re into that.
Hancock might even get all philosophical on you now that his head’s clear. I can see him being into pillow talk regardless—we know he loves to run his mouth—nothing a romp in the sack with you won’t cure.
B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):
I have a feeling Hancock isn’t picky, as long as your heart is in the right place. There is more to him than being a “drug addict.” I’d say he’s well-read, even though he acts on instinct—he may be pretty well fond of your brain.
Hancock puts a lot of stock into how people think or speak versus their actions. He’s not a pushover, doesn’t take any bullshit, and if your belief system matches up with his—if he, “likes the way you operate”— you don’t have much to worry about.
Still, I see him favoring something warm and supple to grab onto, something soft to kiss. And he’ll take his time when he’s in the mood, dishing out compliments as he explores every inch of your body.
Maybe with being a Ghoul, it’s a real treat when you get to knock boots with a human. I can see him missing out on what that feels like from time to time.
As far as his own body, I see this man as a bit self-conscious, though he doesn’t let onto that fact quite often. Comments about his “ugly mug” are made in jest, but there is some truth to that within his own thought process and how he perceives himself, most likely, despite the whole “King of the Zombies” vibe he says the ladies love.
Personally, I think his confidence is partially a façade.
C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person:
Hancock always makes sure you get yours. Multiple orgasms are in the cards, as he knows exactly how to make your toes curl, and he’s not above using that information to his advantage.
You’re the wettest thing in the Wasteland when Hancock’s around, and you can bet your ass he’s going to comment on it every chance he gets. Otherwise, he loves to play in it; to spread the sheen between his fingers; to lick it clean off while you watch, or to smear it over his withered skin, lubricating his cock with it.
All in all, it’s a stroke to his ego to know he’s the one responsible for making you cum that hard that often. You can be damn sure he’s out to fuck you every chance he gets.
D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):
I mentioned this in another post, but Hancock likes it when you’re addicted to chems because he’s the one providing. As long as he’s supplying the drugs for you to get your fix, you’re not going to leave him high and dry.
Maybe he fears being, “skipped out on,” thinkin’ it’s just another reason for you to stick around. It ties into him being insecure—call it insurance. He’s not proud of it, but you don’t seem to mind, and there’s no one around to call him on it.
E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?):
Based on comments we hear throughout the game, Hancock was known to be a looker before being a Ghoul. He’s still a looker even after his transformation, and he is well-aware his physical appearance garners the attention of the ladies, or so he says. From this we can infer Hancock has no trouble in finding someone to fuck. I’m sure he has been around the block more than a few times, but it would be the appearance of someone special in his life that might make him rethink his whorish lifestyle.
Despite being a bit of a promiscuous rascal who most likely participates in a lot of meaningless sex, when he finds the right person, I am sure he is more than happy to be monogamous. But overall, I would say he definitely knows what the hell he’s doing—why else would Bobbi make that comment about everyone being in love with him?
Hancock’s a catch, contrary to whether or not he believes it himself, and for more than one reason, me thinks. And it is common for even those people who are “good-looking” to be self-conscious and worried about how others perceive them, so that doesn’t change the idea of him still being insecure despite his charm and charisma, though him saying he’s charming could be him playing at being facetious.
F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual):
The Couch Surfer*
Hancock loves to bend you over the arm of the couch in the Old State House with you face down in the cushions as he plows into you from behind. It allows for deeper penetration and more thrusting power, with your feet either on the floor, or with your knees pulled in toward your own body as your legs hover off the ground.
This also makes it so neither of you have to get entirely undressed if you don’t want to, or if there is simply no time for anything but a quickie. With both of you pulling down your trousers, or with you hiking up your dress, it makes for easy access, and the angle is just right for hitting that sweet spot.
G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc):
Hancock is a switch in more ways than one. This can go either way, as he’s not afraid to get weird or try anything once. At the same time, if you’re his special person, he may be inclined to take things a bit more serious. Think body worship in this case, or copious amounts of praise, romantic notions in your ear—that sort of thing.
This doesn’t account for if you’ve pissed him off, as all bets are off, and I’m sure he can think of more than one way to set you straight, even if that involves being more condescending than usual, or withholding sex all together because he’s just “not feeling it after the way you’ve been actin’.”
In fact, he may be able to home in on if he’s frightening you—that in and of itself can be a turn on. Oh, you’ve been misbehaving lately? Get ready to meet No More Mister Nice Ghoul. Although, you’d have to fuck up royally for him to take any of that so serious.
H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.):
No hair, don’t care (obviously)! But Hancock may enjoy running his fingers through yours, and he does so gently, not afraid to brush that stray strand out of your eyes.
I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…):
This can also go either way, depending on Hancock’s mood. One minute he’s treating you like the filthy whore you are, and the next minute he’s spewing off the most romantic things you’ve ever heard. He’s not afraid to speak his mind, no matter the topic of conversation. He’ll tell you to suck his cock like a good little slut, but then don’t put it past him to confess how much you mean to him in the same breath.
In other words, you can simultaneously be the best thing that’s ever happened to him, while also receiving an earful of the dirtiest, raunchiest trash talk to have ever been uttered by man. He knows you’re going to come undone regardless—he just has that effect on you.
J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon):
Hancock loves to force you to watch him masturbate when it’s impossible for you to touch him. That American flag at his waist serves well in a pinch, able to tie your hands up so he can sit back and pleasure himself without you interfering.
Long, languid strokes drive you mad, Hancock not skimping on the heady eye contact, enjoying it when you come unraveled at the seams. You’re begging to join in, to please him yourself, but this is where the fun begins—cry for him all you want to, those handcuffs aren’t coming off, not until he says so.
K = Kink (One or more of their kinks):
Oh, man. OK, here we go!
Praise kink – Hancock gives Golden Retriever boyfriend energy. Maybe it’s the fact he follows you around in-game, but he would take so well to you praising him. “Mn, yeah? You like that? Let me show you what else I can do…”
Role-play – I can see this man being into role-play scenarios. He already basically cosplays as a historical figure— it gives him the freedom to mess around with you knowing he doesn’t mean any of it in the end. You can be sure he’d have a safe word if that’s something you’re wanting. He’d take on new roles himself, or play along with yours. “Big bad Mayor” comes to mind for those of you who want a little more bossing around.
Sensation play - Hancock is big on touch. He loves to trace your skin with his fingers, or for you to touch him. I can also see him being into sensory deprivation, blindfolding himself so his sole focus remains on the feel of your hands smoothing over his callous flesh. I’m sure besides a lot of one-night stands, he barely gets anything in the way of attention. It’s always quick and easy— to really be close to someone? That takes guts.
Brat taming – This is a given. Maybe it’s not a game, you’re just really a brat. He doesn’t mess around when it’s time to get serious, so if you’re in his way, or if you’re rubbing him wrong, expect to hear about it. Think daddy/little girl vibes in most cases, but this can spill over into the role-play arena as well. But it’s not all negative—if you’ve been a good girl or boy, he’s willing to praise you for a job well done.
Degradation – Shit-talking him to the point of degradation is a thing he’s into. Not that he believes everything you’re saying, but he’s able to take a few verbal punches without psychic damage. The more sarcastic and ruthless you are, the more he respects you, and the more it may turn him on. He enjoys someone who isn’t afraid to stand up to him, but he also enjoys being put in his place, if you have the balls to try.
Bondage – Tie him up and have your way with him, or he’s liable to do the same to you. He loves a strong, take-charge woman, and a go get ‘em kinda man. He has the most fun when you’re the one who’s “powerless.” He’ll drive you wild before he finally gives in—the best part is watching you squirm and beg for him.
Exhibitionism – He will fuck you anywhere and everywhere; he doesn’t care who watches, but watching’s all their going to do. Hancock’s always down for a quickie, or something a little more intimate, but it doesn’t matter if it’s in the privacy of his suite at the Old State House, or the backroom of the Third Rail. Sex is sex, and there is no one he rather have it more with than you—anytime, anyplace.
Knife play/ Gun play – This Ghoul will use any and all means with which to get his rocks off, and he has a special place in his heart for knives. He’ll draw blood, or not, running the blade across your skin, not afraid to use the hilt to fuck you. The same goes for guns of all sorts, shells or bullets removed. Expect them to be put into places – like your mouth, or cunt. He’s not shy about it.
*I should add he is a total switch. He can play at top or bottom. IMO he plays bottom more frequently for male partners, and tops for female partners, but again, he loves a woman who knows how to take charge – he wouldn’t mind if you stepped on him.
Overall, he has a lot of sadistic qualities, but he’s also a bit of a masochist— he knows when and where to draw the line. He would never hurt you or do anything without your consent, UNLESS you’ve done something to get on his bad side, then there is no telling what might happen.
L = Location (Favorite places to do the do):
As I mentioned earlier, this man is an exhibitionist, so he would settle for fucking you anywhere he could. However, the riskier, the better, as he’s not afraid of getting caught—it’s part of the thrill. But if he’s feeling romantic, maybe he takes you to the roof of the Old State House, out under the stars.
Afterward, he lays with you there, pointing out the various constellations he’s read about in books. Maybe he even dragged an old mattress up there—no one will miss it—as it’s a place you frequently rendezvous.
M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going):
Violence and compassion, LOL. Allow me to explain:
Put simply, you putting down assholes for all the right reasons gets him hard. Hancock’s all about dispensing justice, about helping out the little guy, so if he gets to watch you kill evil fucking people while doing just that? Talk about a bonus— a really attractive one.
“Mn, the way you cut that guy’s head clean off—I wanted to fuck you right then and there. You should have seen his eyes bug out—bastard knew what was coming.”
Also, you doing a lot of chems and lowering your inhibitions for him? You willing to get freaky with him? That just makes you soulmates.
N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs:
Cannibalism, which is self-explanatory considering his comments in the game in regard to Sole if you have/use that perk. Hey, at least he’s not too judgmental.
I also do not assume he’s into torture, or blood and gore. A quick, merciless death is more his style, but considering his thoughts on Pickman and his “artistic flair,” plus not wanting to go anywhere near the gallery to see for himself, makes me think he’s adverse to that kind of thing. He doesn’t necessarily like hurting people or causing pain, only when the situation truly calls for it.
O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc):
I see him as preferring to give, though he won’t turn down a blowjob. It is a high all its own to get you off so easy with his mouth.
All those delicious little sounds; the way you writhe beneath him; the way you hold the back of his head; the way you say his name… It’s addicting, almost more so than chems. And I should say he’s not above eating ass.
P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.):
Again, both—depending on what his mood dictates. He’s not afraid to fuck you hard and fast, but he can also slow down and make love to you when he’s feeling soft. He’s a moody Ghoul, but it is a part of his charm. Time spent with him is never boring.
Sometimes, pure, unbridled lust wins out, or maybe he’s feeling sadistic for whatever reason—in this case, you may find yourself unable to walk the next morning.
But he can also be sensual, taking his time to please you proper while sending you to heaven on a cloud of fluffy, romantic words. He’s multifaceted, and so is your love for each other.
Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc):
I don’t think I am alone when I say that Hancock commenting offhand about, “you just say the word if you wanna take a little, uh, chem break” is most likely a euphemism for sex and very suggestive.
He sure as hell has nothing bad to say about quickies. Getting down and dirty at a moment’s notice is in his wheelhouse, so don’t be afraid to tell him when you’re in the mood, no matter where you might be or what you might be doing.
R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.):
Bears repeating, I guess. He’s up for almost anything and everything, minus the eating human flesh part. He’s not afraid to take risks in any aspect of his life, always out to do the right thing, even if there are consequences.
In relation to sex, he’s not shy, and doesn’t expect for you to be either. Feel free to open up to him about your deepest, darkest desires—he would be thrilled to help you out in that department.
Expect him to offer chems beforehand, or to check in with you if it’s something a little more high-risk. Safety first and all that nonsense—he truly cares about your well-being, but it’s also nice to know he’s met his match. That’s not to say he wouldn’t have fun corrupting you.
S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…):
I’m going to say that the regenerative effect that Ghouls possess also allows them to recuperate quickly after sex. Hancock has a stamina stockpile; he could go for hours, or for multiple rounds.
Of course, he also doesn’t mind just holding you, slowing down to bask for a little while in your amiable company.
T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?):
Back to the knife-play, gun-play kink, I suspect he not only uses various, dangerous tools to pleasure you, but also rope, or handcuffs. Everyday items that can he repurposed into something new and fucked up—alligator clamps for your nipples, or an Institute shock baton as a cattle prod—if you’re into that sort of thing. In other words, he’s not afraid to experiment.
As it’s the “end of the world,” I am not sure he has access to expensive, exotic toys, but if he did, he would be sure to use them. Maybe there’s an old sex shop with a few top of the line products still on the shelves. He’d nab anything for shits and giggles, trying various things out on you and on himself. Not like he has anything better to do.
But even so, he probably prefers it just being you and him, nothing fancy. He doesn’t need it— you’re all he needs to have a good time.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):
Hancock often plays unfair. He loves to tease you to the point of edging. He’ll take you as far as the cusp of an orgasm, then let the feeling dissipate, driving you toward insanity a little more each time.
And he’s so good at what he does; you’ll cum when he allows it. Lucky for you, this time he’s feeling generous—but if you pout? He’s done for.
V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make):
Hancock may make you scream his name, but he’s more of a subdued moan, heavy breaths in your ear kind of Ghoul. He’ll whisper sweet sentiments or speak all the filthy, filthy things he’s going to do you, but may be a bit of a pillow biter when roles are reversed.
He’d still take it like a champ, though, chomping down to keep from “embarrassing” himself. I also bet he’s a bit of a whimperer, or a whiner, fingers digging into the sheets as he buckles down under you like a common whore.
W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice):
I’ve got two:
1) Hancock is an over-protective boyfriend who is always out to “watch your back,” whether that be keeping his eye out for creeps, or intervening in a conversation on your behalf. I can also see him as the slightly jealous type, though he would bring it up only due to his own insecurities. Otherwise, he quietly stews until it eats away at him enough he feels the need to say what’s on his mind.
“Hey, if you’re getting bored of me, just say the word—I’ll go.” I don’t think he wants to stick around where he’s not wanted.
2) Hancock is into PDA maybe more than he should be. He’d let you sit in his lap in public while his hands travel your body. He’d caress your waist and thighs, and whisper jokes in your ear that are only meant for you to hear— Hancock loves making you giggle. He’s also up for dragging you into dark corners for steamy make-out sessions, or just wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. Let ‘em stare, he gives no fucks who sees you together.
Of course, he’s also OK with just gazing at you lovingly when no one’s looking— not even you.
X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words):
Hancock’s cock is just as scarred and damaged as the rest of his body, but he can still get it up, and the striations and respective bits of raised tissue are basically just another way of saying “ribbed for your pleasure.”
It’s variegated in color, or various shades—pale, deathly white, intermingled with dark, almost cadaverous-like patches. If you’re into necrosis, this is the man for you, though nothing is falling off or anything like that—he’s 100% intact, willing and able.
Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?):
I imagine he has a pretty high sex-drive, but sex isn’t everything to him by any means. He’s always down for a quick romp in the hay, but he’s also not opposed to cuddles.
Yes, he’s a cuddler. With the sappy, over the top romantic lines he says in game, how can this man NOT want to bury himself in your arms every chance he gets? And don’t put it past him to be clingy, either. That’s not always what he’s about, but it can happen with the right combination of brain chemicals and fluffy feelings.
Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):
I see Hancock as waiting for you to fall asleep first, or at least being cognizant enough to know what is going on in the event he has to keep you safe from whatever’s lurking in the dark, whether you’re hiding in the ruins, or walled up somewhere in Goodneighbor—can never be too careful.
In addition, I peg him as someone who may be a bit of an insomniac. He’s a bit hyper in game, and with the fact he pumps himself full of chems just to try to get high, I imagine even as a Ghoul it could fuck up your sleep cycle.
Still, when he falls asleep he sleeps hard—but don’t mind waking him. He’s ready to go when you are, just give him a minute.
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If you enjoyed this, be on the lookout for my John Hancock x Fem! Reader fic in the next day or so! 6.8k+ words of porn with plot. :D
P.S.: if you have a specific request, or just want to talk about Hancock in my inbox, feel free!!
#John Hancock#Fallout 4#Fallout#Ghoul#John Hancock x Reader#Fallout smut#Headcanons#x reader#x you#Hannie#FO4#Mayor John Hancock#Fallout Ghoul#John Hancock Fallout#alphabet game#Hancock#Hancock x Reader
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More Than Anyone Pt. 4
Aegon x Velaryon(Strong)! Reader
Summary: Royal family dinner at the Red Keep is rather interesting.
Porn with heavy plot. MDNI, 18+ Only. Targcest, depictions of labor/childbirth, character death.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Family dinners at the Red Keep are somewhat of a farce. They do not enjoy breaking bread together, content to stick to their separate wings, their separate lives. Alicent and Rhaenyra especially.
Since Y/N and Aegon have wed, the Queen has stopped pushing for the Strong children to be declared illegitimate. Her son would be close enough to a King. He would be safe.
Y/N will make a fine queen. Alicent loves her like her own, but Y/N is stubborn. Aegon’s love has only proved to further spoil her. If she wishes her daughter to be heir, in spite of Alicent’s desires, she would do just that, and she has.
The Princess is seated between Jacaerys and Aegon. The Prince does not tolerate other men being so close to his sweet wife, even her beloved brothers. Or perhaps it was the fact that they are so dear to her that sets him on edge. If they had wed, in the true way of the Dragon, Y/N would’ve been married to Jace instead of Aegon. And the thought alone leaves a foul taste in his mouth.
Y/N keeps her husband’s hand in hers as she laughs, jesting away with her brother.
“Hello, little one. It’s your uncle, Jacaerys. Jace, if you prefer. Your sisters and brother enjoy my company, I hope you will too.” With that he leans away, happily and back to his meal.
My baby, Aegon seethes. The one I fucked into her. Not you.
Y/N brings Aegon’s hand to her belly then, watching with a tender grin as his face softens.
“Perhaps Jacaerys should focus on fathering a child of his own. Hmm, Baela?” Aegon says, directing his attention down the line of bodies. “You have been married a year now.”
“Aegon,” Y/N shakes her head as Jace’s hands ball in fists.
“It fills me with great joy to see you all getting along.” King Viserys tells the children.
“Indeed, Grandsire.” Jacaerys affords a tight lipped grin.
Aegon raises his cup to his father. They are not sure how much time the King has left, they all do their part to keep him happy.
Y/N pats her Grandsire’s hand across the table.
“My girl,” Viserys chokes out. “Mending our family whole.”
Y/N feels tears prickle at the back of her eyes, “I try.” She tries but never quite succeeds.
Luce is sat at the foot of the table, with Aemond at the head, near his wife Helaena. Lucerys chuckles to Rhaena at the way the pig jiggles when placed in front of his uncle.
This sets Aemond off, slamming a fist into the table as he stands. All eyes land on him.
“Aemond,” Alicent whispers.
“I should like to raise a toast, to my niece, Y/N and to my nephews; Jace, Luce and Joffrey. Each of them comely, wise….Strong.” Aemond meets their gaze pointedly. “Let us drain our cups to these Strong-”
“I dare you to say that again.” Jace rises to match him.
Daemon clears his throat, watching the chaos unfold. Rhaenyra shifting uncomfortably beside him, heavy with child.
“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment.” Aemond skirts round the table so they are face to face.
Y/N stands immediately, placing herself between them, facing her brother. “Ignore him.”
At this Rhaenyra, Daemon and Alicent spring to action. Lucerys and his wife not far behind.
Aegon takes his own brother aside, “bite your tongue.”
“Oh relax, brother. It’s all a bit of good fun.” Aemond purses his lips.
Even after they manage to get everyone back in their seats, Aegon cannot shake the image of Jacaerys’ hands upon her. Clasped in Y/N’s as she calms him.
When they are excused, Aegon follows his wife to the children’s rooms. Bidding them goodnight and sweet dreams, he feels a bit less on edge after that.
He helps Y/N out of her dress and into her nightgown once they are finally alone, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. Y/N reaches back, caressing his hair; soft and familiar beneath her fingertips.
“Thank you for what you did…standing up to Aemond couldn’t have been easy, but it moves me, deeply.”
“I will protect you, always.” Aegon tells her.
“You seem unnerved.” She nuzzles against his cheek.
“Jacaerys was quite…close to you this evening.”
“He is my brother.”
“The man you might have been betrothed to.”
“Aegon,” the Princess huffs a laugh. “You mustn’t do this to yourself. I love no one else the way I love you. It does not suit you to be jealous of my baby brother.”
He turns his wife to face him, tracing his thumb along the apple of her cheek. “You are the world to me. The thought of anyone taking you from me is one I cannot bear.”
“Aegon,” she cups his hand with her own, “I am not going anywhere. I’ve no desire to. I want to be with you, my love.”
Aegon nods, still not entirely convinced.
“Come here,” Y/N murmurs. Drawing him in until their lips meet. “I need you, Aegon.”
The Prince groans, the note of desperation rushing directly to his cock. He pulls her closer still, her belly pressed up between them, full of his babe. His child and hers made of love.
“Now, please?” Y/N purrs, stroking him through the fabric of his breeches.
He walks her back toward the bed, until it hits the back of her knee. “Lie down, sweetheart.”
“Here?” She breathes. Upon the short side of the mattress?
“Let your legs hang over the edge.” Aegon nods, removing his own clothes.
Y/N obeys, allowing her thighs to fall open for him.
Aegon runs his finger tips up her calf, to her knee, hitching her leg up past his waist, to his shoulder. “Is this too painful?”
“No.” The Princess quirks a brow.
“Good.” He removes her small clothes before resuming the position. His length poised at her entrance, pressing inside slowly so she feels every inch.
Y/N replies with a sharp intake of breath, accepting him eagerly. Her cunt is hot and tight, sucking greedily at his cock as he pulls out, only to force himself back in.
Aegon allows her a few moments at this pace, working her open as not to cause discomfort. She prefers to keep a bit of modesty about her as she swells with child. Her husband entertains this by allowing her nightgown to remain on during intimacies. Watching her little pebbled nipples strain against the thin fabric.
“Fuck,” Y/N whimpers as he begins moving faster.
“That’s right, sweetheart.” Aegon growls, kissing her inner calf, held up against his shoulder to drive himself deeper. “I love fucking you.”
Y/N reaches out between them, putting a hand to his hips. Her eyes wide as Aegon’s thrusts quicken.
“Use your words, pretty.” He continues battering the sweet spot inside her.
The Princess whines a bit more. “I-”
Aegon takes mercy on his love, finding the worlds for her. “You are so sensitive.”
“Please, Aegon.” Faster. Slower. Harder. Softer. She wanted all of these things at once.
“I know, my dearest love.” He tuts at her.
She fumbles around for his hand. “Need you.”
“You have me, sweet girl. Right in your perfect little cunt,” he cooes. “I’m going to take care of you.”
The Princess nods, rapidly. Face screwed up in unbearable pleasure, fighting for breath as Aegon pushes her higher; until she tumbles over the edge of bliss.
Trembling, sobbing and squeezing his hand. The force of her release threatening to shove him out as she coats his length and thighs in her slick. The poor thing jumps when his forefinger finds her pearl, still swollen and throbbing, coaxing more wetness from her.
“That’s my girl. Let me see you, Y/N. Give me your eyes.” Aegon murmurs.
Her lids peel open, blown pupils meeting his. “I want you to come for me. Please? I need it.”
“You need it?” He chuckles. He’s trained her well.
“Please,” she cries. “I love you, please.”
“I love you too, dearest.” He murmurs against the leg upon his shoulder. And oh how her love was a weapon to wield. Breaking past every obstacle in it’s path; reshaping him into something new. He circles her bundle of nerves faster. “You’re going to have to come again, all over my cock. Then I will give you every last drop. Can you do that for me?”
“Just for you.”
His erection twitches within her warmth. Her words alone threaten to pull him over the edge. Aegon allows her leg to fall back to his waist, her bump is nearing the point where he cannot reach her lips when leaning over. So he takes advantage while he still can.
She tangles her fingers in his hair, content to be full of him, loved by him. To please him and to satisfy his every desire. That is the depth of her love for Aegon…and it terrifies her.
Y/N comes apart again, milking his length for what feels like an eternity as Aegon pumps his release deep within her. Feeling tears come, hot and unbidden against the crook of his wife’s neck.
“What troubles you so, my love?” Y/N wonders, stroking his silver locks, patiently.
How can he explain it? For he does not understand himself.
————————————————————————
“Princess.”
Y/N’s lady in waiting startles her awake, Aegon’s arm still draped over her side, only the bed sheets covering them.
“I am sorry to wake you, but your presence is requested by the Princess Rhaenyra.”
“My mother?” Y/N springs from bed. “Help me dress, please.”
“At once, your grace.” The woman nods, moving dutifully toward the armoire and gathering the first dress her hands stumbling upon.
The closure seems to take longer than usual, perhaps due to nerves, or the fact that they both fumble around in the dim lit room. “Have you any idea what’s happened?”
“I could not say, Princess.”
“Of course,” Y/N takes a steadying breath.
“But…it may be her labors.”
“Her labors?” It is far too soon.
“I cannot say for certain.”
“Very well,” Y/N understands. “Thank you for telling me what you know. If Prince Aegon wakes while I am away, please let him know I will return soon.”
With that Y/N takes leave, down the corridor, fast as her legs will carry her. One hand held to her belly as a side stitch seats itself beneath her ribcage.
Rhaenyra is hunched forward, grasping the windowsill, groaning through her contraction.
“Mama?” Y/N breathes out.
The woman releases a low moan, gathering her strength before she speaks, reaching a hand toward her daughter. “My darling girl, this revelation is a heavy one and I do not wish to burden you with it, but I’m afraid I must.”
“It is alright,” Y/N shakes her head. Taking Rhaenyra’s hand for comfort.
“Your Grandsire Viserys has passed. Few are aware, but the news will soon spread. Ow- fuck.” Rhaenyra falters.
“What can be done?” Y/N squeezes her mother’s fingers.
“With my father dead, the Greens will demand the throne be swiftly claimed. You are my heir. If I do not survive this night, you shall be Queen.”
“I-” I cannot lose you.
“Go. Make your preparations.” Rhaenyra chokes out, “nothing is to be done while I’m abed. Daemon is seeing to that, you needn’t worry.”
“I worry for my mother.” Y/N blinks back tears.
Rhaenyra cups her daughter’s face in hand. “I will not go quietly.” Rhaenyra will fight.
Series Taglist: @sophiexoxosblog @alicentswife @f4ll-for-you @tempt-ress @percyjacksonspeen @zoleea-exultant @midnightrqin @buckystevelove
Part 5
#house of the dragon#aegon targaryen x you#hotd smut#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon targaryen#hotd aegon#aegon ii#aegon targaryen smut#aegon the elder#aegon smut#aegon x reader#aegon x you#aegon imagine#aegon ii x reader
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Of Incense and Intimacy (Eddie Munson x Reader) [18+]
Summary: Your roommate's recreational habits tend to wreak havoc on your anxious sensitivities, so you burn a little incense with him to help you both relax. Maybe choosing a scent called "love spell" wasn't the best idea....
Warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, the devil's lettuce, explicit descriptions of secks (minors i fucking see you stay behind the beaded curtain), raw dogging (wear a fuckin' raincoat y'all don't be dumb), mentions of the dirty touch, perv!eddie my beloved, my daddy kink continuing to control every aspect of my life
Word Count: 3.5k (she long and thick this time babes)
Author's Note: i just like incense a lot. ever since i got a backflow burner it's become my entire personality. my room smells amazing.
You hate doing this, ruining his fun. Especially because you know it's how he relaxes; how he deals with his own problems. Still, the tightening of your chest, the shallowness of your breathing, the fear starting to creep its way out of the corners of your mind sends you across the hall, tapping on his door.
Eddie answers in a puff of cannabis smoke, and you instinctively cover your mouth and nose with your shirt. Even in his hazy, glazed-over frame of mind, he knows exactly why you're here, and he immediately apologizes.
"Oh, shit, pumpkin, I'm sorry."
He dashes back into his room, stubbing out the joint in his hand and opening his window a crack, despite the winter chill. You stand in the doorway and sigh.
"No, I'm sorry," you say. "I'm a shit roommate."
"You have clinical anxiety." He annunciates the words as he returns to you, leaning against the door frame and giving your hair a quick, gentle pet. "It's okay."
You grimace as you flinch away, choked by the skunky smell emanating from him.
"That shit reeks," you huff. "You don't have anything better?"
Eddie chuckles, shoving the sleeve of his sweatshirt under your nose to tease you. He laughs as you smack him away.
"The high quality stuff brings in too much money," he explains. "Unless you want me to stop pitching in for takeout."
You roll your eyes and hold a finger up, telling him to wait.
"I'm not living with that stench all night."
You disappear into your bedroom, returning with a couple ceramic dishes and a stack of different sized boxes. Eddie raises an eyebrow as you set them up on his dresser, handing him a few of the boxes and directing him to choose some of the contents. He opens the topmost one, labeled "fairy dust", and removes one of the clay-coated sticks inside.
"Incense?" he realizes. He holds the stick up to his face, the scent so sweet it burns his nostrils. "Is this why your room always smells so good?"
You nod, shuffling through a few of the smaller boxes.
"It covers up the smell of weed," you explain. "I started using it like a week after we moved in together."
Eddie smirks, looking through the other scents you've brought over. Some of them are simple and self-explanatory, like basil and lily, but others are more vague, like "mystique" and "decadence". He pauses when he comes across a box marked with the words "love spell", grinning at you in that impish, borderline perverse way you know too well.
"You trying to seduce me?" he jests, waggling his eyebrows.
"I'd have to do way less than this to seduce you," you laugh. You shriek when his pillow smacks you in the back of the head.
"I'm not desperate," he defends himself. "I've been dry for over a year, y'know."
"We share a wall," you remind him. "I can hear you masturbate. Twice a day. It's like you don't even try to keep quiet."
He scoffs, attempting to play off the fierce blush that burns across his cheeks. You giggle at him; he's way too cute.
"What's weirder is that I never hear you masturbate," he deflects. "I'm starting to worry."
"I masturbate," you state matter-of-factly. "I'm just considerate enough to shut the fuck up about it."
Eddie tries to ignore the way the image of you pleasuring yourself, just feet away from him, makes his cock twitch. He clears his throat as he hands you one of the boxes, choosing at random.
"Here."
You examine it, grinning up at him.
"You picked the one called 'wizard'?" you tease. "Not surprised."
He chuckles, settling himself on the end of his mattress as he watches you place an incense stick upright in your burner and set it alight with the Zippo he keeps next to his stash. The flame flares, searing a thick, smoky path down the tip of the stick before you blow it out, leaving nothing but glowing embers and heavy, fragrant smoke curling into the air. He fixates on the purse of your lips, barely staving off the lewd thoughts that float through his mind.
As the smell of sugar and sandalwood perfumes the confined space, you pop open one of the smaller boxes and remove an incense cone from it, setting it strategically at the top of the second dish. This one is shaped like a pond, beveled with stones, complete with sculpted lily pads and painted koi. When you light the tip of the cone, sweet sage drifts upward on the wisps of smoke, waves of it cascading down the ceramic stones and into the waiting pool below.
Eddie's eyes grow wide, watching the display as if you're performing magic. You smile, curling up on his mattress so you can comfortably enjoy the view.
"That's so fucking cool," he gasps. He lays back beside you, his body fitting nicely next to yours. There isn't much room on his full bed, so you're pressed together, your head falling onto his stomach to compensate for the lack of space.
"Yeah, I knew you'd like it," you muse. "I was gonna get you one for your birthday."
You lay like that for a while, until the incense stick burns out, the silence and shared warmth far too easy between you. Eddie's arm migrates around your shoulders, hugging you close, your leg somehow finding its way between his as you fold yourself more and more into him. The scent of weed still lingers after the incense is gone, so you stand and light another, Eddie whining at the loss of your touch.
Rose petals and musk fill the air as you return to the bed, this time straddling your roommate's lap as he sits leaned against his pillows and the wall. He quirks a brow at you but doesn't protest, his hands falling without hesitation around your waist, keeping you there.
"... Maybe I am trying to seduce you. A little bit," you admit.
He smirks, eyes still glassy from his high.
"You're joking," he replies. There's no way that you - beautiful, intelligent, fiery you - want to have sex with him.
But you shake your head, arms draping over his shoulders as your chest presses to his.
"I think you're hotter than sin, Eddie Munson. And you're my best friend. I can't think of anyone I'd rather be in bed with."
Maybe it's the pot. Maybe it's how pretty you look with your hair up, greasy and messy, a day past needing a wash. Maybe it's the feel of your unconfined breasts pushed against him under your sweater. Maybe it's simply how he loves you, but can't find the words to admit it. Whatever the reason, Eddie closes the space between you with a tender, tentative kiss, his thumb grazing the naked skin just under your shirt. You smile softly against his lips, opening your mouth so they can slot together with yours, tongues finding each other with the gentlest little push.
"You taste good," he murmurs. You peck his lips as he pulls away to speak, gazing dreamily into his honey brown eyes.
"You taste like smoke," you tell him. He chuckles, returning your tiny smooch.
You take your time, savoring each other's kisses and touches in a heated round of sucking face. Eddie's movements are slow and deliberate, his tongue and his lips moving in sync with yours while his large, calloused palms rub loving circles into the skin under your sweater. When you pull away to breathe, he licks teasingly at your lips, grinning as you giggle softly. He presses lazy kisses along your jaw, your eyes falling blissfully closed as he works his way down your neck, nipping and sucking at your flesh. He's hard under his sweatpants, but he's in no rush - he loves having you close, loves having the time to worship your body the way you deserve. You knot your fingers in his hair and he lets out a breathy little moan, the sound so melodic you could listen to it on repeat for hours.
"What do you think about when you masturbate?" he wonders aloud. He thoughtfully licks his lips as he levels his face once again, brushing his nose against yours. His eyes are heavily lidded.
"It used to be Jeff Goldblum, before he gets all gross in The Fly," you divulge. "But since living with you, it's just you. The sounds you make... it's like having my own private porno."
You smirk as Eddie blushes, his hand squeezing gently at your love handle. You've masturbated... to him masturbating? All while he was none the wiser? That can't be right. He must be hearing things, mustering his own fantasies into being.
"You're so pretty..." he whispers, losing track of his thoughts.
You giggle, playfully licking at his lips the way he did yours.
"What do you think about?" you ask in return.
"You," he answers without a beat. "How you look when you walk around in just a big t-shirt. I like to imagine you riding me like that. Or when you're in the shower, I... I sometimes masturbate thinking of you in there."
Your tongue grazes over your bottom lip, teeth sinking into it as the muscle disappears into your mouth and you smile. He's shocked that you're not totally disgusted.
"I want you to bend me over," you confess.
He blinks. This can't be for real.
"What, no missionary first?" he asks.
You laugh, pressing an affectionate kiss against his lips. He returns it reflexively, grinning into you, adoring the sound of your laugh.
"Just fuck me," you whisper. "It's about time we got naked together."
Eddie obliges without further convincing. He lifts your sweater over your head, drinking in the sight of your bare tits without shame. You kiss him again as your hands run under his sweatshirt, groping at his bare skin as he guides the offending fabric up and away, tossing it somewhere to be forgotten. He takes your face in his hands and presses his chest against yours, sighing into your mouth at the feel of your bodies so close, without anything between them. He's warm, his chest broad and firm, his arms forming a protective brace around you. Something so salacious as preparing for sex with your roommate has no right feeling as loving as this does.
"Stand up," Eddie instructs.
You climb off the mattress, giggling as he takes you by the hips and positions you between his legs. He kisses the space between your breasts, his breath fanning delicately over your skin as he eases your sweatpants down your legs, fingers teasing your exposed thighs. Your first instinct is to be embarrassed - you haven't shaved in well over two weeks, and you're afraid he'll be put off by it. But he's unfazed, too enamored with you to really care. His eyes graze over your body with lovelorn grace, still very much under the influence of the drugs, but clear enough to remain totally tuned in to you.
"Undress me."
He stands so he's towering over you, snaring you in another kiss before you make your way downward, trailing your lips languidly over his torso until you're kneeling before him; you pause on your way to kitten lick his nipple, and the sharp intake of his breath at the tease thrills you.
You don't bother taking your time with his sweats, unraveling the drawstring with expert precision and letting them fall, immediately grasping at the base of his cock. It's a pretty thing, long and perfectly thick, the tip poking out handsomely from the hood of his uncut foreskin. You stroke at him gently, grinning up at him with your lip between your teeth.
"You're as perverted as I am, aren't you, sweet little thing?" Eddie chuckles. You don't miss the way he twitches in your palm.
"I learned from the best," you reply with a wink.
His grin doesn't disappear as you run your tongue up the underside of his head, tasting the salt of precum as you gently suckle at the tip. He breathes an airy moan, his hand falling to the nape of your neck.
"Just let me fuck you, baby," he pleads. "I'll use your mouth another time."
You raise yourself up, unable to stop yourself from taking him in for another kiss. He's addicting, the feel of his lips twined with yours almost, if not as good as the sex you've been aching to have with him.
Eddie's hands don't leave your waist as you crawl back on to his mattress, bending down on your elbows and knees and arching your back in a display of catlike sensuality. He's quick to fall behind you, smoothing his palm down the curve of your back before bringing it with a sharp smack down on your ass cheek. You yelp, already dripping through the petals of your pussy in anticipation of his cock.
He runs two fingers through your slick, feeling you out; in the floor length mirror beside his window, you watch him raise those fingers to his lips and suck them clean.
"So sweet," he drawls. "I can't wait to make you cum with my tongue."
"I've never been eaten out before," you mention, catching his eyes in the mirror. They've got a mischievous gleam, not leaving yours as he runs the head of his cock up and down the length of your opening.
"You'll never want anyone else between your thighs once I'm done with you," he promises.
He dips himself inside you, causing you to gasp at the sudden rush of pain that always comes with the first breach of your walls. Your face scrunches, fingers gripping at his sheets as he takes hold of your hips, gently and carefully easing you onto him.
"It hurt?" he questions. The concern in his voice is obvious, and it makes you want for him even more.
"Only for a moment," you assure him. He gives a little nod, pulling out slightly before slipping back in, his cock stroking against you and relaxing your muscles. You breathe out a sigh, the pain fading into delicious fullness.
"Fuck, Eddie," you gasp. "Why didn't you mention you have the dick of a porn star?"
He chuckles, giving you another playful spank as he bottoms out, his head just kissing your cervix.
"Same reason you never mentioned your pussy was so perfectly deep and tight, I guess."
He grips you by the waist and starts to fuck, moaning as he sets a steady pace so you can both savor the feeling of each other. You stretch your torso out on his mattress, curling your body so he's hitting you right at your deepest point, an angle that has him groaning and mewling the way you're all too familiar with.
"Fuck, sweetheart, you look so good for me," he praises. "Taking my cock into that sweet little pussy..."
He brings his hand down once again, causing you to moan with the pleasurable sting of his palm against your skin. He continues to spank, thrusting in time with each hit until your cheeks are rosy and tender with the imprint of his palm. Your tongue rolls out of your mouth as he picks up his pace, eyes closing as you smile with bliss.
"Oh, that's my good girl," he growls. "Loving the way daddy uses her as his little fuck toy."
One of his hands raises to curl around the back of your neck, holding you in place as he starts to pound ruthlessly into you, your legs shaking as the sensation of him filling you reaches high into your stomach.
"You're so good baby... so good... mmmm, fuck, shit, heck, you feel incredible on my cock... Fuuuuuuuck, baby... Fuck...!"
You giggle at his intonations, mewling sweetly as his hips snap against yours, the sound of your thighs slapping together echoing off the walls. You can hear your sticky wetness clinging to his shaft, a harmony to back the loud groans he releases every time he thrusts.
"Right there, Eddie..." you coax. "Fuck, babe, right there... Make me cum..."
He guides your body forward, laying you flush against the blankets as he positions his body prone above yours, his arm wrapping around your neck to steady you. He doesn't stop railing into you, panting heavily in your ear, the thin plastic of the ever-present guitar pick around his neck bobbing against your back. You roll your hips into his, meeting his thrusts, and he lets out sound so sweet you think he might actually be crying.
"Oh, god, sugar, yes..." he snarls. "Keep fucking yourself on my cock... fuck, fuck, yeah, just like that... oh, love, you feel so fucking good..."
His relentless pace has built up a knot in your abdomen, one that releases with an explosion throughout your entire body. You cry out in ecstasy, your limbs fizzling with the shock of your orgasm, your toes curling as you ride the wave of indescribable pleasure out for its impossible length. As soon as Eddie feels you tighten around him, he clenches the base of his cock, staving away his own release as he fucks you through to the end. Once you relax, he gingerly unsheathes himself; you roll so you're facing him, repositioning yourself with bended knees so you can curl your fingers around the handsome appendage and stroke him, savoring his enamored cries as he cums onto your stomach and breasts. His breathing is ragged as the thick, pearly strings of semen cease to erupt from his slit. He collapses onto the mattress beside you with a satisfied huff.
For a few minutes, all you do is lay beside each other, filling each other's space while your breathing regains its normal rhythm and your bodies come back to themselves. Eventually, Eddie gets up and disappears, returning with the pack of baby wipes you keep in your room. He cleans you off, removing every trace of the depravity you've shared and kissing your stomach once you're pure again. He wipes himself off as well, pitching both the used cloths and the ash left in your burner into the little trash can beside his nightstand. The incense has long since burnt out.
Eddie crawls back into bed with you, lifting the blankets over you both and slipping between them, placing a kiss on your shoulder as he presses his chest to your back. You're laying with your heads on the foot of his bed, but that hardly matters; he's actually holding you, close and tight and with his face buried in your hair. It's such a small thing, but you've never been treated with this much tenderness before.
"What's wrong?" he asks. He can read you like a book and it makes you want to cry.
"... You're just being really good to me," you whisper. "You're not... You're not done with me."
"Of course not," he murmurs. He brushes a few stray wisps away from your face, clearing a space for his lips to press a light kiss into your temple. "If I just wanted you for sex I'd have made a move a long time ago. I... I kind of feel things for you. Like... a lot of things."
You turn to face him, hugging him close and hiding your face in his chest. He kisses the top of your head, his fingers making a delicate trail down the length of your spine.
"Thank you for putting up with me," you say. "And for driving me to the hospital that time my contact high gave me a panic attack."
Eddie chuckles, giving your love handle an affectionate squeeze.
"Any time, pumpkin. That's still the best date I've ever had."
You smile, letting out a breathy laugh into his skin.
Over the next couple weeks, Eddie slowly migrates his things into your room, making a habit of sharing a bed even when you're not having sex. His old room becomes a studio, and the other members of Corroded Coffin are excited when he tells them they finally have their own recording space. They're sprawled out on the floor, sharing a joint in celebration when the new setup finally dawns on Jeff.
"Did your roommate move out?" he inquires.
"Not really," Eddie responds with a shrug. "More like I moved in."
Jeff and Gareth share a skeptical look. As if on cue, you appear in the doorway, wearing a pair of Eddie's boxers and tossing him a pack of basil-scented incense, which he catches without so much as a flinch.
"Put it out, please," you request. "I'm starting to get jitters."
"Yes, dear. Our apologies."
He flashes you a giddy, awestruck smile as he reaches for the ashtray. He then blows you an exaggerated kiss, to which you just roll your eyes and grin.
"You're a fucking dork," you tell him.
"Love you too, angel babe."
💀🌹 masterlist 🌹💀
#muerta's works#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson x reader fluff#fluffy smut#perv!eddie munson#perv!eddie#roommate!eddie munson
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Tea Party
❤️Ultimate Masterlist
💜Rules and Guidelines
🧡Stray Kids Scenarios Masterlist
🌹CW
Wholesome|Hurt/Comfort|Anxiety Attack|Brief Dissociation|Semi Regression|Feeling Numb|Coaxing Out Of Dissociation
💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.
🍄Wordcount: 1K
"Hhgh," you whined, stretching your sore limbs from a well-rested sleep. You sat up, rubbing your eyes awake before blindly patting around to get your phone. The bright light made you squint, "Ugh," you groaned, waiting for the auto brightness to adjust. There were a few hours before lunch but you already felt energized enough to do something. "There must be something I can do," you mumbled, pondering for a second when you realized your beloved plush wasn't in bed.
You instantly looked around, only to see it lying face down on the floor. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you picked it up, "I'm so sorry," you mumbled, burying your face into it. You sighed in relief, feeding the plush of your warmth. 'Want a tea party,' a thought deep within your subconscious whispered. "Yeah, that sounds fun," you whispered aloud, crawling off your bed to get everything set up. You pulled a box from under your bed and inside it was a kid's play set, just perfect for a little one like you.
"This goes here," you mumbled, arranging the chairs and table to your heart's desire. Soon the tea party was about to begin, but something was missing. You furrowed your eyebrows, checking off everything you needed, 'Guests? checked,' all your toys are in place. 'Food? checked,' there are cookies on the table. 'Tea? Oh!' That's right you were missing the tea. It can't be a tea party without tea now can it? You got up from the table, holding the teapot to fill it with water, "I have to be quick," you whispered, making your way to the kitchen.
You didn't bother to lift your head, prioritizing your quiet feet instead. To say the least, you got scared when you bumped into someone. "Oh, sunbeam. What are you doing this early?" Felix asked, ruffling your bed hair. You straightened up, clearing your throat, "Water. I just wanted water," you said, hoping he wouldn't pick up on your nervousness. "In that?" Felix questioned, noticing the teapot in your hand. You nodded, "Yeah, yeah. In this," you said, pressing it against the water filter to fill it up.
Felix hummed, "You're not hiding a tea party from me right? Because I'd love to join," he said, drinking his morning coffee. You bit down on your tongue, holding yourself back from spontaneously saying yes, "Would you actually?" you asked offhandedly, just in case he was jesting. Felix nodded, "Of course, I would sunbeam. Wouldn't miss it for the world," he reassured, remaining eye contact with you. "Fine, but you can't be too loud, this is a quiet tea party," you mumbled, walking back to your room.
"Wow, you did a great job, sunbeam," he said, sitting next to your plush toys as you sat across from him. You began pouring 'tea' into every single cup, "The tea party can begin," you whispered, proud of your work. Felix chuckled, moving his hand behind one of your plushies, "Mm, this tea is just right," he said in a high-pitched voice. You smiled, "Try the cookies too," you said, handing the plush some cookies. Felix tilted the plush's head down, "Yummy, that was delicious," he said, making you burst out into giggles.
You felt yourself sink into that familiar headspace, pleased by the company of your plush toys and members. Felix noticed the glint in your eyes changed, "Are you feeling alright, sunbeam?" he asked, holding up his teacup so you wouldn't be startled by his question. "Ahm, is alright," you whispered, swaying yourself with a cookie in hand. Felix chuckled, reaching behind another plush, "Well I have to say, this tea party is the most fun I've had," he said, using his deeper voice.
"That's good," you replied, feeling your heart swell in pride. Felix cooed, secretly snapping a few pictures of your blissful state. All was good until you perked up at the sound of someone closing the door outside. Your smile dropped as your heart sank. You sat the teacup down, eyes wavering to think of what to do next. 'Should I keep everything?' 'Should I stop?' 'Is it safe to play a little longer?' you thought, trying to make a quick decision but it only resulted in your breathing picking up in a panic.
Felix's eyes widened, "Hey, hey. Look at me, sunbeam. How many things can you see, hm?" he asked, cautious of touching you. "Too many," you whispered, seeing too many things. Felix winced at his mistake, "Why don't you list at least five of those things for me?" he asked, specifying the question. You furrowed your eyebrows, “A teacup, cookies, my hands, the teacup dish and the plushies," you said, feeling your heart rate slow down. "That's right. Good job, sunbeam," he praised, gently patting your head.
You exhaled deeply, frowning as the numbness crept up your skin. Felix noticed but he didn't know what to do next. You felt yourself zoning out, staring blankly at the teacup in front of you. Felix wanted to help but honestly, it was making him spiral, "I'm going to go get someone okay, sunbeam?" he said, getting up. You nodded, dipping your finger into the chilling water. Felix huffed, dragging Minho in without an explanation. Just as Minho was about to retort, Felix turned his attention towards you.
Minho eyed your movement for a bit before knowing what was wrong. He didn't say a word, only gesturing for Felix to sit back down. Minho sat next to you, holding a teacup of his own behind clinking it with yours. You furrowed your eyebrows at the disturbance but wavered when you noticed Minho next to you. He smiled, gradually initiating movements from you, either by pouring you another cup of tea or making you take a bit of the cookies. Minho slowly eased you out of that dissociative episode.
You soon found yourself consciously doing this again, shivering as the chill numbness wore off. Felix smiled, glad that you're back to playing and interacting again. Minho chuckled, grabbing his own Leebit to join the tea party as well. Felix eventually sent the photos to the members and it didn't take long for his phone to buzz with notifications. He chuckled, teasing the members for being out of the house. Minho pinched Felix's ear lobe, "Stop that before they rush back home and break down the door," he whispered with you being none the wiser.
#secretmoonlight#˗ˋˏ°•𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘫𝘪𝘪 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴•°ˎˊ˗#✧*̣̩⋆̩☽⋆𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘫𝘪𝘪 𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴✧*̣̩⋆̩☽⋆#kpop agere#stray kids felix#lee felix x you#poly skz#lee felix x y/n#lee felix x reader#stray kids x female reader#stray kids scenarios#little space#age regression kpop#age regression#skz x reader#domestic fluff#hurt/comfort#lee minho x you#lee minho x reader#lee minho x y/n#lee minho imagines#kpop moodboard#skz imagines#stray kids 9th member
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How they'd react to you fainting
(thank you anon for this request !! it was fun to imagine how each of our boys would react in this situation 💕 I hope you all enjoy)
John
at first, John is convinced you're pulling a joke on him
he'd smirk and snicker, saying something along the lines of "If you wanted my attention you could've just asked, y'know"
when he fails to get a response from you, he'd kneel down and lightly tap your cheeks in an attempt to get you to snap out of it
"Hello...? Anyone home?"
however, when you don't immediately come to, his demeanor would shift to that of concern
John would become incredibly anxious and pace back and forth, muttering curses under his breath
"Oh, shit... Christ... don't go dyin' on me now"
he'd place his hands on your shoulders and give you a gentle but panicked shake
when he sees your eyes begin to flutter open, he sighs in relief
John would stand up and clear his throat, trying his best to regain his composure and tough exterior
he'd slip back into his usual playful banter, jokingly blaming his own charm for causing you to faint
however, you can hear the concern hidden behind his teasing as his voice wavers ever-so-slightly
you laugh weakly, reassuring him that it just happens sometimes and telling him you'll be okay
regardless, he would be extra clingy for the rest of the day, remaining vigilant to make sure you really are all right
Paul
upon seeing you begin to faint, Paul is caught completely off-guard
he'd let out a shocked gasp (or perhaps a bit of a girlish shriek) and try his best to catch you
he'd react quickly but calmly, cradling you in his arms and calling your name to try and bring you back to consciousness
"Y/N? Are you there, love? I'm right here"
he'd reassure you, stroking your hair and fanning your face gently in an attempt to wake you
he would maintain his composure for your sake, but on the inside he's deeply concerned to see you like this
Paul would make sure you're comfortable, humming softly to soothe you until you came to
you'd open your eyes to the sight of him hovering over you, his expression softening as he realizes you've finally awoken
"Easy now, darling- no need to faint on my account" he'd jest, trying to lighten the mood
he'd fret over you for the rest of the day, offering you everything you could possibly need and treating you even more like royalty than he already does
George
George would be a bit more composed in his reaction, but his concern would be just as strong
he would kneel beside you, checking your pulse and making sure your breathing is steady
he would display a sense of urgency, assessing the situation to the best of his ability
when he's certain you're stable, he would fetch you a cool cloth and place it on your forehead
he would call your name gently, trying his best to create a peaceful atmosphere to cause you as little undue stress as possible
he'd place a steady hand on your shoulder to provide a sense of safety and security for you, even subconsciously
when you finally wake up, George smiles softly down at you
"Good morning, sunshine. I brought you a little something"
he'd hold up a glass of water, which you'd gladly take as you sat upright, leaning against George while he rubbed gentle circles into your back
Ringo
when he sees you start to become lightheaded, Ringo is already visibly shaken
his intuition immediately kicks into overdrive
he'd place his hands on your shoulders and steady you as much as he can, gently laying you down on the couch when you've finally lost consciousness
he would hover around you nervously at first, unsure of what to do
with trembling hands, he'd check your vitals to make sure he doesn't need to call for immediate medical attention
once he's sure you'll be alright, Ringo would hold your face in his calloused hands, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs
he'd lean down and pepper your face with gentle kisses, hoping the sensation will bring you back to wakefulness
when he hears you giggle from the ticklish feeling, he'd let out an immediate and heavy sigh of relief
he would pull back and look down at you with a comforting smile
"Oh, thank goodness you're alright. What would I ever do without you?" he says lightheartedly, but you hear the sincerity in his voice
you reach your arms up and wrap them around his neck, pulling him in for a long, appreciative kiss
#the beatles#beatles#beatles imagines#beatles x reader#the beatles x reader#john lennon#john lennon x reader#john lennon imagines#paul mccartney x reader#paul mccartney#paul mccartney imagines#george harrison x reader#george harrison imagines#george harrison#ringo starr x reader#ringo starr#ringo starr imagines#richard starkey#headcanon#LMLBeatles
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Tour de Richmond
Fandom: Ted Lasso
Pairing: Jamie Tartt x F!Reader
Summary: Jamie gives you a tour of Richmond as well as gets to know you better. When you tell your cousin of his teammate's generosity, he suddenly becomes a bit hostile towards Jamie.
Meet Cousin McAdoo | Caffeine Crash
A/N: i looked up the bare minimum of the Richmond area. if anything is wrong, please let me know!
"So you've been around here, yeah?" Jamie asks, gesturing to the small shops that neighbors the cafe you were just at.
"A bit. Haven't really gone in any of these shops. But they're cute!"
"We can pop in a few if you'd like?" he suggests, pointing to a bookshop to your left.
"Another time."
Jamie shrugs, "Suit yourself."
He guides you away from the shops and towards, "The Richmond Green. The general gathering spot for people here. Kids like to play football here. There's sometimes cricket tournies here too."
You smile at the gathering of people scattered around the green acres. You see a small group of people doing yoga, three teens kicking a football around, people walking their dogs around. It's a very comforting atmosphere.
Jamie does his best not to be obvious about looking at you. He finds himself smiling to himself because you seem to find joy in the sights before you. He then turns to the view and realizes that he's never really enjoyed watching everything and everyone. He's always ran past them all during trainings and whatnot.
"Sorry, is it okay if we sit down and people watch for a little?"
"Uh, yeah, sure," he follows you to a bench where you both sit down.
You sit your drink and stare, "It's nice to just sit here and watch everything. I find it very calming. I don't get to do it much back home, though, always too busy with work and life."
"I don't think I've ever done this. I felt like I need to be on the go, ya know? Spend my time trying to get better, improvin' and all that."
You turn your attention to him, "You've never given yourself a break? What do you do during the off season? Don't you go on vacation?"
He shrugs, "I'm busy practicin'. I'll visit me mum and Simon sometimes, but they're doing their own travelin' a lot of the time," he nudges you with his shoulder, "What about you? Have you done any travelin'?"
"When my aunt married Isaac's uncle, that was the first time I travelled. They had a destination wedding in France. Wanted to be in the city of love and romance. That's where I met Isaac. We became really close through that trip. He's like my big brother. Always looking out for me." you take another sip of your drink and stand to your feet, "Okay. I'm ready to continue."
Jamie follows as you two continue to walk around the green. He points over in one direction, "Right there is the Richmond Palace. The Tudors lived there and some shit. Over there is the Richmond Theater. They do plays and stuff there."
You snort at Jamie's explanations, "Some tour guide you are! You're not going to give me a brief history on the town or these historic landmarks?" you give him a playful smirk.
He chuckles, "I'm sorry I didn't do me homework before offerin' you a tour. Here," he pulls out his phone, quickly typing something and clearing his throat, "Richmond was founded following King Henry VII's building in the 16th century of Richmond Palace. The town and palace became particularly associated with Queen Elizabeth I , who spent her last days there," he lowers his phone down, smirking at you, "Better?"
You giggle, "You're funny. Are all of Isaac's teammates like you?"
"Nah. I'm the best outta all of them. I'm the funniest, best lookin'-"
"Most humble," you add with jest.
Jamie's smiling at you. He enjoys your company. He feels at ease around you and he's only spent maybe an hour in your presence. He likes this little back and forth you and he seem to be doing. It's nice. It's fun. Maybe-
A ringing comes from your bag and you swiftly pull your phone out, answering, "Good morning, sleepy head...I woke up early and thought I'd grab a coffee," you roll your eyes, "Don't be dramatic, Isaac, I'm an adult. I can handle myself...I'm not alone. Jamie." you sigh, "Yes, Jamie Tartt. Hold on," you pull the phone away from you and hold it out to Jamie, "He wants confirmation I'm really with you?"
Jamie takes the phone and presses it to his ear, "Yeah, what's good, man?"
"You better keep her safe, bruv. If anything happens to her-"
"Oi! Chill man! We're just walking around the fuckin' park."
"I'm serious, Jamie."
"We'll be fine. She's a grown adult, man. Let her be," he hands the phone back to you.
"If you're going to be like this my entire visit, I'm getting a hotel, Isaac...yes, I'm serious! ...again, I can handle myself. I'll see you soon. Bye!" you immediately end the call and take a long sip from your coffee.
"I get he loves you and all, but Jesus. I can practically see that vein in his head ready to pop out."
You burst out laughing, "I know exactly what you're talking about! Also the way he frowns when he's all serious. Like," you do your best impression of Isaac frowning and Jamie laughs, "That's pretty good."
"Thanks," you reply with a smile, "I'm sorry about Isaac, by the way. Like I said, he's like my big brother and he sometimes takes the role too seriously. But he means well."
"I know. He's a good guy."
Another hour goes by of you and Jamie chatting, him occasionally pointing out some other Richmond landmarks. It was a very pleasant morning spent. He walked you all the way back to Isaac's.
"Thank you, Jamie. This morning was fun."
"I'm glad. Sorry again for crashin' into ya like that."
You shrug, "It's okay. It led to a fun little adventure with you."
Jamie slowly backs away from you, "See ya around."
"See ya!" you wave as he's lightly jogging down the street. You continue to watch him as he fades from view. There's a little fluttering in your chest and you feel a bit giddy.
You open the door to Isaac's and you yelp in surprise as he's standing there, arms over his chest, looking very stern.
"Uh, hi?"
"Did Jamie try anything?"
"What? No! He just gave me a tour of the town!"
"So he didn't try to kiss you or nothin'?"
You roll your eyes, "Nothing happened, Isaac. And if something did, it's none of your business! Besides, I thought you said Jamie is a better person now."
"Doesn't mean he can date you."
"Whatever," you pass him and head to the kitchen to make yourself a snack.
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gratitude
simon “ghost” riley x female reader
you’re always the one thanking ghost, and though he likes to tease you for it, he thinks it’s about time he starts showing you his own gratitude.
content: suggestive themes, slight violence, ghost is tsundere but really cares about reader!
notes: sorry guys i had to post this for a second time since there was a bug before!! i unfortunately cant put a read more option so…🥲 anyway. no smut this time!! but in the next fic (soap), u can count on it!!
“Heads up, soldier.”
You wince just in time to narrowly miss an item to the face, hand reacting- clasping- and promptly dropping whatever the hell he threw your way.
Glancing up with an attempt at a glare (but your lips are curling and you can’t ever really be mad at him), your gaze meets your Lieutenant’s, inscrutable as always, brown eyes glinting beneath his mask.
“Brilliant catch, Y/n.”
“Oh, c’mon!!” You whine, fighting back a big grin as you finger for the object (some sort of food, you surmise without looking) fallen in your lap. And you stand, then, striding casually over to Ghost. “Your aim isn’t so good outside of snipers and pistols- don’t blame it on me!”
You’ve got the feeling his brow is quirked beneath the skull extension. That he’s battling a smile of his own and, when you nab him playfully against his shoulder- flashing him that cute little scrunched nose of yours- he nearly loses.
“That so?” He’s not convinced. You huff, “yeah! Ought to put you back in selection, I think!”
He hums, low and brief at that. And you can tell there’s some jest there, can vaguely recognize the humor he’s trying to convey, but it comes out clipped and sort of weird, like he’s not so sure how to do it the right way.
“I think,” he starts, in that thick Manchester accent, idly adjusting the big gun strapped to his chest, “I was aimin’ for your head, and hit right on target.”
Once it clicks, you huff and spin away. “Oh, you jerk.”
And on your way out of the wrecked, dusty room- “Didn’t even check it, did ya?”
Looking down, deciding to bite your tongue- partly out of obedience but mainly out of curiosity, you pause in your tracks.
Clutched in your fingers is a bar of Hershey’s.
“Oh,” you breathe. If you’re blushing, you do (hopefully) good not to show it, blinking away the delicate warmth of your cheeks as you sniff and belatedly turn around to face your statuesque Lieutenant. Owlish, you are.
The two words are simple enough, but they somehow get stuck in your gums regardless and the faint awkwardness of Ghost’s stance doesn’t go unnoticed either. He’s stiff and heavy and big but the sun leaking in through the busted windows coats him in a sort of tenderness. Makes him sunnier than he really is, paints all his red in yellow, washes his death away in a river of gold.
You smile good. “Thank you.”
He grunts in acknowledgment, giving you a frank nod before he clears his throat and lets his shoulders slump some. “No trouble. Found it in a pile of dust. Thought you might like it.”
You huff for the umpteenth time. Still, can’t snuff out the little grin that pulls up your cheeks, so you turn away and shake your head. “C’mon, Simon, just say you’re welcome or somethin’… Ain’t that hard.”
There’s a beat of silence before you walk to the door, but you pause once more. Feel like you should, like something was holding you back there- some unseen force gripping you in place like a vice.
“I… won’t get poisoned if I eat this?”
He makes a halfhearted sort of scoff. “Hope not.”
“Ghost!”
“Nah,” he finally answers.
The fun’s over, the flesh of the joke was dragged on for as long as it could be. And the dust settles over the room again, on his shoulders and the muzzle of his glinting gun. His brown eyes flicker down to it as he talks to you, figures he ought to stare at something other than you like he has been for the entirety of five minutes.
“You like sweet things, don’t ya? Eat up, then, we’ve got a ways to go before home.”
You don’t have to say anything. It’s not a necessity and- of all people in the world- Ghost wouldn’t take offense if you left wordless.
“…Thank you,” you say anyway. Tender, more soft than the previous time, but you can’t find it in you to look him in the eye right now for some odd reason.
“Already said that, pet.”
“W-Well, I said it again.”
“That ya did.”
Then, after a heavy stretch of spoiling silence, you do leave.
♡
He’s not very good at controlling his temper, even after all the management.
If that wasn’t obvious before, it’s being made abundantly clear now, Ghost a towering fortress as he stands between you and the enemy who managed to weasel in through the back.
You’re not so sure what the guy’s saying, mostly due to the ringing in your ears, the shock of it all- but the fact that he’s speaking another language certainly doesn’t help your case.
Squirming on the floor in a puddle of his blood, the man chokes back a cry as Ghost lowers himself to one knee beside him.
Slow. Calculated. Ghost knows what will happen, and he has no qualms about it.
“¡Solo déjame ir, vamos, estaba siguiendo órdenes! Malditos pedidos! ¡Solo déjame! No diré una palabra…”
You don’t know what he’s saying—
“D-Déjame ser.”
But Lieutenant’s brushed up on his Spanish.
From your spot behind Simon, half curled up in a ball with your pistol lying a few feet away on the tile, you watch something glint in the moonlight.
“lo haré.”
A blade, your brain quickly supplies, but before you can think much of it- there’s a sickening stab, sharp meeting something spongey- a hushed scream (lost in Simon’s gloved hand)- and a dying gurgle.
Simon intakes a shaky breath. Slowly shifts, drawing his knife to his pocket, tosses a calm glance over his shoulder at you.
Stands to his feet and, for a blistering, ever fleeting moment, you feel vaguely afraid of the hulking man standing over you.
“Tell me you’re alright,” is all he says, though, extending a hand- his clean one- out to you.
You exhale, breath almost as shaky as his. And you take it.
“I’m alright.” You whisper.
♡
He’s… softer later.
After you’ve showered and your hair smells of honey and something else sweet, a fluffy towel wrapped around your nakedness as you emerge from the bathroom.
Propped against the wall opposite the door, clad in civvies, Ghost’s brown eyes meet yours- faintly tired- and go blank.
Realization kicks in, for the both of you.
“Bloody hell,” he sort of snaps, “forgot your clothes, have you?”
“I’m sorry,” you blurt improperly, smaller hands scrabbling to secure your towel as you take a timid step back, shrinking halfway behind the shower room’s door. He doesn’t really face you as he says,
“No need… S’pose I don’t quite belong here anyway, do I?” It’s not rhetorical; with a mad blush to your cheeks (that you cannot blink away this time), you hear him clear his throat.
“I wanted to…”
He’s chewing on the words he has to say. But it’s hard to say. Awkward, too- and the situation is already uncomfortable enough, he can tell he caught you well off guard- if your skittering stance and darting eyes were the least bit credible.
(To his defense, he thought you’d be fully clothed- at the very least in a tanktop or sweats- and prepared. And to yours- you thought most if not all of your fellow soldiers would be in a deep sleep by now, if the clock that read three am was still working, and you forgot your nightwear anyway.)
So he just chews and chews and chews.
“Earlier,” but he does find his way again, albeit somewhat uneasy. “That bastard got you good,” he says gruffly, dark eyes meeting yours for a moment across you. Anger spikes in him at the recent memory. “…Your ankle feel alright?”
“Oh,” you breathe, throwing a thoughtful glance down to the gnarly, blossoming bruise peeking out from the short towel. Managing a sheepish, somewhat tired smile his way, you nod.
“Mm, I’m alright. I told you, ‘member?”
And that little, charming grin that burrows somewhere deep within his chest.
“I do,” he eventually confirms.
Beads of water run down your shoulders- he catches one slipping down your chest, between the valley of those gorgeous breasts before disappearing under the damn towel. And your hair is wet, stray strands plastered to your forehead, curls sticking at your cheekbones, you look something of an angel, all doe-eyed and vaguely embarrassed, trying hard to keep it all in check. Your cheeks are a healthy flush from the cold water.
You glow like a sweetheart and Ghost, he- He stands as still as a dead thing in the awful fluorescence of the hall.
The better part of his rationality strikes him next.
He quickly turns away, adjusting his balaclava before tucking his hands in his pockets, and he won’t let you glimpse his face as he points a foot in the direction of where he presumedly came from.
“Well, glad to hear, Sergeant. Could afford to lie better, though.”
You huff fondly, nibbling on the insides of your cheeks. “What,” you say, just before he can force out his parting words and leave you. “You came to help me or somethin’?”
He’s quiet for one long second.
“…You gonna tell me no?”
You smile, all sheepish, but partly entertained. “No.”
You want to believe it’s a stubborn grin curling under his mask when he glances over to you once more, because his eyes seem to glint pleasantly and the breath he takes in isn’t so controlled.
“You get dressed then, yeah? Put on somethin’; come once you’re ready.” He tells you, voice a fond rumble in the odd flicker or two of the fluorescence overhead.
“O-Okay,” you agree rather quickly, inching out some from the doorway, steam rising from behind you like a tidal wave as you timidly add, “I-It’s late though-? Don’t you wanna sleep?”
Searching for any reason why he can’t take you, why harboring you in his bunkroom may be a bad idea, why he may regret it.
Not that you’re planning on anything devious- like childishly knocking him in the shoulder or reaching for his mask, or ripping the sheets from his bed, even- just that you’d hate to fuck up around your strong Lieutenant, and you know his grouchiness is often heightened when he’s low on rest.
“Can you sleep?” He counters back.
You inaudibly clear your throat, fingers gently fiddling with the hem of your towel and Simon watches it all cautiously as you belatedly meet his eye. “I’ll change.”
Your nod is returned, and he shortly leaves. “You do that.”
The whole way back to the room you’d been assigned to, you limp.
♡
You come back to him in a snug tanktop and striped pajama pants that graciously hide the ugly bruises just at the bone of your ankle.
One knock, two knock—
Except, the door’s opening before your knuckles can meet it for a third time.
He performs a quick once-over of you, skimming over the casual nightwear— he hopes not lingering at your breasts (though it’s like they’re gawking at him, and it’s not often he sees you in these sort of clothes)- and huffing lowly.
“In,” is his simple invitation. And just like his hand earlier at El Asilo, you take it.
The room-situation here is temporary— it always is— and though the lot of you haven’t stayed here for over a week, you think the small space even smells of him. Something faintly woodsy, shampoo and residual gunpowder clinging to his hair beneath the balaclava.
“I like it,” you say after spinning around every which way, looking at the wonderful blank walls to the right, and the lonely cot to the left, and the lack of color and decoration to the cookie-cutter room.
He makes a half-amused huff at that. “That right? It’s just like yours, I’m sure… Nothin’ brilliant behind the door?”
You nod, somewhat sleepy, before approaching the mattress a couple feet off the floor, pushed to the wall.
“Nothin’ brilliant,” you parrot- “S’it okay if I sit?”
His eyes, ever inscrutable beneath that damn mask, skim over you, and maybe it’s just the exhaustion but you find an odd twinkle in them- like Simon’s really seeing something in you, unconsciously filtering out the badder parts, looking at you in this dazzling sort of light.
You are awash in a gentle jest and the spirals of your hair still glow from the shower, your cheeks carved by a soft smile- which he then realizes is quite timid. You’re tense.
This is your Lieutenant’s room, and if anyone sees you in it with him at this ungodly hour, they may get the wrong idea…
But Simon doesn’t want either of you walking on eggshells. So, with a half-assed jerk of his chin towards his bed, he says, striding forward,
“Have at it, I’ll get your leg operating again, no worries.”
“It is operating,” you counter harmlessly, belatedly settling back onto his sheets. He snatches a kit from the top of his dresser and meets you again, dropping to a kneel before you.
It’s silent for a while as he opens it up, though not a bad silence, by any means, before his dark, inscrutable eyes flicker up to yours. “…I’ll just wrap it for ya,” he starts almost timidly, before giving his throat a good clear. “Be good as new before y’know it.”
You smile down at him, teeth peeking through your lips like glittering pearls for a moment before your shyness takes over and you blink away. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“You say that a lot,” he mutters.
“Say it ‘cause I mean it,” you counter pleasantly.
He huffs at that, plucking out a roll of gauze before unraveling some in his hands, positioning it up to your ankle. He almost cringes at the bruise there, the idea of you walking with so much pain, but merely responds with,
“Well,… gratitude looks good on ya, pet.”
You’re blushing to your ears. “T-Thanks. You too…”
Simon glances at the flustered expression you wear, your incoherent words that made no proper sense, and fully realizes what he just said, quickly refocusing his attention back on your ankle.
Feels his heart palpitate… Tries to recount if he had any caffeine earlier. (And he didn’t. A good part of him already knew that.)
Your eyes are trained to the ceiling like a silent martyr as Ghost’s hands, big and callous, gently hold your ankle up, decorating the dark galaxy there with white bandage.
“Like a champ,” he compliments your endurance, and yes, your chest does tighten.
…He ties the bandage off after a bit, slowly trailing his gaze up to yours.
“There… All done,” he says.
But the words take their time to exit his throat, because he distinctly realizes the job has been done, and you’ll be leaving him soon. And then he’ll close his door, lock it for good measure, and pretend to be asleep for an hour rather than thinking about you, and the way your name sounds, and how gorgeous you are all hidden away in his heart.
You smile again, lips parting sheepishly—
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
You pause. Your cheeks are burning up a fever but the longer you fidget, the more you feel inclined to spit something out. So you do.
“Sweetheart?” You mimic, “…Guess I’m not so low on Simon Riley’s list of good things?”
He scoffs. There’s a hint of a grin curling beneath his mask but you’d never know. It’s supposed to be that way. Why he wears it. Now, he’s wondering what you’d say should he take it off and show you.
He shrugs halfheartedly. “Eh. Could rank better.” He jokes, and he knows you have to stay for a bit longer now- if only to try and get the last word in, to defend your dignity— no, your relationship with Ghost.
And he’s right.
“Simon, you jerk!” You beam, fighting off a mad grin and losing awfully, hands trying desperately to wipe it away. He’s glad they can’t, still at his knees before you, those dark eyes drinking every glowing part of you in.
“You’re so mean to me sometimes,” you murmur, and he just hums all casual like the bastard he is, tucking the gauze back away.
“Maybe you deserve it, a bit more common sense couldn’t hurt ya, yeah?”
You quirk a brow at that, tilting your head like a confused puppy. You couldn’t help but notice the strange undercurrent there, even though you knew he was only teasing.
“Is that some fancy british way of calling me stupid?”
His jaw shifts from beneath the balaclava, his eyes softening some. “No, pet,” he pats your thigh, then, before rising to his feet, growing like a shadow over you.
“It’s my way of saying I bloody hope you don’t waltz into just any man’s room at night… Is danger a foreign concept to ya?”
He’s still joking- his back facing you as he goes to return the kit- you know that, but—
Your smile falters ever so slightly. “You’re not a foreign concept to me,” your cheeks are still hot and they feel rosy. “You’re my….”
This makes him turn around, deep-chestnut hues surveying you closely, yet distantly too, like he’s ready to run at any given moment. It frightens you.
“Go on…”
Like he’s ready to harden over again.
Your cheeks puff with a cheery little smile. And you stand, though rather uncoordinatedly, from the bed.
The mattress groaning beneath you, you sweep a hand up through the air to point a confident finger at his chest.
“You’re my favorite Lieutenant. My Simon Riley.”
He turns to you fully, then. His body a stoic wall of something you could never read, and his eyes betray nothing as they flicker and spark against yours. He strides forward, all the way forward, ‘til the hard muscle of his chest beneath his shirt digs into the pad of the finger you point.
For a split second, you think you’ve wronged him.
Simon just reaches up, though, taking your jittery hand in his, lowering it down between you. And he presses himself closer, his hot breath puffing past his mask and warming the tip of your nose as he says,
“That’s right, doll… All yours.”
And when you hesitantly go to inch the lower half of his balaclava up, that harmless curiosity winning out as your eyes drop to his mouth, you find a subtle grin there.
Simon leans in even more, every shaking breath he takes mingling with yours as he dips his head in, whispering, in that gruff rumble that has your tummy spiraling,
“Long as you’re all mine.”
His lips touch with yours, slowly crashing- a controlled, yet frenetic dance of your mouth against his, slightly inexperienced, though the passion there triumphs. His hands are at your hips before you know it, feeling you up, getting to know you in the way he’s wanted to for months now, but never had the proper balls to.
It’s mostly soft at first, gentle, eager pecks and suckles at your mouth— but when your breasts smack flush against his chest and he groans, earning a delicious little whine from you, all of Simon’s rationality flies out the window.
“Oi, the hell’re you tryin’ to do to me?”
He grunts when you finally pull away for air, panting, the both of you a dazzling mess of blushy cheeks and budding, uncertain arousal. His fingers draw up your face, savoring the warmth he finds there before they press into the curls of your hair and you watch his eyes like a hawk.
Calculative. Slow… Thoughtful, so broken in by war and bloodshed and bad memories.
Your doe eyes… They drag him in like a winter night’s tide and he can’t find it in himself to resurface.
“Fuckin’ hell…”
He leans in once more- harboring a whole new initiative, it seems- and captures your lips in his. All his darkness seeps into you like watercolor on a page, a million tiny fireworks going off in your belly as your knees buckle, and he holds onto you like you’re his lifeline.
His single thing worth a damn.
“Open,” he barely demands, chest rumbling against yours, every vibration giving you butterflies. “Give me some tongue, won’t you?”
You obey, belatedly parting your lips, his tongue meeting with yours, his palm pushing the back of your head in closer as he groans into the kiss.
“Atta girl.” He breathes, his eyes, rimmed by the black fabric, pinched shut as he backs away for oxygen, brows furrowed tight as his enamored hues then sweep over you.
“Let me show you my gratitude, pet, yeah?”
#call of duty#cod x reader#ghost x reader#ghost#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#simon riley#simon ghost riley
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dirk <3< reader dirk <3< reader dirk <3< reader PLEASE
sure thing!! <3 sorry if this wasn't exactly what you wanted, but i had a lot of fun writing this!!
DIRK STRIDER X READER (PITCH) HEADCANONS
(*´∇`)┌θ☆(ﾉ>_<)ﾉ
alright, let's be clear. dirk strider does *not* hate many things. he dislikes things, of course. he dislikes a lot of things.
but hate? hating things is too emotionally vulnerable for his tastes.
oh, but you?
he can make some exceptions for you.
you are a special, particular kind of pain in his ass.
there's two very different reasons why (i think) dirk would hate someone.
either they, as a person are in entirely direct conflict with him and get on his nerves in a major way - or, they're way too similar to him, and dirk does not like getting a mirror to his own behavior.
so more than likely, you'd fit into one of those two categories. i don't know you, though.
but regardless of what it is, you probably wouldn't have known for a while.
he didn't treat you.. differently? per say?
he was cold and cryptic and strange to everyone.
but with you, it seemed different. everyone told you it was just in your head. that dirk didn't have a problem with you, he was just like that.
but it was not.
dirk took so much pleasure in confusing you, getting one over on you. playing his little mind games.
granted, he is just kind of like that, but it's different. it was a lot more targeted, pointed - it wasn't purely in jest.
but, more importantly, it wasn't onesided.
you were not just a passive actor in this, oh no.
whatever you did, it was equally targeted to get on his nerves as much as possible.
there came a point where both of you, just for the sake of your fucked up little game, knew more about each other than even your mutual best friends did.
you'd torment each other with things, but you'd never bring anyone else into it or tell anyone things only the two of you knew. there was something of a code of honor. a trust fall system.
despite how much you disliked each other, you'd never actually do tangible harm to each other.
you just engaged in a prolonged battle of psychological warfare over your chat client.
eventually, it gets.. bizarrely flirtatious. not in a traditional way, no, but in a way that was still undeniably flirting.
you still hated him. he still hated you.
it continued regardless.
you two never.. officially got into a pitch relationship.
you're both human, after all. how would you know?
however, eventually, you were informed that your relationship with dirk sounded a whole hell of a lot like blackrom.
so, of course, you approach him about it.
neither of you know *enough* about quadrants to really call it.
but all the trolls have just been assuming it anyways, so you just shrug. by now, it's calling it what it is.
you and dirk have the mutual respect necessary for blackrom. and the mutual attraction.
needless to say, you have the "hate" aspect down.
alright, miscellaneous hc time.
he'll offer to teach you how to swordfight. he might only have done it so he could rock your shit, but he'll always patch you up after. and that little smile he gives when you first managed to get him back was pretty genuine.
just enjoys teaching you how to do his stuff in general. he'll tease you about sucking at it, but he'll actually be happy when you make progress. curse his tiny soft spot.
shows up in your house/wherever you live at random. also likes sneaking up on you whenever he sees you. the more you hate it, the more he'll do it.
he'll claim that you're more attracted to him than he is you - but that's a total lie. he's a little pathetic sometimes.
gets very flustered when you're better at him than something. anything. literally anything at all. why, exactly.. good luck getting that out of him.
actually gets genuinely upset if he goes too far with you in any way. it'll mess with him a lot, and he'll apologize profusely.
he cares about you, despite how annoying you are. despite how much he hates you, despite all of it. he cares about you a lot. and, in his own weird way, loves you.
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The Duke…
A/N: NOT ME JUST MEETING THIS FUCKER TODAY AND WRITING THIS! BARK BARK BARK! 😮💨
WARNINGS: rough sex, slapping, harsh language, handcuffs
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
(its just barely proofread, wrote it quick 💀)
———————————————
Wriot, please!” you exclaimed as your lover continued his brutal pace behind you. He chuckled and bent down, his hot breath on your ear, “Please what?” he gave you a small nip on the shell of your ear, the action causing you to wince slightly. He continued to thrust into you, not once breaking his concentration on pleasing you while you visited him from the surface.
You didn’t think a simple visit delivering papers from the chief justice would turn into this, but the second he saw you in your uniform, your cleavage exposed to him as you bent down to hand him the papers, he began to stiffen in his pants. He simply leant back in his chair, playfully twirling his handcuffs on his index finger, “How much time do you have, love?” And now your hands were bound with those same metal cuffs, behind your back so he could use your arms to pump into you that much deeper. “Fuck!” you yelped, this time your legs shaking under him as your peak neared. He sucked his teeth, slowing down as he felt your walls clench down on him, “I asked you already,” he growled, his large hand coming to slap your ass since you decided in that moment to disobey him.
Your peak was rounding the corner, you knew you didnt have much time before you had to get back to the court so you obliged him, just this time, to spare the lecture from Neuvilette if you returned late. The saliva that pooled by your mouth where your head lay stuck to your cheek in a long string as you lifted your head and turned to face him, “Please, Duke Wriothesley, make me cum,” spilled from your lips and he came in to kiss you. His tongue licking at your lips and cheek as he fucked you harder, the skin slapping sounds echoed through the room along with your whines. “Thats it, love, cum for me.” he whispered with a snarl as he felt you clamp down and let out a back arching scream.
“Wriothesley!” you exclaimed out, not caring for a second who could hear with the way he continued his thrusts until he too came. He grunted and grabbed onto the flesh of your ass, “Archons,” he huffed and heaved his chest with heavy breaths as his seed shot into you, “you’re so good for me Y/n.” You panted hard, turning towards him as he finally pulled out, tucking himself back into his pants. He came over to undo the cuffs, pocketing them and rubbing your wrists to soothe them. He watched you as you wiped at the mess on your face, “Maybe if you spent more time on the surface, you wouldnt be so desperate to fuck me every time you see me Wriot.” you teased while fixing your uniform and then moving closer to him, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. He held you close, “Now wheres the fun in that?” he said in jest and gave you a gentle kiss right back. “Off with you now, before the chief justice gets his briches in a twist.” he dismissed you with a hard slap to your ass. You yelped at the contact and watched him as he sat back down and got to looking at those papers.
“I’ll remember that for next time Wriot, mark my words.” you said as you walked towards the door, turning back to him when you heard him clear his throat loudly, “I love you.” he said sweetly, his eyes looking at you with all the love in the world. The words caused your stomach to flutter and a wide smile to spread across your face, “I love you too, Duke Wriothesley.” you confessed and headed out, making your way back to work.
A/N: leave me the fuck alone 😭 idc if i just met him, i love him okay??
#genshin impact#genshin impact smut#genshin x reader#wriothesley#wriothesley x reader#genshin wriothesley#bark mf bark
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eddie munson x popular!hyperfem!reader where he works at Scoops Ahoy with Robin and Steve. he hates it there, mainly because of the ‘god-awful outfits’ (his words), but he needs extra money on the side and the movie theater wasn’t hiring, so here he is.. (he refuses to wear the hats though--but his hair is loosely tied back so he gets away with it (which steve is jealous of because for some reason he still has to wear them (probs because eddie sold the manager weed for free as long as he didn’t need to wear those dumb hats)).
so, he’s just scooping icecream to little brats, his ringed fingers tired from mainly erica demanding to try more flavors for the past hour before she decides to leave without buying anything.
but, when he sees you come in, he forgets anything. ‘m thinking of that one scene with rachel mcadams in the move ‘the hot chick’ (iykyk) (you’ll understand maybe later hehe)..
your hips sway as eddie swallows thickly, his grip on the icecream scooper making an indent on his palm..god, why did he have to work there?! he’s wearing possibly the most dorky thing known to man-kind, and here you come, your posse and all; short skirts, heels, and lipgloss galore. eddie’s been obsessed with you since middle school, and you know that (you take advantage of it alot (and you admit that he is cute (even with that uniform on))
the girls behind you giggle as they see him, steve hiding in the backroom with robin because they are quite literally terrified (and embarrassed to be seen by such a popular group) of you.
though, your eyes set sweetly on eddie as you smile warmly.
“h-hi,” he stammers, his voice cracks a little and he just curses himself in his head for sounding like a fuckin dork.
you giggle, “hi,” you twirl your hair, “i didn’t know you worked here..”
eddie chuckles nervously, “e-yeah, gotta earn money somehow..”
you smile, knowing what he does on the side, but choose not to comment on it anyway.
“right, well, can i get a strawberry milkshake, please? small. annn’...that’s all!” you bite your bottom lip, bouncing a little on your heeled feet.
eddie clears his throat, “y-yeah, sure.” and you smile, turning back around to talk to your friends.
he turns to face the blender, beginning to make your drink, muttering a small, “fuck,” his eyes clenched shut as he cringes at his lack of game. you chatter away with your friends, most of them fawning over you (because...who wouldn’t?). but you just thank them kindly, or respond with a nice compliment to them back.
that’s what eddie liked about you. you were kinda mean..fiesty-- but never have you made fun of someone that didn’t deserve it. you were nice. nice to his friends in Hellfire, but most importantly, you were nice to him.
once your milkshake is done, he rings the bell on the counter with jest, his arm extended out in front of him. you turn around, and he swears he feels like he’s gonna pass out by the smell of your shampoo that makes him weak. how do you smell so fucking good?
you giggle, biting your bottom lip before you drag your tongue across the whipped cream, humming exaggeratedly at the test.
yeah, he’s definitely gonna pass out. he smiles, a breathy laugh falling from his lips as his eyes watch your glossy lips move.
“so,” you say slowly, “uhm, how much do i owe you?”
your eyes wide, a small flirtatious smile settling on your lips--and immediately, eddie can’t think properly.
“d-don’t worry about it,” he stutters out, and you tilt your head like a small puppy. “’s on the house.”
you smile wide and gasp softly. “really?” your voice is high, and--so so nice.
eddie nods quickly, his eyes flipping from your lips to your eyes.
“thanks!” you say, and your friends laugh girlishly, squealing.
you give him a little wriggle of your fingers as he watches you walk away, his hand waving back slightly.
he’s sick with love until he hears Robin clear her throat behind the break room’s counter.
“shit.” eddie mumbles, turning around to face the smiling girl.
“yeah, ‘shit’, is right; your game sucks, dude.”
“also, you gonna be the one to cover for her order? because, neither of us are gonna be doing that for you, buddy.” steve speaks behind robin, hands on his hips as a shit-eating grin creeps up on his face.
“don’t worry ‘bout it,” eddie grits out, annoyed. “i’ll pay for it,, i got it.”
“good, because i’m not covering for you, man..”
“ah, don’t worry steve, eddie’s gonna be covering two things: y/n’s drink order and the front of his pants..”
eddie quickly looks down, his eyebrows furrowed as he realizes that he has a fucking semi..
jesus, fu--
“sooo.. do you needa take a small bathroom break to fix your..situation?” she smile smugly, gesturing her hand to eddie’s crotch-area. steve’s laugh is boisterous from behind her at the white board.
“fuck, fuck, fuck! i hate you guys, this is all your fault--fuck!” eddie’s hands immediately cover himself, as he pushes the door open to the break room, flipping both robin and steve off when they laugh, as he tries to find the nearest bathroom to fix his...issue.
“God, i love working here..” robin sighs, wiping tears from her eyes. steve nods in agreement, and the pair burst out laughing again.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x bimbo!reader#eddie munson x popular!reader#eddie munson x cheerleader!reader#obsessed!eddie munson#perv!eddie#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x reader fluff
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First meeting...
A Shadow x reader fic
I may actually make this a series- let me know if you want it to be !! But for now, a little oneshot.
"What is so bad about him ?" You ask the blue hedgehog in front of you. "First of all he's a faker. Have you seen him ? He's totally trying to copy me ! And second he's a huge part pooper, I bet he's never had fun in his life, hah !" Sonic joked. You had went out in the forest earlier today and saw a cave, you nearly went in before Sonic had stopped you "I can take care of myself, Sonic !" "Oh yeah ? How about that time Egghead captured you ?" Jested the azure hedgehog. "That was once. Plus, you're no better yourself ! You're literally a danger magnet." "Well," Sonic chuckles "Danger is my middle name" You rolled your eyes and chortled. "Alright, alright, I gotta go, Y/n, I promised Knux I'd watch the Master Emerald while he goes out with Rouge. See ya !" And he raced off, leaving a trail of dust behind him.
You really wondered about what was in that cave. But Sonic said it was no good because of that Shadow. But then again, what harm could he really do ? You fixed up your fur/hair, and set off into the forest. God, you thought it was earlier. You looked at your watch. Oh, right it's winter. It's only 6:57. You walked through the night, looking at the stars. You didn't know much about them, but hell where they beautiful. You looked Infront of you to find yourself infront of the vast cave from earlier, a light accompanied with some crackling inside. Let's just hope he's in a good mood. You thought as you took the first step into the cave. Wind rushed outside as the rain began and thunder clapped. You jumped in surprise. You slowly walked down, getting closer to the light. You tried your best not to make a sound. Maybe this was a bad idea ? No ! It's just Shadow. He couldn't be any stronger than Sonic. You finally face the fire. You look around... Nothing. Maybe Sonic was wrong ? Maybe he lived in a different cave !a Great. You hate rain, you couldn't leave now. You turn around to sit, but you're met with a face inches from yours.
You yelp and stumble back. You look him up and down. His coat is a jet black, with red streaks running through his quills. On top of his chest is a white puff of fur. His hands are gloved, with gold cuffs. Finally, his eyes. They're crimson and seem to be studying you, finally he speaks "Who are you, and what are you doing here ?" His voice is deep, smooth, and firm. You could only assume this was Shadow. Shadow The Hedgehog. You shook at the break of the silence. You didn't know what to say. It'd be weird if you said you where here for him. You didn't answer. "I asked you, who are you, and what are you doing here ?" He spoke louder, firmer. Shadow was mad that his personal space was invaded, worse, is that it's someone he didn't know. "I-" You cleared your throat to help you sound confident. "I am Y/n L/n. I came for..." You paused. What do you say ? You're train of thought was cut off by the jet black hedgehog infront of you. "Well ? Answer or get out." He demanded. You looked towards the cave entrance, immediately reminded of the thunderstorm. "You're not gonna let me go out in a lighting storm, right ?" You nervously laughed. Shadow looked at you, and then the cave entrance and thought for a moment. "Fine." You mentally cheered. You turned around to see the fire behind you, along with a red sleeping bag. That's all there was in this cave. You almost felt sorry for the hedgehog. But, then again, living like this was his choice.
You sat down on the ground, the fire's warmth welcoming you. Shadow studied you some more They didn't tell me why they are here. Why ? And why would they be in this part of Green Hills in the first place ? He thought. You saw Shadow ruthlessly staring you down. It intimidated you almost. "Shadow ?" Shadow fumbled at the break of silence. "How do you know my name ?" Oh shit. How where you supposed to tell him ? Ugh, screw it "I heard of you from one of my friends." "Who ?" "His name is Sonic, Sonic the hedgehog." Shadow groaned at the sound of the blue hedgehog's name. "Don't listen to a word he says, he's just a faker. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Shadow The Hedgehog, otherwise know as The Ultimate Life Form." He clenched his fist infront of him. You slightly cringed at the action. You yawned and looked at your watch, 10:28PM. "Woah, okay ! So, I'm going to go to sleep, alright, Shadow ?" He nodded with a hum. You laid down, using your hand as a pillow. You finally fell asleep.
Shadow looked at you, a smile intruding on his face. He stepped outside, and climbed up onto the roof. He sat down, water droplets wetting his quills. He looked at the moon, remembering his best friend, Maria. If she saw him now, what would she think of him ? Shadow let his feet hang off of the overhang as he laid in the memory of her. He smiled as he thought about the fun times they had on the ARK. How she'd teach him all about the stars, and how she was the first to suggest the streaks in his quills. Suddenly lightning clapped, making a sound too familiar to him. Those great memories he was once basking in became not so great. Shadow remembered leaving his friend, her dying. Tears rose in his eyes. He quickly climbed down the rocky cave and went inside.
The hedgehog went into a corner, slowly rocking himself back and forth, breathing heavily. He tried not to wake you, but failed in doing so. "Shadow..?" You awoke after only about 10 minutes of sleep. You heard quiet sobbing from the other side of the cave. You quickly got up, the tiredness leaving you, and went to comfort the near stranger. "Shadow ?? What's wrong ???" You questioned, but was met with nothing. Instead, you hugged him. Shadow's eyes widened. He couldn't remember the last time someone had hugged him like this. He didn't care that he didn't know you now. He sobbed into your shoulder "I miss her. So, so -hic- much" you rubbed his back. You had no idea who he was talking about, but consoled him anyways. Soon enough, he was asleep in your arms. The hedgehog had cried himself to sleep. You looked at him as he slept in your arms. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to leave him like this ? You stayed, and Shadow subconsciously held onto you like there was no tomorrow. And soon enough, you fell asleep to the sounds of the rain...
#sonic#sonic writes#x reader#sonic x reader#sonic the hedgehog#shadow#shadow x reader#oneshot#part one#angst#fluff
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