#free to view entertainment jobs
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I Hate You
Bucky Barnes x Female Reader One-Shot: SMUT
Request by @kateversca1011: "y/n has these weird mind powers where she can feel others feelings or make others feel hers...she accidentally during a very heated fun time projects everything she is feeling to Bucky, basically doubling his pleasure"
Summary: After ending up on SHIELD's radar, you're moved into the tower against your will. Of course, you can't stand the one man that you have the most in common with.
Warnings: profanity, teasing, one bed trope, unprotected sex, hate sex, dirty talking, praise, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 9.3k
A/N: I fucking LOVED this prompt yet I feel like my (4th) attempt at it is as horseshit as the other attempts. This may get another attempt one day. Thank you @kateversca1011 for the wonderful prompt inspo, I hope this entertains you at least a little bit.
You have the worst luck in the world. In fact, your luck is so bad that you might even be able to call it a curse. It was one of those unfortunate things that started early in your life and has carried on throughout the years, affecting seemingly everything that you do. You thought it came to a head when your hometown was obliterated twelve years ago, when your parents were killed as they lay asleep in their bed across the house that you grew up in. You thought that was the pinnacle of your misfortune. Then, you thought that maybe it was two days after that, when you were sure you were being rescued from the rubble you laid under, only to be taken away by soldiers with unmatchable strength and brutality and stripped of not only your rights, but your dignity. You were held captive for so long that you stopped attributing your dark times to bad luck and started to think this was how life was supposed to be. By the time they started experimenting on you, you didn’t even feel bad for yourself anymore. You simply accepted it as the next era of your life that you had no control over.
“Okay, we’re all done.” Shuri’s voice rings out through the speaker in the MRI machine. The flat surface that you’ve been lying on for the past forty-five minutes begins to slide out of the narrow tube it held you in, slowly exposing the rest of the room to your view. You take a deep breath in, stretching your arms out in front of you and wiggling your legs a little. Your lower half always falls asleep when you have these scans done.
Shuri watches you intently through the glass of the MRI observation window. She watches as the nurse helps you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the tabletop. She watches as you run a hand through your hair and offer the nurse a kind smile before moving to stand on the floor. She watches as your eyes narrow in the slightest and a look of surprise crosses your face. She knows what you just did. She knows that the moment the nurse was in your personal space, you had no control over the unusual chemistry of your brain. You invaded the nurse’s mind and picked up on the fact that she’s afraid of you.
“She’s not ready to go free yet, is she?” Fury asks tersely. He entered the observation room so silently that Shuri didn’t even notice him until he spoke. As the nurse leads you out of the MRI room and begins taking you back to the main area of the medical bay, Shuri turns in her chair to face Fury.
“She doesn’t have enough control over her abilities yet. I think she’s still psychologically stable, the program you put her through did its job, but there’s no guarantee that she’ll simply go out into the world and behave.” Shuri chooses her words carefully. She doesn’t think that you’re a threat in your current state, but should you ever desire to be, you could easily become one. Your powers rival those of Wanda Maximoff’s, except even less is known about the extent of yours thus far. You’re the equivalent of the Winter Soldier without anyone having used his activation words yet, a ticking time bomb.
That’s what leads to Shuri and Fury both addressing you in the medical bay moments later. You sit on an exam table picking at a loose thread in your frayed jeans as they approach you, trying your hardest not to read into their thoughts, their feelings. You’d like to experience what it’s like to be surprised by what comes out of someone’s mouth for once.
“That was your last fMRI for a while.” Shuri says happily, her smile looking truly genuine. You smile back, but continue picking at the thread, not wanting to make any prolonged eye contact. Eye contact always seems to make it easier to read people, and easier for your own thoughts and emotions to spill over into their consciousness if you’re not careful.
“I’m guessing there isn’t all good news though, right? Since you’re both here this time.” You ask knowingly, your gaze darting between the two who stand before you. Shuri gives Fury a sideways glance, as if she’s waiting for him to take the lead. His eye narrows at you, his forehead scrunching up above his eyepatch as he studies you.
“We can’t let you go out and live your life just yet. There are too many unknowns right now. I’m going to be putting you up in the Avengers tower.”
“But—” Fury holds up his hand to silence you, as if you’re a backtalking teenager.
“It’s not permanent. This is just until we can help you gain more control over your abilities. We can reassess after. When you’re finished here, I’ll have someone waiting outside to take you over to the other side of the compound and show you around.” Fury’s gone before his words have even fully sunk in.
“He’s a straight-to-the-point kind of guy, isn’t he? No bullshit with him.” You say quietly, shaking your head as you come to terms with everything he’s just said. You’ve been staying in what you can only call a high-end holding cell at the nearby SHIELD base since the day you appeared on their radar and they brought you in, very much against your will. Another bout of bad luck, you’d told yourself, as you were restrained with some sort of technologically advanced handcuffs and later forcibly put through multiple rigorous evaluations. After the evaluations came the decompression and psychological rehabilitation that they had originally designed to be used for victims of capture and torture, agents who were in too deep and didn’t have backup when the worst happened. After that, you started undergoing medical testing, constant scans and blood draws, on a weekly basis. Shuri was brought in because no one else could figure you out.
“It’s the eye patch, he has to be short and gruff with people to fit the look.” Shuri jokes. She stands closer to you than most people would, within arms’ reach. You offer a light laugh and she considers it a small victory. “I think you’ll find that living in the tower, around other people with unique abilities, might actually help you. You’ll get a really nice room too, probably nicer than just about anywhere else you’d find in the city.”
“A nice room that I never get to leave.” You point out. Shuri’s gaze softens and she looks you over. Most people wouldn’t look at you and see a bomb that hasn’t yet been detonated. Hell, you could probably weaponize that fact if you wanted to, the fact that you look normal, innocent even.
“You can leave your room, but I think it’s best if you don’t get too close with anyone, physically or emotionally. Give yourself some time to learn boundaries when it comes to your abilities first.” Shuri advises. She notices the way you take in her entire appearance as she speaks, but you avoid looking into her eyes. You’re trying to give her mind the privacy it deserves. You’re making an effort to stay out of her thoughts, and to keep from projecting your own onto her. She thinks that you’ll get the hang of the control thing soon enough, and Fury will either free you to go about your new life or he’ll make an attempt to recruit you as an asset. Only time will tell which direction you’ll go, but she finds herself hoping that this won’t be the last she sees of you.
---
Bucky’s heard about the girl who reads minds, the girl who can make others feel her pain, the girl who could take away someone’s mental anguish with just one shared look. He’s heard enough about that girl that he formed his own mental image of her. He pictures her as an evil cartoon witch, with long, dark fingernails that curl up at the ends and a characteristic black and purple outfit, maybe even flying around on a broom. When he heard that this cartoon witch would be moving into the empty room across the hall from his, he imagined cardboard boxes filled with crystal balls, spiders, and cobwebs being dropped off before the girl’s arrival.
Bucky didn’t think for a second that you’d show up so quietly and uneventfully, trying to draw as little attention to yourself as possible. He didn’t think you’d show up with nothing more than a small, government-issued duffel bag and a profound avoidance of eye contact. And he sure as hell didn’t think that you’d end up being so goddamn pretty. As you stood in the lobby of the tower with Maria Hill and two other SHIELD agents, Bucky was just getting back from a therapy session with Dr. Raynor. He saw you as you stood there with your duffel bag and blank stare aimed at a wall. He saw you as you made sure to board the elevator last, letting everyone else enter before you and then staying a few steps behind on your way in. You saw him as the doors began to slide shut. You caught one little glimpse of the man, dressed in dark jeans and a dark Henley tee. Unreasonably attractive. That was your first impression of him, as the doors closed and he disappeared from your sight.
An hour later, you’re sitting alone in your new room, carefully folding and putting away the few pieces of clothing you brought with you. Your wardrobe consists of a couple of pairs of jeans, a sweatshirt or two, and the same pair of sneakers you always wear. Or at least that’s what it consisted of until today. When you arrived to the room and finally had the chance to shut Maria and the other agents out and settle yourself in, you quickly realized that Tony Stark, or more his wife Pepper, had taken it upon their shoulders to have your closet filled with a wide range of pants, shorts, dresses, workout attire, and far too many shoes for someone with only two feet. You thought it was a mistake at first, that maybe you’d been given the wrong key to the wrong room. Until you saw a white envelope sitting on the nightstand beside the bed. It contained the only note you’d ever received from anyone, detailing how all of the items in the closet now belong to you, and were picked out by Pepper upon Tony’s request. As you stand in the closet now, running your fingers along the various fabrics and colors hanging in front of you, it feels as though every birthday that you missed out on celebrating after your parents’ deaths and your own capture are being celebrated in this moment.
---
Bucky sits in one of the briefing rooms with Sam and Torres, only half-listening to whatever they’re droning on about as he traces the golden crevices of his vibranium arm with his flesh index finger. He doesn’t chime in at all as the topic shifts from one of last week’s missions, to a piece of intel Torres intercepted yesterday, to the mission that could potentially be coming up at the end of this week. It isn’t until Torres brings up the girl that just moved in upstairs that Bucky’s flesh hand falters and his eyes flit up to take in the image that’s holographically displayed over the table in the center of the room.
“I gathered as much information on her as I could.” Torres says, as he begins flipping through a few different files on the display. He stops on one titled First Event. When he opens the electronic file, Bucky’s heart drops instantly at the words his brain sorts through and picks out. Terrorist attack. Intentional target. Orphaned. HYDRA. He swallows hard when the picture of your childhood home, completely reduced to smoking ash and rubble, appears before him. Another picture shows a small girl, seemingly around age eleven or twelve, covered in soot and dirt, with her hands bound in front of her as she’s being lifted and placed in the back of a truck. “She was taken by HYDRA operatives when she was 12. It was an operation with the sole aim of taking twenty children, disguising the entire thing as a brutal terrorist attack. The missing children were all presumed dead in the attacks, which was what HYDRA wanted. There was never an investigation for any of them.” A few pictures show a grimy prison-like holding cell, an operating room with different pieces of technology and equipment that definitely aren’t standard in normal medical facilities, and a few brain scans. “All of the twenty children underwent testing and experimentation. Some died within a couple of weeks, some within a couple of months. She was the only one to survive to be rescued. She lived in this underground HYDRA facility for at least ten years that we know of.”
“Ten years?” Sam asks incredulously, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “How did she end up on SHIELD’s radar?” Torres pauses his biography of the worst years of your life and opens up a different file on the display, one titled Second Event.
“Skipping the details of how she was rescued in the first place, she doesn’t have much control over her abilities. She tried to lay low, that much was obvious, but SHIELD has a program to seek people like her out, to keep an eye on them.” Torres explains. Bucky’s eyes are glued to an image of the girl he saw in the elevator only an hour ago. You’re at an outdoor farmer’s market, with a ballcap pulled low over your forehead and your gaze cast downward as you browse a fruit stand. The image is eerily similar to a moment of his own life that he remembers, buying plums at a Romanian market when he was trying to go unnoticed and live a quiet life on his own.
“So, she made a misstep somewhere along the way, becomes property of SHIELD, and then Fury sends her here.” Sam recaps, looking to Torres to make sure he’s got it all right.
“Pretty much, yeah. He doesn’t think it’s safe to let her be out in the real world on her own yet.”
“Not safe for her? Or not safe for everyone else?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow. Bucky turns his attention to Torres this time as well, curious about the answer.
“Both.”
A few more details are shared around the table as Torres flips back and forth between all of the available information that he has on you. Bucky, however, is deep in thought. He watches as new and old images flit back and forth on the screen, his mind digesting everything and piecing you together. You’re pretty, that’s for damn certain. You’re pretty and he can tell from your past, from your known abilities, that you’re likely good as hell at manipulating people. He imagines with your looks alone that you could get just about anyone to do just about anything for you. With your looks and your abilities? You could do more damage than most. You’re dangerous. Dangerous and unpredictable. And now you live across the hall from him.
Those two words repeat in Bucky’s head as he takes the stairs up to the main living floor later that same day. Dangerous and unpredictable. There are a few more words floating around in his head but he’s actively ignoring those. So goddamn pretty.
You really are pretty. You wouldn’t necessarily think so yourself, as you stand in front of the full-length mirror in your room, crossing your arms over your chest. FRIDAY’s voice rang out through a speaker somewhere in your room just a few minutes earlier, letting you know that dinner would be at six. Of course, FRIDAY didn’t offer you a dress code or even a very solid answer when you asked her what one should wear to such a dinner. The last time you had dinner with anyone, you were twelve and you were wearing a sparkly pink Barbie shirt. Though you could double check your closet for a shirt like that now, you have a feeling you won’t find one in your size. So, you remain in your distressed jeans and oversized gray SHIELD sweatshirt.
“Do you think she’ll show up?” Torres asks, mainly directing his question to Sam more than anyone else. Sam shrugs as he continues stirring the spaghetti sauce he’s been cooking on the stovetop.
“If she’s hungry she will.” He responds. Truthfully, he has no idea if you’ll come out of your room or not. If you don’t, he’ll take a bowl of food to your room at the very least, but he’d prefer it if you came out and interacted with everyone so he could at least get a feel for you. It was obvious by the way Bucky sat so narrow-eyed and steely in the briefing room earlier that he doesn’t like you, that he doesn’t trust you being in the tower. Sam hasn’t yet jumped to such a conclusion.
“What do we do if she does? If she shows up?” Torres almost sounds nervous. Sam chuckles before propping his wooden spoon on the edge of the saucepan and moving to wash his hands in the kitchen sink.
“We eat dinner.”
---
You don’t look like a scared, vulnerable twelve-year-old girl, and you most definitely don’t look like someone who has the power to manipulate thoughts or feelings. As you sit at the table, twirling spaghetti noodles around your fork, you’re trying your best to ignore the eyes on you. You feel a bit relieved that it’s not the entire group staring, no, it’s just that one unreasonably attractive man with the black and gold prosthetic arm. He stares. He stares as if it’s the only thing he knows how to do. Honestly, maybe it really is the only thing he knows how to do, because he sure as hell hasn’t participated in any of the table small talk this evening.
“So, you were just laying low before SHIELD found you?” Torres asks kindly, tearing apart a piece of garlic bread with his hands as he peers over at you. He’s seated immediately to your right and has been the most inquisitive thus far.
“Yeah, clearly I wasn’t very good at that though.” You respond lightheartedly, earning you a few small laughs around the table. You lift your fork to your mouth and take a small bite of pasta. It’s heavenly honestly. It’s so much better than the measly three meals that you’ve taught yourself how to cook.
“How do you feel about ending up here?” Torres is a curious one, you’re quickly learning.
“I’m not over the moon about it but the food is better than what I was cooking for myself so, it’s not all bad.”
As you answer questions and do your best to avoid making too much eye contact with anyone, to avoid reading into anyone’s thoughts or dropping your own thoughts into anyone else’s mind, Bucky stares. He watches you intently. You’re effortlessly charming, answering everyone’s questions with a shy smile and kind voice. He’s sure it’s a façade.
Bucky’s cold stare and the fact that you happily pretend like you don’t feel his gaze on you is the reason why Sam, at the end of dinner, stands up and assigns the two of you to clean-up duty. If Bucky’s gone ahead and jumped to a conclusion about you based on a few flimsy pieces of intel and some grainy pictures, then Sam will give him the opportunity to confirm his suspicions with half an hour of alone time with you. Either he’ll come out of clean-up duty realizing he was wrong about you or he’ll come out of it with an earful for Sam.
Fifteen minutes after everyone’s finished eating and gone their separate ways for the evening, you find yourself wiping down the dinner table with a wet cloth. Bucky is watching you from the open concept kitchen, where he stands in dim lighting, scrubbing dishes at the sink.
“I can feel you staring.” You say evenly. Though your back is to him, you know his eyes are following your every move. He sets a soapy bowl down in the empty side of the sink and gets to work on another, still watching as you lean over the table and scrub over the wooden surface. He says nothing. Daring a glance over your shoulder at him, you catch sight of his blue eyes, cold and calculating as they stare right back at you. That’s the moment you feel it, a wall around him, around his mind. As you look into his eyes, you can’t get even the slightest reading on his feelings, on his thoughts. His mind is impenetrable.
You quickly look away and continue wiping down the surface of the table. What the hell was that? You’ve never been around anyone you couldn’t read before. Bucky sets another soapy dish into the right side of the sink and lets his gaze fall away from you for a moment. Did you look into his thoughts? Did you see what most people see when they look at him? A monster, an uncontrollable killer? He’s patiently waiting for you to flee, to run and lock yourself in your room after analyzing whatever you just saw in his mind. However, different thought is crossing your mind. You want to try again, to get closer to him and get a better sense of the wall you felt around him. You push a couple of chairs into their rightful places beneath the table and then look over at Bucky again as he works on the dishes. His blue eyes meet yours once more and there it is again, that wall. Before you lose your boldness, you begin walking toward the kitchen, your feet carrying you closer and closer until you’re only a foot away from Bucky’s right side. He acts uninterested and his focus remains on a dirty dish and a sponge in his hands. Your eyes dart down to the sink and you notice the clean, soapy dishes in the side closest to you. Before you realize what you’re doing, your left arm is brushing against his right arm as you start rinsing the dishes beneath a steady stream of hot water. Bucky tenses next to you the moment the sleeve of your sweatshirt brushes over the skin of his bicep.
“Are you scared of me?” You ask softly, keeping your eyes down on the suds that are running off of the bowl in your hand. You watch as they swirl around in the bottom of the sink before disappearing down the drain. Bucky scoffs and a low chuckle slips past his lips.
“Scared isn’t the word I’d use.” He says coldly, passing you another dish to rinse.
“Then why do you stare at me like that?” You question, matching his cold tone.
“Like what?”
“Like you think I’m going to try to get in your head.”
“Haven’t you done that already?” Another dish is passed over to you. The hot water is turning your hands pink, and the frustrating interaction with such an unreasonably attractive ass is turning your cheeks the same color.
“If I had, you would’ve known.” You point out, turning your head to look up at the side of his face. He doesn’t turn to meet your gaze at first, so you study his features. There’s a light stubble peppered along his lower face, over his jawline and chin. He looks young but something about him gives off more of an old soul vibe.
“You don’t have enough control over your abilities to be able to read someone without them knowing?” His tone has shifted from a cold one to a condescending one.
“I do, but I don’t care to put in any effort to hide it when I’m reading someone who already knows I can do it. I wouldn’t put in that kind of effort for you.” You retort. You’re unsure where exactly the animosity came from, but you feel it. It’s palpable in the air, the way the two of you already dislike each other. Bucky’s glad you’re returning the sentiment honestly. It’ll make it so much easier to ignore the fact that you’re fucking gorgeous. Gorgeous and pure poison.
---
The update Fury left his house at four in the morning for wasn’t at all the update he was expecting. When his assistant called and told him that there was a new development with the girl he put up in the tower, the girl that HYDRA had experimented on and practically raised with the goal of having her become weapon of mass psychological destruction, he expected to hear that you’d done something apprehensible. Maybe you’d turned the other occupants of the tower against each other and caused a modern-day civil war, maybe you’d figured out a way to level the tower entirely, he had no idea. It wasn’t until five minutes ago when he finally slid into his office chair and viewed the new intel that he felt a bit of relief, and yet a new kind of stress. HYDRA wants you back.
---
No one stays in the tower on the weekends. Sam heads off to see family, Wanda and Vision jet away for weekend stays seemingly anywhere but here, and even Torres has plans. You assume Bucky is gone too, considering you haven’t heard anyone else around since you last saw Sam leaving at sunset.
As you sit comfortably on the couch in the living area, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy socks, you feel almost at home for once. You’re flipping through the various movie options on Netflix when you hear the elevator ding and the doors begin sliding open. You freeze with your thumb hovering over the remote in your hand as your eyes slowly drift to the left. Bucky Barnes. Of course he doesn’t have any weekend plans. Why would he? The man is practically insufferable anytime he opens his mouth. He shoots you an uninterested look as he steps into the living area and starts pulling his leather jacket off.
Fuck. He’s the one freezing in place when his gaze floats down to your lap and he notices the skin of your thighs. He tosses his leather jacket onto the opposite side of the couch and narrows his eyes at you before moving toward the kitchen for a bottle of water.
“You don’t have pants?” He asks, his disdain for you evident in his tone.
“I was held in captivity for over a decade, what are pants?” He hates when you’re sarcastic.
“Fine, no pants. But you have a TV in your room, don’t you?” He wants you locked away in there where he won’t even have the chance to let his eyes betray the rest of him.
“Are you going to be here all weekend?” You turn your body so you can see him over the back of the couch. You lock eyes with him as he takes a gulp from his water bottle. He notices the way your gaze drifts downward, focusing on his lips for a brief moment before trailing even further down to the tight shirt he’s wearing.
“Yep.” He puts emphasis on the ‘p’ at the end of the small, simple word.
“Do you like movies?” An olive branch, you’re extending an olive branch. If you’re stuck with him as your only company for the next 48 hours, you sure as hell aren’t going to make it easy for him to hate you. Why make yourself any more miserable? In the event that it does that opposite and makes him hate you even more, you’ll still feel like you won.
Your question caught Bucky off guard. You turn to face the TV once again and he watches as you use the remote to rifle through a category titled Action Movies.
“I prefer books.” He says flatly.
“If you can get over yourself for two hours, you could watch something with me. It’s up to you.”
You didn’t expect him to go for it, in fact, you don’t even know if you actually wanted him to. At first, you thought he rejected the offer. He scooped his leather jacket up off of the couch, shot you an unreadable sideways glance, and disappeared into his room, locking the door behind him. You’ve just decided on a movie when Bucky reappears, wearing black sweats and stupidly, only his dog tags adorning his chest. When he comes into view, your eyes immediately wander, taking in the entirety of his build. Fuck. How does someone who acts like such an ass end up looking like such a god? Bucky notices the way your gaze settles just above his waistband and he can’t stop the smirk that takes over his features.
“You don’t have a shirt?” You ask, mimicking his tone from earlier.
“I was held in captivity for decades, what is a shirt?” He didn’t quite mean to let you in on his past, but there it is. You sit before him stunned, your widened eyes dropping down to look over his vibranium arm with a new understanding. “You really haven’t been in my mind, have you?” You shake your head, still unsure of what to say to him. Bucky solves the issue at hand by taking a few more steps forward and sinking into the couch one cushion away from you. “What are we watching?”
---
Shit goes sideways really fast in your life. You were only half an hour into the movie when the power suddenly went out and the dim emergency lights in the hallway kicked on. You and Bucky froze and looked at each other with a mix of confusion and anticipation, both of you feeling that something was off. It was less than a second later when Bucky heard the commotion in the elevator shaft and he knew exactly what was coming. He was on top of you in an instant, forcing your back down on the couch before rolling the both of you off and onto the floor. He managed a second roll once you landed on top of him on the hardwood, making sure that when the movement stopped, you were securely underneath him and his body was shielding yours. You watched his face as he seemed to move on autopilot, reaching up to the coffee table and breaking a glass vase with one hand before using the shards of glass to deter the two men rappelling in through the now blown-in elevator doors. It all happened so fast, seeming to begin and end in all under 10 seconds, before Bucky was shoving you down the hallway toward the emergency stairwell.
He led you down four flights before pulling you through another metal door, into yet another dimly lit hallway. When you were both safely tucked away in a briefing room, he pulled his phone out of the pocket of his sweats and called Sam, setting it on speaker and placing the device on the table in the center of the room. Now you stand still, frozen, unsure of why you feel almost nothing. No fear, no concern, nothing. You simply feel like you have no control over anything and there’s nothing you can do to help or hurt the current situation. When Bucky grabs your wrist and pulls you toward the table, lifting you by your hips to sit you on top of it, you don’t resist.
“Are you okay?” He asks hurriedly, scanning your entire body with his eyes as his hands cup your cheeks and tilt your head from side to side. He’s looking for any sign of injury, but there’s nothing. “Say something.”
“Bucky? What’s going on?” Sam’s voice rings out from the phone on the table, snapping you out of whatever silent haze you were in.
“The tower’s been breached, we need to get out of here, now.” Bucky responds tersely. He still holds your face in his hands. You blink a few times, coming back to your senses, before looking up into his eyes. Relief. You see relief soaking into his features as he realizes you’re fine. “You’re okay?” He needs to hear you say it. You nod slowly, his palms brushing over your cheeks as you do.
“I’m good, I’m okay.” You whisper.
“Can you get down to the garage?” Sam questions. You can hear the sounds of him typing through the phone, probably sending out an alert to everyone he can.
“We’ll figure out a way to.” Bucky assures him.
“I’ll send you an address for a safehouse, you take her there and you stay put. Let me know when you get into a car. Fury says a strike team is already on the way.”
So much for living in the tower being the way to keep you safe.
---
You wouldn’t have expected such a broad, muscular guy to be so stealthy. Bucky got the two of you down to the garage and into a car in what you imagine was record-breaking time. It truly would’ve been a feat if he’d managed to get back upstairs and grab you some pants or himself a shirt as well, but you can see how that wasn’t really an option.
You sit in the passenger seat now, using his phone to text Sam and let him know that you made it out safe and are on the way to the address he sent. It’s quiet in the car for a couple of minutes, the only sounds being the tires against the road and a light rain coming down on the windshield as Bucky speeds down a dark highway. You set his phone in a cupholder by the gearshift before placing your hands on your still bare thighs. In this moment, you wish you could read into Bucky’s thoughts. What’s going on in his head? Does he have any idea who those men might’ve been? What they might’ve been there for? You don’t want to come across as conceited or self-centered but you’re pretty damn sure they were there for you, most likely on behalf of HYDRA. Maybe if you could read into his thoughts, he’d have a different suspicion and it would ease your growing anxiety.
“Is that the first time the tower’s ever been breached?” Your voice comes out too soft, too meek for your own liking. Bucky lets out a deep breath before relaxing in the driver’s seat. He wanted to hear your voice more than he realized.
“As far as I know, yeah.” He says with a nod, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. That isn’t quite what you wanted to hear. Maybe something along the lines of oh no, it happened a hundred times before you moved in would’ve made you feel better. Bucky doesn’t like the quiet that takes over the car after he gives you his answer. It feels tense, and not your typical can’t-stand-each-other kind of tense. “There are a million different reasons they could’ve been there.” He knows what you’re thinking, that they were more than likely there for you.
“You don’t have to try and make me feel better.” Your voice isn’t so soft anymore.
“You think they were there for you.”
“It makes the most sense, HYDRA has never really been known to let shit go.”
“I know.” He says it so emotionlessly but the way the realization settles on your shoulders is anything but. You feel what can only be described as a fist wrapping around your heart and squeezing it. He knows. He knows about HYDRA, he knows how they operate. He knows because he’s been through their shit, probably even more intensely than you.
“I don’t have any pants.” You mumble, pushing away the heavy topic of the most heinous organization that you know to exist. Bucky chuckles under his breath as he steers the car around a curve. He finds you annoyingly likable for someone he’s intent on hating.
When you pull up to the safehouse forty-five minutes later, you’re more than relieved to see that though it’s a very small cabin on the outskirts of a national park, there are two bedrooms. After checking in with Sam on the phone, you leave Bucky in the living room while you wander down the short hallway, trying to decide which bedroom you’ll be calling your own tonight.
“Did you take me off of speaker?” Sam asks Bucky in a hushed tone, praying you’re out of earshot. Bucky sinks into the couch and pinches the bridge of his nose with the index finger and thumb of his vibranium hand.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“She was the target tonight. HYDRA wants her back. They don’t want her dead, they want her back.”
“And you didn’t want to say this to her?” Bucky asks in a whisper.
“She probably has PTSD from what they did to her all of those years, there’s no sense in upsetting her if we don’t have to yet. For now, as long as she’s safe with you, we don’t have to tell her.” Sam explains quickly. Bucky can hear the din of an airport coming through the phone speaker. Sam’s trying his best to get back to New York on short notice, which tells Bucky it’s definitely serious.
“She already has her suspicions.” Bucky points out. He glances over his shoulder and down the hall, just as you’re stepping out of one bedroom and into the next.
“Just…don’t let her out of your sight. At all.”
Bucky stays seated on the couch for a few seconds after hanging up the call with Sam. His mind is speed running through the various outcomes of this whole situation. There’s a chance HYDRA already knows about the safehouse and they’re planning to hit it sometime tonight. There’s a chance HYDRA doesn’t know shit about where the two of you are right now and you’re safe at least while you’re here. There’s a chance you get pissed at Bucky and climb out a window in the middle of the night. Fuck. How did he end up being the one here with you?
You’re rummaging through a dresser in the largest bedroom at the back of the cabin when Bucky taps his knuckles on the already open door and steps in. You’re on your knees, digging through the bottom drawer, with your hair falling forward and obscuring your face from him. His eyes follow every move you make as you tuck the hair behind your ear and glance over at him.
“Is this where you’re sleeping?” He asks, tilting his head in the direction of the queen-sized bed. You follow his gaze, taking in the thin blue quilt and sad, flat looking pillows. You nod slowly.
“Yeah.” You respond, pushing the drawer shut and rising to your feet. You were looking for an extra pair of pants but the dresser only seemed to hold various extra blankets, sheets, and towels. Bucky nods, his eyes drifting back to the bed as if he’s deep in thought. When he tosses his phone onto the bed, you narrow your eyes at him. “I said I’m taking this one.”
“We both are.” He says defiantly, taking a step further into the room before closing the bedroom door behind him. He fishes the car keys out of his pocket and drops them on top of the dresser before heading for the bed.
“What the hell does that mean? There are two rooms, two beds. There isn’t a chance in hell we’re sleeping together.” You cross your arms over your chest, shaking your head aggressively. You watch him as he starts pulling the covers back on the far side of the bed.
“You just told me that you think those men were there for you. If you’re right, those guys were able to breach the equivalent of a maximum-security prison on steroids. And you want to sleep alone? In a room with a window?” He questions you as if he doesn’t already know that those men were most definitely there for you. He sees hesitation in your eyes, and he knows he’s got you there. You crave safety, security. You won’t fight him very hard on this and he knows it.
“I’m not wearing any pants.” As soon as the sentence leaves your mouth, you’re aware that you sound like a damn kid. A whiny kid.
“I’ll give you my pants if you shut up about it already.” Bucky promises. He stands next to the bed, with his hands firmly on his hips, waiting to see what your next move will be.
“Fine, give me your pants and I’ll suffer through the night.”
“In this bed?” He gestures toward it with his vibranium hand. You nod. “Say it.”
“In this bed.” You agree, with every bit of a bad attitude brimming your tone.
It’s not long after that that you find yourself wearing another man’s baggy sweats as you lay mere inches away from him. He’s close enough that you can feel his body heat warming the space beneath the covers, but not so close that there’s a threat of bodily contact.
Bucky’s wide awake beside you. He’s watching in the darkness as the quilt over your side rises up and then drops down again with every inhale and exhale. He usually has trouble sleeping, but knowing exactly who’s after you and what they’re capable of is giving him even more trouble.
“Are you still awake?” You whisper almost inaudibly. You’re facing away from Bucky so you didn’t notice the way he’s been staring at your back, watching you breathe.
“Yeah.” You’re silent for quite a few seconds after his response, but he knows your mind is working overtime. “What?”
“Nothing, I was just wondering.” Another minute of silence goes by before you roll onto your back and heave a deep sigh. Bucky waits patiently. He counts the seconds as they go by. One. Two. Three. Four. F— “If you weren’t there tonight—”
“Don’t think about that.” He warns. His eyes coast over the side of your face. He can see the worry, the stress playing on your features.
“But if you weren’t, I would’ve ended right back where I was.” You voice trembles in the slightest, and you hope he doesn’t notice it. He notices. Bucky’s fists clench beneath the bedsheets.
“You don’t even know if it was them, or if they were after you.” You roll over to face him now and he can see the tears gathering in your eyes, glinting in the moonlight from the window.
“I know.” You say assuredly, without a trace of doubt behind your words. Bucky knows he can’t lie to you, he can’t convince you that you didn’t nearly end up back in HYDRA’s clutches tonight. He can’t lie to you, and he won’t.
“Do you feel safe right now? Here?” He asks, his tone softer than you’ve ever heard it before. You search his face before answering with a small nod. “Focus on that. Don’t work yourself up over what could’ve happened. Just rest tonight and we’ll figure it out in the morning.”
“I’m already worked up, I can’t sleep.”
“I gave you my pants for you to lie here all night and not sleep?” He asks jokingly. You move your leg under the covers and kick his shin lightly. When you start to pull your leg back to your side of the bed, something stops you.
“Do you want them back?” You offer. Bucky raises an eyebrow at you, unsure of where you’re going with this. It’s as if the playfulness of the moment is erasing the fear and stress in your mind, so you go with it. “I’ll give them back.”
“So, all of that complaining about not having pants was what? An attempt to get me out of mine?” Bucky teases. He props his head up on one hand over his pillow, a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips.
“You gave in pretty easily, didn’t you? I think you wanted to take them off.” You retort, nudging his leg with yours again. Bucky licks his bottom lip as he gauges the tension growing between the two of you. Is this what you do to help you fall asleep? To test the waters, he places a hand right above the knee of the leg you keep nudging him with. It’s as if his touch sets off an electric spark, you feel it dancing from your knee all the way up to your chest and then right back down. The feeling settles between your legs.
“I was doing you a favor.” He rasps, rubbing light circles on your leg with his thumb. “And I was trying to shut you up.” Silence is becoming familiar between the two of you. You look at him for a long moment, mesmerized by the way his thumb is circling against the fabric of the sweats that he gave you. You find yourself staring first into his eyes, and then at his lips. You’d ask yourself what the hell you’re thinking but, let’s be honest: you’re not thinking.
“Would you do me one more favor?”
“What’s that?” Bucky asks as his hand inches a bit further up your thigh.
“Shut me up.”
---
There are a thousand reasons Bucky can think of to not be doing exactly what he’s doing right now. A thousand reasons to not be sucking on your bottom lip and grinding his erection against your clothed cunt. Maybe even a thousand and one reasons not to be absolutely fucking loving every second of it. But every filthy little moan and whimper that graces his ears only spurs him on. He’s doing you a favor, right?
“This isn’t really shutting you up.” You can feel his smirk against the skin of your neck as he slows the movement of his hips and begins grinding against you at a tortuously useless pace. “Maybe we should try it with the sweats out of the way, see if that shuts you up.”
“Yeah, that’s an idea.” The words come out breathlessly. You place your hands against Bucky’s shoulders and push him off of you. He returns to his side of the bed, trying to calm himself down as you lay beside him and shimmy out of his sweats. As far as he knows, that’s all you’re taking off. But in a moment of boldness, you decided to speed things up a bit and take your panties off with them. When you glance over and see him lying on his back, with the moonlight highlighting the sweat that glistens over the ridges of his abs, all you can think about is him. Being on him, being under him, you need him. He looks back at you with a daring look and you’re sold, you’re straddling his hips, hovering right over his boxers in an instant.
Bucky’s breath hitches in his throat when his flesh palm lands against your hip, just beneath the fabric of your t-shirt, and he only feels skin. Where’s the waistband of your panties? You see the surprise on his face as he grips your hips tighter, keeping you from sitting down and fulling straddling him.
“I thought I said try it with the sweats out of the way.” He tsks playfully. You have no idea how badly he wants to rip his boxers off and plunge his cock so deep inside you that you scream.
“Oops, I must’ve misheard you.” Your mischievous smile makes his cock harden that last little bit, and he can feel the way his balls begin aching to be emptied. He fucking hates you for making him feel this way.
“I should’ve known that being a good girl and listening wasn’t going to be your thing.” He says with a shake of his head. You’re about to say something else teasing and sarcastic when Bucky’s fingers dig into your hips sharply, surely leaving bruises, and he forces you to sit down across the hard shaft of his cock. Your wet cunt instantly soaks the fabric of his boxers and within two seconds, he can feel how wet you really are for him. For him. He hates you. He hates you. He hates you. He has to remind himself repeatedly as you begin circling your hips, because he fears he’s quickly forgetting that fact. You grind down with a little more pressure and he can feel a bead of precum slipping down the head of his cock. A soft groan slips out of him and he starts pushing your t-shirt up higher and higher until he’s pulling it over your head. The pale moonlight is just enough to let him see your bare chest and again, he’s chanting in his head. He hates you. He’s just doing this to make you feel better, to get your mind off of the HYDRA shit so you can sleep tonight. That’s all it is, right? A favor. As you lean down and start kissing and sucking on the skin of his neck, he feels your fingertips slowly dragging his boxers down by the waistband. He hates you.
At some point, Bucky helped you get his boxers all the way down his legs and he kicked them off and away until they were lost beneath the mess of sheets and blankets atop the bed. When your hand fisted around his cock the first time, he rutted into your hand without meaning to. It was like instinct. You wrapped your fist around him a little tighter and pressed your lips against his in a desperate kiss as he thrusted into your hand a second time, letting his precum wet your palm and then using it as lube. You would’ve been satisfied letting him fuck your hand, honestly. You probably could’ve orgasmed just from that experience alone, but you didn’t need him knowing you were that easy for him. That’s what got you to where you are now,
“I hate you.” You lie straight through your teeth as you drag your cunt back and forth along the length of his cock. Every time the head of it rubs against your clit, Bucky can feel your thighs tremble on either side of him and he’s fighting the urge to bend you over the bed and ruin you.
“I hate you too.” He lies right back. When you look into each other’s eyes, you both know there isn’t much truth coming from either of your mouths. “Sit on my cock.”
Never have you ever been one to listen when a man tells you what to do, until this moment, with Bucky Barnes. He watches as you position the head of his cock just right at your entrance. You’d think a man would want to watch as his entire length disappears inside of you, but no. Bucky looks up at your face as soon as the tip notches inside you. He watches with heavy breaths and groans falling from his lips as your mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ shape and your eyes scrunch closed at the way your walls stretch to fit him in.
“That’s it, don’t stop until you take it all.” Filthy. He’s fucking filthy. And you listen to every word he says, sinking down until you feel his balls pressing firmly against your ass. “Shit.” When he finally tears his eyes away from your face and gets a look at where you’re so deeply connected, he can’t fucking stand it. It’s too much and not enough all at the same time. “You have to move.” He groans, slipping his flesh hand further back from your hip to grab your ass.
“I can’t.” You whimper, leaning forward and bracing your hands on the mattress, on either side of his head.
“Move or get off of my cock.” You’d almost be offended if you didn’t know that he’s saying that because he’s close to blowing his load in you too early. You can feel the way his balls are tightening against your ass and you know he’s desperate. So, you try. You lift yourself up one single inch, and then slide back down. Then two inches, then back down. You repeat it over and over slowly, building up a rhythm as your own pleasure begins to grow. “Fuck, maybe you’re a good listener after all.”
“Stop talking.” You moan out, picking up the pace. You’re fully fucking his cock now, your bodies making obscene sounds as skin slaps against skin repeatedly. “I hate you.”
“Yeah, hate me a little more and see what that gets you.” He taunts, squeezing your ass with both hands and using his grasp there to help guide the up and down movement of your hips. You’re close and truthfully, you don’t even want to tell him.
The trouble really starts when he moves his flesh hand to your lower stomach and presses his thumb against your clit, offering a delicious friction there as you ride his dick. The increase in pleasure makes it even harder to think straight. You’re not thinking straight in the slightest when you move your hands to his chest, not paying attention to the fact that you have one hand over his heart.
“I’m close.” You whimper, earning you another squeeze of your ass with his vibranium hand and a bit more pressure against your clit. Your eyes are shut tightly as you focus on the feeling of his cock dragging along your walls and the tip of it nearing your cervix with every snap of your hips.
When you open your eyes and look down at him, his blue eyes flit up to meet yours and that’s when you realize the mistake you’ve made. He starts rubbing circles against your clit the moment your eyes meet, sending you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes in like a tidal wave, sweeping and relentless. With your hands on Bucky’s bare chest and your eyes locked, you lose the last shred of control you have, the last morsel of control over your abilities slips from your grasp. He feels it. Bucky feels every bit of pleasure that’s coursing through your body, he feels every thought in your mind, he hears your inner voice screaming for him. In the heat of the moment, you pour every sensation that you’re feeling straight into Bucky’s nervous system.
He can’t even speak as his orgasm hits ten times harder than it ever has before. He knows it’s coming from the eye contact and your hand on his chest, he can feel the uncharacteristic coolness beneath your palm that rests over his heart. It’s why he clamps his own hand over yours on his chest and uses his vibranium arm to wrap around your back and pull you down against him. As Bucky’s cum paints your walls, filling you so full that it starts dripping down his shaft, he can’t stop thrusting up into you. He can’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop.
“Bucky, I’m…” You suck in a deep breath as you collapse on his chest, though he keeps your hand anchored over his heart. “I’m full, I can’t…” He shushes you as he continues pushing his cock up into your pussy. He slows but doesn’t stop.
“Don’t move.” He’s begging. Though his tone doesn’t sound like it, he’s fully aware that that’s what he’s doing. You haven’t fully caught your breath yet, but a soft laugh leaves your lips.
“Move or get off of my cock.” You repeat his earlier words playfully.
“I hate you.”
TAG LIST:
@sunnyhummingbee @gyokujyn @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @ordelixx @crist1216 @twlkdead @claireelizabeth85 @charmedbysarge @blackhawkfanatic @kentokaze @nyashonality @h2oaffirmations @sadeyes61 @aka-tua-braindump @immortalfangirl
#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x you#the winter soldier#winter soldier
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My shout-out to queer youtubers
Hbombs list was great but obviously not comprehensive. I watch a lot of video essayists and wanted to give a little love to the smaller channels that fall under the radar. Please feel free to add to this list!
let's talk about stuff/Sarah Zedig
If you've seen Jesse Gender's videos on the Matrix movies you may already be familiar with Sarah. She does excellent film and culture analysis with a lot of great conversations on paratext and outside influence in engaging with text. Her video on Tunic is one of my favorites.
youtube
Pamphleteer
No one makes videos like hers, which has the side effect making them a bit hard to describe. I will link one of my favorites which describes the disconnected temporality of being older when you discover you're queer.
youtube
Turbo Queer
Really really under watched channel. Skylar covers a lot of topics from video games, to anarchist history and modern events, to autistic life, to current politics. For a fun one check out her video on the SpongeBob strike episode.
youtube
Kaz Rowe
Kaz does a fantastic job examining modern myths and manufactured history primarily pertaining to western Europe, Victorian & Edwardian England, and 1800-1900s US. And of course, talking about historical queerness in all its ambiguities and evolutions. I highly recommend their video on Weimar Germany.
youtube
drapetomania
drapetomania interrogates the politics of low class and high class art and entertainment from a queer and Black perspective. Their art history videos alone cover many angles of white supremacist history I haven't seen anyone else discuss and I'm very excited to see more from them. They are also a very under viewed channel that more people should see!
youtube
I am error
Evelynn's channel primarily discusses video games in a presentation style and voice most similar to Action Button reviews. There's something just a bit more personal here though. I hesitate to say cozy since that word has a bit of an infantilizing connotation, maybe comforting is closer. She puts an immense amount of thought and empathy into the experience of playing video games and the personal narratives we build with them.
youtube
Swolesome
For more transmasc perspectives there's Swolesome. He has a lot of interesting insights into the more traditionally masculine and "broish" communities like fitness as well as commentary on recent trans issues.
youtube
Shonalika
Music, disability, and aggressively non-binary. Their video on gender presentation in heavy metal was really insightful. I would also check out the video "Why I Wear Gloves" for more insight on invisible disabilities.
youtube
Vivian Strange
Vivian delights in being a bit of a contrarian- something I really appreciate. She's probably going to challenge you and you're probably going to disagree at times, which is what makes her channel so important. Her video on Marquis De Sade is powerful and a must watch (if you can stomach the subject material, although I would encourage you to try). I haven't seen her most recent video on Saw yet but I am extremely excited to.
youtube
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౨ৎ CRIMSON & CLOVER
“Now when she comes walking over, now I've been waiting to show her, crimson and clover, over and over” - tommy james & the shondells (smau)
contains: charlie bushnell x fem!reader, who is a dior ambassador (i know lily rose depp is a chanel gal but this isnt lily this is yn ofc)
description: ok so i wasnt sure if this request was a social media au or just normal so im very sorry if i was wrong! anyways loved the priscilla movie id u havent seen it go watch it
like by dior, iamcharliebushell and others
yn.ln thank youuu so much my @dior family for letting me be a part of this project <3
View all comments.
user1 bows are making a comeback and im all here for it
user2 do i want to be yn, or do i want to be with her?
↳ dior.n.goodjohn i question this every day
dior 🤍🤍🤍
Iamcharliebushnell oohh wow
↳ i.am.andrewalvarez “im going to be so casual”
↳ user3 NOT ANDREW EXPOSING HIM
↳ yn.ln 👀
↳ dior.n.goodjohn mans just went crazy in the group chat
user4 in her active era, im loving it
sabrinacarpenter WOW WOW WOW MISS LN
↳ yn.ln SABRINA I LOVE YOU
↳ user5 charlie’s wishing that was him rn
PERCY JACKSON GC
Dior: ur actually blowing ur shot charlie i physically cringe when i see u in yns comments
Leah: REAL WHAT R U DOING
Charlie: oh my god what do u want me to say? “Hey yn lets go out in ur public comments!”
Dior: umm dm her?
Charlie: i have no connections to her! How creepy is that?
Walker: more creepy than saying “oohh wow” in her comment section?
Dior: LMAO
Charlie: 🧍okay fine
Leah: fine?
Charlie: ill dm her!!
Dior: OMG
Aryan: give us all the updates 🤭
Walker: where did you come from?!
Charlie: okay but guys she looked so cute in her photoshoot
Leah: charlie.
Liked by iamcharliebushnell, sabrinacarpenter and others
yn.ln she’s everywhere
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user1 oh to be a dior ambassador
laufey omg i love this dress! where is it from!
↳ yn.ln LAUFEY?!
↳ aryansimhadri LAUFEYY???!!!!!!!
↳ yn.ln oopsie i forgot to answer the actual question its from ____, too filled with excitement
user2 yns feed is so like colour coded it gives my eyes ecstasy
↳ yn.ln 😘😘
user3 i love how charlie is just hiding in the likes, i think his last comments replies scared him off 😭
↳ yn.ln 🙁🙁🙁
dior.n.goodjohn PLS @iamcharliebushnell WE TOLD U TO DIAL IT DOWN NOT GO ON STRIKE
↳ leahsavajeffries RIGHT?! GET OVER HERE
↳ yn.ln i feel like this is a private conversation i shouldnt be hearing
user4 why does yn have the most entertaining comment section ever like i could sit here and read this for hours
Iamcharliebushnell added to their story
seen by ynupdates, i.am.andrewalvarez and others
ynupdates yn ln spotted with a man who looks suspiciously a lot like charlie bushnell at a restaurant near los angeles
user1 so… has everyone seen charlie’s story?
↳ user2 what?!
↳ user1 he posted her on his story at a restaurant just like this one, it has to be him!!
user3 i mean have you seen his comments on her posts, this man is down BAD
user4 HELP THIS IS SO RANDOM
↳ user3 random but perfect !!!!
user5 ..who do i want to be more in this relationship
user6 do they need a dog, a cat, a doorholder maybe? Im free!
↳ yn.ln i’ll see if theres a job open
↳ user6 omgomgomgomgomg
↳ user4 U WON IN LIFE
↳ user7 wait a second, did she just confirm charlie and her?
↳ user4 tbh i dont think it needed to be confirmed it was SO obvious
↳ yn.ln 😉
↳ ynupdates GUYS I CANT DO THIS
dior.n.goodjohn ugh finally
↳ user4 FINALLY!? HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN FOR
taglist: @lostinhisworld
#charlie bushnell x reader#luke castellan x reader#social media au#smau#dior#percy jackon and the olympians#fan fiction#x reader#in the know#lily rose depp
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“LATE NIGHT DEVIL, PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME
and never never never ever let go”- Teeth, 5 Seconds of Summer
Mafia AU! Arlecchino x Reader Oneshot
Author's Note: It's been a while since I've actually published anything on here. Well, my gay ass is back with another oneshot. This one has been in the works for at least a month. I'm considering making a Part 2, but that will definitely take at least a couple weeks for me to publish (if not months). I wish I was kidding. School literally hates me and my teachers are incessant on killing my GPA. This is also a gift for @megistusdiary because it'll be her birthday when I post this. Please go check out her blog for amazing genshin wlw content (especially Arlecchino content!) Would you guys like this on AO3 as well?
Content Warning/Info: This is a long af oneshot (6.3k words), long af descriptions and kinda long intro, Arlecchino is referred to with they/them pronouns, implied female but no usage of feminine pronouns for Reader, general dark-ish content, pet names, Arlecchino is a lil scary, I've never been to a club so I apologize for the very inaccurate information, nor have I ever been apart of the mafia so also inaccurate, a bit suggestive but otherwise sfw, if I'm missing anything feel free to tell me!
---
Monsters are said to have lied underneath beds–waiting to ensnare an unknowing victim–or stalk hidden among the depths of a closet–awaiting an opportune moment to strike its next prey. Monsters are fabled entities that are used to scare off children from bad behavior and are quickly eased from the mind by coddling parents. The mere notion of a monster shooed away like a pesky fly, swept underneath the subconscious like forgotten specks of dirt.
You know otherwise. Real monsters don’t lurk on the undersides of mattresses; no, they lurk both in the skies above and the depths below. They do not stalk dark closets because they instead stalk alleys in daylit streets. Monsters are very real, that you know is true since you’ve seen your fair share of them. You’ve met monsters in person–they’ve come to you before. Terrifying is an understatement for them, and each time one has appeared as a client, you’re no less scared shitless.
You’ve learned that even inhumane demons find themselves in need of entertainment; like the sinful creatures they are, they seek self-pleasure. And that is how you found yourself in this particular circle of hell, meant to serve and please demons, devils, and monsters alike. Perhaps it was a revolting job, working at a strip club run by a criminal organization but it paid decent money for being danced on the fingertips of whoever you were unfortunate enough to be assigned to.
If it was a regular strip club, being an exotic dancer would have been fine. It wouldn't be so bad. Lustful and prying eyes can be accustomed to quickly, and so are the flattering compliments and the awkward flirting by middle-aged married men. However, there was a difference between lecherous and predatory gazes. Here, you aren’t even viewed as a person, no, the clients here, those that come in reeking of smoke or blood (though sometimes both), armed with knives and guns on their person, see you as nothing more than a toy or prey for them. Even in the eyes of your employer, you're less than human in their eyes.
‘You harm our merchandise, you’ll pay for it,’ is the warning given to every guest when they first enter. Merchandise. That's what you are. And that single line of words is the only thing that assures you of your safety among mafia members, gangsters, crooks, and whatnot. You've heard that the organization behind this strip club does well in enforcing that rule according to other dancers, but you personally don't want to see if the statement is true. You've been here for a little over a year, and besides bruising grips and pulled hair you’ve surprisingly yet to be seriously injured in any way. So maybe monsters do have a little humanity in them.
You're quickly growing to be a fan favorite as of recently, which means more money goes your way, but you're not sure how you feel about all the attention on you. It's most likely because of how often you offer private dances and private rooms to clients. Whatever gets you the most money; the faster you make money the faster you can pay off your debt and be out of here.
Tonight is supposed to be no different from other nights. You perform on stage, you rile up the crowd, you get showered in tips, and if there is a customer that looks mentally sane enough not to murder you in private, you take them to the back. Except, tonight, you're approached by your boss, who informs you that the entirety of the club was reserved by the Fatui, a well-known mafia more powerful and larger than the one that backs you up, for some celebration. These kinds of occurrences in the club rarely crop up, but when they do, they're often the most opportune time to bag in an abundant amount of money. Big shots like the Fatui pay and tip well, but there's one unsaid risk that comes with this: as a mere dancer like yourself, your life quite literally dangles in the Fatuis’ hands tonight. The organization that owns this establishment can't retaliate against the Fatuis if they so choose to dismiss the warning. They can't even compare to the might of the Fatui.
Simply put, if a Fatui kills you tonight, no one could do more besides bat their eyelashes. You're not at all pleased with this predicament of practically bordering on death, especially when you know one wrong move with one too hot-tempered Fatui could land you at the pearly gates. Keep pleasing the crowd, keep entertaining them, keep racking in the money, you remind yourself as you continue your dance, twirling around the pole sensually, and the customers devour every movement with their eyes. The only comfort you're given is that you've heard the Fatui are quite reasonable and diplomatic most of the time. This is especially true for the Harbingers, you've heard, the twelve most elite members that serve under the Tsaritsa, and the ones that are the most exclusive customers this night. That doesn't mean the Harbingers are any more humane than the average crook. Having worked in a strip club run by the mafia and surrounded by criminal organizations, the more rumored something is, the more dangerous it is. They can be considered devils amongst demons even. That's simply how vile they're supposed to be.
The most concerning problem about the Harbingers is that you don’t know what they look like, only the occasional whisper has alluded to how to distinguish between the twelve. Perhaps, you can survive through the night if you try not to draw too much attention; let the other dancers shine instead and hope you don’t get requested for a private room or dance. That way, you can ensure you don’t end up dead.
Your time to go upstage comes sooner than you’re prepared for. Your hands are clammy, and your form trembles in a way that only happened during your first month. Both reactions don’t make for a very good combination when your survival relies on you not fucking up and disappointing criminal customers. As you approach the pole, just like every time you’ve done, you make sure that the crowd’s gazes are in the backdrop of your mind, and instead, fixate on repeating the movements you’ve been taught and have mastered with your experience. Bet your survival on the provocative sway of your hips, the practiced showcase of your legs, and the allure of your dancing form. Beguile the crowd, but not too much, just enough to wow them. From what you can tell by the volume of the crowd, you’re doing a good job pleasing the Fatui enough. Your body stops tremoring after a few minutes on stage, and with one last final push of courage, you focus your eyes on the crowd before you.
Unsurprisingly, the makeup of the Fatui are men, though there are notably quite a few women. Either way, all of their attention is on you. As your eyes scan across a crowd, for one reason or another, you stop at a particular set of eyes near the back of the crowd. Intent, pitch-black abysses stare back, like they were trying to bore into your soul and devour every single motion of yours. They don’t quite hold the same ravenous desire as many of those before you right now, you mentally note with curiosity. It feels like your form is being calculated, in the way a predator would cautiously observe their next prey, a sensation you’ve experienced a few times, but each is no less chilling. The weight of their engrossed gaze causes you to shiver momentarily, and you snap away from their disturbing gaze to prevent any fumbling or faltering while you’re on stage.
Tonight marks the first time you actively seek out the same viewer while on stage, or even, during your entire time here. For some reason, you feel awfully bold, or curious, whichever two comforts you more, and unlike the meek little rabbit you usually are, you instead search for the viewer’s gaze. You find the pair of eyes with relative ease, as you remember that above their eyes are distinctive snow-white strands with streaks as black as their orbs. You take a moment to study them, and they remind you of a lion–or lioness–among hyenas. The aura they exude varied quite a bit compared to the other Fatui in front of you: not rambunctious, or arrogant; it's apparent they held an aura of indomitable authority just from the way they held themselves. Perfect posture with their clasped hands nested in their lap, with one leg raised over the other. They’re an embodiment of perfected elegance, however, much like a porcelain doll, they’re also expressionless, their appearance unmarred. You don’t examine the Fatui’s form for much longer because their scrutiny on you pricks at your skin irritatedly.
You don’t look for them again throughout your performance. In fact, you hope you never meet those charcoal pits again. You’re afraid that if you do, you’ll be ensnared by whatever beastly claws or fangs you know that Fatui hides underneath that impenetrable mask. The moment your time on stage ends, you rush back to the changing room to shake off your nerves. You sit down at a nearby chair, taking in deep sighs as you attempt to forget how you were stared down like a you were cornered, defenseless animal. And that is what you are, as much as you hate it. There’s nothing that can protect you from the Fatui. Maybe if you hide, never show your face for the rest of the night, they’ll forget they ever saw you and they’ll target another dancer. Surely, that will work, won’t it?
You’re able to steady your breathing before you can delve into a panic attack. Tonight, you decide, you’re not going to take any customers to any private rooms or take any private dances. You’d be missing out on a lot of money, but your life is more of a priority as of currently; not after the ‘encounter’ with that individual, you don’t want to think about how many more are just like them, hiding in the crowd like they were awaiting an opportunity to pounce on your vulnerable form.
Unfortunately, it seems like someone else has other plans for you because your manager storms into the room asking for your whereabouts before his eyes narrow on you. You immediately sit up, stiff as a board when he practically marches his way towards you.
"Someone wants you."
You sigh and shake your head. You should have known. "Not tonight."
He clicks his tongue. "You know I can't allow that tonight."
You bite your lip. "Just pass them to someone else."
"They're not someone you or I can refuse."
"Who?" You question with a shuddering breath, your nails digging into your thigh.
"The fourth one. The Knave. Lord Arlecchino."
Fuck your life. You might as well pull the trigger now. You’ve heard faint whispers of each Harbinger from the customers audacious enough to speak of them. The youngest, the eleventh, charming and boyish. The ninth, money-obsessed but a pretty looker. The eighth, elegant and cold, yet no less alluring. The seventh, as human-like as their robotic creations, which to say isn’t very. The sixth, is hotheaded and mysterious. The fifth, unknown. And the fourth?
Insane. Ruthless. Bloodthirsty. That’s how the fourth is described. You shiver at the horrors that appear on the forefront of your mind when imagining what may come for you. If you're lucky, you'll be alive at the end of the night, more than likely clinging to the edge of living.
“Well? What are you waiting for? Get ready as soon as you can.”
And you do. It’s not long until you stand in front of the private room’s door, your guest is already inside more than likely. The Fourth Harbinger is waiting, you remind yourself, fruitlessly trying to swallow down your stress. You can be dead the minute you step inside, this room could be marked as your grave. Whatever he tells you to do, you’ll obey wordlessly to survive. Just nod along, smile, and do whatever it is that he tells you regardless of the demand. You inhale deeply, regaining some ease of mind, before you bring your knuckles to the door, knocking.
“Come in,” comes a deep, flat voice, slightly muffled by its distance but what surprises you is how feminine the Harbinger sounds. Maybe you got the wrong room. You glance back at the room number plate on the door, and it’s the room you remember your manager mentioning. It’s the right room. Maybe someone else? You don’t have time to wonder, however, as you enter the room, knowing that if it is the Fourth, it wouldn’t be wise to keep him (Her? Them? You’ll just stick with ‘them’ now.) waiting.
“Lord Arlecchino?” You inquire as you enter the room, closing the door behind you. Sucking in a harsh inhale, you instantly recognize their distinct hair. It’s them. Your sight is immediately greeted by the figure sitting on the couch before you, sitting in exactly the same way you discovered them–crossed-legged and lounging back with unfaltering confidence. The Knave wears a scarlet blazer over a black compressed turtleneck, with a matching set of crimson leggings. Upon closer inspection, you’re able to make out red irises in their jet-black eyes. Despite the blatant and literal red flag, something about their appearance draws you in even when they scream danger. They’re… you’re not quite sure how to describe them. You admire the unblemished and pale skin, their elegant and rugged demeanor is like the perfect balance between femininity and masculinity. Are they beautiful, or are they handsome? You think both.
Arlecchino stares back at you like they’re considering devouring you then and there. You can’t suppress the shudder that runs down your spine. You’re a sheep before a wolf. There’s something so chilling about them that even with your experience with other clients, none has ever made you feel this way with just their mere gaze alone. This is what separates the average crook from one of the most powerful mafia members you've ever heard of.
You wait for a response but they only continue to observe you. You take the silence as confirmation to your question and that they’re anticipating something from you. Biting back a sigh of resignation, your hands hook underneath the band of your bra top and you lift it just the slightest amount before a cutting voice makes you freeze.
“What are you doing?” the Harbinger demands, their tone chilling and apathetic, making you want to shrink in yourself immediately. Your blood pumps loudly in your ears and your hands tremble a bit. Something about how designing their gaze makes you suddenly self-aware in a way you’ve never felt before another client–you’re practically half-naked in front of them with your skimpy bra top, undergarments, and fishnets and now is the only moment that you've actually considered how little covering is on you.
Why are they stopping you? Isn’t this what they wanted you to do? Or maybe they just want to do it themselves. Those types of customers always have the most bruising of grips and suffocating of holds. You stiffen at the notion. How are you going to survive this night with a Fatui Harbinger of all things? How many of your limbs are going to be fractured and how many of your bones are going to end up broken?
“I…I’m undressing,” your meek voice sounds out and you hate the crack in your speech. The Harbinger continues to scrutinize you. You don’t dare continue disrobing yourself.
There are several beats of wordless response before they then stand up from the couch.
Oh shit. You’ve fucked up. Are they going to kill you now? Is this your end?
Every thought is telling you to run in the opposite direction as they stalk up to you, but you're petrified as you realize with a chill that they’re taller than you. You’re not short by any means, a bit above average height, but they tower over you, looking down at you from above and casting judgment on you like a god. Once they stride toward you, you avoid eye contact by looking straight, observing their neck and clavicle that protrudes from underneath the fabric. You tense when they raise a hand, their manicured fingers placing themselves underneath your chin and long, carmine nails dig into the underside of your jaw, making you wince. They forcefully tilt your head, raising your focus onto their face.
It’s like they plunged their hands down your throat and ripped out the oxygen from your lungs, leaving you unable to breathe. Up close, the first thing you notice is their lips, plump and red from their lipstick. Briefly, you wonder what color their lipstick would look on your skin. Then your eyes travel up, red-crossed eyes gaze back at you and you gape quietly at the distinct shape of their pupils. You swear that their pupils flash red as you finally lock eye contact with them.
“Did I tell you to?” Their tone is cold compared to the strange softness of their handsome (beautiful?) face.
Something in your gut coils inwardly and you want to look away, but their firm hold on your chin prevents you. You bite your bottom lip to repress a whimper. You’re delicate glass in their hands, and they can break you so, so easily.
“No, sir.” Only the numerous times you’ve said this phrase ensures you don’t stumble over your words. They don’t answer promptly, but as they observe your features, their lips quirk up the slightest amount.
“You know how to address me. Very good,” Arlecchino purrs after several beats of silence, in a low, oh-so-sultry tone, and oh. Oh.
You’re not sure why, but their last two words make your stomach churn, but not in a discomforting way. In the way that lights a fire underneath your skin and spreads heat to every part of your body. You’ve never quite felt this way with another customer. You couldn’t believe that your body reacts this way just from a single praise but it doesn’t stop the pooling heat in your bowels. The chill down your spine still remains in place, but there’s an off-putting equilibrium of iciness and fervor generated from the client.
The Fatui’s eyes stay fixated on you wordlessly until the hand on your chin turns your head, finally breaking you free of their intense behold. Their grip slackens so that they can trace their nails gently down your throat, every inch of surface their fingertips brush against ignites a blaze on your skin. A shuddering exhale leaves your lips and it seems like they take notice because from the corner of your eye, the small uptick of their mouth grows. Despite how sensual and probing the Harbinger’s touch feels, there’s nothing lecherous about it–purely just intrigue and fascination. It’s a touch you both have and never experienced before. Cold nails rake against your throat, not enough to mark or scratch, but enough to invoke shivers.
You’re aware you should be terrified, but for a reason you can’t pin down, you can’t jerk away from their touch. You try to reason with yourself it was only because you’re one upset away from getting yourself killed but that reasoning falls apart when their hand gingerly traces your jawline and you make the softest of groans, a barely audible noise of content. Unfortunately for you, the sound seems to have reached Arlecchino’s ears and their expression softens slightly: their eyes narrow less and their brows aren’t as creased. And that smirk–if you could even call it that from how faint it is–becomes a half-smirk.
They pull their hand away and your trance is broken, reality returning back to you as you remember that the person before you is still a Fatui Harbinger, no matter how bizarrely melting their touch was. They turn on their heel and walk towards the couch in front of you; the slightest bit of heaviness is placed on your heart. You remain stationary where you are, observing them as they seat themselves gracefully on the couch, and their attention encounters yours again. Their black pits hold expectancy in them. At first, you’re clueless as to what the criminal desires from you, but then their legs spread apart, an inviting gesture that beckons you and every rational thought leaves your easily swayed mind. Your heart skips a beat, and you're sure this time it's not out of trepidation.
Even if you didn’t command them to, your legs would take you to their seating figure. You stand before them, feeling blatantly disrespectful to look down at Arlecchino, but you await their order. They lean back, lounging laxly against the couch, their posture never lacking their usual self-assurance. It only ties the knot in your gut tighter. You’re aware of what they’re instructing you to do, but the absent confirmation makes you hesitant. It seems like the Knave picks up on this because the room echoes with one definitive spouted word from their lips, authority and dominance ringing through their husky voice.
“Sit.”
Your legs buckle underneath you from the one-worded response, the demand only stoking the consuming fire inside you. Eager to please, you perch yourself on their lap, straddling them, your knees pressed into the furniture below you and encasing both of their thighs between your own.
Oh, you think to yourself as your legs make contact with their thighs. They're firm. And for some reason, that provokes your stomach to churn in itself even more. You're so close to them, enough to feel their breath cascade against your skin.
As you seat yourself, you nearly clumsily topple over, instinctively grasping onto their shoulders for support. Their shoulders are remarkably broad, you regard, well-muscled as well. Their hands creep up on your hips, steady but gentle hands grasping on each bare side of yours to stabilize you. The heat that radiates from their hands is infectious, regardless of the nails that burrow into your plush waist. For the first time, you flush considerably, a sweltering inferno forming in your cheeks and your head fills with dizziness. Their touch is gentle–something you rarely experience with customers–so, so gentle that you would describe it as heavenly. How can someone so inexplicably vile have heaven on their fingertips?
It's not a position you never found yourself in. In fact, it's far from the first time you've been like this with another client. But here, as you're sat on top of the Fatui Harbinger, and red x-pupils search yours, a foreign feeling passes through you. Placing your finger on it, you dubiously think it's bashfulness, but the heartbeat that sings in your ears and pulses underneath your fingertips tells you otherwise, tells you it's something more. Against that, you remove your grasp on their shoulders and place your palm flat against the couch’s surface behind the Knave.
You squirm a bit, nervousness in your form as you remain as still as you possibly can, waiting for any more instructions. All you need to do is act like an obedient doll for them in order to survive; compliance is the best way of ensuring survival with people like these. You feel like you're merely eye candy from the way that their attention flits across your body, but you're immobile throughout the entirety of their observance. Being looked at is much better than any physical interaction. Their hands still cup your hips, but slowly, they descend to the side of your thighs, making your skin feel tingly.
Impulsively, you mumble out a quiet "Sir…" as strange sensations brush against your skin.
The sound surprises you and you feel on edge as their eyes travel from your lower half to your face. You gulp considerably. From their stare, they expect more of a response, a reason for their addressment, but even you don’t know yourself; it seems like an unconscious calling that just rolled off your tongue. You cow underneath their gaze, even when the two of you are at eye level. When you linger in quietude, their hand releases one of your thighs and lifts to your face, supporting your chin while their thumb rests on your bottom lip, unfurling it just the slightest amount to implore an answer from your now parted lips. Gleaming scarlet pupils grip your regard sternly, piercing into you and instilling you to spew something out. Except, you still can’t, now too entranced and lost in the crimson.
“Doll.”
Despite the pet name, it's devoid of any affection or warmth. It's a word that drips of command, a reminder of your place: simply a toy that they can play with however they want, a manipulated and decorated plaything for their amusement. That means you answer to them, and so when they request a response, you're under the obligation to please them. Your survival is in their palms anyway, if they wanted you to dance, you would just so they wouldn’t strangle the life out of you.
However, its implication doesn’t prevent the tingling shudders that wrack your body nor the involuntary clenching of your thighs around theirs. Was it the gravelly voice that aroused your behavior? Your cheeks flare at the knowledge that Harbinger sensed the physical reaction. It shouldn't be possible. It shouldn't be possible, your thoughts repeat, but then they're interrupted by:
"Oh?" Arlecchino inquires to themselves, a stark amusement in their speech. Their red glare illuminates slightly, replacing the lost darkening with a faint glow in their pupils, and the corner of their mouth curls up. It is only then that you discover something entirely new: that monsters can be sinfully, cataclysmically, terrifyingly beautiful and the sight before you is the most exquisite example. A devil has you wrapped in its claws and its fangs readied for devouring but it’s disguised as an ethereal angel; blinded by their perilous allure, you mistake their snow-white hair, their lustrous piercing rubies, their flawless porcelain skin, and their burning, fleeting touches as traits of a seraph. From a measly smirk, you forget the atrocities lying underneath their fingertips and dismiss the hazard their presence holds.
The hand on your thigh rakes its fingers up, red nails trailing across the surface of your fishnet, wrenching out a breathy gasp from you as they travel inwards. Tingling pleasure injects into your veins as you subconsciously lean in, imploring for further sensual contact. A plea sits on your tongue and nests in your eyes as you beg them through your pitiful expression. They drink in your desperation with a slow swipe of their tongue over their lips, and that single action is debauched enough to elicit a soft groan from your throat.
“Well, aren’t you an amusing toy?” They drawl out with a preposing rasp and dark abysses glint with an insatiable hunger.
They smirk enticingly, their thumb running across your bottom lip and smearing your lipstick on their thumb pad. Their grip on your chin tightens a bit, pulling you even closer to them before a shadow casts over you when their face nears. Before you can even fathom their intentions, they descend upon you, closing the distance between the two of you. Your lips are greeted with something pillowy soft and fervently warm, and you sharply inhale from the sensation. Every one of your nerves sings frenziedly, your muscles tense all over, and your heartbeat drums deafeningly in your ears–all of this as your body is engulfed in a fervid tornado of heat that makes you lightheaded with pleasure. It takes you several beats to realize the reason for this is that Lord Arlecchino, the Fourth Harbinger, the Knave is kissing–no, kissing is far too intimate, devouring–you voraciously like they're trying to rob you of any air, trying to imprint themselves on your mouth. Their mouth dominates yours, pushing against them with a deep fervor and famished urgency, eager to swallow every bit of shocked noise you make.
You close your eyes and allow yourself to indulge.
You first taste lipstick with a waxy flavor hitting your tastebuds. It’s cold against your lips, yet warm at the same time. But the physical texture and flavor of their lips are irrelevant; there’s only one true manner you would distinguish their taste:
They taste like sin.
The type of sin that’s chocolate coated and sprinkled with colorful toppings; depravity so sweet and charming it makes you reconsider the bounds of right and wrong. Degeneracy is far, far tastier than anything you’ve indulged in before. How can something so evil be so heavenly? Cushiony soft, placidly warm, flatteringly zealous, it’s like having a dance with a devil; so unequivocally immoral but no less gratifying. You question if they really belong to the Fatui because how can something like this come from such? You want to engrave the texture of their mouth onto your memory, feel this faux intimacy even when you’ve long parted. The Fourth Harbinger, you surmise as you surrend your will to them, is decadent–the only word that can be defined as both wicked and delectable at once–the perfect word to describe them.
The last remaining bit of reasoning comes to the backdrop of your thoughts and begs you to not be swept away in the heavenly embrace. You discount it in favor of accepting this godsent gift by leaning further with a weak imitation of their ravishing lips and pressing back. It’s a feeble attempt to match their insatiate nature, far too domineering and forceful than you can manage but they display a token of appreciation when they squeeze your thigh, indenting your skin shallowly with the burrowing of their nails. The action exposes just how sensitive you’ve gone underneath their touch and you reward them with the sweetest of sounds.
“Arlecchino,” you mumble with half-lidded dazed eyes in between ravenous exchanges and it evokes a depraved throaty growl from the Fatui, like provoking a call from a starving beast. They lean deeper to indulge in your taste. The gruff sound reaches your ears and it’s like a psalm–you shudder from its musical melody.
Their clutch on your jaw releases and their fingers outline your jawline before snaking to the back of your head. Well-manicured digits entangle themselves in your hair, and there’s a gentle shove against your skull that forces you deeper into the kiss. Your hands clutch onto the couch underneath you as tight as you physically can for any sense of grounding and your knees attempt to close in even more to feel more of their body against yours. The hand on your leg, in turn, caresses the length of your thigh.
Every graceful touch, stroke, and brush exudes an unyielding and infectious warmth that only adds to the stoking fire in your gut, and you’re bathed in so much swelter from the ecstasy that you feel dizzy. Yet, you never want it to end, you grow more addicted and drunk with each encounter of their lips. That, paired with your strained breathing, prompts your stamina to falter much sooner than the Harbinger’s. You let out a soft whine to signal your depleting oxygen, and their mouth unlatch with yours, pulling away despite your ache for more. With the separation comes a small string of saliva attached between the two of you, evidence of the shared intimacy that’s snapped when they lick their lips. The hand behind your head detangles from your hair and you silently mourn over the loss of contact.
You heave for air, your chest rising and falling rapidly. You’re a little perturbed when you notice that they’re not even out of breath, a small but firm reminder that they’re as inhuman as humans can be. That knocks a sense of reality back into you. Customer, mafia, Fatui, Harbinger, it comes back to you like a train. Here you are swapping spit with them while in the lap of potentially the most dangerous criminal you could ever meet, but fuck were they a good kisser–you’ve never experienced anything that came close to this in your lifetime.
Any foolish doubtful contemplation of the morality of this interaction is swept away just like that when you hear:
“Greedy little thing that you are,” they regard with the most cunning and handsome of smiles, discrete amusement dripping from their words. Their dark pits behold you entirely, the same way they have always done when it seems like they were contemplating what part of you to savor the most. Only this time, you’re not so disturbed by the notion. If anything, the swirling heat in between your legs suggests the opposite.
Greedy wasn't a word often associated with you, yet you couldn't more correctly describe yourself in that moment. Greedy. Greedy for a Fatui Harbinger no less. As ashamed as you should be, there's no use denying that you crave for their touch, for their gaze, for anything and everything they're willing to give you. You want everything and more. The more you contemplate, the more it seems obvious why you wouldn’t. Are they a devil disguised as an angel, or are they an angel that fell from grace? Regardless, they bring nirvana to you. An incessant desire bubbles inside you, your throat swelling up with an urgent request on the tip of your tongue. Would they allow such a thing if you plead? Would they be offended by your impudence? Would they punish you for such? But the necessity outweighs any reconsideration of your insolence and the supplicant beg tumbles out of your loose lips.
“Can I… touch you please, my Lord?” You croak out, wincing at just how wretched it comes out. The response from them is not immediate as the two of you stew in silence, a building sense of dejection inside of you. The expression on their face noticeably contorts, smile lessening, their brows furrowing, and their red x’s glinting dimly. Their free hand raises to near your neck and you suck in a harsh breath as their fingers enclose around your throat. The mere action sends a stinging reminder to your lust-dazed thoughts about their position, and a chill pierces you.
Mafia, Fatui, Harbinger, the Fourth Harbinger, the Knave–the labels cycle through your thoughts. Though their grip is lax, not exactly suffocating and giving ample space to breathe, their fingertips does acutely jab into your skin, a display of their impressive grip strength. You have no doubt that they can suffocate you with one hand alone, snap your neck, or, as your mind ventures into more harrowing territories, crush your skull. Those thoughts alone has you breathless with anticipation. A heavy weight suddenly appears in your gut, so heavy that you feel like you can’t move so much as a muscle.
Did you just go too far? Was that too much to ask? Was this how you were going to die?
The reflex to gag and inhale combat each other in your throat, a discomforting sensation that crawls up your spine while you tremble. You’re almost certain that the nails have penetrated the layer of skin, drawing beads of blood that’ll trail down your mark. You whimper at the prickly pain. Yet, in all your unease, the most masochistic thought arrives briefly at the forefront, and you can’t help but consider: this position is just as intimate as all the other interactions. You’re already so vulnerable in their lap, does the hand around your neck change your peril in any way? No, you’ve been a defenseless lamb to a slaughter the moment you’ve stepped into the domain of a menacing wolf.
Ah. Even now, you can’t dismiss the warmth of their fingertips.
“Do you still want to touch me when I do this?” They demand callously, their voice harsh and reverberating through the room. Their grasp closes more around, and you feel your supply of oxygen inhibited. Tears begin to brim your eyes, but you’re undeterred. Unlike Arlecchino’s, your answer is instant and breathless. Your eyes intently lock on theirs, the hardened expression enough to satisfy their question. There’s no need for contemplation. Danger, you determine, is addicting.
“Yes.”
The previously small smile stretches across their lips considerably. Content, or dare you say it, thrill writes itself over their face and the boulder previously pressed against your shoulders is lifted. Your throat is freed from their hold, but their touch doesn’t halt there. Instead, they rotate your head for you to face to the left, exposing your side profile to them. From the corner of your eyes, you watch as their face draws closer to your skin, hot breath cascading across the small dents her nails created. The one on your thigh finally leaves, moving to one of your hips, tender strokes across your flushed surface. They lean forward, and moist, plush skin meets yours. Lips traverse over the length of your neck, teeth scraping against, making you weakly groan. It takes all of your will to still your body, only allowing for the Harbinger to do whatever they desire to your form. Their touches are burning, burning, burning–so hot that you wonder if you’re experiencing a heat wave. Peppered kisses follow the edge of your jawbone, all the way up to your earlobe. A wet kiss graces your ear and then the most sinful of statements dignifies your eardrums, like a devil whispering hymns directly into your ear.
“I think I’ll keep you to myself after this.”
A short hum follows afterward.
“If you want to touch me, you’ll have to work for it. You’re only mine for tonight, aren't you? Entertain me. Give me a private dance, doll. After all, you have me for all night.”
---
Link to M-Alexa's amazing art and how I imagine Arlecchino to look like in this oneshot.
#arlecchino x reader#arlecchino x you#arlecchino#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin impact fanfics#guys I'm so tired it's 2AM rn#i have school tomorrow guys#i chose to finish this tonight despite the shit ton of homework I have to do#arlecchino brain rot does that to you#def worth it#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#genshin impact arlecchino#genshin arlecchino#genshin fics#arlecchino smut#edgeray.writes#edgeray.blog
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can i request a smut!!!
so basically steven is a porn star and he’s roommates with the fem!reader and she didn’t know what his job was because he always was cooped up in his room but he always pays rent on time and when the reader was feeling needy she finds one his videos and he catches her and the once so shy steven disappeared
if not feel free to ignore 😭
This has me giggling and kicking my feet up…
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐫 • 𝘙𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
- 18+, prn star Steven!, sex toys, masterbation, unprotected sex, mean Steven, choking, degrading, p in v, slight fingering, arguing, horny Steven & reader, teasing, language, porn, reader gets caught watching Steven’s porn! Vids, bratty reader, pet names, pussy job!, belly bulge, big dick! Steven
You were delighted knowing you had such a pleasant roommate. After dozens of roommate horror stories told to you by your friends, you were more than happy to find that your roommate was always locked up in his room.
Steven, a British, brown haired gentleman was one of the first people to call for the open room. He was timid to say the least, quiet, and polite.
Even though your interactions were limited, they were always enjoyable. Both of you willingly making dinner for each other every now and then. He loved to talk about Egyptian history, he seemed to be your own personal google when it came to it.
You never questioned the fair amount of packages this man managed to get. Never questioning it due to the fact that he was a nerd, probably some books or figures of Egyptian gods
“Steven another one of your packages arrived” you yelled out as you shut the door behind you, the packages seemed to be never-ending for him.
“Ah- thank you!” He blurted out as he came running out and pulled it out of your hands “so many packages huh!” You joked. He chuckled softly with a smile and went back into his room.
You always wondered what he got up to in his room. Always buried in his room, random music playing at night and muffled noises coming from his bedroom.
Anyone in their right mind would guess he had someone over by the way he’d always keep his door closed but you’d never seen anyone come in or out other than Steven.
“Want anything love? I’m heading out for some food” Steven asked as he walked past the couch. He gave you a flirty wink as he tucked his wallet into his pocket.
“I- I I’m fine thank you” you muttered taken by surprise by the added love in his sentence. “No worries, I’ll be back in a few” he nodded as he shut the door behind him.
You sat in your thoughts for a few moments. Love?
You could tell you haven’t gotten laid in a while by the way that little show of affection had you heated. You’d always thought Steven was attractive but it was always platonic.
You had no clue that Steven would fuck himself in front of his camera as he thought about his hand being yours. You wouldn’t suspect the amount of flesh lights and silicon pussy’s he had locked up in his room.
You rushed into your room, he usually took a few hours whenever he’d go out for some food so you didn’t hesitate to pull out your laptop and look for something to entertain you with.
Looking for porn was difficult to say the least, everything was so boring now and days. You’d go on Twitter in hopes of finding something more your taste.
You clicked and swiped through dozens of pages, none of them catching your attention. You were about to give up until you noticed a familiar bedding, your eyes went wide as you watched.
There was no way.
You noticed your roommates bedding. It’s a coincidence. The person on screen moaned, cock in hand as he jerked himself off. You gasped as the camera shook a bit, allowing you to catch a glimpse of Steven’s distinguishable posters. His pretty face being cut half way off screen with only his mouth in view. You knew it was Steven, how couldn’t it be?
Sure you couldn’t see him completely but it was him. No doubt. The caption reading can’t help but close my eyes and fuck myself to the thought of you as he began to shake. His thick white ropes of cum painting his hand and stomach as he whined and panted out in a shaky tone.
Then you scrolled deeper and were met with the visual of his cock sliding in and out of a fake silicon pussy with a thick white ring of his pre cum forming at the base of his cock.
Just like that yea- oh fuck he cried out. You were completely dumbfounded. You could feel the slick pooling into your panties as you watched hypnotized.
He was fucking huge. The silicon stretched as it adjusted with each of his thrusts, the lewd sounds of the lube and skin slapping together was sinful.
You were laying on your tummy with your laptop in front of you as Steven came in with a handful of cake for you, your favorite midnight snack.
You didn’t notice the sound of the door as you watched in a trance, Steven freezing as he saw himself on your screen. He smiled to himself, finally you’ve found it.
He placed the plate on your drawer as he stood with his arms crossed “having fun?” He cooed. You slammed your laptop closed as you shuffled up onto your bed “I-someone sent me that I was ju-“
“Uh huh uh huh” he nodded “you aren’t a good liar love” he laughed. “So those were all the packages” you awkwardly joked as he smiled down at you “do you do that a lot?” He asked.
“Do what?”
“Do you watch porn a lot” he asked nonchalantly “I- I mean just when I feel like it” you muttered with your face down.
“And what’s got you feeling like it”
You watched Steven closely and noticed he seemed much more confident compared to his usual self. He was leaning on your drawer with his arms wrapped on his chest with a cocky smile on his face.
“You gonna answer?”
“Gosh Steven I watch it when I’m horny! Is that what you wanted to hear! Yes girls watch porn” you semi screamed. “Such an attitude when im just asking a question” he cooed.
“It’s not an attitude. I get horny just the way you do, the only difference being I don’t find it satisfying to fuck a toy.“ you hissed.
“Ouch” he pouted “are you jealous of a toy now?” He smiled “I’m not one to go around and slut myself out, it’s alright if you do”
You looked at him in shock, no fucking way he just called you a slut?
“I’m a slut? I don’t go sleeping around either you piece of shit! And if I did it wouldn’t be any of your business. I don’t like dildos big fucking deal. Now I understand why you have to fuck a damn toy” you scoffed.
Steven had a cheeky smile on his face, it looked almost as if he was enjoying getting on your nerves. “Are you mad I’m not fucking you instead?” He grinned.
“I noticed the way your pretty little eyes lit up as you watched the video, not to mention the way you walk around the flat with flimsy panties on and a tee. I notice it just like you notice me in my sweats”
You squeezed your legs together as the look in his eyes made your stomach turn. You really hope he makes a move.
He walked over to the side of your bed and plotted down besides you “I can see it in your eyes, the way you want me to make a move” he hummed.
“Tell me you don’t me too. Tell me to get out” he cooed “I want it, don’t go please” you moaned. “I know you do” he smiled, a gasp escaped your lips as he pressed his lips onto your neck.
He sloppily kissed up your neck, hand moving behind your head for a better grip “Steven” you purred. He chuckled as you pushed him onto your pillows. You straddled his hips as he pulled his shirt off with no trouble.
“Ah ah let me do it for you” he cooed as he swatted your hands away from your shirt. Steven pulled your top off in a slow, sensual manner. His hands roaming your body as he took in all your beauty.
His hands snaked onto your hips, allowing him to flip you over so he could cage you in. He couldn’t resist running his hands down your tummy knowing he’d be able to see himself bulging through you.
He’d always pretend he was holding you like this while filming, he’d buck his hips into his fist pretending it was your tight cunt hugging around him.
You giggled as he spread your legs wide. He was getting you in the position he always wanted to take you, just the way he fucked his pathetic flesh light. “Such pretty panties love, such a shame they’ll be all messy by the time I’m done” he chuckled.
There was something hypnotizing about the sight in front of you. Steven pulling his sweats off as his stomach curled with his movements had you squirming under him.
“You’re just so desperate to be used aren’t you? Look at you” Steven purred as he moved your panties to the side. He held a tight fist around the thin cloth as he scooted towards you “look at the that”
Steven’s eyes were blown out at the sight of your tight cunt gushing slick. He couldn’t help but push two fingers deep inside you and pull them out for a taste.
“Steven please” you whined. “I know sweetheart, you just want me to make you feel good” he coyly replied. “I’ll make you my new personal toy yeah? Give my fans something real to look at” he hummed as he rubbed himself between your folds.
You mewled at the sensation of Steven fucking himself between your folds with a harsh grip on one thigh as his other held your panties to the side. “I don’t even need to lube you up doll, you’re all wet and ready”
Both of you let out a heavy sigh as Steven sunk into you. The stretch of you cunt making his vision go blurry as he noticed himself bulge through your tummy with half his length in you.
The man you once knew was no where to be found as you dumbly stared into Steven’s eyes. He had your legs spread wide, cock pounding you onto the sheets as he ruined your panties.
He payed no mind to your yelp as you heard the rip of the flimsy panties. He sighed as he finally got them out of the way “are you sure you don’t go sleeping around? You seem to be good at this” he cooed. “F- fuck you!” You whined as his hands wrapped around your waist with his thumbs right above your belly button.
He held onto you like you were too precious to lose and fucked you like he hated you, there was no going back for neither of you. “Sss- stevennn oh my fucking godddd” you cried as his hands snaked up around your neck.
He had you at an angled position, hips slightly off the bed as he used the extra grip as leverage. His hips rammed onto the back of your thighs as his moans grew louder with every thrust.
“You’ll be perfect as a porn star, the sounds you make will make everyone wish they were the ones getting them out of you” he hummed. Your orgasm tingled up your body as you cried out Steven’s name, cunt fluttering around him as you gasped.
“That’s it” he seethed, hips fucking into you harder as he grew closer to the edge “a- fuck lov- better than anything I could wish fo- ah!” Steven hissed as his hips came to a halt.
He was buried so deep you were clawing at his back, your hands pulling him in as you hugged onto him. Steven panted into the crook of your neck and held onto you for dear life. Steven’s sweet moans filled your ears as he spilled his loads in you.
Last night was definitely the last time he’d be posting himself fucking his stupid toys, he’s got something better than silicon now.
#smut#marvel smut#moonknight smut#moonknight x reader#moon knight smut#steven grant smut#steven grant x you#steven grant x reader#steven smut#steven grant
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all good things come in threes
☾ Summary: Winning a bet against Gojo ‘big ass ego’ Satoru isn't as easy as you thought. But you can't complain either.
☾ Characters: highschool!Gojo Satoru x reader
☾ Word count: 6k
☾ Content warning: use of petnames, implied height difference, tooth-rotting fluff, Gojo's a little shit and has negative rizz
☾ Author's note: My heart was going through STUFF.
☾ Tags: @nagumoan @heresan @peachsayshi @trueformsukuna @gojos-princesa @cursedmoonchild
White tufts of hair. Round sunglasses. An annoying facial expression directed at you. That was your view. You let out an exasperated sigh. Out of everyone available at the time, they just had to choose you to partner up with Satoru. It was to make sure the young conceited sorcerer wouldn’t go overboard or well, get ahead of himself. Sure, his abilities were extraordinary and even at a young age, he had already displayed an astonishing understanding of his cursed techniques and various other battle-related skills. Everyone knew that Satoru was set to be a pioneer and that he didn’t exactly need a partner to fulfill his missions. You knew about his abilities, how they worked and his modus operandi, already having had experience partnering up with him on various missions. But those had been wildly different as they required a partner, a second person. This one clearly didn’t. Yet they still sent you with him, knowing full well that he could handle it himself. These damn fossils.
It was understandable that Satoru had his own opinions about this rather unexpected turn of events. After having heard his initial protestations, which contained the words “no faith”, “incompetent” and how he was “not some random weakling”, you’ve had enough and it began to annoy you. Neither of you were responsible for orders being passed down as they were; and both of you knew that some of them did not make sense, some of them were plain unreasonable and some of them just seemed antiquated, obsolete, outdated. If anyone had enough power to object orders from above, it was the young sorcerer in front of you. However, he didn’t bother to do so. As for you, you had questioned the intent behind the task assigned to you, but simply accepted it as it was. There was no helping it anyway. In the end, you were just a cog in a giant and screwed system.
And so, you were stuck with him on a mission to rescue civilians and eliminate a first grade curse. “I still don’t understand why I need a partner for this. Do I look like a total wimp?” he complained and pulled a grimace.
You rolled your eyes at him, clearly displeased at the situation yourself, “I bet they assigned me to keep your big ass ego in check.”
For someone who had grumbled that much about you being his partner this time around, Satoru certainly seemed entertained in one way or another. At least, a small part of him seemed to revel in the situation. “And I’m sure you will do an excellent job at keeping my ‘big ass ego’ at bay,” he retorted sarcastically, all while giving you that damn smirk. No one else in the world could look so smug while being a prick. So what if you found him attractive? So what if his teasing made your heart skip one or two beats? So what if the smirk made you want to kiss it off of his stupid face? His personality was foul enough. At that moment, all you wanted to do was to smack him but you knew exactly that his bothersome Infinity wouldn’t let you.
“Ugh, I don’t exactly enjoy being stuck with someone who constantly complains either. I’ll just get this mission done as quickly as I can and then we’re both free from each other. Deal?” you rambled. Your keenness to end this all as soon as possible made his ears perk up and upon hearing this, the white-haired teenager dropped his empty can on the ground, “Woah woah woah, hold your horses. I am pretty sure you can’t even defeat the curse as fast as I can, so who’s stuck with who?”
You shrugged as you picked up the metal can, ever so trusting in your abilities. Although you knew he was the strongest, that didn’t mean you couldn’t beat him to it, right? You just had to be clever about it. “Fine, let’s make a bet then. Whoever lands the finishing blow on the curse wins,” you suggested and tossed the metallic container into a trashcan. Satoru raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Loser has to do whatever the winner wants,” the sorcerer decided. He seemed interested enough.
“Fine by me. Don’t cry about it when I win,” you said, grinning at him. He grinned back at you, all too confident in his victory already, “I’m afraid I’ll be the one wiping your tears.”
Days passed. Finally, the fateful day was here.
“Will you hurry up?” he urged you. “I’m already on my way,” you replied, annoyed at being rushed by him. Why were you two walking to the scene in the first place? “Come on, we don’t have all day,” he continued. You rolled your eyes. Not everybody had the privilege of having stilts for legs. Still, you sped up in order to catch up to him.
“This is the place,” Satoru pointed out, stopping abruptly. He held his arm out in front of you, as if to keep you out… if one was delusional enough, the gesture could have been interpreted as a protective one. Promptly, you shook your head. There was no time for such thoughts. You could daydream later—focus was more important now.
“There are still people inside. We need to evacuate them first,” he inferred, looking into your eyes. Your mind then switched to mission mode immediately. “Then we can take it down together.”
You nodded; even without verbal communication, the allocation of tasks was successfully conveyed. Vanishing from his sight, you were off to evacuate anyone that was left in the vicinity. Sure, Satoru could find the curse and get rid of it on his own. Then he would have won the bet easily. However, something in your gut told you that he wouldn’t do that. He could be fair… sometimes—even if it was for his own enjoyment. Admittedly, he wasn’t a bad partner on missions; he just wasn’t the greatest personality-wise. But he certainly had a charm to him. That’s how he unknowingly wrapped you around his finger…
The evacuation went as smooth as it could—with one or two stray bullets that would not listen, as per usual. Since you had already done this lots of times, you were able to finish up quickly and get the civilians to safety with the help of the assistants: the Windows.
“I’m here,” you announced to him as soon as you were back. And you were right! He just leaned against a wall, waiting for you. “About time. I almost thought you wouldn’t come anymore because you got scared shitless. You ready to take this thing down?” He asked. You smirked at him, “You bet I am. Ready to kick your sorry ass.”
Chuckling, he swung himself into a proper standing position. “Alright. I see you’re being as feisty as ever. Remember: The loser will have to do whatever the other person wants after all this is over,” the tall teenager reminded you with a cocky grin. Oh, he was so sure that he would win. His eyes gleamed with excitement and he was ready to fight this curse to ensure his oh-so-sweet victory over you. Of course, he had already thought of his prospective prize.
As if on cue, the curse appeared behind him and roared. In the blink of an eye, two giant claws came swinging at Satoru. You didn’t hesitate to activate your own cursed technique, successfully blocking the slash attack at frightening speed.
“Mark me impressed,” Satoru laughed. It wasn’t his first time seeing you in action but he couldn’t help but tease you, “You’re still not on my level but it’ll do.”
You rolled your eyes, “You say this every time we’re partnered up. Doesn’t it get old?”
He simply laughed as you both dodged an incoming blow. The two of you continued to face off with the curse. Before long, both of you had landed blows on the enemy. He was holding back for some reason—that’s what you thought—otherwise you were sure that this level of curse would have been taken care of by his hands already. It was neither weak nor was it anything drastically above your level. There was one thing you were sure about: He was stalling—and you played right into his games. But your pride wouldn’t let you drop out of the bet.
It wasn’t long until the curse crumbled to dust. You panted a little, looking at the white-haired sorcerer. The enemy was gone now but he didn’t look like he had broken a single sweat. He dusted himself off and straightened his posture.
“Now about that winner and loser thing…” he began, “I think you can guess the winner.”
You huffed. Damn. Despite holding out well, your plan was a failure. But a bet was a bet, right? “Fine, what do you want me to do?” you probed. He wouldn’t ask you to do bizarre things for him, right?
Satoru tapped his chin, pretending to think, when in reality he had already known before the fight even started. You looked like you poured your whole heart into winning, so he couldn’t help but hold back a little.
“Then… how about going out for ice cream? It’s on me. I think I deserve ice cream after working so hard,” he finally spoke. At first, you thought your brain was playing pranks on you. “Wait,” you paused, “Are you asking me out as your prize for winning the bet?”
A playful grin spread on his face. “You could definitely say that.” He specified, “But I also just really like ice cream on a summer day and I think we deserve some. What, are you chickening out now?”
You looked at him quizzically, questioning whether this was a joke on his part. You felt your heart speed up and the tips of your ears became warmer by the second. “Fair. A win is a win. I guess I’ll go have ice cream with you,” you muttered. Was he scheming something? Did he… perhaps like—
He chuckled and proceeded with a half-teasing tone, “You guess?” The laughter that followed after was soft. “We gotta report back first and then we can go.” Without further ado, he turned on his heel and walked away. The grin that was on his face was not visible to you. “Ugh, shut up,” you grumbled, still somewhat flustered. Nevertheless, you followed him. This damn heart wouldn’t let you rest.
The briefing didn’t take long at all—the mission was a success. After making a report, the two of you headed to a nearby ice cream store. As you stood in line waiting for your sweet cold treat, you looked at his face. He was even better looking than you originally thought. Come to think of it, you might have never looked at him from up close. Suddenly, he turned to you. “What flavor are you getting?” Satoru asked curiously.
You looked at him and answered, “Lime with mint.” It was one of your favorite flavors.
“Lime with mint, huh?” he repeated and looked towards the sky as if you had just asked him a deeply philosophical question he needed to ponder about. “Not a bad choice. I’m getting mango. Can’t go wrong with that.” He paid for the ice cream, as promised, and guided both of you to a nearby bench so you could enjoy the treat. His eyes were positively gleaming with delight after he sat down. It was happiness that resembled yours whenever you got ice cream. “Why lime with mint?” Satoru wondered. With a shrug, you replied, “I just like lime. With mint in it, it’s more refreshing in summer. Have you ever tried?”
Satoru shook his head, so you allowed him to have a taste. You could pinpoint the exact moment when he realized that your statement was the truth: It was nice and refreshing indeed. He made a mental note that your ice cream taste was impeccable. “Any other flavor you enjoy?” he probed. It took a moment of thinking until you came up with something, “Matcha ice cream. I like mango too.”
“Good call. Mango is one of my favorites for sure,” he said as he took a bite of his scoop of ice cream.
“I’m wondering,” you said aloud, “why did you choose to ask me out as your reward? I expected… actually, I don’t know what I expected but it was definitely something else.”
The sorcerer pondered, thinking about how to phrase it. “Like what?” he asked. “I don’t know. Maybe kissing your ass, being your accomplice for pranks or something like that. That would be on-brand for you,” you joked. You would have never expected such a turn of events.
“That would have been an amazing idea, actually,” the guy mused. In retrospect, it would have been better if you hadn’t said anything to not fuel his dumb ideas. “You absolute jackass! Nobody wants to kiss your ass!”
Even though you should have expected such a reply coming from him, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit scandalized at the mental image of you kissing his rear. Gross. You shook your head to get rid of the imagery.
And yet, your curiosity hadn’t been quenched at all. As impatient as you were about his reply, you further probed him on the matter, “So… about my question…?”
As if to hide any embarrassing feelings, your opposite snickered. “Right… about that…” he cleared his throat, “I just kinda like our banter a lot… and you. So I figured that I should just shoot my shot. ‘What are they gonna say? No?’ was what I thought but see, a bet’s a bet! And I won!”
Oh. Oh.
Your eyes widened. So it was like that.
Gojo Satoru? The Gojo Satoru? The conceited prick Satoru? Your crush Satoru? And you? Together? Never in a hundred years. But… it’s not like you had any right to complain about it, seeing as your heart was threatening to break out of its bony confinement.
“Hey, hey, hey. No need to look so surprised. I’ve been trying to get closer to you, didn’t you notice?” he asked, tilting his head to the left side, as if to get a better glimpse of your surprised expression.
“You thought being the most annoying prick to ever walk on Earth would do the trick?” Your jaw dropped. A strange expression of surprise flitted across your face for a split second. He shrugged his shoulders, “Well, it definitely worked—after all I got your undivided attention, didn’t I?”
Flabbergasted—that’s what you were. However, your composure quickly made a comeback and you could only laugh. A million-watt grin greeted you. Damn this man. He knew how to charm you, intentionally or not. “It sure did, you know! But not in the most positive light… Instead of calling me weak, you could have asked me what my favorite color is, what my favorite food is or something like that… Things normal people do!” you told him truthfully. Rather than arguing back, Satoru raised his free hand in defense, “I didn’t say you were weak, I just said you’re not on my level!”
You couldn’t help but raise your eyebrow and he quickly dropped the topic. Deciding to take your advice to heart, he asked you about your favorite cake and any ‘hidden gems and recommendations’, as he called them. The sudden change in topic threw you off a little, but as long as he tried, right? You were almost inclined to reward him with a good noodle star. Not that you’d do that. In place of that, you opted to go with the alternative: provide him with the information he asked for. So you thought about it carefully before answering him. He listened intently.
“I’ll keep those in mind. Making a mental list for the next time we hang out,” he grinned at you, tapping his temple. “You want to hang out again? I’m not boring you out of your mind yet?” you asked puzzledly, still in disbelief that he showed actual interest in you outside of work. “Why wouldn’t I want to?” He seemed slightly confused and raised a white eyebrow.
“Do you not want to?” He glanced at you with his bright, sparkling eyes. The notion of spending more time with you excited him. The enthusiasm was reflected in his cerulean eyes. When you thought about it, it only made sense, considering he had just confessed that he found you intriguing. “I just assumed you couldn’t stand me because I wasn’t as strong as you because you kept being mean to me,” you admitted somewhat shyly.
“I’m not that mean!” He said, acting shocked, though you noticed he was trying to hide a chuckle.
After a few seconds, Satoru sighed and clarified, “I can be a bit mean at times but I promise I never hated you or anything.” He smiled and you swore it was a smile that could threaten to make your knees a bit weak. Lucky for you that you were sitting on a bench. It was almost unfair how blessed he was with good looks. He continued, “I actually enjoy your company. You’re interesting and fun and I can tell you’re not afraid to bite back but you can be friendly if you want to. If anything, I like that a lot about you.”
A slight feeling of abashment prompted you to avoid his gaze. This was unusual. You weren’t used to him being so openly kind. “You know, I’d think I prefer you teasing me… without being straight up rude,” you confessed. His eyes widened briefly. Yet, a smirk soon returned to his face, “I see. You’re a masochist. Just kidding! I can definitely do that. It’ll be interesting to see how you react to me teasing you.”
Of course, you wouldn’t let that sit on you and you bit back, “Don’t expect me not to fight back, though.” And there it was, the slightly awkward atmosphere from earlier dissipated and everything returned to your usual banter.
Satoru clicked his tongue, “Trust me, I don’t expect you to be anyone but yourself. But I’m still looking forward to what you’ll do when I tease you, though.” He winked. “Not only are you an interesting person, but you’re fairly cute too.”
Who? You? “Huh?” you blurted out, baffled at the sudden compliment. With the way he was grinning at you, he had to be messing with you since he enjoyed seeing your reactions. “Did I say something wrong? I wasn’t lying. You’re adorable. Do you think you’re not?” Oh, he was definitely messing with you.
“Not really,” you shot back. You knew you weren’t ugly but hearing a compliment from someone as stunning as Satoru was something else. But cute and adorable…? That wasn’t exactly the best way to compliment someone you wanted to get attention from. If anything, it fueled something almost akin to spite within you. You felt the urge to tease him back.
“Come on, it was a genuine compliment from me. That’s gotta count for something, doesn’t it?” he pouted. You couldn’t detect any kind of indication that he was lying. “Thank you, you’re not so bad yourself,” you complimented him back. “Really?” he let out a gasp that was obviously fake, “I’m not so bad?”
You nodded, prompting the white-haired man to raise his eyebrow as he contemplated. “You’re right, I’m not bad,” he nodded in agreement with you.
“I am great,” he said, a smirk forming on his face.
You chuckled, “You know. I think if it wasn’t for your foul personality, I would have fallen for you long ago.”
“Foul personality?” Satoru gasped as he brought a hand to his chest to grab it. “Maybe you’re just as mean as I am!” A laugh escaped from your throat and it was like music to his ears. “I never said I was nice, did I?” you fired back at him and he couldn’t help but grin. “See? I think I like you more when you're sassy. Maybe we're not as different as you thought,” he spoke. After a moment, he added, “I wouldn't mind if you treated me like this all the time. I could even get used to it.”
“So the great Gojo Satoru likes being degraded, I see. Noted,” you teased him again. One of his hands moved to his mouth to cover it, pretending to be horrified. He leaned forward and you could see a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I don’t think ‘degradation’ is the right term here; I just enjoy teasing you and... being teased by you. Is that so bad?” he asked. “Then,” you began and stood up, the ice cream was long finished. You placed your index finger beneath his chin, moving it up so he was facing you as you got closer to his face. He could feel your breath. “Do you like this?” you asked. Your goal was to get back at him for flustering you earlier. So why was your heart beating so fast?
“I think I do,” he simply said. His pale blue eyes seemed to peer at you, piercing you, as if looking for an answer to a question that had been left unasked. Despite being in a sitting position, he still radiated a confident aura. Suddenly the closeness you had created between the two of you was too much for you. Your body backed away automatically but you found yourself unable to move any farther from him—he didn’t let you. Instead, he reduced the gap between the two of you even more, slowly coming closer to you.
His fingers had already sneakily encircled your left forearm without you noticing. Mesmerizing eyes robbed you of your ability to move. You didn’t notice you held your breath until you needed to inhale sharply. Who was teasing who now? Caught like a deer in headlights, adrenaline rushed through your veins as anticipation clouded your mind. That was the moment you realized that you were into him more than you’d like to admit. You swore you could hear your heartbeat pounding loudly in your ears. The tension became too much and the ringing in your ears amplified and—
And then he closed the gap between you. Your brain blacked out. All you could think about was his lips on yours. Saying that you didn’t like his lips melting into yours was a lie. Satoru was leaving a sweet hint of his mango-flavored ice cream for you to taste, as if to claim you as his.
After a few seconds, Satoru broke the kiss. The shit-eating grin on his face was telling. “I think I liked this more though. You should let me do that more often. Maybe every day,” he winked at you. He looked at your frozen expression and chuckled; he genuinely had fun flirting with you. Still dazed from the kiss, your brain was unable to conjure any thoughts. All you knew was that you wanted—no, it was a need to kiss him again. As if your body would be set ablaze if you didn’t listen to your desire, your lips chased his and you kissed him again.
Satoru blinked. He was a bit taken aback at first but quickly returned the kiss, closing his eyes. After all, he had just boldly said that he wanted to do it more often. When you broke the kiss, he leaned forward before speaking. You noticed that the tip of his ears were a little red. It was a cute detail that you wouldn’t have noticed from afar.
“Damn, you’re a really good kisser,” the sorcerer said in a low voice, smiling at you. “Can I try again?” he asked, the smile still adorning his face. “All good things come in threes, I suppose,” you smiled back at him and leaned in again. Who would have thought that you would kiss this guy?
Without hesitation, the sitting Satoru pulled you into his lap and he kissed you again, heart beating faster with each passing second. After a few moments, he pulled away.
“Yeah, three sounds like a good number… but I prefer Infinity,” he said breathlessly. His cheeks were slightly flushed, a sign that he was enjoying himself. The white-haired adolescent reached up and pulled a stray strand of hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear. He playfully added, “We should do this more often. Don't you agree?”
“Now you’re just being greedy!” you joked as you hit his chest playfully. It was only now that you noticed that his Limitless technique wasn’t in effect. “Greedy? Who? Me? Never!” he gasped again, pretending to be hurt over your accusation. “You hit me pretty hard there. I could have gotten hurt…” He glanced at the hand you used to hit him, “Do you want me to hit you too? Or maybe I should ask for damage compensation?”
You could tell he wasn’t serious by the way he smiled. “If you go on and hit me with your lips, then sure. Alternatively, I can offer lip service as compensation. Choose your poison, choose your hell.”
For a moment, he looked at you with mock horror. Then, he broke out in laughter at your statement. “Actually, that first one sounds like a good idea. I’ll go ahead and hit you with my lips then. But gently. Because I’m a gentleman.” He tenderly placed his two hands at the side of your face and slowly pulled you closer to him. Tilting his head slightly, he leaned in until your lips met. It was very gentle and your heart was filled with excitement, with exhilaration, as he kissed you. As your hands gripped his uniform tightly, you slowly lost yourself in the kiss, getting drunk on his lips. Maybe you should curse him for being a good kisser.
Satoru ended the kiss with a peck on the corner of your mouth and looked at you with a soft gaze, the softest you had ever seen on him. The dazed look on your face made him laugh again, “Don’t get too drunk on my kisses.” Stroking your cheeks with his long fingers, he laughed once again when he saw your pouting face, “You’re adorable, you know that?”
“Correct me if I’m wrong but you’re not entirely unaffected by kissing me,” you stated as-a-matter-of-factly and raised an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms. Being called out like this was embarrassing but it was pretty clear that you weren’t the only one affected with how the tips of his ears became slightly redder with each time you touched lips.
His lips formed a smile, “They’re addictive, if I’m being honest. I don’t… I don’t want to stop kissing you. I could do this all day, every day.”
“If kissing me is addictive, then I think I’m doing a great job at affecting you,” you chuckled. The way your mouth moved as you spoke and the way the corners moved upwards to form a cheeky smile; he couldn’t take his eyes off. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, his thumb moved along the corner of your mouth. He couldn’t stop staring, the urge to lay his lips on yours once more strong. “You’re fun to be around. I like you, a lot. I’m enjoying how I feel when I’m close to you. I love whatever effect you have on me,” he spoke clearly.
He was fixated, enchanted, spell-bound even. “Is… Is this a confession?” you asked, hopeful eyes peering up at his. You took notice of the entranced look on his face. He blurted out, “I think I already fell for you a while ago.” As he realized what he had done, his eyes widened in shock and he wanted to slap his palms on his mouth, but he didn’t because that meant letting go of you. This time, it wasn’t fake shock but he genuinely didn’t think he’d blurt it out like that. But it was okay, because you liked him too. What was the use of pretending you didn’t?
“I think that makes two of us then,” as you admitted it, you felt your ears blazing with heat. “I’m saying that I like you too.”
It took him a moment to process in his brain. Despite being academically clever and praised for his intelligence and wit in battles, you found it took him rather long to work out the meaning behind your words. “I knew you liked me, despite your sass.” No need to hide it now that he’d taken a look inside your heart. “We’re a dangerous duo,” the sorcerer noted, amused by his realization. You agreed with him, “Just two flirty kids who give trouble a run for its money.”
“Hey,” he suddenly began after a few moments, “Have you ever dated someone before? Are there any current or ex boyfriends I need to be worried about?” Satoru’s voice came out softly and he looked at you, awaiting an answer that would please him… because if not… he felt his heart drop at the thought. You wouldn’t… right?
Uncertainty clouded his mind as he looked at your face. “I have dated someone before but it didn’t work out. I’m not seeing anyone at the moment,” you clarified and wagged your index finger at him. “And honestly, even if there was… I think you’d do a great job at keeping them away,” you added.
And then, relief washed over him. With hindsight, he should have asked that before kissing you—a small part inside him admonished him for it but his heart couldn’t help but leap at your words. Quickly recomposing himself, he grinned back at you, “I bet with all the sass, sarcasm and cheekiness you’ve got, you can keep them away just as easily by yourself.”
Obviously, you had a comeback up your sleeve, “I never said I couldn’t. But you’d do a decent job at it. Because anyone would be scared of a tall white-haired dude who is full of himself.”
A hearty laugh came out of his throat; he expected nothing less from you. You were good at getting back at him in the most entertaining and beautiful ways. There was no doubt that you were able to handle his ‘foul’ personality well. “So we’re both good at keeping guys away from us, huh? You really do think I’m full of myself, don’t you? So why didn’t you reject me before?” he questioned. “Judging from what happened earlier… I might not be that good at keeping guys like you away from me. I wasn’t born with your technique after all. And I’m not sure if I want to keep away a guy named Gojo Satoru from me,” you grin at him and pinch his cheek gently.
“I’m flattered,” he fake-sniffed and then he leaned even closer, “So did I hear that correctly? You don’t want to keep a tall, almighty and handsome guy like me away from you? Hm?”
“No, I don’t want to keep you away from me. But I think if we dated, we’d be dangerous to other people. Our superiors wouldn’t approve of it, I am sure,” you mused. It was logical but Satoru gave you a bizarre look, “And you care about what some old farts have to say? Strange thing to be worried about when you’re someone who usually fires back right away.”
“I was just saying. I don’t care about what they think; I like playing dangerously. Wouldn’t be in this line of work if that wasn’t the case,” the words coming out of your mouth made him feel delighted. The smug look on your face only added to it.
“That makes us a dangerous duo, huh? The perfect pair to take down curses and cause trouble, I kinda like that,” he clicked his tongue as he finished speaking. The thought of the two of you wreaking havoc was fun and thrilling, admittedly. Principal Yaga was sure to get white hair at this rate—not that Satoru cared too much about it, as long as the old man didn’t die of shock or cardiac arrest.
“You bet,” you shot him a cheeky smile. “Then it’s settled, wouldn’t you say? You and I are an amazing partner match, sweetheart. Just a danger to society,” Satoru established.
“That’s sort of ironic, considering that our job is to protect society as it is,” you remarked. And yet, it didn’t matter to you at all. All you felt at the moment was the pleasantness of the world, of Gojo Satoru’s presence and coming clean with your feelings.
“Hey, since you brought it up already… I’m going to assume that you’re fine with dating me…?” He briefly looked at the ground, then back at you. The little bit of uncertainty in his tone was almost cute to you. For the first time, the usually cocky and confident platinum—haired sorcerer wasn’t so sure about his words in front of you. Seeing him like this wasn’t so bad, you noticed.
You got on your tiptoes to gently place a peck on his cheek. Your actions were contradictory to your following question: “What makes you think you’re worthy of being my boyfriend?”
You were only teasing him, hoping that your sweet kiss was answer enough. Part of you hoped that he got the playful tone in your voice. But when he glanced down at you as you struggled to reach his lips on your tiptoes, a wide grin spread across his face as you leaned in and kissed him. His heart raced as he snaked his two arms around your waist to steady you.
With an eye smile so boyish that it made you blink once, twice, Satoru was quick to respond, “Opposite day already passed, you brat. I think it’s only fair to deduce that if I’m worthy of your kiss, I’m most likely good enough to be your boyfriend.”
“Hmmm, you think so?” you grin mischievously at him and slung your arms around his neck. Your goal was to rile him up a little, it was in your nature to be a little annoying about it.
“I’d say a kiss is a good sign, sugar,” he retorted with a sassy tone in his voice. He tightened his arms around your waist, effectively hugging you closer to him. There was no escape for you—not that you wanted to flee from him anyways. On the contrary: You rested your head on his shoulder.
“Then I think it’s in order that my official boyfriend kisses me now and goes on a date with me,” you murmured into his ear. A slight movement indicated that he was reacting to your whisper. He gulped and swiftly got his cool back. “That can be arranged,” Satoru smiled as he moved his hands to the sides of your face and closed the gap once more. After separating from your lips, his arms moved back to their original spot.
He snickered to himself, “I can’t believe you’re so cheeky and smooth.”
You stuck your tongue out at him—and to him, you looked so adorable doing it. “Being a menace who is cheeky and smooth is my forte,” you claimed brazenly. “How does it feel to be my boyfriend?”
“Being handsome and strong is part of my job as the notorious kid from the Gojo clan. But being your official boyfriend was not in the job description when I signed up to be a sorcerer. I’ll take my incentive bonus payment in the form of love and affection from you,” he joked and nuzzled your nose. Satoru’s warm hands found yours and he didn’t hesitate to intertwine your fingers.
“Then I guess our first date will be a salary negotiation,” you laughed back at him. This was the start of something beautiful, but also the start of double trouble for some poor souls. Not that any of you cared anyway.
White tufts of hair and round sunglasses would accompany you more frequently from now on.
#gojo satoru x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojou x reader#satoru gojo x reader
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modern headcanons | he subscribes to your onlyfans!?
⋆✮↪ ryomen sukuna, fushiguro toji, and zenin naoya
‘ - imagine: you start an onlyfans account as a joke, only wanting to satiate the curiosity in your mind and share a good laugh with your friends. however, with an eviction notice and student debt weighing like stones in your pocket, you plunge yourself into the world of adult entertainment. it takes a lot of effort to make good progress but eventually you do. now with several months under your belt, a sizable salary, and adoring fans, you think that the risk is worth it.
warnings: suggestive language, its not that serious but mdni pls
*⁀➷ HOW HE FINDS YOU…
SUKUNA sees your profile in the suggestions list. being a patron to a few creators already, he’s not new to the platform. the algorithm knows what he likes, follows, and watches, so he’s unsurprised to see that your content caters to his liking. he doesn’t really plan to subscribe to anyone new, but things have been pretty dry recently, especially with the creators he already follows. sukuna thinks you’d be the same, but he can’t bring himself to close the website. his intuition tells him to drop a few bucks to view your page properly.
TOJI randomly picks your profile after searching up “top ten cheapest subscriptions.” like most men going through financial and family problems in their late 30s, toji turns to adult entertainment for a quick distraction. it works for a while, but he’s absolutely devastated after realizing that the good stuff is blocked by massive paywalls. he can only earn so much from gambling. toji eventually decides to do some research for a cheap (but quality!) creator and ends up finding you: a very pretty girl with very pretty videos for a very pretty price.
NAOYA learns about you from a friend at work. at first, he’s unimpressed. naoya is not really the type to use paid-access platforms. why the fuck should he pay for some pussy? it literally takes less than half the effort to find a free website. at the end of the day, however, naoya submits to his curiosity and buys your one-month subscription. he wants to see if you’re as good as people say you are. he doesn’t want some coworker to give you that credit. he wants to decide for himself because his word is law.
*⁀➷ HOW OFTEN HE COMMENTS…
SUKUNA doesn’t comment often. since paying for your monthly subscription a few weeks ago, sukuna watches every single one of your videos, special extras, and livestreams. he doesn’t know if it’s your sweet voice, pretty lace, or delicious body, but something about you has this man absolutely hooked. he rarely leaves a comment under anything though. it might be a problem with his pride, but sukuna doesn’t want to look like a desperate dog, even though onlyfans isn’t really a public platform.
TOJI comments occasionally. his comments are a healthy mix of praises and whatnot. considering that creators set their own subscription fees, and you’re kind enough to sell your content at a generous price, toji doesn’t hesitate to send a few words here and there. it’s the least he can do. now that he’s subscribed to you, toji almost feels bad about paying so little. he thinks you should be charging way more, but you won’t catch him complaining! besides, toji makes it up to you with salacious little comments.
NAOYA comments a lot. this man takes advantage of his anonymity. he probably has some stupid username, like “panty sniffer” just to fuck with people. or have a good laugh. maybe both. anyways, naoya is obsessed with your content. he turns your notifications on so he can be one of the first people to join your livestreams. naoya spams your chat too. it gets annoying for other people trying to enjoy themselves, you included, but this man does not care. he leaves the dirtiest, most obscene comments for you to read later.
*⁀➷ HOW MUCH HE DONATES…
SUKUNA donates a lot. he works a well-paying job so he doesn’t really care about sending you big donations. sukuna especially enjoys donating when you’re live. it leaves him with sick satisfaction when you grow flustered and moan out his name (he’s a bit uncreative with his user compared to naoya) in front of thousands of viewers. it feeds his superiority complex honestly, and makes him think that he’s a tier above your other fans. he may be stingy with compliments, but sukuna certainly won’t hesitate to spoil you.
TOJI donates every once in a while, but most of the time he doesn’t. he comments more than he donates. remember, one of the biggest reasons why toji watches you is because your subscription fees are outrageously affordable. when he does feel like donating though, it’s usually a portion he earns from winning a gamble that day. maybe if you’re lucky, toji might split his salary with you, but that’s incredibly rare. he still needs food and water to survive.
NAOYA never donates. that’s one line he doesn’t want to cross (but most likely will in the future). it’s easy to leave comments under your content because they’re just words. they only hold meaning if you want them to. but when it comes to real-world money, it’ll cement the fact that naoya stays up almost every night fisting his cock over some girl that doesn’t know he exists. it leaves a heavy blow on his pride that you hold that kind power over him, so choosing not to donate gives him a false sense of security.
(masterlist) | (a/n: this prompt was funnier in my head but whatever. also i played around w my headcanons format bc i got sick of the other one)
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#sukuna ryomen#toji fushiguro#naoya zenin#sukuna x reader#toji x reader#naoya x reader#sukuna ryomen x reader#naoya zenin x reader#jjk sukuna#jjk toji#jjk naoya#jjk x reader#jjk headcanons#jjk imagines#toji fushigro x reader#jujutsu kaisen toji
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Love Grows - Part 1
This is my take on teen dad Steve! It was just supposed to be a ficlet, but the word count is currently hovering at 4k and I'm not done, so this will be going up in parts. <3
Ao3 | Part 2
February '85
The rumors have been flying for weeks. It only took one cheerleader to see Steve Harrington out and about with a baby and soon enough the news was all over the school. Nevermind that no one else has even seen said baby, but just the one accusation is enough to send the rumor mill into production.
It's something that had piqued Eddie's interest, but he quickly attributed it to teenagers spreading drama, a fiction created for their own entertainment. That is, until the day Harrington shows up to school with the baby.
The halls are buzzing, more so than usual, and it only takes until second period for Eddie to realize why. The entire class breaks into whispers when Steve walks in with a baby carrier in one hand, a piece of paper in the other, and a diaper bag slung over his shoulder. The paper goes to the teacher, who reads it before saying something to Steve, and Eddie is so curious but unable to hear anything over the chatter in the room.
Eddie can’t take his eyes off Steve for the rest of the class. He watches as the carrier finds a home on the floor, right by Steve’s desk, and Eddie has a perfect view of the little, rosy-cheeked baby girl from his seat two rows behind Steve (at least, Eddie’s assuming it’s a girl. The blanket tucked around her is a soft pink, so-). He sees every time Steve leans over to check on her, sees how her big eyes flick up to look at him, how she smiles around the pacifier in her mouth.
It makes Eddie go all gooey inside; he's always loved kids, always hoped to find a guy who is good with them, and seeing Harrington being so attentive only increases the low-key crush he has on the other guy (he knows it’s a little pathetic, but Steve is very attractive, and Eddie is very gay, sue him). When the class ends, Eddie gathers his stuff slowly so he has an excuse to hang back a little and watch Steve interact with the baby some more, but soon enough the younger is also packed up and out the door.
Eddie doesn't see Steve again until later that day, when he's skipping out on 5th period and hears a baby crying as he passes by a closed classroom door. He peeks in through the window and sees Harrington pacing slowly while holding the baby against his shoulder, one arm supporting her from the bottom as his free hand rubs circles into her back.
For a moment Eddie thinks about walking on, about just leaving Steve alone as he comforts his wailing child, but the cries pull hard on Eddie's heartstrings and he finds himself opening the door and slipping inside.
"Everything okay?" he asks, and Steve looks up in surprise before his expression shifts into something unreadable.
"Yeah, we're fine. She's just extra fussy because she's teething. I came in here because I don't want to disturb anyone else."
Eddie hums and goes to the nearby diaper bag, starts digging through it and is surprised when Steve doesn't tell him to stop. He finds a little bottle of numbing gel and smears some onto his pinky before sliding it into the baby's still wailing mouth, and carefully rubs it over her gums as he coos at her.
"I know, honey, it hurts so bad. It's gonna be okay, though, just you wait."
He glances up to see Steve staring at him, his expression curious, and Eddie suddenly feels overexposed.
"My last neighbor had two jobs and three small kids, so I have a little experience with babies," Eddie explains, needing to fill the sudden silence that falls as the baby calms. His finger is still in her mouth, and he feels no desire to remove it, especially once she starts gnawing on it gently. Steve glances down at his girl before giving Eddie a soft smile, and Eddie's heart flips in his chest.
"That's more than I have, at least. Thanks."
"No worries, man. What, uh- what's her name?"
"Rosemary," Steve says, humming when the baby makes a soft noise. "At least, that's what I'm changing it to, as soon as I'm able."
The warmth that had settled in Eddie's stomach sours a little at Steve's declaration, and as he pulls his finger from the baby's mouth he can't help biting out "And her mom is okay with you changing her name?"
The atmosphere in the room changes as Steve's face crumbles, and Eddie knows he's said something wrong.
"Her mom didn't want anything to do with her," Steve replies softly, and oh no, Eddie instantly feels like a piece of shit. He'd heard the rumors that some girl had just dumped the baby on him, but he didn't think they were true.
"Shit, I'm so sorry, man. I didn't mean to assume anything."
"It's okay. No one really knows about the whole… situation."
There's an awkward pause before Eddie asks "So, Rosemary. Your choice wouldn't happen to be inspired by a certain Edison Lighthouse song, would it?" He smiles when Steve blushes, the pink dusting his face so sweetly as he shrugs.
"It was my grandma's favorite song, and a lot of my happy memories are with her, so... I've already started calling her Rosie, so she'll be used to it."
"It’s a good name," Eddie hums, rubbing his thumb over Rosie's tiny eyebrow. "She's a cute kid, Harrington."
Steve mutters a soft “Thanks,” and then there’s a brief pause before he asks "Do you- do you want to hold her?" and Eddie doesn't even hesitate before nodding and giving a quick “Yes!”
He takes off his jacket and vest in one go, knowing the fabric is a little rough, and takes the baby when Steve offers her to him. He holds her close, one hand supporting her and the other resting on her back, and starts to sway a little. "I haven't held a baby in like, two years. I forgot how calming it is." Steve hums and smiles as he sits on a nearby desk. “Yeah, it is.”
They spend the rest of the time just talking about whatever comes to mind, and it's really fucking nice. Eddie learns about the gaggle of kids Steve babysits ("They're all shitheads, but I love them, even when they're using me as a chauffeur.") and Eddie talks a little about his own friends, his band ("I mean being famous is the end goal, but it's also just fun to get together and be creative just for the sake of it, you know?") and before they know it, the bell is ringing to signal the end of the period.
Steve frowns, a cute pout that tugs on the corners of his mouth, and Eddie has to bite back a smile at the expression. He sets a now sleeping Rosie back into her carrier before shrugging on his jacket and vest, and hesitates for a moment.
"Listen, Harrington. I know that we don't really know each other, but I've seen firsthand how tough this single parent shit can be, so. If you ever need a hand, or need someone to watch her so you can get shit done, you can ask me, yeah? No worry, no judgment."
Steve blinks at him, big hazel eyes flicking between Eddie's like he's making an insight check against Eddie's words. He must like what he finds, because he smiles softly and says "Thanks, Munson."
And Eddie shrugs, and smiles in return. "Call me Eddie, man."
#aahhhhh I'm so excited to finally get this up#I've been wanting to do my own teen dad Steve#and I'm weak for the name Rosemary#teen dad steve#love grows#steddie#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#stranger things#joey writes#I'll update this once the second part goes up#ill make a tag list for this one#just be sure to mention it in a reply or reblog! <3#edit: now with part 2!#edit 2: now with ao3 link!
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If you don’t already have this in your askbox: Jon Snow from Game of Thrones?
Strengths:
Fairly polite boy
Famously climbed a giant wall
Mystic connection with a giant wolf
Experience with supernatural undead menaces
Weaknesses:
Explicitly knows nothing
Might try to stab Dracula before he knows to go for the heart/cut off the head
Too honest to try his own sneaky plots
Dracula’s control of wolves may outweigh the Stark Wolf Magic
Explicitly knows nothing asdhlgdgskfkfhss
Okay you're right he is a polite boy. And he has that combination of pride and insecurity and commitment to duty that I think equips him well for this task. As a Bastard he can't afford to be anything less than a Paragon (he's got that Mina Harker complex fr fr); as a Stark he's not going to do anything to betray the honor of a house to which he has no rights - it's very like the orphan Jonathan wanting to do a Good Job and make his employer/unacknowledged father figure proud. Just as Jonathan Harker does he combines virtue and deference in a way that it will be very very entertaining for Dracula to abuse. How much can I offend Principle A before he breaks Principle B? That's the good stuff right there.
The question is what he will choose to do once he knows something - that is, post encountering the Girlies. (Now that will be disturbing for him - he's got Oaths to keep and Heroic Virginity to uphold). Protecting the world of Men (and all the tiny babies in it) from undead creatures of the Night is precisely the thing he's sworn oaths about! Does his duty lie in attempting to destroy the creatures in their Lair (and possibly die in the attempt) or to escape and warn the Living about the coming invasion? He has enough encounters in his own source material where he is the Designated Survivor to get the word out that I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and say the latter (because in the former he definitely dies).
The wolf question is a hard one. I think Jon will not choose Certain Death if some duty requires him to be alive - but will he view the wolves as Certain Death or will he see them as friends? Hmm. Well if he makes it this far he should know from previous encounters that Dracula can command the wolves and he can't (he may know nothing, but he can learn) so he might make it through this one too.
And then as you say: walls. Does he really free-climb the whole Wall?? A stone wall with ledges and footholds has to be easier than an aphysically high ice wall.
As an aside, I think Jon Snow might be the first character I think would attempt Shovel Assault. Huh!
So yes, I think Jon Snow, Bastard of Winterfell, can survive Castle Dracula.
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Ok ok hear me out 👀
What if, instead of fem! Proxy, we got a fem! Human maid 👀👀👀
Like the Slenderman chose her to take care of the mansions needs such as: cleanliness, general functioning (like electrical management, house repair, etc...), food management, etc...
But she isn't a demon nor proxy, but a human dragged into this life (The Operator is a cruel silly guy)
The Proxies have to watch over her so other residents don't mess with her, and also so she doesn't run away.
THE POWER DYNAMIC WOULD BE THROUGH THE ROOF 😭
YOU'RE BACK<3 this prompt is interesting ngl👀👀 I included more characters for the spice
Creepypasta x Maid!Reader
Characters Included: Proxy focused
Warnings: suggestive/NSFW themes,non-con/dub-con mentions,violence,misogyny,drugs and mental illness references
The difference between the power dynamics between you and the other residents are catastrophically huge
Once Slenderman took you in,he made sure that you understand what your role is from the start.It was a cruel time for him to make the decision to bring an innocent human in a manor full of deranged people,but in his mind he took the right decision
The first sick people who viewed you as a fuck toy would be Masky and Jeff
Since you're in the care of proxies,you are somwhat lucky,the others would mostly keep their hands to themselves
Maybe except Ben who has no restrictions by being a literal ghost,so I can totally see him messing with you for a while
The fact that you are a maid might give the others the opportunity to discover a new kink btw
Masky would slap your ass as you clean the windows "good job,get that body moving"
He's a whiny little bitch.He would scream at you if you missed a spot,if you were late to cook dinner by a minute or if he simply needs your assistance with whatever bullshit he makes up
He even called you to prepare him a bath and harassed you in the bathroom,even threating to drown you for his sick entertainment
The way you look up to him makes his dick hard,he doesn't care if the others find gross that he gets off on the power imbalance,he feels good about it
The only good thing he does is not letting the others fuck with you it doesn't apply to Hoodie
Sure,he might threaten to punish you by letting Jeff has his way with you,but we all know his pride won't let him to let you get fucked by another man yeah,once more,it doesn't apply to Hoodie
Right after a bloody mission he would bring you to his room and make you suck him off "How's it feel to have the dirty work done?Right where you belong"
Washing the blood off of their clothes it's a nightmare.Sometimes,the white masked man would try to scare you by saying all the messed up things he did to get them this red
Toby was happy he can look after a girl ngl.After seeing how scared and lost you are,he decided to make himself your safe space
But even then,he saw you as an opportunity to break himself into,it was a selfish tought,but he really craved to be your "knight in shining armor"
He actually started to stand his ground whenever Masky would start to harass him in front of you,and even if he would get beat up and would shame retreat in his shell for a few days,this boy doesn't give up
I can see him letting you escape in the forest if you pull the right strings,but the fear of what Slenderman would do to both yourself and him made Toby to get you back crying
INSTEAD,he goes on walks with you in the forest whenever you are free,just to give you that false sense of freedom
Even if it's just your job to clean,cook and do household chores,he views them as more intimate and might get romantic feelings towards you he has no self respect
Hoodie would play a lot of mind games with you,sometimes he would make you think he's your ally,sometimes he would give the impression that he's just another wolf from the hungry pack
He actually let you run free in the forest for a few minutes and waited for you to get your hopes up until he would show up from behind and get you back
"Gothca" he said,tackling you to the ground as one of his hands rested on your waist and the other one on the back of your head "let's get you back,shall we?awwwh,don't cry now,you know I wouldn't hurt you!Now I can't say the same about the others if they knew you got this far..so let's keep this between the two of us,what do ya' say?"
The son of a bitch would also blackmail you into having sex with him so that he can "protect you" or so that "he wouldn't snitch about your plans of running away"
Even if your plans would be top tier,he would know about them and would make sure to tear them down as slow as the light in your eyes fade away
If you're feisty he wouldn't feel the need to fight with you,but would rather keep him interested into bringing you down
But if you're on the docile side he would still take it as a challenge to himself,to see in how much time he can make you his loyal puppy
The manor is huge,four floors with large windows where a lot of dust piles up,especially on the inhibited last floor where The Operator works
I can see Masky making you work naked at a busy hour of the day, just for his fucked up entertainment,throwing some nasty comments while burning cigarette buts on your soft skin
EJ would watch from a distance,mercy and guilt piling up in his chest.Altough he doesn't see you as prey,he would certainly think of you as a safe resort to call when his heats/bloodlust appears
Jane would nod her head and advert her eyes,often even asking you if you're okay,just trying to make you feel..a little cared for
Natalie would argue a lot about you with Masky,but after all she's just a resident and Tim is still a proxy at the end of the day.She can't do anything about it.
All in all,your life in the mansion would be assured to be a long one,and depending on your behaviour you can make it a less traumatizing pressuring experience
#creepypasta x reader#creepypasta headcanons#creepypasta#headcanons#y/n#tim wright#tim wright x reader#brian thomas#brian thomas x reader#brian x reader#masky x reader#hoodie x reader#toby x reader#marble hornets#jeff the killer#jane the killer#clockwork#ben drowned#creepypasta scenarios
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Teammate
oscar piastri x reader - part two | ongoing
summary: after she teases a soft launch small internal chaos erupts and she proceeds with a hard launch...
feedback is appreciated + requests are open!
enjoy xx
part one | part two | part three (coming soon)
yln.yn
liked by logansargeant, mclaren, and 1,108,426 others
yln.yn he protects me
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user14 okAY SO NOT OSCAR
user13 US AGAIN: 🤡🤡
user18 OKAY BABE BUT WHO IS HE???
user16 the fact that oscar wasn't in the likes in 0.4 seconds is kind of concerning
user18 mom who is this man😭
oscarpiastri lucky fella
yln.yn added to their story!
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yln.yn
liked by aidenroman, oscarpiastri, and 1,098,234 others
yln.yn this not my boyfriend, aiden! and here's his fiancee jack, they're in love and it's disgusting
tagged: aidenroman, jackoswell
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user16 OSCARS BACK
aidenroman you're just jealous❤
user27 yn's pr manager is shaking right now
yln.yn sorry lucia! 🧡
mclaren it's alright yn, we should be used to it by now
user29 so... there's still hope for team oscar?
user31 YES
oscarpiastri I expect an invite to the wedding
logansargeant How does it feel to give nearly the entire racing industry a heart attack 🎤
yln.yn it feels nice, knowing i have power
mclaren Dominating on and off track😎
user33 admin, you might wanna think about that one a little...
yln.yn .....
aidenroman
liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 876,948 others
aidenroman i bet your girlfriend doesn't drive nice ass cars in weird circles
tagged: jackoswell, yln.yn
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yln.yn we look hot.
mclaren yn, please don't make our jobs harder
yln.yn im just saying the truth 🙄
jackoswell he IS hot, isn't he
aidenroman you're not too bad either
yln.yn okay, let's tone it down a bit... go get a room
aidenroman YALL CUTE FORMULA DRIVER IN MY LIKES SEND HELP THIS IS NOT A DRILL
yln.yn @/landonorris he thinks you're hot
aidenroman YN
landonorris hi :)
jackoswell he's giggling and dying inside at the same time, it's quite entertaining
mclaren that's our girl😏
aidenroman omg i love u (pls give us free tickets)
yln.yn i got u boo
yln.yn added to their story!
caption: scary dog privileges
caption: melbourne, ily
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logansargeant Do you love melbourne, or what comes with melbourne
yln.yn shut up
#oscar piastri x y/n#oscar piastri#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri imagine#f1 smau#oscar piastri smau#formula 1#formula 1 smau#formula 1 fanfic#oscah pastry
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okay apparently watcher released an apology so here's my thoughts (not asked for):
it was decent, as far as youtube apologies go. I don't understand why people are now saying that people overreacted when we probably wouldn't have gotten an apology if no one said anything? like being critical of things is okay, you know? and in this case it led to the right outcome.
I also don't think it's wrong that people started criticizing the content at watcher. especially after being told they had to pay for it, like you're gonna become more critical of things when you're being asked to pay money for it instead of it being free. and when the product is becoming more expensive to produce but it ends up being less entertaining, that is not a good thing (*cough* ghost files)
watcher 100% needs someone to budget their money, idk who is in charge of it now, but they really don't seem to be doing a good job. production is expensive, but you cannoooot be making projects as if you have a disney/warner brothers type budget when you're an indie studio. even with the streaming service money, this will still be an issue. they're trying to grow their company way too fast, and it will lead to them going under completely if they're not careful. you can't rely on the fans to bail you out when you make bad choices.
also, they need other on-screen talent. like the try guys have been struggling for awhile now, but at least they were smart enough to get people like kwesi and johnny to be new cast members. ryan and shane are 1000% burnt out, they need other talent. I remember they had a show with one of the staff members(?) but it only lasted 3 episodes and then they just stopped it. obv it didn't get as many views, but you need to build an audience and that takes more than 3 episodes to do. if they want to actually produce more content (which would help make more money and make their huge staff actually make sense) they need new people to be on screen. look at dropout/GMM/smosh. bigger casts, way more output. putting steven and andrew as hosts is actually a good choice i think, but sadly they're choosing to have them host one of the most expensive shows to produce. when you're making food content, why are you starting with the pricey international restaurants? start at del taco or something. build a bigger audience to justify the costs. look at eat the menu; the first episode was literally taco bell, and five years later, NOW they're doing fine dining. because they can put more money into it, because they KNOW it's one of their more profitable shows.
idk. acting like there still isn't problems is so strange to me. they apologized, that's a good thing, but it doesn't solve all the issues that have been brought to the forefront as a result of this whole debacle.
#i also recommend cr1tikals video on the subject because he is brutally honest about how much money youtube channels make#i don't completely buy the 'youtube is not giving us enough money woe is me' act#esp w/ patreon and merch and live show profits#idk. remain critical of internet personalities i guess#watcher
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Parting Gifts
[One-shot]
John Brady x Female!Reader
John Brady cannot stand watching your oblivious Department Head make continued advances towards you while he is stuck on the bandstand performing at a concert. He expresses this displeasure to you with actions rather than words as soon as he is free to do so.
Warnings: Era-typical Sexism/Misogyny Alcohol Consumption, Unwanted Advances, Smoking/Tobacco, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [softdom!Brady, possessive!Brady, fingering] - 18+ ONLY.
Author's Note: Really not a whole lot of plot here folks, mostly just the need for Brady to do unspeakable things...and play his saxophone. Special shoutout to @precious-little-scoundrel for the Brady brain rot and listening to me scream about him a lot lately.
Word Count: 2337
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Sioux City, Iowa - January, 1943
Leroy Anderson was going to get himself killed. Well, he would if it were possible for looks alone to kill a man, for the pure fury in John’s eyes as the frustratingly oblivious man approached you for the fifth time was unmistakable even though his cheeks inflated rather adorably as he continued to dutifully play his saxophone. You were honestly only in attendance to watch the performance of the 100th’s band, entertaining the local populace of Sioux City, Iowa in gratitude for tolerating their invasion earlier that month, and not interested in dancing with anyone other than their handsome saxophone-playing pilot Lieutenant John Brady.
You had been quite taken with John Brady since the moment you had laid your eyes on him late on January 2nd, lost in the streets of Sioux City with the address of a local tobacco shop clutched in his hand and a bewildered expression on his face. On your way from your job at the T.S. Martin Department Store to the apartment you shared with your close friend Fern Westcott, you had stopped to try and give him directions. When his eyebrows had crinkled helplessly in confusion, it had not taken long for you to decide to guide him there yourself, waiting patiently for him to make his purchase of rather fine pipe tobacco as he then insisted on escorting you home in turn. Never mind that he did not know the way and only ended up more lost on account of it.
What had followed had been a rather intense few weeks of courtship whenever he managed to escape the base, quickly learning his way around the city…and your skirts. The entire group was growing convinced they would be cleared for overseas duty any day now and your time with him was feeling precariously short, making the continued interruptions of your department head, whose advances you had been dodging for months now, all the more tedious.
Upon arrival at the dancehall, decked out with streamers in the blue and gold of the 8th Air Force and a huge banner that read ‘We’ll Miss You 100th’ you had selected a spot along the wall with a clear view of John. Fern had offered to check your winter coat and returned, briefly, with the tag before allowing herself to be swept off by one of the many handsome young men in attendance. She was a stunning blonde with green eyes and a bright laugh, fairly having to beat them off if she wanted a break – though it never seemed she did, happy to dance for hours. Meanwhile you could barely get through one song without being proposition by the nasal voice of Leroy, his shiny face inserting itself into your view. You did your utmost to remain polite and not turn him down too harshly.
“Oh maybe the next one.”
“Just enjoying my drink, thanks.”
“I’m still a little tired from work, Leroy, but thank you.”
“I’m sure Fern would love a dance with you, Leroy.”
“Almost ready, Leroy.”
You tried changing sides of the dancefloor, hiding behind other couples, nursing a drink. None of these tactics worked for very long. With each of his intrusions, you noted John’s lips growing tighter around the mouthpiece of his instrument, his grip turning his fingertips white, but he remained on the bandstand, dutifully playing out the set which, to your recollection, only had a few more songs. After the fifth rebuffed invitation, Fern mercifully intervened and pulled you out onto the dancefloor to join numerous other pairs of friends who were dancing with one another.
“You’re a lifesaver Fern…” You muttered gratefully and the pair of you tried not to laugh too loudly as you struggled to figure out who would lead.
“If that man wasn’t responsible for signing our timecards…”
You gave her a knowing huff, wishing more than anything you could firmly dismiss his advances, but to do so risked your position in the housewares department. “I put in for team lead with the mail order department since Artie left, we’ll see what happens.”
“Well we’d miss you dearly but for your sake I truly–”
Fern’s reply was cut off by the sharp tap on her shoulder by the fairly grinning Leroy, his gleeful expression making you shudder involuntarily. You had not even made it one song before he had found you amidst the sea of swaying humanity.
“May I cut in?”
To turn him down on the edge of the dancefloor was one thing, but people were already casting glances your way for the obstacle your trio was creating. If you were to refuse now it would truly qualify as making a scene, and that must be avoided at all costs.
“Certainly.” You summoned a polite smile and nodded reassuringly to Fern who immediately found another partner to whisk her away.
Keeping your arms stiff, you managed to maintain a generous amount of distance between your bodies, despite the insistent pressure of his hand on your lower back. The other hand that clung to yours was remarkably clammy and there was something sour on his breath. It took a great deal of strength to maintain a polite expression on your face as he clumsily led you through the last two songs of the set, his brassy blond hair plastered to his skull with an excessive amount of pomade as he leered at you triumphantly. You often wondered why a man like him, only a few years older than you and seemingly 1A, had yet to enlist or be drafted. If only.
You could not wrench yourself from Leroy’s arms fast enough as the band finished their final number with a flourish, flashing him a tight smile and wishing him a ‘goodnight’ before quickly making your way toward the front of the stage as the audience applauded the soldiers-turned-entertainers. It was not long before a uniform-clad arm was sliding around your waist.
“You did great, John” You rushed out brightly as you turned to look at him warmly, but he was already guiding you around the side of the stage, face still tight.
“Come help me with something, sweetheart.” His voice was taut, and his statement was not really a request, even though the words would normally have comprised one.
Chaos erupted in your abdomen, an erratic swooping in your stomach contrasting sharply with a newly familiar heaviness lower down, and all from just the tone of his voice. The promise it carried. You knew he was not annoyed with you, but the mood he was in was certainly one that usually held certain physical outcomes for you. Or at least it had the last time he had acted this way. Following without comment, John led you into the green room where all sorts of cases lay open, ready to store the band’s instruments once they returned.
So far it seemed he was the first to return here and the pair of you paused briefly for him to secure his saxophone before he resumed his progress toward a door at the back of the room which was revealed to be a small washroom. You were not afforded much time to take it in, however, as his mouth was promptly on yours while his free hand focused on closing and locking the door behind you once he had pulled you inside.
Gasping sharply, you gripped the lapels of his uniform jacket, tilting your head back to yield to his demanding kiss as he backed you against the edge of the counter, arm around your waist coiling tighter. Gripping your chin with his long fingers, he pulled back to look over your slightly dazed face with darkened eyes, pupils eclipsing his blue irises as he began to pluck at the front buttons of your dress. As he bared the skin of your collarbones and the tops of your breasts, his head bowed to possessively nip and hungrily suck along your flesh, leaving you to grasp at his shoulders, desperately seeking anchor whilst attempting to smother your noises of pleasure in the back of your throat.
Clenching your thighs together as your folds grew increasingly damp and desperate for attention, you bit your lip in a mixture of regret and anticipation as John’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, a teasing huff escaping from his nostrils across your damp skin as he had clearly caught the movement.
The hems of your dress and slip fluttered as his hands slid to skate up the backs of your thighs, his fingertips making you jump slightly as they met your skin, breath hitching in your throat as gooseflesh erupted in the wake of his touch. Reaching the waistband of your underwear, John peeled them from your body, sliding the fabric down your legs before gripping your hips to guide you to sit up on the countertop. Bending down to slip your underwear over one shoe and then the other, you opened your mouth to inquire what he intended to do with them only to be met with his tongue sliding along yours, erasing any and all thought from your mind.
Fingers sliding into the longer strands of his hair, the feeling of his palm cupping your weeping core had a needy whimper spilling into his mouth as you arched eagerly. Huffing in amusement for a second time, John pulled back to drink in your facial expression as he worked his fingers through your folds, collecting your growing slick on his fingertips before seeking the source of your pleasure. Circling your sensitive bud, yet maddeningly denying direct contact, you rocked your lower lip back and forth beneath your teeth in time to his movements, brows knit up plaintively, tiny whimpers slipping through despite your best efforts to keep quiet.
When, at last, he slid his finger across your clit, your hips surged toward his hand with such need that he pressed his lips to your nose fondly. “Feel good, sweetheart?”
“Uh huh!” You breathed enthusiastically, with a firm nod, earning repeated strokes exactly where you wanted them, making your toes curl in your shoes.
“Remember how good I make you feel when I’m gone.” He murmured and you panted, punctuating your eager nods with several soft keens of delight.
“I will, god, I will miss you so much.” You whispered, voice growing alarmingly loud as he began to slide his middle finger into your wet heat.
“I know, I know.” John soothed, pressing a quick kiss to your lips as he added his ring finger, beginning to work the long digits in and out of you in a way that had your eyelids fluttering shut. “Ah, eyes on me sweetheart.” He gently yet firmly gripped your jaw, angling your eyes to meet his as you quickly forced them open, and he smiled. “There’s my pretty girl.”
Abandoning his attentions on your clit, he began a demanding pace as he curled the ends of his fingers and worked them against a spongey spot deep inside you. Your jaw dropped open in a silent moan, hips fairly levitating from the counter as your fingers dug into his scalp. His thumb shifted from the side of your jaw to slide along your lower lip before coming to rest on your tongue. Reflexively, your lips wrapped around the digit, and you began to suck, shuddering at the way his nostrils flared in response, struggling mightily to keep your eyelids open and gaze meeting his.
Your eyes were growing glossy with need, his internal stimulation, while heavenly, just not quite enough to drive you over the edge to release. At last, John seemed to take pity, his thumb manipulating your clit in short, sharp circles that had your eyes rolling back into your skull no matter how hard you fought it as your orgasm pulled your entire body rigid before dropping you lax onto the countertop.
John pulled his thumb from your mouth with a faint ‘pop’ before leaning in to feather your face with tender kisses, gently pulling you up into his arms and rubbing your back as you rested against his chest. There was that alluring hardness in his trousers again, one that he had not let you act upon or explore to date, insisting that he only wanted to focus on pleasing you.
“So good for me, sweetheart. You did incredible.” He murmured once he finished licking his fingers clean.
“Mmmm…thank you, Johnny.” You murmured and turned your face to brush your lips across his jaw, resting against him until your body felt able to support itself once more, sitting up slowly.
“Really am going to miss you…” He muttered, brushing his knuckles across your cheek and you frowned, nodding in return.
“Not as much as I’m going to miss you. Oh! I got you a present it’s…in my coat.” Look down at the state of your dress and could only imagine the state of the rest of you. You really did want to give him the two tins of his favorite tobacco tied together with a ribbon though, particularly as there was an envelope slipped between them containing your photograph.
John smirked a little and stole a kiss. “I’ll fetch it for you, you wait here.”
You laughed ruefully and dug the ticket out of your dress pocket, sharing one last, lingering kiss before he stepped out into the green room. There were more voices out there, the rest of the band surely returned from the stage, and you slid onto slightly wobbly legs to lock the door behind him. Buttoning your dress back up, you turned to the mirror and gasped before frantically trying to sort out your hair and the lipstick smeared all around your lips.
Straightening your slip, you froze as you realized you had no idea where your underwear was. A glance around the miniscule space with just a toilet and the vanity revealed they were nowhere to be found. Perhaps John did not need another gift from you. It seemed he had already taken one.
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Nerdy Post-Script: While everyone thought the 100th would be cleared for overseas duty at the end of their training in Sioux City they were still considered unfit. The group was split up over multiple bases across the US for further training before their disastrous training flight to California in April 1943. It wasn't until an additional twenty days of intense remedial training in May 1943 that they were finally declared fit for overseas duty.
Masters of the Air Masterlist
#john brady x reader#john brady imagine#john brady#john brady fic#mota fic#masters of the air fanfic
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Watcher (and why nothing matters anymore):
So, in case you've been locked away under a proverbial bridge for a few days, Internet personalities Steven Lim, Ryan Bergara, and Shane Madej (known as Watcher) have elected to begin their own streaming service and ditch YouTube.
On the surface, that mightn't even seem like news at all.
After all, this sort of thing seems to happen all the time: The Try Guys left Buzzfeed to create their own company, Rhett and Link took the dive and diversified into paywalled entertainment a few years back with Mythical Society. Both of which however still rely on YouTube itself to generate views on the main channels, which funnel viewers into a FOMO type situation where "you can't miss" a special airing on the app (Mythical Society) or Patreon (Try Guys).
Watcher, in its infinite wisdom (stupidity, carelessness, unparalleled greed - take your pick) has decided that YouTube is pointless, and has moved ALL their content behind a paywall, claiming that the service was amping up to provide "TV quality programming", leaving only old content and the first episodes of the new shows up on their YouTube page as a subtle tease as to what you could get for $6/month.
It's now quite apparent from reading the comments section of their (now infamous) YouTube video, their official subreddit, and the tag on X that the fans were...not thrilled. The fingers began to be pointed within minutes. Name calling soon after. Then this blossomed into dissertations on why this was a horrible idea.
Then we found out that there was no app. Just a website. So you're paying for website access. Not a full blown streaming service to rival Netflix. Oh, and they don't even have their own servers, the videos are hosted by Vimeo. The deeper the comments section dug, the nastier the attacks got. Steven soon became the whipping boy. His past, his interviews, scanned and mercurially dug up for juicy tidbits (although all anyone gleaned from these was he's rich, was born rich, drives a Tesla in LA, likes fancy food, and has friends whom he values who are racist and possibly sexist and will not sever ties with them).
Then came the cries of incongruity. Shane Madej repeatedly said to "Eat the Rich", and here he was schilling for a platform that cost $6 a month. The cries began to pirate all of the new Watcher content because maybe he was under duress and was secretly telling them to do so. Fact is, I don't know if he was or what, but I'm certain he's under contract and wants his job.
Then came the videos from other internet users analyzing the video, and comparing this to the Try Guys situation with Ned a few months back. Both are disasters, each in unique ways with different players, and such like but here's the vast difference: none of this will even matter in a month.
Let me explain: We are in the total free fall stage of Watcher's Internet Streamer Service. What they do in the next 24-48 hours is crucial. If they revert back to their YouTube channel and apologize, they'll be fine. People will probably poke fun at them, but they'll be forgiven, eventually. But if they don't and they keep on, ignoring the fans, dousing the haters, and make it a month, I doubt we will see any resistance outside of a terse article or two.
Why? The collective memory span in this day and age is extremely short, many have likely already made judgment in their head and have passed said judgment. Therefore, they'll avoid the channel, and the streamer and will be blissfully unaware of any changes. Those who have joined up and paid will remain members, and those who have elected to remain subscribed will likely remain so and will watch the free content until they can afford the $6/month.
The thing is like it or hate it, if they decide to do nothing and ignore the public at large, they most likely will be fine. Maybe they will not have the hugest subscriber base, but people will forget about this. Something else major that is more salacious will spring up in the months ahead. Will there be lingering anger? Sure, but like I said before, these people have already passed judgment so they're already gone.
In an era of "nothing fucking matters" when your choices are sometimes entirely out of your direct control and are (at best) two sides of the same coin, it should be of absolutely no surprise to anyone that there is a fairly good possibility even after all that has transpired that nothing bad will happen. Lest we forget that old adage: "there is no such thing as bad PR".
Personally, I feel $6 is a tad much for a non-app based web streamer with little to no content. It was disingenuous to announce its launch internationally where even more people can't afford it, and some can't even view it. Steven wasn't upfront with who was in charge and now it really does seem like he's using the subscriptions to fund his international gallivanting. It's clear nobody wanted TV-show quality Ghost Files to take place in another country, nor did they want an old show revived with votes when you pay the first month's dues. They say it's a case of Watcher "not reading the room".
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The Twins Fight! - what started as a tricky game soon turns into a dramatic argument where the twins cause chaos in their fight against one another
pairing - fem!reader x host club
apart of - ouran add-in
"Let's all play the ‘Which one is Hikaru’ game!" The twins exclaimed, standing up while the ladies clapped at their announcement. "So, can you tell which one of us is Hikaru?"
"Well, it's hard to say," One lady began, tapping her finger against her chin.
"You're identical!" The other added.
"Many ladies have tried to tell us apart, but so far none have succeeded."
"Oh, they're playing that game again?" Y/n turned to Haruhi, the girls didn't have any customers at the moment. They were just enjoying the less busy crowd and chatting about a book Y/n read recently.
"It's kind of stupid," Haruhi expressed.
"What? Have you got a problem with it, Haruhi?" They overheard her comment, turning to look at the two girls.
"No, it's just odd," She simply spoke, turning her attention back to Y/n.
"Hikaru! Kaoru!" Tamaki spoke, running in with a computer. "When I gave you control of the club's website, I did so on one condition. That you take it seriously!" Tamaki scolded them.
"We take our job very seriously boss," Hikaru responded.
"In fact, last night we worked on it till dawn," Kaoru added.
"Is this what you worked so hard to create?" He pulled up the screen, showing Y/n without her mask on and a shorter dress going up to her knees.
"Oh no," She stood up, grabbing onto the device to look at it. In response to seeing the less-than-accurate image, and realizing what lecture she would receive if her father saw such an image, she slumped to the ground.
"You look great N/n-chan," Honey smiled.
"Pretty," Mori commented, and soon enough the girls were all surrounding the screen trying to catch a glance.
"There, there," Haruhi patted her back.
"My teeth don't look like that," Y/n pouted. "Also my lips are not- never mind. You have to take that down," She walked over to the twins flicking their foreheads. "Kyoya-senpai!" She yelled, wandering off from the mischievous duo.
"When did you take those photos of her?" Tamaki walked up to the twins.
"Didn't you hear her? We didn't," Hikaru explained.
"There is something called Photoshop, boss," Kaoru added.
"Can you do it with her wearing this?" Tamaki lifted a magazine where the main model was wearing a fancy green dress.
"No," They deadpanned, walking away to leave a disappointed Tamaki. Instead, they decided to focus their attention back on Y/n who was arguing with Kyoya.
"I don't care if it got you more views on the website, if you don't want to be sued by my father take it down!" She stated, clearly frustrated and flustered trying to reason with Kyoya. In the presence of the twins, she switched her yelling onto them, taking the computer from Kyoya’s hands and motioning it to the boys. "Take it down," She pushed it in their hands.
"Why? It's fun. When we get bored we make fun."
"No," Y/n rolled her eyes, “This is not fun, this is bad!”
"You're our pet," Hikaru spoke, while Kaoru started working on getting rid of the photo.
"Be a good girl now," Kaoru looked up from over the screen.
"I'm not a dog. I can’t be both of your entertainment like this, you should go on and find a toy."
"You want a toy?" A dark figure appeared from behind a door, candlestick in hand. "Toys, toys. If you like toys then you should come and visit my Black Magic Club," The boy offered. This piqued Haruhi’s interest as she walked over to the mysterious figure to hear more about his offer.
"We've recently opened a marketplace that hosts black magic items from across the globe. We're also holding mass around the clock. If you visit right now, I'll even throw in a free curse doll. You can have Belzenef as your gift."
"Why is he talking to us through a crack in the door?" Haruhi wondered, looking back at the fellow club members.
"Wait a second, has that door always been there?" The twins pondered.
"Nekozawa-senpai likes to hide. He doesn't care for brightly lit places," Kyoya informed the group.
"Don't get involved with that guy Y/n," Tamaki snuck up on her, scaring her. She jumped and flinched where she was standing. "If you do you'll end up being cursed, don't you do it either Haruhi!"
"How do you know?" Y/n asked, moving closer to the door, her arm was about to reach for the doorknob but Tamaki stepped forward to pull her arm back so that she was standing next to her.
"It happened during final exams, at the end of the last school year," Tamaki let go of her wrist since she was trying to shake her hand out of it. He then went on to explain a story where he stepped on a 'cursed' doll, leading to him taking a test in different lettering and he also didn't know any of the students in that class. "I was in a different dimension."
"Scary!" Honey cowered.
"Did that really happen to you?" Haruhi questioned, unsure, trying to hide behind the shorter boy. Y/n walked over to the nervous Honey, bending down a bit and patting his head in a comforting way.
"Don't you worry Honey-senpai, or you either Haruhi-chan. I think Tamaki-senpai just went to the wrong class," Y/n explained while Honey was hugging her.
"It was a curse! I know because I woke up three days later and my legs were as heavy as lead!" Tamaki fired back.
"Your legs were heavy because you ran a marathon the day before, remember?" Kyoya told him, still working on his normal tasks despite the new presence of the man.
"You shouldn't underestimate the dark powers of Belzenef the cursed doll. All you have to do is write the name of someone you hate on his back and then that someone will come into misfortune," Nekozawa popped up, holding the cat doll.
"Wow this guy is dark in more ways than one," Kaoru spoke, and soon he and Hikaru exchanged a glance.
"I wonder what he will think of this," Hikaru showed the flashlight from behind his back before shining it on Tamaki and Nekozawa. Both of them ran away scared, Nekozawa choosing to retreat to his club room.
"How on earth could you two do such a thing? Obviously, the two of you don't know the true terror of the black mirror!" Tamaki shook, but this wasn’t anything the twins paid much attention to, instead just wandering off with complaints that they were bored.
"My dignity as the club's leader is being ignored," Tamaki sulked in his spot.
"Hey, Y/n! We have a favor to ask you," The twins spoke.
"What’s that?" Y/n responded, going over to her bag to search for a new book.
"Can we go to your house?"
"No."
"That could be fun," Tamaki looked up.
"No, it wouldn't. My house is almost the same as yours, it would be different if we were going to Haruhi's, that could be fun," Y/n shrugged, finding her book and taking a seat. Soon enough the twins were standing around Haruhi, hopeful eyes looking upon her.
"No, you're just going to make fun of it," She shook her head, crossing her arms in distaste.
"I think it's about time we all pay our respects to our beloved Haruhi's family!" Tamaki beamed.
"No way in hell, only Y/n can," Haruhi mumbled the last part, looking over at the girl reading intently.
"We can settle this with a game! If you can't pick out which one of us is Hikaru, then your penalty will be the two of us coming over to your house later tonight!"
"It's kind of simple," Y/n commented. "That's Hikaru and that's Kaoru," She pointed to the boys.
"You're wrong."
"No she's right," Haruhi agreed.
"Sure you guys look alike, but that doesn't mean your personalities are the same," Y/n mentioned.
"How did you tell?" One of the girls asked.
"With that hat, it's so hard," Another wondered, Y/n ignored the words of the girls since the book once again captured her interest which made Haruhi have to answer the question.
"Well, how do I put it? It's kinda difficult to explain. But Hiakru's speech and actions make him come across a little more mischievous than Kaoru," Haruhi explained honestly, not truly thinking about her words before speaking them.
"I'm sorry Hikaru, I don't mean to laugh," Kaoru spoke, trying to hold back a laugh but soon ended up breaking into a loud one.
"I don't see what's so funny. I'm honest, I speak my mind, and I don't hold back. It's sneaky people like Kaoru who are the troublemakers," Hikaru argued.
"Don't turn this on me, Hikaru. After all, I'm the one who's always going along with all of your selfish games.”
"I may suggest them but you're the one that gets into them Kaoru. If you hate it so much then why don't you just stop?"
"Because I'd hate to see you make an ass out of yourself, in front of everyone. It was your idea to call Y/n a pet, but I noticed you were quick to make a pass at her. Admit it, Hikaru, you're actually in love with Y/n, aren't you?" Karou smugly spoke, Hikaru getting all flustered.
"You've got it all wrong, Kaoru! Man, you're such a freaking idiot," Hikaru told him annoyed.
"Yeah! There are some things in this world that must never be said," Tamaki buzzed.
"Why would I fall for her? I mean she can't even show her face, she probably looks like a tanuki," Hikaru claimed.
"How dare you call her a raccoon dog?" Tamaki fumed. "You're going to pay for that!"
"Can you guys be quiet-" Y/n tried to speak before a large rumbling cut her off.
Soon enough Renge made another surprise appearance and started to emerge from the ground. "Our beloved Y/n is in the middle of a beautiful yet poignant seven-sided romantic relationship! And to make it even better, two of her admirers are twins, torn apart by love! Just the thought of it could make me eat three bowls of rice!”
"Wait, what did you-"
"Oh butt out, otaku," The twins spoke causing a total flip in Renge’s confidence as she now stepped down from the platform all sad.
"You guys are meanies! You shouldn't say something like that to your manager!"
"But Renge, I thought you had feelings for Y/n as well.”
"I do and it's platonic, but I have no problem with her having relationships on the side. Also after speaking with Haruhi, I'm developing feelings for him as well," Renge announced back to her confident self.
"I'm confused, I thought you had decided to go back to France, Renge," Haruhi walked over.
"Well, I was going to start up a host club of my own… but, I don't think France is ready for a host club, just yet," She told Haruhi, a light blush on her cheeks.
"I don't think anywhere is ever ready for a host club," Y/n commented, Renge was about to mention something else but was cut off by the twins' voices raging at one another.
"Cut it out already! You're the one always crawling into my bed! Talk about annoying," Kaoru yelled.
"I only do that because you look lonely. I wouldn't choose to sleep in your bed, you idiot!"
"Who are you calling an idiot? You're the one who sucks at math."
"Oh yeah, well you're failing your foreign language class you dummy," Hikaru argued, just continuing to go back and forth like little children.
"That's it we're over!" They fumed, walking in opposite directions of one another, stomping off into the distance.
Later the next day Haruhi and Y/n were sitting beside each other in class chatting before it began.
"What did you think of the fourth chapter?" Y/n asked her friend who was taking out her book.
"I didn't expect Tobio to show up especially him claiming he wanted his daughter back," Haruhi spoke excitedly.
"Hey Y/n, Haruhi!" One twin walked in, flamingo pink hair. "Good morning.”
"Um, Hikaru," Y/n spoke, squinting her eyes in disbelief at what she was seeing. "What did you do to your hair?"
"Why is it dyed pink?" Haruhi wondered.
"Because pink suits me. Don't you think it's cute? From now on I'm the pink-haired twin. I didn't want to be mistaken for that Kaoru for the rest of my life, you know?" Hikaru mentioned, his now blue-haired brother, coming up next to him.
"Good morning Y/n, Haruhi," Kaoru voiced, Hikaru, walked over to an empty seat near Y/n and sat beside her. "I was finally able to sleep all by myself last night, but I ended up having a nightmare. I dreamt my stylist had dyed my hair pink. It was so garish and ridiculous looking, I woke up screaming.”
Hikaru stood up and walked over kicking Kaoru's chair so that he fell. Kaoru then returned the favor, knocking Hikaru down the same way. Once back to their seats, the twins stared at each other and soon enough an all-out war erupted with a multitude of items being flung over Haruhi and Y/n’s heads.
"This is going to be a long day," Y/n grumbled as Haruhi nodded in agreement.
When class was over and it was noontime Haruhi and Y/n decided to chat about the lesson they had just finished learning while walking into the cafeteria.
"I was wondering what all the fuss was about, I can't believe the two of you are still fighting," Tamaki spoke, watching the twins in line arguing about food. "You're a disgrace to the Host Club!"
"Why is the rest of the club here?" Y/n questioned, turning to Haruhi. Haruhi just shrugged and let Y/n wander over to the group. "Hey guys!"
"N/n-chan!" Honey exclaimed.
"Hey, look who it is!" A short-haired girl spoke, joining hands with another.
"I've never seen them all together like that," Another one commented.
"We've had enough of this, you're both to blame for this fight," Honey said, then pulling out a cake. "Hika-chan and Kao-chan I want you to make up and then go halfsies on this cake, 'kay? But I want to have a piece too, and N/n-chan should get some, so I guess we're gonna have to have fourthsies," Honey went on babbling in an attempt to try and figure out how to cut the cake.
Y/n just walked over to the nox distressed and anxious boy, lifting him, and taking him over to Mori.
"You're just making it worse, leave them alone," Mori told Honey, moving him far away from the irritated twins.
"Oh, Y/n! I didn't expect to run into you in the dining hall," Tamaki fangirled, rushing over to the girl who was watching Honey now munching on the cake he was once going to share.
"Haruhi and I decided to follow the twins here, they have been acting odd all day," Y/n looked over to her senpai.
"I brought a boxed lunch and I just wanted to eat it in the classroom," Haruhi mumbled, walking over to where the host club now decided to eat lunch.
"A boxed lunch?" Tamaki repeated.
In Tamaki's head
"Tamaki, darling, I hope you will accept this food I made. I'm not amazing at cooking, but I made it with love!"
"I will eat anything you make Y/n, it's always beautiful and tastes delicious," Tamaki declared
"I will eat it!" Tamaki spoke out loud.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Kyoya mumbled.
"Ah," Y/n ordered beside Kyoya, pointing out the dish of her choice
"Our chef makes amazing crab, it truly is so delicious the way he seasons it. Maybe once you can come visit and try the dish," Kyoya mentioned, the two walking towards the lunch table that the Host Club members were currently occupying.
"Damn rich people," Haruhi grumbled.
"Haruhi, come sit over here!" Y/n waved her over, but instead of just Haruhi another friend had joined alongside them, Hikaru.
"What's that, what do you have for lunch?" He questioned, watching Haruhi take her seat.
"Yesterday's leftovers, and a rolled omelet,"
"Haruhi you want to switch?" Y/n looked over at the mouthwatering expression on Haruhi’s face as she stared at Y/n’s food. With a happy nod, the two exchanged their meals.
"This is amazing!" Haruhi exclaimed, tasting the food.
"Great! I usually like to eat more in private, so I can just save yours for later!"
"Y/n, I got a meal that you’ll enjoy. Want to try it, all you have to do is take your mask off," Kaoru softly grabbed her chin, tugging it closer towards him with one hand while his other held a fork with a piece of his meal on it.
Hikaru chomped the food off of the fork instead of the intended recipient, "Quit butting in Kaoru." At the possibility of another fight, Y/n moved out of her seat and grabbed Haruhi's hand to take her with her. Just as they were out of the line of fire Kaoru threw his soup at his twin but missed the wanted target and instead, it got splashed all over Tamaki.
"I'm going to go eat alone now," Y/n quietly muttered over the yelling of the twins, choosing to take her leave from the noisy group.
After the whole cafeteria incident, the group (excluding the twins) met up again in the club room, hoping to relax with some tea and discuss the problematic antics of the twins.
"Looking at the numbers, if this situation isn't resolved, I'm afraid we're going to have to stop offering our brotherly love package. We're down one pair of loving brothers," Kyoya announced, typing in some digits into his calculator. "Oh, Haruhi, I just want you to know there's no reason for you to feel responsible, even though it was your tactless comment that started this whole feud between the twins."
"It's weird for Hika-chan and Kao-chan to be fighting like this," Honey spoke, playing with Usa-chan. "It's never happened before."
"They have never fought before?" Haruhi pondered, looking over at Honey.
"I've known Hika-chan and Kao-chan since we were in preschool. We weren't in the same year so I never really got to talk to them, but I remember that the two of them always played together," He told the group.
"Yeah that's true, I mean I've only known the twins since middle school but they have always stood out," Tamaki added, he went on about how the twins had been together for a while, saying it might not be such a bad thing they are fighting.
Yet quickly his former opinion changed when the twins finally arrived and they were still fighting, Tamaki quickly getting annoyed at the twins’ reckless behavior.
"Don't you guys think it's maybe time to give up all this fighting?" Tamaki wondered. "It's driving me insane."
"What'd you say? It is driving you insane? You've got to be kidding me, how do you think I feel? Every time I look in the mirror I see his face. I'm sick and tired of being mistaken for you Kaoru! The truth is I hate your guts!" Hikaru snapped.
"You took the words right out of my mouth. In fact, I hate you so much, I bought this. Belzenef curse doll!" He pulled out the cat doll and a marker. "I'm going to complete the curse, Hikaru, I'm going to write your name on his back. From this day forward you are going to experience nothing, except misfortune and sorrow."
"Okay, this is getting to be enough," Y/n interrupted. "All because of some comment, that didn't even mean to offend you guys."
"Yes!" They both screamed. Mori rushed over to take Y/n’s hand in an attempt to bring her back into safety if they decided to start one of their throwing tantrums again. He did not want to see the girl getting injured once again.
Haruhi finally had it, truly annoyed at the way they were treating her friend and how stupid they were being about an argument that didn’t make much sense. They were acting like toddlers.
"Will you guys knock it off?" She smacked the sides of their heads. "What do you think you're doing? You don't bring something like this into a petty fight,” she motioned to Belzenef, “Both of you are at fault here, but what is truly sad is that you're bringing everyone else into your big mess! Now apologize to each other, if you don't make up right now I'm never going to let you come over to my house!" Haruhi threatened.
"So, then what you're saying Haruhi is that if we make up, we can come to your place?" The twins questioned at the same time.
"Oh, no," Y/n whispered, slapping her forehead, she figured out the mischievous plan they were trying to hatch all along. Haruhi slowly turned the doll around just for it to be blank, her face dropping in fear.
"I'm so sorry Kaoru, even though I was just following our script I said such awful things to you. I'm not fit to be your brother," Hikaru apologized.
"Don't say that Hikaru! I was so worried, I couldn't live with myself if I ever thought I had hurt you," They embraced each other, repeating apologies.
"You've got to be kidding! You mean you guys were faking it this whole time?" Honey shouted, arms flaring above his head.
"We didn't have anything else to do, we were bored!" They told him, laughing with each other. Haruhi was now sulking to the ground where Y/n moved in attempts to try and comfort her.
"Twins with too much time on their hands, are the devil," Tamaki concluded.
Later on the next day, the club was back to running like normal, with no obnoxious feuds between the twins but instead back to their game.
"Okay, it's time to play the ‘Which one is Hikaru’ game!" The boys announced.
"I know," A girl with short hair raised her hand. "The twin with the pink hair is Hikaru!"
"We have a winner!"
"So, are you two going to keep your wild hair color even though you made up? It's much easier to tell the two of you apart now," A girl with longer hair spoke.
"Not really," Y/n sighed, sitting up in her seat where she was eating cake with Honey. "The blue is Hikaru and the pink is Kaoru, they switched for the day," She then continued back with munching on the sweet treat while the twins stared in astonishment.
"Do you realize what happened Hikaru? Until now, there were only two groups of people, 'us' and 'everyone else'. But for the first time, someone's crossed into our world."
next chapter - The Grade School Host is the Naughty Type!
#haruhi fujioka#hikaru x reader#honey x reader#kaoru x reader#kyoya ootori#kyoya x reader#mori x reader#ohshc fanfic#ohshc haruhi#ohshc tamaki#ohshc x reader#ouran x reader#ouranhighhostclub#ouran hshc#ouran highschool host club#ouran high school host club#ouran host club#tamaki x reader#tamaki suoh#haruhi x reader
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May I please request that Hailee and reader are in a secret relationship, and hailee is on instagram live, fans can hear movement and voices in the background and keep asking hailee whose with her.
meet me there, i'll give you your roses [H.Steinfeld]
pairing: hailee steinfeld x reader
summary: just because you two are supposed to be keeping your relationship a secret doesn't mean you can't have some fun with it.
warnings: none, just fluff; secret relationship shenanigans; weird descriptions of an instagram live chat; still can't write endings :)
wordcount: 1k
a/n: full disclosure, the title has nothing to do with the fic at all, i'm just spreading the måneskin agenda. i sort of messed around with the point of view in this fic, it might not be noticeable but just wanted to point it out in case it's confusing. it's more hailee-centric than my other fics instead of it just being about R's thoughts. you'll see what i mean, hope you enjoy! <3
* * * * * * *
Hailee’s eyes are trained on the screen of her phone while she tells the most ridiculously random story she could think of. It’s been far too long since the last time she did an Instagram Live and her excitement at getting to interact with her fans again is more than a little obvious.
Free time has been harder and harder to find between all the photoshoots and interviews, especially considering there's only one person she wants to talk to when her schedule allows it.
“And then y/n had to come in and-”
You look up at the sound of your name. You hadn’t been paying much attention to her story, too busy looking through food delivery apps and trying to decide what to have for dinner.
The original plan was to cook something for dinner but a certain someone decided to do an impulsive Live instead and so the plan was scrapped. Not that you mind. Hailee’s skill in the kitchen is…a work in progress, at least when it comes to potato peels.
Her eyes meet yours almost as if she knows exactly what you’re thinking about. You half expect her to stick her tongue out at you but doing that would only lead to more questions she can’t answer.
You offer her a smile instead before the two of you go back to looking at your respective phones.
Hailee resumes her story, pretending she got distracted by one of her dogs and not her lovely girlfriend. It’s practically impossible to act like she can’t see all the questions pouring in about who she was actually looking at but she manages. (It’s not like acting is her job or anything)
The questions and comments flying by her screen should be annoying or at the very least overwhelming but she ends up finding them quite entertaining. She’s not about to pretend like questions about her sexuality or who she’s dating are anything new but at least now they’re less straightforward (no pun intended) than when she was on Dickinson.
At least she's not actually trying to keep things a secret this time. She's just waiting for the right time. Although the waiting gets harder every time you look at her like she's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen. She'd be upset if she wasn't aware that's exactly how she looks at you.
She tries to keep your name out of her mouth for at least a few minutes to not look super obvious but she fails miserably. “Where’s y/n?” She reads the question out loud before she can stop herself. “I don't know, probably burning down the apartment.”
An offended gasp comes from the side of the room where you're standing and you know you're kidding yourself if you think her phone didn't pick up the sound.
The look she sends your way says as much and you mentally curse yourself. Although, to be completely honest, if there's one thing you both love more than each other it's feeding the theories about your relationship.
The both of you should definitely be more careful if you don't want to get found out but creating chaos within her fandom is just too much fun. Plus, the only reason you two are sneaking around is because Hailee wants to come out ‘the right way’. Whatever that means.
(You're pretty sure it means a song and a music video featuring you but your girlfriend has been very tight-lipped about her music since SunKissing came out. A song that very well serves as a coming out announcement in your opinion.)
You decide to fix your mistake by turning people's attention elsewhere so you open up Instagram and click on Hailee’s profile. You can hear the chuckle she tries to hold back once she reads your comment.
yourusername: are you insulting my cooking skills again, Steinfeld?
The chat explodes into a flurry of comments that a certain pair of brown eyes can't keep up with.
“I'm just telling people the truth,” she replies. “There's a reason you always order food instead of cooking.”
yourusername: yeah. you never wash the dishes
“Oh, that's low.”
She forgets the game you're playing for a second, looking up to glare at you. Her eyes don't end up meeting yours since you're too busy staring down at your phone.
A small smile spreads along her face as she admires you. Even in the middle of teasing her in front of her fans, you're the most amazing thing she's ever laid eyes on. Eyes that give away the fact that she's not home alone like she originally said she was.
She looks back at her phone just in time to catch sight of the many questions she has to avoid. Such as,”Who are you looking at? Is y/n at your place? Are you having dinner together?”
She ignores them all except the one that comes from the person who owns her heart.
yourusername: so, what are YOU cooking for dinner, chef steinfeld???
The response she comes up with is definitely a bad idea but it slips out anyway. “I don't know. What do you want for dinner?”
She tries to cover up the sound of your laugh by ‘accidentally’ kicking some of Martini’s squeaky dog toys. It's a bad coverup but it's the only choice she has. It would be a lot more believable if her dogs weren't asleep in the bedroom.
yourusername: too late, i already ordered cheeseburgers
“Marry me right now,” she replies, her smile turning into a slight smirk.
You know she's messing around but your heart still skips a couple of beats as you type out your response.
yourusername: i'll think about it ;)
The doorbell rings just in time.
You let her wrap up the Live as you pick up your food. By the time you come back, her phone is gone and she's already curled up on the couch scrolling through Netflix for something to watch.
“That was fast,” you say.
She shrugs. “Thought I should help you reconsider my proposal.”
“Food first, proposal later.” You hand the bag holding your dinner over to her.
“Seriously, y/n, could you be any more perfect?”
The laugh that escapes you is enough of an answer for her. You're everything she's ever wanted.
#hailee steinfeld x reader#hailee steinfeld x female reader#hailee steinfeld x you#hailee steinfeld x y/n#hailee steinfeld fic#hailee steinfeld fluff#hailee steinfeld imagine#hailee steinfeld fanfiction#hailee steinfeld#hawkeye#mcu#mcu fanfiction#marvel#wlw#wlw fic#writing
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