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avocad1s · 7 months

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Trial By Combat - 4

Requested By: No One. Original Work.

CW: Post-SAGAU Imposter AU, Mentions of killing a divine being, kidnapping, drugging, manipulating people

Summary: Your health takes a turn for the better.

Note: 4.0 Archon Quest Spoilers.

Part One Part Two Part Three

It was only under exceptional circumstances that the harbingers would return to the homeland. If one of them managed to obtain a gnosis and further the Tsaritsa’s plan, a celebration was in order. Yet even then, it would be miracle for all to appear .

However when one of Tartaglia’s subordinates returned holding the newest edition from the Steambird, the Tsaritsa ordered all of them to return Snezhnaya.

The deafening silence filled the hall, encasing the walls with anticipation. As the pages were passed to the last harbinger, they were suddenly slammed onto the table before fluttering gracefully onto the floor.

“Focalors proves time and time again that she is not worthy of being an Archon.” Arlecchino spits. “I will go there and rip that gnosis out of her dead body.”

“Wait just a second.” Tsaritsa calls out. “Before we act, we must find out if their Grace is still alive. This paper gave no details of their condition.”

“Her Majesty is right. If their Grace is still alive we need to prioritize bringing them here.” Pulcinella adds.

Arlecchino scoffs, “I can do both. I’ll get the gnosis, kill Focalors, and get Their Grace.”

“That’s a bit ambitious. Don’t you think?” Pantalone questions, his voice as sweet as honey.

Alrecchino digs her nails into her palm. “This isn’t the time to pick a fight when Their Grace could be dying in the so-called Nation of Justice.”

“I agree.” The Tsaritsa begins, “Alrecchino will go to Fontaine but the Gnosis and Focalors are not the priority. Getting the Creator back to Snezhnaya is the only thing that matters.”

“—and if Their Grace is dead? What shall we do then?”

Everyone turns to stare at The Doctor. Although none of them wanted to think about the worst case scenario, it was still something that needed to be addressed.

“Then Focalors will beg for a quick death.”

When you woke up, you were greeted by more Melusines. They stood resolute in your room, as if they were guarding you. While the Melusine in front of you held a tray with food on it, it was plated beautifully. It was fixed with great care and it’s easy to tell a lot of attention was put into making it perfect.

“Did Neuvillette send you all again?” Are the first words to leave your lips once you sit up in the bed.

Blathine, who stood the closest to you, nods. “Monsieur told us to watch over you.”

She slides the tray carefully onto your lap being careful to not let anything fall. You look down at the tray licking your lips, you didn’t even realize how hungry you were until food was right in front of you.

“Thank you.” You smile picking up a piece of the sliced bulle fruit putting it in your mouth. It was sweet and refreshing, you craved more, desperately famished.

As you eat, you can’t help but notice how the Melusines get closer and surround your bed their eyes on you. You hesitate for a moment, dropping the piece of fruit back onto the plate as you wipe your mouth.

Their eyes followed every move you made, it was clear that the species was interested in humans but this felt like something else. Like how a child would act with their parent.

“I thought Melusines were responsible for guarding Fontaine?”

These five Melusines were apart of the Marechaussee Phantom, the blue uniforms and hats made it obvious.

“Monsieur Neuvillette increased the number of Gardes and Gardemeks around Fontaine so that we can prioritize your safety.” Menthe explains.

“My safety?

“Lady Furina and Monsieur Neuvillette prioritize you over everything. Everyone does.”

You want to scoff at their words, if you really were as valued as they say you wouldn’t be in this hospital bed right now.

“Your Grace…?”

You look up noticing a woman in a white coat standing by the door. Her blonde hair was pulled into a low bun and her red lips stretched into a welcoming smile.

“I’ve been assigned as your personal nurse and I’m here to change your bandages,” she explains. “Are you finished eating?”

You look down at the tray and the half eaten food on it. You still felt a bit hungry but having all these eyes on you made it difficult to eat. You push the tray away slightly as you nod at the woman.

The woman takes a step to enter the room but the Melusines were quick to approach as they checked her and her bag for anything suspicious.

The nurse places her bag at the foot of the bed opening it. Inside were multiple different medical supplies, bandages, and gloves. She grabs a pair of the gloves sliding them onto her slender fingers.

“How have you been feeling Your Grace? Any pain in your abdomen?” She asks.

“No. No pain.” You reply shifting slightly.

She looks over at you giving you another smile, “don’t worry Your Grace I’ll be quick. We just don’t want your wounds to get infected.”

You lay down on your back as the nurse slowly lifts your shirt to reveal the golden stained bandages wrapped around your torso. Carefully, she begins to unravel them making sure not to cause you any pain or discomfort.

Once the bandages were fully removed, you notice her eyebrows furrow. She bites her lip slightly as her eyes dart all across your exposed skin.

“Is something wrong?” You ask feeling a sense of dread creep up your spine.

“I— Your Grace.” She stammers, “Your wounds, they’re already healing.”

She touches what was left of your injury with her gloved hand. The gash was already almost closed and there was no more blood leaking from it. The wound looked more like a large scratch rather than something that could’ve killed you.

“Healing!?” You reply, “Already?”

“It’s fascinating…” she breathes out, “I never seen anything like it.”

The nurse begins to notice your discomfort, she clears her throat as she bows slightly to you. “I apologize for my behavior Your Grace. That was very unbecoming of me.”

She grabs the fresh bandages from her box and quickly wraps your abdomen back up.

“I do not believe you need these bandages anymore.” She says as she secures the bandages with medical tape. “however I will wrap them just as a precaution.”

Once she back away and pulls off her gloves you pull down your shirt and sit back up in the bed.

The nurse closes her bag and picking it up to put back in her shoulder. “Although you are healing much more quickly than expected, you should still drink plenty of water and get some rest.”

“I will inform Monsieur Neuvillette of your condition. I think by daybreak tomorrow you should be able to leave this bed.”

It was relieving to hear that you would be able to leave this bed soon. Being cooped up in the same room for days at a time was mentally draining. Especially when the only ones who visited you (excluding the Melusines) all groveled at your feet for an apology.

“Enjoy the rest of your day Your Grace,” she bows again, “I hope that you will be able to enjoy everything Fontaine has to offer you soon.”

She turns and walks towards the door, her heels clicking as she walks.

As her footsteps fade, the room grows silent again. You pull the blankets off your body standing from the bed. The Melusines watched your movements before Blathine speaks up.

“Did you have somewhere to go?” She asks tilting her head slightly. “We have been instructed to follow you.”

“I want to speak to Neuvillette.” You reply stretching your sore limbs, suddenly not feeling anymore pain in your abdomen.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” She repeats, “Shall I bring Lady Furina as well? She’d love to talk to you.”

You shake your head quickly, “No. I only want Neuvillette.”

Blathine nods as she skips towards the exit of your room.

“Very well, I will return with the Iudex immediately.”

For the first time ever, the Northland Bank was closed and no outside personnel were allowed to enter. In fact, no one apart of the Fatui had been seen in the past twelve hours.

Except for Lyney and Lynette.

The magical duo who are loved by everyone in Fontaine, or at least they were before people found out they were from the House of Hearth. Although their name had been cleared from that case, no one would trust anyone associated with the Fatui.

That didn't stop them from entertaining the people around Fontaine with their latest tricks.

Even after Father returned from Snezhnaya the night before.

Alrecchino's visits were always sporadic, the children understood, she was a Harbinger. However this time it felt even more unexpected. The children had never seen her look so angry in their lives but she would never take her anger out on the children. There was one person in particular that she wanted to lash out on, but she has to focus on what’s important.

Lyney and Lynette were the ones pulled aside by Alrecchino, the task she had for them now was bigger than finding out the true nature of the Oritrace.

Yet the twins knew that a second chance will not be an option this time.

Getting into the hospital where you were being held would be impossible, that much was true. The level of security around that building alone was enough to rival any trial that had ever been held in Fontaine. No one would be getting into that building unless cleared by the ludex or the Archon themselves.

There was only one person that wasn’t a notable figure in Fontaine that was able to enter that building. The nurse who went through so many clearances and was lucky enough to provide the Creator with any medical assistance they needed.

When she had stepped out the building, the nurse was immediately surrounded by reporters from the Steambird who wanted to know anything about the Creators current condition.

“Could you tell us anything about how the Creators doing?”

“Are they healing? Have they woken up?”

“Will we be able to see them soon?”

“I apologize,” the nurse begins as she glances around at the crowd. “I cannot give any information on Their Grace at the moment.”

The reporters visibly deflate at the news, or rather the lack of news. She pushes her way through the crowd to head towards to Palais Mermonia. The streets of Fontaine were empty, most people were too focused on The Creator to be bothered with anything else.

“Excuse me, Miss?” A voice calls out.

The nurse stops walking and turns around to see who called out to her.

It was the twins, two faces anyone in Fontaine would recognize.

Her face brightens slightly, “Lyney and Lynette! I love your magic shows!”

Lyney gives her a sly smile as he takes a few more steps to be closer to the woman, his sister follows but doesn’t say anything.

“I’m glad you’re a fan!” He exclaims, “My sister and I have been working on our latest trick for our newest show. Would you mind if we showed it to you?”

The nurse hesitates, “Actually I don’t think I can—“

“It’s just one trick!” Lyney interjects, “It won’t take too much time, I promise.”

“Alright fine.” She concedes, “I can only stay five minutes though. I have somewhere important to be.”

The twins exchange glances while nodding.

“Very well! Prepared to be amazed!” Lyney exclaims.

Lyney and all of his siblings knew how awful that Fatui was. The group has done unimaginable things and ruined many people’s lives. However, the children also knew that the Harbingers has their own aspirations that had nothing to do with the group.

Arlechinno only had the best intentions for her homeland Fontaine and the Creator, that is one thing Lyney knew for sure. So if getting the Creator out of Fontaine was the best option, then he would feel no remorse for what he had to do.

The trick was simple, something Lyney wouldn’t use during one of his shows just because it’s not entertaining enough. Yet he isn’t here to entertain this woman, all they have to do is keep her distracted long enough so Father’s plan can work.

Lyney pulls off his hat and bows to the nurse who only laughed and clapped.

“That was amazing as always! I cannot wait to see it in your next show!”

His smile fades as he fixes his posture placing his hat back on his head. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I’ll be sure to reserve you a special seat in the front.”

Her laughter soon died down as she stares at the twins. Their warm welcoming nature was devoured by something more malicious. The nurse subconsciously takes a step back, the hand that held onto her medical bag began to tremble. Lyney’s face was devoid of emotion and Lynette’s gaze seemed to be focused behind the woman.

However, she had no time to turn around. Two large hands grip firmly onto her shoulders.

“You’re coming with us.”

The nurse’s eyes widen as the two Fatui Skirmishers forcefully pull her back towards the direction of the Northland Bank. She glances back at the twins who only watch silently as she is dragged away.

“What do you want?! Please don’t hurt me!” She cries.

In almost a blink of an eye, the woman was gone. With no witnesses or trace of her presence, the twins didn’t have to worry about being put on trial again.

Lyney sighs as he looks down at the pavement.

His sister places her hand on his shoulder, “Our job still isn’t finished. We still have to deal with the traveler. They cannot intervene.”

Lyney nods at her words as he readjusts his top hat, “You’re right. Let’s go.”

“You wished to see me Your Grace?”

Neuvillette stood by your doorway as he bowed respectfully to you. He spoke in a soft tone and he refused to meet your gaze.

“Yes. There’s something I needed to talk to you about.” You reply.

As he enters your room, the Melusines exit the room quietly leaving the two of you alone. Neuvillette stands by the window facing you. “How can I help you your Grace?”

“I’m sure the nurse has already told you, but my wounds are healing.” You say.

His eyebrows furrow as he brings his gloved hand up to his mouth, “No she hasn’t told me anything yet, but maybe she’s already waiting at Palais Mermonia.”

Neuvillette smiles, “but I’m glad to hear that you are feeling better. I will discuss your condition more with the nurse so I can make the preparations for you to leave the hospital. I want you to be as comfortable as possible in Fontaine.”

“There’s no need for that.”

His eyes widen momentarily but his expression doesn’t change, “What do you mean? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You look down at your lap as you fiddle with your fingers. Although he was trying everything in his power to make you feel comfortable, you still felt uneasy around the man. The last time you actually had an conversation with him, he considered you a criminal.

“I want to leave Fontaine.”

An awkward silence settles around the two of you as you wait for him to respond to your statement.

“I see…” Neuvillette begins, “…Is there a nation in particular you’d like to travel to?”

You ponder his question for a moment, you never really thought about where you’d go after you left the Nation of Hydro. It didn’t matter, you just wanted to get out of here.

“Sumeru.” You reply. “That is the closest nation, right?”

Neuvillette nods, “It is Your Grace, but to get to Sumeru city you’ll have to pass through the desert.”

“That’s fine I just—“ you pause, you didn’t want to say anything that he might take offense to.

“I can make the preparations for you to leave as early as possible. I will reach out to the Dendro Archon to make her aware of your arrival.”

“Is there anything I can say to make you change your mind?” Neuvillette asks quietly.

You look away from his gaze, “No. I don’t think you can.”

Neuvillette nods as he lets out a breath, “I see… was there anything else you’d like to discuss Your Grace?”

You shake your head, “No I’d rather just be alone right now. Could you send the Melusines away too?”

You could tell by the look he gave you he wanted to refuse your request but he doesn’t. He gives bows again as he begins walking back to the door.

“Oh Neuvillette!” You suddenly call out.

He turns to face you again, “Yes Your Grace?”

“Thank you for the flowers by the way.” You say sheepishly, “they’re beautiful.”

You see his pale cheek grow red slightly as he quickly turns away from you. “I’m glad you liked them. I’ll be sure to bring you more.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his embarrassed reaction.

“Your Grace,” Neuvillette says after clearing his throat, “I brought you another gift. I’d be honored if you’d accept it.”

You fix your posture, interested in what this gift could be. “What is it?”

He gestures for Blathine to enter to room, she was holding a nicely decorated vase in between her tiny hands as she holds it out to Neuvillette. He smiles down at her as he grabs it with one hand, using the other to pat her head lightly.

Neuvillette walks over to your bedside with the vase in hand, “It’s water Your Grace. Some of the best water you can find in all of Teyvat. I collected it specially for you.”

He places the vase next to the bouquet of flowers.

“Thank you Neuvillette,” you reply, “I’ll be sure to enjoy it.”

As you accept his gift you notice that his mood seemed to lift, almost like you never told him you wanted to leave Fontaine in the first place. Neuvillette gives you one last bow as he heads back to the exit.

“I will return personally to check on you in the morning Your Grace.”

Neuvillette and the Melusines leave without another word. Just like before, you were left alone with your own thoughts. You could only hope that Sumeru was better than Fontaine, but Nahida was the God of Wisdom so surely she wouldn’t accuse you of anything without evidence?

You let out a sigh as you relax back into the bed glancing out the window. The sky already had a orange hue signifying that the sun would be setting soon. You didn’t even realize how fast the day had passed, spending all your time in this room.

“…Your Grace..” A soft voice calls out.

You glance over at the door, it was a nurse, but not the one you had earlier today. Under the white coat she wore an unusual outfit, wouldn’t it even be comfortable working in an thing like that?

She seemed to notice your gaze on her appearance. “I apologize for my clothing Your Grace, but the matter was important.”

You stare at her a guarded look on your face, “where’s the other nurse? She was the one assigned to me by Neuvillette.”

She nods, “You’re right Your Grace, but there had been a complication with your injury and I was tasked to bring you medicine.”

You raise a brow, “The other nurse said I was healing? How could that change so quickly.”

The mysterious woman enters your room fully, her footsteps as silent as ever. You could hardly see her face as the light began to slowly drain from the sky.

“After checking your old bandages we are worried that an infection is already growing within your body. I brought a serum to stop it before it gets worse.”

Your eyes widen as your hand rests on your torso. An infection? Just when you thought you would be able to leave this nation, you could be stuck here even longer.

“Will this medicine heal me quickly?”

“Of course Your Grace. Your health is our up most priority.” She replies quickly.

She walks to your bedside pulling out a small bottle from her coat pocket. The liquid within it was clear as she holds it out to you.

“Here, you have to drink it all.”

You grab the bottle from her fingers taking out to cork as you smell it. The medicine had no scent. Slowly, you bring it up to your lips letting the medicine spill into your mouth as you drink it in one go.

The woman smiles as she takes the empty bottle from your hands. “Wonderful Your Grace. You’ll be feeling the effects very soon.”

Your head suddenly felt heavy as if the world was spinning around you. What the hell did you just take?You look up at the woman and she just had a small smile on her lips not saying anything else.

You felt uncoordinated as you reach over to the vase Neuvillette had gifted you to take a drink of water. Maybe some water would help wash this feeling away.

The vase slips from your weak grip crashing onto the ground, the glass shatters as the water splashes everywhere. The overwhelming feeling to close your eyes was growing stronger as you take one last glance at the woman, but this time you see someone standing behind her.

This woman had white hair with raven streaks, her eyes were black with and her pupils were X-shaped.

“Don’t worry Your Eminence,” the new woman says, her voice soft and graceful, “I will take care of you from now on..”

You couldn’t fight the feeling anymore, your eyelids close as you rest limply in the bed.

“Lady Harbinger. It’s done.”

The Knave enters the room fully stepping over the shards of glass the was scattered across the room. She kneels down in front of you bringing her hand up to cup your face.

“Tell the others to prepare the ship. We are leaving Fontaine immediately.” She whispers as if you’d wake up if she spoke too loudly.

“And what about Their Grace? Are we taking them back to the Zapolyarny Palace?”

“No.” Arlechinno replies curtly, “I have other plans for Their Grace.

Note: omg this took so long to get out! But I hope everyone is enjoying 4.1 update! I haven’t started it yet since I wanted to finish this first but to all Neuvillette wanters (me) you will win the 50/50 <3!!

Tagging: @bittersweetorpheus @esthelily @tempestlart @angelofdarkness2 @mmeatt @dxprived4-starboys @Itm-acct @honey-lemonz @ymechi @nervouseaglelover @livelaughlovekuni @vianitry @vvyeislazzy @kbar1013 @ichiraku-verse @chaoticfivesworld @eplefugl @mabvo @g3n0dtt @shikanosn @noahrandom @haunts-gh0st @pix-stuff @riiriin @emmbny @mih3r4 @shiki-jin @owl778 @ra404 @leekingsman @ash1 @wangjiswarren @shellofthewell @f1onaa @mahi-does-some-art @bitchyfanfics-posts @emilymikado @sarah22447 @swagbucksjester

If you wish to be removed from the taglist just inbox me and I will remove you! If your @ is bolded that means I cannot tag you (unless I’m just dumb lol)

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #genshin cult #sagau x reader #self aware genshin #imposter sagau #sagau impostor au #sagau neuvillette #sagau fatui

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mousy-nona · 2 months

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Because I'm a sucker for seeing Vox lose it over RadioApple, and also them dancing, maybe a thing where RadioAaple both a little tipsy, dance in Lucifer's room late at night. Vox sees them on his drone and freaks because 1) Alastor is letting himself be unguarded with a person 2) Alastor is dancing and 3) Alastor has, in fact, made nice with the King like Vox was afraid of. Very nice by the looks of it.

“Do you ever think you may have a problem?”

That was Velvette, who was using her best “let’s not piss off the crazy man” voice.

“No.”

“Not even a little one?”

“No.”

Valentino and Velvette exchanged telling looks, which Vox promptly ignored. He had more important things to worry about, like keeping this stupid drone in the air. Maneuvering the machine itself was easy, but getting around the electromagnetic force field Alastor had set up around the hotel’s perimeter was a whole lot trickier. Vox had been flying in circles for hours, trying to find a weak spot in Alastor’s defenses.

(He knew it’d been hours because Velvette had started shooting worried glances at him around hour two, Valentino had showed up around hour five, and they’d started a game of rock-paper-scissors to figure out who was going to do a wellness check on him around hour six.)

“Ah-ha!” Vox screamed, jabbing both fists in the air when the force field flexed and glitched, creating a half second window of opportunity. He urged the drone forward, barely zipping past before the shield re-formed. “Boo-yah! Who’s your daddy?”

Valentino smirked and took in a long drag of his pipe. “Vox, baby, not outside the bedroom.”

Vox’s metal heart – the same one he always denied having – started beating faster as the camera zoomed closer and closer to the hotel. He zipped to Alastor’s radio tower first, then his room, frowning slightly when all he found was a half-eaten deer, a cooling cup of coffee, and a discarded coat.

From behind him, Velvette clapped her hands with an annoyed huff of relief. “Oh, well, looks like the asshole is out. Too bad, so sad. Can we please get back to something actually fucking important?”

But Vox shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. It’s 11 o’clock. Alastor usually finishes his business before seven so he can have dinner at eight, or else he gets too hungry to do–” He trailed off when he saw the look on both their faces. They were both staring at him as if he was a terminal patient, come down with an incurable case of Alastor-itis.

He sighed and re-focused on the screen. “It just doesn’t make sense, okay?”

The library. The lobby. The kitchen. Alastor was nowhere to be found.

Then Vox had a horrible thought. He remembered the rumors flying around town, the wild laughs of excitement and the curses emanating from the hotel recently. He remembered Alastor’s most recent broadcast (“Folks, when living with an annoying roommate, always remember to assert your dominance wherever possible”). And most of all, he remembered Alastor’s smug face as he strolled down the street, humming merrily to himself as he twirled an unfamiliar white top hat on his staff.

He remembered the strange apple that had appeared on the top right of the hotel, just down the hall from Alastor.

His heart in his throat, he slowly moved the drone higher, then higher still. Don’t be there, don’t be there, don’t be there –

Velvette and Vox went quiet at the scene that appeared on the screen. Alastor was there all right, but he wasn’t alone. As if he’d suddenly downloaded a virus, Vox could only process what he was seeing in chunks.

He saw the record player first, oddly enough. An old-timey song was playing, static crackling and popping as a low sweet croon, somehow both deep and high, filled the room. 25%.

The room was dark, but a few candles and duck-shaped lamps were gleamed with a heavenly light, washing the pair slowly revolving in the center of the room in a seductive golden glow. 50%.

The king of hell was there. The expression on his face was…tender. His head was tucked into Alastor’s narrow chest, one hand on Alastor’s shoulder and the other clasped in Alastor’s hand. His eyes were sparkling, almost overfilled with a nameless emotion that Vox knew all too well. Alastor’s hand was curled around his waist protectively (possessively). 75%.

And finally, Vox saw Alastor. Really saw him, as if for the first time, because this wasn’t his Alastor. His Alastor was always one step ahead, always untouchable, cold, cruel, and capable of truly unspeakable acts of violence with an effortless charm that made his blood boil with envy and need at the same time.

But the Alastor in front of him…his coat was off. For the first time in fifty years, Vox saw Alastor’s bare skin, his shirt rolled up to his elbows as he allowed another living soul to see him undressed. Unguarded. His eyes, always so alert and aware, were closed.

Worst of all was his smile. It looked soft. Gentle – or whatever passed for gentle with Alastor. As Vox watched, Lucifer’s lips moved. The words were too soft for the drone to pick up, but whatever it was, Alastor laughed. Not in a mocking or teasing way, but an actual, genuine laugh, as if Alastor was a real boy with a real heart.

100%.

Suddenly, Alastor’s eyes flew open, and he stared at Vox through the screen. The wicked smirk that curled his lips was the last thing the drone ever saw as it glitched, red shaking and warping the feed until it went completely dead, and the three of them were left staring at a black screen.

Silence reigned. Then – “Well, I’ll be. Looks like the deer found himself a doe.”

Velvette shot Valentino a warning look, then took a hesitant step forward. “Vox – “ Velvette started, but Vox started cackling. Wild, out of control, utterly insane laughs ripped from his wires as his monitor-face went haywire.

“I am going to kill that motherfucker!”

#radioapple #hazbin hotel #vox is Jealous with a capital J #alastor #hazbin #vox #duckiedeer #prompts #asks

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wontontrap · 3 months

Text

✿ 18+

✿ part I of Eddie with religious virgin!reader

✿ part II will be based on this post

✿ cannon Eddie speak in this, he's very sassy

✿ reader is innocent but not naive

✿ summary: reader looks to Eddie's inventory to help her pass exams and a seemingly innocuous action by Eddie drives her into his arms

✿ content warnings: fem reader, drug use, swearing, fingering, oral (f receiving), handjob, sheltered religious!reader, virgin!reader, experienced Eddie, slightly mean!Eddie in the beginning, poking fun at reader

✿ dividers by the 🐐 @firefly-graphics

You pace the woods nervously. He had replied "3:30" to the note you passed him in study hall. Each passing minute made you more nervous and all you needed was the help of a tiny white pill to pass your exams. You'd taken it before as a child. Your father always said you were "rambunctious and unlearned" the first years of your life, but he made you stop taking it when you hit puberty. "Drugs like that make people your age want to sin with the opposite sex," he had told you.

You never needed medication as a child, you were just too much for your mother. She hated the way you used to ruin your white dresses with mud. You hated dolls. You hated ballet. She let the doctors drug you saying, "She just won't behave!" But, now you did need the meds. You were teetering on the edge of passing chemistry, and you refused to repeat another grade. Suddenly, you heard a rustle in the bushes.

Eddie walked through the brush, swatting at something in the air near his head, metal lunch pail rattling in his hand.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," you squeaked.

He sat down at the old picnic table in the clearing and popped open the box. You lingered nearby, standing stick straight and holding a heavy textbook close your chest.

"You sure you want the uppers?" he asked, squinting at a handful of orange pill containers with badly handwritten labels.

"Yes," you said. "I need to pass exams."

"Yeah," he says, looking up at you now. "I thought I was a loser, but a 19 year old junior? That's some feat of failure."

"My father doesn't believe in secular education," you blurt out, and he looks at you confused. "He says our true education comes from God, but the truant officers disagree."

"That's stupid," he blatantly says. "Why didn't they just make you do school at home like a Mormon or something?"

You can't help but giggle and you see a smirk threaten to appear on Eddie's face. "Every night I have Bible study with my parents until it's time to go to bed," you divulge. "I've never even opened this, so I have a lot of catching up to do."

"You're planning on reading a 2,000 page textbook in the three hours before 4th period chemistry?"

"Only the important parts," you say, hugging the book close to your chest. You smile at him so the corners of your eyes crease a bit.

He smiles back at you. "You're cute," he says. He tosses the bottle of pills at you and you fumble the heavy textbook while trying to catch it. It thuds to the ground as you scramble for the pill bottle. He's staring at you intently, the threat of the smirk finally carried out on his face. You recover from your cartoonish antics and notice him looking at you.

"What?" you ask, patting yourself down. "Is there something on me?"

You wore a peasant dress and heavy cardigan, sleeves well past your small hands. Your white sneakers were scuffed and the scalloped lace of your old socks was torn.

"It's nothing," he says, afterwards clearing his throat. "That'll be $40."

"$40?" you ask, bewildered. "I only brought $25, everyone I asked said it'd be $25!"

"That's for weed, honey, these are real prescription pills. Worth more because they're harder to acquire. I can't grow Ritalin in my tool shed, now can I?" he explains.

"I'd have to go home and get more," you say, scratching the back of your head.

"You've been quite the character, to say the least, but I don't have that kinda time." He starts to get up from the table and you rush over to stop him with hands on his chest.

"Can I pay you in the morning? Please? I'm only taking just the one and I'll pay you $40 at first bell. I promise!" you plead. The bottle of pills sits on the table where you'd just set it, mocking you.

He looks down at your hands splayed across his chest and then back to you. You remove them, backing away from his personal space with flushed cheeks. You're standing there in your oversized sweater, your long sleeves almost kissing the ground at your sides, pouting like a petulant child. He steps slowly over the picnic bench and takes three large strides towards you. He reaches for your chest and your breath hitches as he delicately picks up your small golden cross necklace. The action puts him only inches from your face as he inspects it. It fell just at your cleavage and you caught him looking at you in that way. You felt warm behind your ears and may have made a run for it had he not spoken.

"Is this real?" he asks.

"I-I think so," you stammer.

"You can have your pills, and I'll take $40 first thing tomorrow morning," he agrees. Not long after he finished speaking did he yank the golden cross from around your neck. You jumped slightly, feeling excitement. He held it up to your face, his own still inches from yours, "But, I'm taking this as collateral."

"W-what's that?" you asked.

"Collateral? It means you give me something valuable to hold onto until I get paid. Something you want back so I know you'll bring my money," he explains.

"Okay," you say, touching the spot where it once laid on your chest as you watched him pack up. As he walked by, he slipped the pill bottle into the pocket of your sweater.

"You have nice tits, by the way." he says.

You walk through your front door, the bottle now safely squirreled away inside your school bag. You kick off your shoes onto the designated rug and quietly walk upstairs to your room. You set your bag in your closet before pulling out an old shoe box from the top shelf. Inside you find about $30, a tube of "Ravishing Red" lipstick stolen from the drugstore down the street, and tampons. You take the money and place it inside your bag, wrapping it around the pill bottle. Just as you're closing the closet doors, you hear your bedroom door creak open.

"Sweetheart?" you hear your father's voice. "Are you decent?"

"Yes, daddy!" you say.

He opens the door with a smile. "Your mother has dinner ready and we're expecting you for your studies afterwards."

"Of course, daddy." you say, wringing your hands under your sleeves.

"Babydoll, what happened to your necklace?" he asks.

"What?" you feign surprise, touching that spot once again. "No! It must've fallen off at school!"

"That's okay, honey. Wherever it winds up is where it's supposed to be. God works in mysterious ways," he says. "Someone must've needed it more than you."

You tuck yourself into bed that night replaying in your mind the moment he'd ripped your necklace from you. It had made you feel primal, the only word that came to mind when you searched for ways to describe the feeling. Eddie was handsome and charming. You heard the way some of the other girls talked about him, the things he'd done to them. You wondered what it would feel like if it were you instead of them, a certain feeling spreading inside you. You'd felt this feeling once before. You'd awoken from an unseen face doing obscene things to you in a dream. The only way to alleviate the feeling was to touch yourself. You'd rubbed yourself raw, fervently trying to soothe the ache in you. You'd touched a part of you that night you hadn't known existed, and every time you grazed it, it sent a shiver through you. You reached for yourself again tonight, thinking of Eddie Munson and all the sins you would allow him to commit upon you. Through your ministrations, you fell asleep with your hand between your legs, never reaching true release.

The entire morning was a blur. Eddie was right to have made fun of you. You only read about 200 pages, a slim number of which were actually on the test. You felt you did well but you'd been in such a hurry to accomplish your task that you'd forgotten to meet Eddie in the parking lot when you'd first gotten to school. He passed you in the hall around 6th period, a stern look on his face. "Four o'clock," he'd muttered.

You lie on the picnic table, legs dangling off either side as you stared at the grey and cloudy sky. Your hands were clasped at your chest, feeling your heart still somewhat fluttering like a humming bird. You heard the leaves rustle and you sat up, smoothing your dress. Today you wore a knee length, sleeveless chiffon with ruffles and the same sweater as always. Slouched socks and dirty white high tops. Your hair fell in messy waves, unkempt. Usually your hair would be up in a tight bun, but today it only gave you a headache. He emerged from the brush and looked at you, almost stunned.

"I'm sorry," you meekly say.

"Was it worth it?" he asks, still staring.

"200," you say, "I only made it to 200, but I think I passed."

He chuckles, reaching under his collar to reveal he'd been wearing your small cross necklace. He started to unclasp it as you stayed sat on the table, legs crossed. He held it up to you and it glinted despite the clouds.

"I fixed it," he said, "I, uh, kinda broke it when I took it from you yesterday."

"I had this weird feeling when you did that," you boldly confess.

"And what was that?" he questions. He's behind you now, ready to return your necklace to its original place.

"I don't know," you answer. "It was like warm excitement."

He clasps the necklace then, dragging the cross along the chain so it laid perfectly between your breasts. As he pulls his hands away, one brushes your shoulder.

"Like that," you say. "It happened again."

"It's probably the drugs," he says, almost shyly. "Sometimes those things can give you hot flashes and shit."

"It's not the drugs," you confidently tell him. "I wasn't on anything yesterday. And I'm not hot on the outside. It's like I'm hot on the inside, you know?"

"Oh," he says, hungrily looking at your open pout, "I know."

"Well," you say, reaching into your bra for the money you brought him, "Here's the rest of it." He takes it, giggling like a child.

"What?" you ask him, laughing now yourself.

"That was pretty wild," he answers.

"What do you mean?" you question.

"A good little Christian girl reaches into the best rack I've ever seen and comes back up with drug money for me?" he says. "That's what's pretty wild."

"I'm wild? You're wild, Eddie Munson!" you tell him, playfully hitting him in the chest. He laughs, grabbing both your wrists as you continue to hit him in jest.

"I am a good girl," you tell him. He pauses for a moment, staring at your eyes, then lips.

"Then why do you look at me like that?" he asks.

"Like what?" you question.

"God," he's says. "The viridity. Such effortless innocence. Your yearning is contagious."

His mouth is inches away from yours. He smells faintly of cigarettes, a smell you never enjoyed until this very moment. Your lip trembles as you're in his tight grasp. That warm excitement fills you again as your heart threatens to escape your chest as you think of last night.

"I don't know what any of those words meant, but I think I want to kiss you." you confess.

"Fuck," he whispers against your open mouth. Dropping your hands, he cradles your cheek in his palm. His other arm is wrapped around your waist as you sit on the edge of the picnic table, your chest heaving with shaky breath. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around him, pulling yourself closer to him.

"Can I actually kiss you?" he asks.

"Would you, please?" you beg.

He leans into you slowly and his lips meld with yours in your first kiss; soft and warm. You're surprised when his tongue slips into your mouth but your body takes over for you again and soon you're exploring his mouth in the same way he did yours. He was gentle with you, rubbing your cheek with his thumb and tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His hand eventually creeped up your waist to your chest and he gently squeezed your breast between a large hand, a ringed finger caressing your peaked nipple. Soon, you began to feel a sticky wetness forming between your legs.

"Eddie," you whimpered. "I'm- I'm wet."

He pulled away from you, lips pink and puffy with pupils blown. "Shit, sweetheart." he whispered. "We should stop."

"No, Eddie." you whine. "Please," you beg. "Please, touch me." You grab his hand, moving it between your legs. "It aches."

Eddie stilled his hand under your dress, grabbing your thigh. "I don't think this is a good idea. I think you still have the jitters."

"Please," you whispered, as you let your sweater fall from your shoulders. You brought your hands up to the straps of your dress, pulling them aside with those of your thin cotton bra, and yanking the bodice down to reveal your bare chest to him.

"I'm fine," you reassure him, taking his free hand and bringing it up to grasp your exposed breast.

"Oh my fucking god," he says, allowing his other hand to slowly trail along your soft thigh and to your soaked center.

"When you swear, it makes me throb inside." you confess.

"Does it?" he asks, finally touching you through the wet fabric of your panties. Your hips lift of their own accord. You start shivering, huffing breaths as he gently touches you. "Virgins always get so fucking soaked. Am I the only man who's ever touched this sweet pussy?" He dips his hand under the fabric of your panties, running his fingers over your wet slit. You would have fallen over had he not let go of your breast to catch you by the waist. He bowed his head, covering your nipple with his hot mouth.

"Oh my god," you said. A silent scream escaping you as you fisted his curls. Your legs spread themselves further, heels on the edge of the picnic table, as he continued to play with your most private parts. He swirled his tongue around your nipple and you felt a dizzying feeling come on. While he had you distracted he slowly inserted a ringed finger into you, the cool metal stopping to rest on that one sensitive nerve. You gasped abruptly, letting out a whine that bled into a deep moan as he moved his finger slowly in and out of you. He released your nipple and made eye contact with you. His dark eyes were endearing, and he looked at you with unabashed hunger.

"Such a sweet girl with an even sweeter pussy," he whispered.

You moaned again at his words. He felt free to say any of the filthy praises that came to his mind, and you enjoyed it. When he added a second finger to you, you spread your legs as far as you could manage, your dress bunching at your waist. You finally saw him plunged inside of you, wetness coating your thighs and his hand. He began to move his fingers in and out of you faster and with his second hand began playing with the small nub of a nerve. Your face began to get hot and your ears rang as you screwed your eyes shut. You felt a strange sensation and reached for his hand.

"Eddie, stop!" you say, and he does.

"What's wrong?" he asks. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, but I think I have to pee." you say, shamefully. Your cheeks would flush if they weren't already.

Eddie laughs. "Sweetheart, you were about to cum."

"What?" you ask, still embarrassed

"You were probably about to have an orgasm. Some girls say it makes them feel like they have to take a piss," he explains.

"Oh," you say, hiding your face behind your hands.

"Hey, hey, hey," he coos. "Look at me," he says. You remove your hands and look at him, his gentle dominance overtaking any embarrassment you still had. "I know a gentler way to make you cum," he says. "I need to make you cum."

"Lie back," he told you, as he pressed you down on the table with a flat palm to your chest. Your necklace fell to the side, draping itself over your shoulder as you lie there still exposed to him.

He hooked his thumb into your panties, dragging them to the side between his hand and your thigh before clasping his other hand in yours and resting it firmly on your hips. You wondered why he would put you in this position, and your silent question was answered when he dragged his hot tongue along your slit. You tried to lift your hips but couldn't, your free hand reaching down to tangle into his thick hair again. He circled your weeping hole, darting his tongue in and out as it tried to close around it. He drank your nectar, feasting on you like some beast. His soft lips kissed your sensitive nerve, wrapping around it to suck and swirl his tongue. Your breathing changed in that way again and you felt that peculiar feeling.

"Let it happen," he said, hot breath fanning over you.

Relaxing fully for only an instant, something inside you burst and you felt a warmth spread inside you. You felt a small gush of more wetness as your legs began to tingle. You saw spots in your vision as you rolled your hips against Eddie's open mouth. He drank his fill of you, until your breathing slowed and you properly came down from your first orgasm. His hand was moving below his waist, and he stood up revealing his hard cock in his hand. You gasped softly, eyeing it and him.

"It's so big," you innocently say.

"I'd like to think so," he jokes.

"Can I touch it?" you ask.

"You don't have to," he says. "You can just watch me if you want."

"Let me touch you," you say. "I want to."

He inches towards you, guiding your hand to him. You wrap your fingers around him in the way his own were, and he sighs.

"Move your hand up and down," he instructs you. "You can squeeze just a little. Twist your wrist sometimes and focus on the tip."

You do as he tells you, listening to the pornographic sounds he makes. Deep moans and animalistic growls each time you reach the tip of him. He unzips his jeans further, taking out his heavy sack and letting it hang free. "Faster," he says, and you pick up your pace.

"Fuck!" he exclaims. "Keep going, sweetheart. Such a good girl. Gonna make me cum for you."

"Please cum," you say. "I want you to feel good like I did. Should I put it in my mouth?" you ask.

"No time for that today, angel. Pull your panties to the side," he orders, and you pull the damp fabric away from your still sensitive sex.

With both hands around your waist he pulls you across the table towards him, rutting his sack and the base of him against your puffy lips.

"Spread yourself open," he says. You spread your lower lips apart, trying hard not to change the pace of your other hand on his cock. He nestles himself against your hole. Still sensitive, you whimper, and you feel his cock twitch in your grasp.

"Faster," he says. "Harder."

You squeeze him harder, jerking your small hand along his hard shaft as fast as you can. He keeps a tight grip on the plush of your hips, staring at your bare chest.

"Oh, fuck!" he cries out, cumming on your chest. Warm, white ropes cover your breasts. He stands before you convulsing as you continue to pump him in your hand.

"Don't stop" he whispers through breathy moans. You continue palming him until he backs away from you. You reach down, gathering his release with a finger and bringing it to your mouth. You let it linger on your tongue, bland but salty, like sweat.

"What are you doing?" he asks, tucking himself back into his jeans.

"I wanted to know what you taste like," you admitted. "What did I taste like?" you ask.

He charges at you, capturing your mouth in a deep and wandering kiss. Your own musk overtakes him in your mouth as he pulls away.

"Fix yourself," he says. "Unless you want more."

"What if I do?" you ask as you begin to cover up. "Want more."

He looks at you with a gentle lust in his eyes, running a calloused thumb across your lips. "I would love to give you more," he says.

"More is all I have to give," you reply.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things smut #joseph quinn smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x f!reader

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obae-me · 5 months

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A sensation caused you to stir, the garbled plotline to your dream fizzling out of your head as soon as your eyes opened. Two grey-ish eyes with muddied hues stared down at you from beneath white fringe, hand outstretched, fingers brushing over your forehead as he leaned over the back of the couch. You were still getting...used to this, to his presence. It was unusual seeing him taking something so seriously, a firm frown on his face.

Solomon sighed. "I thought I told you to not sleep on the couch like that. You could catch a cold."

"I...just drifted..." You tried to explain, ready to roll your eyes. You weren't nearly weak enough to get sick taking a nap on the couch. As a human himself, you'd think he would agree with your resilience, but alas...

"You're working yourself too hard," he concluded, shaking his head a bit, a sternness to his words you'd only learned he was capable of after you'd become his apprentice. It only seemed to grow ten-fold after you started living together in Cocytus Hall.

"Correction," you interjected, catching him at an intake of breath, ready to lecture you further. "The brothers are working me too hard. And then of course Barbatos and Diavolo request to see me at the castle, and then Simeon and Luke always like to include me in their own plans. And RAD and..." A heavy sigh left your lungs. They were always rowdy, but something in the air was stirring up more trouble than usual.

A smile seemed to creep it's way across Solomon's face. The kind of smile that you had learned to connect to his irritation. Not to be confused with his mischievous smirk, which appeared very similar. A man of many smiles, this one. "Well, I'm sure they all can go without you for one evening." His D.D.D. was already in his hand, as if he was already about to send a message to every individual in the Devildom that you were not to be disturbed.

There was the subtle hint of a pout on his lips, which caused you to chuckle a bit. "Are you jealous?"

Called out but not shaken, he put his phone back in his pocket before leaning further over the couch cushions, his head hovering a few feet above yours. "Is it such a crime to want to keep you home more?" He sighed wistfully and dramatically. "I only did come all the way through space and time to save you." He noticed the look on your face at the reminder of just how out of your depth you both were. Suddenly, the backs of his fingers touched your cheek. "It gets lonely here when you're gone..." Solomon muttered. "I feel this...coldness, this emptiness. And when I think about it, I can only imagine how you feel... coming back to sleep in a house that's not your home. Missing the people you love."

"Solomon..."

"I promise you, I'll make things okay. And in the meantime, I'll make Cocytus Hall a place you can look forward to coming back to." A single finger twirled around a small strand of your hair. "So please don't stay away for too long." His face hovered lower. "And spend time with me more often?" The inflection at the end was questioning, almost pleading. He looked in your eyes for the go-ahead to move forward, but you took the chance for him. Your lips both brushed together in a tender kiss, the top-half of his body fully bent over the couch. You imagined in a bit of humor one of his legs bending up like in silly rom-com movies. When he pulled apart, he had a satisfied look on his face, but a new blush to accompany it. "And no more napping on the couch, otherwise I'll have to carry you to bed next time."

"Sure you will, old man."

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me nightbringer #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x mc #obey me solomon x reader

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matchavellichor · 6 months

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A Losing Game

A/N: was in the mood to write pure filth so here's some jealous sebastian smut lul. also i left the context intentionally vague so that i could maybe write a prequel sometime but i hope it's clear they absolutely hate each other loool

Sebastian Sallow x f!MC - NSFW - 4.4k words - ao3

Summary: Watching his long-time rival and dueling partner kiss someone else ignites feelings in Sebastian that has him questioning just how similar hate is to desire.

Tags: Yule Ball, Enemies to Lovers, Pining Sebastian, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Mild Prey/Predator, No Safeword

For the first time in their many years of friendship, Sebastian is the one being dragged to a social event he has no interest in being a part of. Ominis, taking no small amount of pleasure in this, leads them into the Great Hall with an amused smirk on his face, only biting his tongue because he’s respectful of present company. Sebastian frowns.

His robes are scratchy, his date is doused in a nausea-inducing amount of flowery perfume, and there’s not nearly enough firewhiskey in the spiked punch this year.

He tells himself pointedly, as if it’s a matter of public record, that he isn’t looking for her.

Even as his eyes comb over the crowd, and there’s a little pang of disappointment in his gut when he still doesn’t spot her after the third sweep.

“Stop sulking,” Ominis murmurs from beside him. “You look miserable.”

Sebastian proceeds to sulk even more. “How would you know how I look?”

“I’m blind, not oblivious.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, sitting down at the table the blonde had chosen and preparing himself for an entire night of brooding.

He’d have no qualms in remaining seated in their desolate little corner for the entirety of the evening, but his date—Bianca or Beatrice or, maybe something with a D—has other plans.

She titters something about dancing, and then she’s suddenly tugging on his arm and dragging him towards parquet floors. In no mood to protest, he lets himself get weaved through pairs of students who are doing anything but respecting Headmaster’s Black rule to maintain a Potions textbook length apart.

So much for leaving room for Merlin.

He manages a tight-lipped smile when they stop under a cloud charmed to sprinkle snowflakes, small flurries of white blending into a halo around them. It’s a truly beautiful sight, a winter wonderland of silver and gold englobing them, yet despite this, Sebastian’s demeanor is tight and forced, starkly unhappy.

He pretends he doesn’t understand the reasoning behind his sour mood. Pretends he isn’t thinking about someone else’s hands, someone else’s smell, someone else’s eyes, and the obvious absence of them.

Sebastian feels dreadfully pathetic clinging to the prospect of even simply seeing her as a motivator to suffer through the remainder of the night.

He wonders when he became such a pining, spineless idiot and deduces it must’ve been somewhere during the first dozen times she’d knocked him on his ass in a duel. Surely, a screw was knocked loose then. Or a couple.

Sebastian swallows his displeasure and takes hold of a hand that’s not the right size, that doesn’t have the calluses and rough edges in the places he’s already far too familiar with. It’s easy to fall into pace, but it’s hard to enjoy it. Hard to pretend he’s dancing with someone else.

It’s then, glancing over his date’s shoulder through the haze of floating candles and snowflakes, that he finally catches sight of what he has decidedly not been thinking about all evening.

From the way he stills and all his attention narrows in on one person, you’d think Salazar Slytherin himself just made an appearance butt-naked on a unicycle.

Breath-taking is an understatement. Asphyxiating might be a more valiant contender. Sebastian would be impressed with himself if he managed to get enough oxygen in his lungs to keep his brain functioning for an entire night of staring at her across dance floors.

His eyes comb over every inch of the blood red floor-length gown she has on, head-to-toe, gaze rising to dust over the blush high on her cheekbones, even further up to the gems crested in her hair.

He takes a deep, fortifying breath, though it doesn’t do him any good.

Then, his attention narrows in on the person accompanying her and it’s like his stomach immediately pitches, falls down six flights of stairs, and subsequently plummets into a dark abyss, landing at the bottom with a pathetic, defeated sort of sound.

Because her arm is tucked into the crook of someone else’s elbow, and she’s smiling at something someone else is whispering in her, and despite being only a few feet away at this point, she doesn’t even spare a glance at Sebastian.

Instead, she drapes an arm around her date’s neck, which he reciprocates with a hand at the small of her back, pulls their bodies closer and—

Sebastian squeezes his eyes shut and refuses to look, turning away from what feels like betrayal, though he knows is the farthest thing from it.

Maybe that’s what feels the worst. What makes his mouth taste so bitter he could gag from it. It’s the realization that he has no right to feel so upset about any of it. That he can’t expect anything from her.

That she isn’t his.

His shoulders stiffen and he suddenly stops any movements, letting his hands drop from where they were rested at a chiffon-covered waist, stepping away.

His date calls his name, emitting some cross between a petulant whine and indignant scoff, but he doesn’t really hear her. He’s busy high-tailing towards the drink table and doing the mental math for how many teal-coloured glasses of spiked punch he’ll have to drink to self-induce a coma.

Ominis, with his hell-anointed sixth sense, meets him three-quarters of the way there, falling into step as they weave through pairs of students.

“This is your own doing, you know.”

He’s right, yet Sebastian would still throttle him if there weren’t so many witnesses around. He ignores him.

“Sebastian,” Ominis sighs. “You’re being childish.”

“You aren’t helping.”

“I’m not trying to,” Ominis says. “I thought I’d already made myself clear that I was on her side concerning this.”

Sebastian scowls. “Some friend you are.”

“All you had to do was ask her.”

“Asking her is admitting defeat,” Sebastian mutters over the rim of the glass he just poured himself. “She wouldn’t have ever let me live it down.”

“I don’t understand this game you two play,” Ominis frowns. “Would it have been so hard for you to humble yourself for just a moment?”

Sebastian takes a long drink. “Yes. In front of her, it would’ve been.”

“Then enjoy watching her dance with someone else for the remainder of the evening.”

Sebastian has just about decided to actually throttle Ominis, witnesses be damned, but he’s already making his way back into the crowd, out of reach.

Sebastian groans, yet doesn’t go after him. Refuses to.

From his position on the outskirts of the dance floor, he’s in blissful ignorance of whatever it is she’s doing at the moment. Despite the curiosity eating away at him from the inside, it’s some form of solace that at least he can’t see the smile he’d caught on her face. Can’t see the glow in her eyes, or her hands on her date’s robes, or all the affection he craves so ardently misdirected towards someone else.

Somehow, it’s worse.

And then, as if Fortune, on his damned quarry smiling, has decided Sebastian hasn’t endured enough for one pitiful night already, the steady crescendo of a waltz begins to build.

The crowd pulses and sways in tempo with the symphony, leaving breaches and eyelets, brief openings that he can’t tear his eyes away from, because even if it hurts, he needs to see her again.

That’s how he catches sight of her for the second time that evening. Like the seas parting to reveal a miracle, she finds herself right in his line of vision.

Sebastian conveys the tightening he feels in his chest into an ice-cold glower, features hardened. He prays she’ll just look. Even if it’s something fleeting, a split second of a glance.

Once again, her eyes never make their way anywhere near him.

It’s almost intentional, in a way that drives him insane. As if she knows where he is, and she’s skirting over him pointedly, antagonistically. Sebastian wouldn’t be surprised if it were intentional, a gleaming testimony to all the other ways she manages to get under his skin.

The dancing body of students continues to shift, like a pendulum, back and forth, revealing and concealing. He clings to the momentary sight of her, and still, like a fool, hopes that at some instance she’ll look back. Acknowledge him.

Give him some form of recognition so he doesn’t have to admit defeat so quickly. So that he knows that they’re still playing their game, that he’s not just losing alone.

The composition nears its apex, surrounding gowns and robes reaching a swirling mass of glitter and silks, and something heavy sinks inside of him, an impending sense of foreboding.

He knows what’s coming, somehow.

The orchestra finally reaching its climax.

Her fingers threading through the hairs at the nape of her date’s neck.

Her leaning forward, nose slotting against his, lips hovering over another’s and yet—

He doesn’t look away. Even if it feels like being split open, sternum cracked across the middle, until he’s left with a slick-red, yawning chest cavity.

He can’t look away, because her eyes are open and for the first time in the entire evening, they’re meeting his.

Like most instances involving her, he isn’t sure if he’s winning or losing anymore.

She doesn’t look away, and he can’t bring himself to either. It’s like he’s standing there, split from top to bottom, voluntarily exposed for her to prod at, to ruin. And yet, there’s a bittersweetness to it all.

Her lips aren’t on his, yet she’s looking at him as if she wishes they were.

There’s something taunting in her eyes. Something he might’ve mistaken as a threat if they were in their usual setting, mid-duel in the Undercroft.

A challenge.

It takes him a moment to realize that context shouldn’t matter. This is an invitation for battle, a glaring provocation. He stares.

The sight of her mouth on someone else’s makes bile rise in his throat, makes him so filled with rage and revulsion that he thinks he might suffocate on it all. Yet the sight of her eyes, the sheer amount of longing she’s able to convey in such a short glance, is enough to invigorate him, to channel all his rage and wanting into something else.

His legs move of their own accord.

Her reflexes are as sharp as they are in battle.

The second she sees him coming towards her, she reacts. Murmurs a hurried apology towards her date, who looks so confused Sebastian would almost feel bad for the bloke if he didn’t want to strangle him so violently.

She’s immediately cutting through the crowd towards the opposite direction, her eyes trained on one of the exits. He picks up his speed, but she’s quicker than him, smaller, able to duck through bunches of students with ease, even with her dress hindering her movements.

Adrenaline trickles up his spine. She throws him another glance over her shoulder and smirks, sly and knowing, a look that writhes under his skin in the way her glances always do.

Even if he’s the one chasing her, Sebastian feels awfully like the rodent in their little game of cat and mouse.

They both step into the quiet of the dimly-lit hallway, the sounds of the party bleeding away as the door shuts behind them, casting them in silence.

There’s a split moment where she spins around to look at him, chest heaving. The live-wire tension between them is pulled so taut it’s a miracle the air doesn’t crackle with static.

Neither of them move for a long moment, until her lips curl into a smile.

She breaks into a run and Sebastian doesn’t miss a beat.

He chases after her, his heart pounding with something primal, something instinctive. Like his self-control might slip away from him when he catches her, like he might just sink his teeth into soft flesh, dig his nails into supple skin. She runs as if she’s just as aware of this fact as he is.

He almost wants to punish her for it. Bite and scratch and mark as if in vengeance for her thinking she could ever get away from him. For her forgetting that she’s anything but his, as if she should simply know it by now.

She’s fast, but she’s nearly tripping over the dress she has fisted in her hands, and her heels don’t help. All it takes is for her to stumble around a corner and he’s on her, grabbing her gown, pulling her towards him.

He spins her around, and she grunts when he slams her against the wall. Teeth bared, strands of the elegant updo she’d had her hair in falling down over her shoulders, glittery makeup smeared down her cheeks — she looks like something savage.

For some reason, it makes something deep-set inside Sebastian ache.

“Let go,” she grits, struggling against the hold he has on her wrists, under the weight of his body that has her molded to the wall.

His grip only tightens, frustration simmering low in his gut. Sebastian has never known desire like this, shadowed by fury. Want and anger, love and hate, repulsion and obsession.

“I know what you’re doing,” he hisses.

She stills her thrashing in favor of looking up at him through her lashes with an expression so innocent, it’s crucifying.

“Attending a dance?”

His jaw sets. “Don’t get smart with me.”

“Why, are you having a hard time keeping up?”

He stares at her for a long moment, jaw working in tandem with his thoughts. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and she tilts her head, amused at how worked up he’s gotten.

“I know what you’re doing,” she says.

“And what’s that?”

“Thinking about how badly you want to kill me, probably,” she says. Her eyes fall to his lips and his breath stops in his throat. “Or kiss me. Haven’t quite worked out which one yet.”

“So certain that they’re mutually exclusive,” he murmurs, his gaze falling to mimic hers despite himself. “I think you forget that I’m very multi-faceted.”

“That I’m aware of,” she tilts her chin up, almost as if inviting him to press his mouth to hers, a siren’s call. “You manage to be mind-numbingly stupid and brilliantly obnoxious, all at the same time.”

He scoffs. “And you manage to be the most infuriating person on the planet.”

She seems starkly proud of the title. “What can I say, I invoke passion.”

“You invoke homicidal thoughts.”

“Not the only kinds of thoughts I invoke in you, is it, Sallow?”

He reddens. He’s spent too many showers hunched over his own fist with silencing charms plastered around the tiles for his response to be anything more than a blurted, evocative reaction.

“Anything you think I feel for you is precisely the opposite. I fucking despise you.”

He only notes a split second after that it’s not an outright denial.

Evidently, so does she. Because then, as if she were made to crawl under his skin, writhe underneath it until his nerves were a mess, she smiles.

What he truly despises is how pretty he finds it.

“You don’t hate me.”

He sneers. “Is that so?”

“Hate isn’t the opposite of love. Indifference is,” she leans in. “And I’d hardly call chasing me through the castle simply because I kissed someone else…indifferent.”

He decides then — or more accurately, his too-horny, too-angry, too-impulsive brain decides for him — to wipe the pleased grin off her face the most effective way he knows how.

With a hand fisted in her hair and his mouth crashing against hers.

It isn’t tender or sweet, nor the remotest definition of kind, but it’s fitting and dreadfully familiar, because it’s not like they’ve ever been nice to one another.

He lets go of her wrists to give her some fighting chance, because he’s cruel, but he prides himself on being fair. Instead of pushing him away, or going for her wand, or doing anything to indicate she doesn’t want this, however, she pulls him in. As if she knows exactly how to bring him to his knees, in any and all contexts, and revels in any opportunity to destroy him.

He almost thinks it’s a trap, another one of her grating ploys, but when she tangles her fingers in his hair and drags her nails down his scalp and kisses him back with just as much fervor as he does, it’s hard to believe it’s simply a farce.

Her tongue finds his and Sebastian wonders if they’ll ever do anything together that doesn’t mimic a battle. She fights for dominance in every stroke of her tongue against his, and his stubbornness refuses to grant her it.

“Fuck,” he groans against her mouth, because he’s learning just how much she kisses the same way she duels.

Dirty, unfair, brutal. Like she’s never been afraid of blood, or getting messy, or breaking things.

She stokes a fire that’s been simmering inside him until it’s red-hot and all-consuming, flames licking at the inside of his throat. He pulls her bottom lip between his teeth and bites until he tastes copper, finding some sick form of satisfaction at the pained little whine she lets out.

“You kissed him,” he pants, and there’s something raw in his voice. He rests his forehead against hers and stares at the crimson pooling on her lip. “You kissed him.”

She swallows. “I did.”

Sebastian despises how hurt he sounds. “I could kill him.”

“You won’t.”

“I could.”

“I know,” she nods, chest heaving against his. Her voice grows suddenly soft, until it’s barely a whisper. “I wanted it to be you.”

He groans, almost pained. “Did you?”

She nods.

“Has he ever touched you?”

She shakes her head.

“Tell the truth,” he says, fingers threading through the tangled remains of her chignon, tilting her face up towards him so he can meet her eyes. “Did you let him touch you?” He presses a leg between her thighs, barely able to feel her through layers of tulle. “Here?”

“No,” she gasps from the contact, nails scrambling to drag down his forearm. “Never.”

“Fuck,” he sighs, and tips his head down to press against her throat, drags his lips over her jaw. “Only me, hm? Say it.”

She shakes her head and his gaze darkens, pulling back to tighten his fingers still tangled in her hair, to tear a whimper from the back of her throat.

“No? Who then?”

“No one,” she whispers, and despite the tight angle her neck is at, despite the fear dancing behind her eyes, she smiles up at him again. “You haven’t touched me yet, though, have you?”

She’s baiting him, and he’s aware of it, and still it manages to work.

He feels his self-restraint slipping through the cracks of his fingers like sand. There’s traces of scarlet on her teeth he wants to drag his tongue over. He wants to suck the marrow from her bones.

He spins her around, presses her cheek into the cool flagstone of the corridor they’re in, and molds his body to hers.

“S-shit,” she curses when his patience wears thin and he yanks at the fabric hiding her body away from his, pulling at the skirt of her gown until it rips. “Asshole.”

“Looks better this way.”

His fingers coast up her thighs to hook into her knickers, tugging them down before she can protest. She gasps and he smiles against her cheek, pushing her hand away when she tries to cover herself.

He nips at her ear, his hand reaching between her legs to cup her sex, reveling in the way she tries to squirm away from him.

“What’s wrong? Going to act shy now?”

“Someone could see,” she grits, though something in her tone tells him she’s not going to stop him.

“Wouldn’t they be lucky.”

His breath stutters when he finally dips his fingers between her folds and finds how soaked she is. Something about the revelation is dizzying, the notion that she could possibly want this as badly as he does. He grinds his hips into her arse so she’s just as aware of how gone he is.

Immediately, his hand is fumbling with his belt, the other pressing bruises into her hip to keep her still. He kicks her feet open wider, spreading her for him. His fingers flex on her hip in anticipation.

“You have full permission to use any Unforgivables you want on me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. He groans. “You’re not getting me off of you in any other way.”

When she doesn’t make any move for her wand he positions himself at her entrance, rubbing to coat himself in her fluids. Her breathing is heavy against the wall she’s pressed against, her gasps coming out in soft little pants. He revels in them for a long moment.

Then, he’s impaling her and all of her breathing stops. Replaced instead by a strangled sort of sound, as if he’d managed to knock out all of the air in her lungs with a single thrust. His jaw falls slack.

He manages to composure himself enough to murmur in her ear, voice hoarse. “Hurts?”

She chokes out a sob, nodding weakly. Her head falls against the wall, clenching around him as she tries to adjust to his size.

His hips snap forward again, even harsher this time, burying himself to the hilt and tearing a yelp out of her throat. “Good.”

“S–Sebastian—”

He pauses, so deep inside her he can feel every little pulse, hips flush against her arse. “Want me to stop?”

Miraculously, she shakes her head. It’s never like her to back down from a fight, after all.

“Of course,” he chuckles, though it sounds uncharacteristically strained, imprecise. Like he’s losing his grip. His head falls to her shoulder and he moans, grunting feverishly against her skin as he starts a brutal, unforgiving pace. “You can take it. Look so pretty taking it.”

“Please,” she whines. “Too much, I–I can’t,”

“You’re a tough girl,” he whispers, tone vicious despite his words. “You’re going to shut your fucking mouth and take my cock.”

She nods fervently, obediently, and Sebastian thinks he deserves a medal for not finishing right then. He yanks her hips back from the wall, shifting the angle and she gasps when he feels him push in even deeper.

“Oh my God,” she moans. “Good — feels s’good, yes, yes. Plea–please don’t stop.”

“Fuck,” he grunts, voice sandpaper-rough. He snakes a hand to her front to rub tight little circles between her legs. “Look at you babbling. Dumb little cock-drunk slut. Can’t even think properly with me inside you like this, can you?”

Her response is too garbled for coherence, a mess of moans and pleas. He groans in a way that’s almost just as saturated with desperation, that tells her she’s not alone in her unraveling. He pulls her head back to smash his lips to her, stifling all kinds of confessions that threaten to escape him.

She breaks the kiss to gasp for air and his fingers swirl against her just right. She tightens. “Gonna — m‘gonna cum,”

“Yeah? Come for me, baby,” his voice breaks on the word, and he’s aware he’s practically begging. He’s too far gone to care, so he scrapes a kiss to her heat-flushed cheek and properly pleads.

“Please. So fucking beautiful. Let me see your pretty face when you come undone for me,” he stares down at her through half-lidded eyes and briefly contemplates the possibility that he’s died and gone to heaven when she looks back at him. “That’s it, look at me.”

He studies her as he sends her over the edge and pulls himself over along with her, her lashes fluttering as she struggles to keep her eyes on his.

The sight is enough to ruin him.

Her makeup a mess from the tear tracks running through them, the hair fisted in his hands in an even worse state, and somehow— she still manages a lopsided smile, as if beyond pleased with herself.

He’s faintly aware of the fact she’s won. He makes peace with the realization.

There’s nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing to fill the silence in the hallway as Sebastian tries to regain his bearings, still buried inside her. Neither of them move for a long moment, and Sebastian likens it to the peace following a war, a brief period of prosperity.

He’s conscious that it’s temporary.

She winces when he finally pulls out of her, their shared spend trickling down the insides of her thighs, her knees nearly giving out to the point he has to hold her up, even if his own legs feel dreadfully unstable.

It doesn’t take her long for her to detach her body from his own, to duck under his arm and slip away. Panic suddenly seizes his chest, dread trickling up his spine. For some reason, he can’t bear to watch her leave. He opens his mouth to say something—an apology, maybe—but she beats him to it.

“That was fun,” she says plainly, glancing back at him over her shoulder. It’s as if they’d just finished another duel. Hardly anything to bat an eye at. Sebastian is at a remarkable loss for words.

She hasn’t continued down the hallway, but she looks as if she’s prepared to.

He’s faintly aware of the fact he probably looks like a fish right now, jaw still slack.

When he doesn’t say anything, she turns her attention to righting her underthings and fixing the tattered remains of her gown. He watches her.

“Goodnight, Sebastian.”

Suddenly sprung to life by the threat of her absence, he takes a step forward. “I’ll walk you back.”

She snorts. “Ever the gentleman.”

“Unless, you’d like to, uh,” he stares down at his shoes, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “I could transfigure something for us in the Undercroft.”

She looks amused. “My god, you’re insatiable.”

He reddens. “I didn’t mean—oh, Salazar, to sleep…I meant to sleep.”

She turns to face him fully and raises her brows. “You’re asking me if I’d like to forego my own bed in order to spend the night with you in a dusty cellar?”

Mortification washes over him. Why would she? He should’ve kept his mouth shut and walked her to her dorm room instead of deluding himself with the notion that this could’ve been anything more than a quick fuck.

She stares at him expectantly and his fingers twitch at his side with the desire to grab his wand and promptly Avada himself.

It’s then that she decides to saunter over to him, taking her time, until she’s right beside him and can tuck her arm into his. She gestures forward, almost impatient.

“Go on then. I’m little spoon.”

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy imagine #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #dark sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian x mc #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3

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gglitch1dd · 6 months

Text

The True Heir (Knight Eijiro x Queen Reader)

Day 4 of Breedingtober

You need an heir and fortunately for Eijiro, he has been chosen to give you such.

Warning: Sort of selling ones body, Fantasy AU, hints of an arranged marriage, consensual cheating, pregnancy, breeding kink, smut, sort of a sexual awakening for YN

Words: 6,1k

Sir Kirishima Eijiro walked through the halls of the castle as he moved forward with a goal in mind. He had been summoned before you, and for what reason, he was about to find out. It made him nervous and borderline fearful. It wasn’t as if he was so unknown that this would be a total surprise but considering that he had only ever had a few encounters with you, it was one of surprise regardless.

The large redhaired knight moved quickly, letting out a stuttered breath. He minded the maids and the handmaidens he passed, nodding to them all quickly as he made his way to the Queen’s side of the palace. The large palace was clean to no fault with decorations that made the entire hallway seem almost mystical in the late night.

Eijiro finally made it to the Queen’s drawing room. He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. He let out a stuttered breath before motioning to the other guards to allow him through. The guards opened the door allowing the knight inside. The room was lit with candles as well as the fireplace. The room had plush chairs that were occupied by a few ladies, one whom was playing the piano filling the room with song. The knight’s presence didn’t go unnoticed by them as they giggled at his appearance.

Suddenly, Eijiro felt like a fish out of water.

However is attention was on you. You sat on a lounge chair, relaxed in a state that Eijiro had never been permitted to see you in. You were not in one of your corseted or buttoned dresses that kept you modest, hidden and yet beautiful. No, not in the slightest. You sat in a white long satin feathered robe with a satin belt to match that was tied around your waist. Eijiro’s eyes met yours as you watched him carefully.

Immediately, the knight moved down to one knee, his head bent down before you as he prayed that you would not demand for his eyes due to his stupidity to gaze upon you in such a state. “Your majesty, Queen Y/N. I apologize for my tardiness, I had only learnt of your summons now and-”

“There is no need for apologies.” You dismissed him of any grovelling he might be prepared to do before you. You looked down at the knight in front of you. He was dressed in silver armour, typical of a knight, however he had a black cape which wasn’t so typical, that cascaded down his right shoulder, pooling on the floor next to him, regal and beautiful. He was a large man. Larger than life, burly and thick of muscle and yet undeniably handsome with round ruby eyes to hypnotise any that gazed upon him. You tilted your head up with a gentle smirk. “Sir Kirishima Eijiro…” You let out lowly. “A Beast of the battlefield. The Red Riot, unbreakable.” You stated his titles, making the ladies around you giggle, all dressed in nightwear, although much more covered up than you. Eijiro blushed. “Do you know why I called you here?”

“No, your majesty.”

You hummed as you looked up. You motioned with one hand and your ladies stood up and left the room. It took a minute, before the both of you were truly alone. You stood up from your chair. “Please, rise Sir Kirishima. Sit. We are alone here, just you and I.” You told him honestly.

The knight’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked up from where he was. You bore a harmless smile as you looked down at him. He hesitated for a second before rising to his feet and moving to sit in one of the chairs opposite you. You smiled, happy to see him sitting down. You moved over to grab two glasses of wine. You poured one for yourself and one for him.

With your back to him, Eijiro wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. “Tell me, Sir Kirishima… is it true that your hair changed colour due to the sheer amount of blood that had fallen upon it?” You asked.

Eijiro wasn’t entirely sure if this was a conversation meant to happen between him and a noble woman but you were his queen and he had to answer any question you had. He cleared his throat. “I am not entirely sure, your majesty. The mages say so, however my father believed its some odd soap I use.”

His bluntness made you laugh. You turned around with the two glasses of wine. “Sounds like something your father would say. A good man. A man who protected the realm and the royal family with his life.” You moved over to hand him a glass. He gratefully took it from you with a nod as you moved back to sit down in your chair. “May his soul rest in the stars. He would have been very proud of all you’ve become.”

Eijiro gave a sad smile as he looked to the cup of red wine in his hand. He lifted it up to his lips. “I pray so.” He let out lowly as he tasted the expensive wine. It was no tavern beer, that was for sure. This was sweet as it was burning, and fruity too. It tasted good.

“I know he would. You are the head of your family now, aren’t you? You’ve done well with your circumstances to keep your family alive. That’s commendable.”

Eijiro didn’t really say anything to that. After his father died in battle years ago, Eijiro was left as the oldest and only son of his family and had to do everything he could to care for them. Considering he was a lot like his father, becoming a knight wasn’t too difficult. It was a lot of work but it brought in money and put food on the table and that was all Eijiro wanted for his family. He worked hard at trying to rise up the ranks. The higher in ranks he became, the more money could send home for all his younger sisters and his mother. A cattle farm could only bring in so much.

You noticed his slight shift showing how he was a bit uncomfortable with the topic. You gave him a sad smile. “I apologise if I have made you uncomfortable. You see, I did not bring you here to discuss your father nor your path in life. I summoned you, because I have a proposal.” Eijiro looked up to you as you stared down at your glass of wine. For as long as he had known you, you never really looked nervous before. You were always such a calm and collected Queen. You were beautiful and lovely, calm and logical and yet loving and thoughtful towards your subjects. Yet now, without all the frills and eyes, you seemed almost… like a person. “The king is infertile.”

That news made Eijiro’s eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets at that news. It was something that was so unfathomable to think about one’s king it was often seen as treason to even discuss the possibility of it. “How… how do you know this?”

You leaned back as you took a sip of your wine. “As you know, the King and I have been married for five years and we have yet to be blessed with a child. At first, the healers thought that I might be the problem and thus advised that the king take a mistress.” You lifted up the glass to your lip, a large gulp this time as you tried to calm your nerves. “However, even then, no matter the woman, no seed was planted.”

Such news made Eijiro’s head spin. This felt way too much for him to know. Such a big secret could get one killed. He moved to take a gulp of his own wine before looking back to you.

“Of course, we can not tell the public of this. This means the end of a dynasty and end of the family that has ruled the kingdom for nearly a century, however the facts do not change. The royal family needs an heir and if it can not come from his majesty… it must come from me. And that is where you come in.”

Eijiro raised a dark eyebrow. “My queen? How could I possibly help?”

You took a moment, really thinking this through before letting out a heavy breath. You looked up to the knight in front of you. “I want you to give me your seed to grow it into a child. In simple words, I want you to breed me.”

Eijiro choked on his spit, forcing him to set down his glass as he coughed. You knew it was a lot to process so you let him take a second. Eijiro sat up as he looked at you wide eyed. “Why me? Your majesty,” He let out a humoured chuckle. “I am of no importance. I am not a noble nor am I a Lord of any house or land. I am… I am not worth being the father of a king.” He reasoned. It was painful to hear him say it but you knew it was true just how he knew it was true.

You shifted uncomfortably for a moment but gained your confidence again. “Sir Kirishima, I am aware, but I have thought of every other outcome. All other lords are already married and much too prideful to have any restraint in not claiming their own name over the babe. You share characteristics with the king that could cover up any questioning of heritage. Your eye colour and hair, although features are different, we could excuse that on my part.”

“Your majesty even if what you say is true, that I would-” His voice got stuck in his throat. The pure notion of it was almost too unbelievable to say and put it into the air. “If it was indeed true, how would this benefit me slightly?”

You smiled, happy that he was thinking about himself and his safety in this matter. “Do not worry, I will ensure that you are paid weekly for your… duties to me.” A red blush came onto his cheeks but he tried to keep a straight face. “If I do conceive a child, your pay will increase handsomely. From the moment you agree to this you will be trained as becoming part of my Queen’s Guard and will be by my side the entire time. You will get to watch your child become ruler of our kingdom. You will be given enough land and money for your family to live more than comfortably.”

Eijiro hesitated. He would be a damn fool to deny this offer. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. For all the reward he would be getting just to impregnate you, it seemed all too good to be true. If he did this, it would mean never having to worry about his family financially ever again. It would mean focusing on getting his sisters the lives they wanted instead of just helping them survive day by day. It meant finally getting some stress off his mother’s shoulders, knowing he would be in a safer position in your Queen’s Guard where he would just have to protect you all day and not risk his life out there. It would mean watching the child he created with you grow up to become ruler.

You could see the gears working in his head as he thought about this. “All I need is an heir and spare from you, and if that is where you wish to cut all physical interactions with me, that is all well with me.” You assured him.

Eijiro was quiet and you weren’t entirely sure what he would say about this matter. He closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. “I will do it, your majesty. Although I have one request to make.” He opened his deep ruby eyes and looked over to you, a serious look on his face.

You sat up at that. “You may state it.”

“My sisters Tamami and Tamiko… I wish for you to help them to become some sort of ladies. They are… they are on the softer side and always loved the thought of court and dresses and all that. I heard you sponsor ladies of humble beginnings so that they might flourish. I would be forever grateful if you could increase their chances for a better life, better than a common born woman can get on her own.” He requested, head down.

You paused at the request. You were expecting something, anything about him and yet here he was making a request for his sisters to have a better life and not him. You smiled dearly at the man in front of you. You got up from your chair and carefully walked over to him. You crouched down in front of him, making his eyes widen in surprise. You nodded your head. “I promise to do all that I can for your sisters and family.” You guaranteed him.

He nodded slowly. “Alright then. I’ll… I’ll be your stud, your majesty.”

Eijiro wasn’t sure what he was getting himself into now that he was sitting in your bedroom, waiting for you to arrive. You were having dinner with the king last he heard which was why in the middle of that one of your closest handmaidens, a woman he had grown to be close with, Ashido Mina, had brought him here to wait for you.

Tonight was the night. The starting night of the journey of creating a king.

Quite literally.

Eijiro tried his best when he bathed today, trying to smell at least fresh enough for you to lay with him, and he’d even washed his hair and begged one of the laundrymaids to wash his shirt again and make it look nice. It wasn’t like this was him courting you or anything. But he at least wanted to impress you. You came to him, and he had to keep up your expectations.

His heart was thrumming in his chest as he tried to keep a level head. To sleep with a noble wasn’t uncommon for knights, he had heard enough stories from them about how noblewomen would call them into their beds late at night when their husbands were off with mistresses or too busy to give them thought. Sleeping with a noblewoman was one thing, sleeping with the Queen was something else entirely.

He perked up at the sound of talking by a door nearby. It was mostly muffled so he couldn’t hear a thing. The door opened to reveal you, in the same robe as when he had first talked to you, however behind you was the king. The man was talking to you in a hushed voice.

“I’ll be fine. Go have your own fun.” You shooed him away. The king glanced up at Eijiro, harsh crimson eyes on him making the knight stiffen. He turned away within the second, allowing you to close and lock the door. You turned to the knight in front of you, sitting on your large four poster bed.

He stood up immediately and moved to kneel before you. “Your Majesty.”

You chuckled at the knight. “No need, Sir Kirishima. If you are about to see me bare when it’s just the two of us, I don’t think pleasantries are needed.”

That brought a blush to his face as he stood back up. “Then…” He turned to grab his own glass of wine as well as one that he poured for you. He had already halved his glass in the time that he was waiting for you. He moved in long but few strides over to you, handing you a glass. “Please, my Queen.”

You looked up at him. He sure was big. A large man that seemed to make a dwarf out of you. You took the glass, your soft unworked hands brushing his own hardened calloused ones. You took the glass and smiled up to him. “Y/N… call me, Y/N.”

He smiled at your name without the title. He lifted his glass to you. “Then call me Eijiro.”

“Eijiro…” You hummed as you took a sip walking off towards the bed. “A wise young man… I’m guessing that was your father’s idea.”

He scoffed with a low chuckle. “Probably.” Eijiro watched you as you sat down on the bed, moving to cross your legs. Your bare legs were revealed to him, unblemished and free of any thousands of layers of silk or lace. Eijiro swallowed down hard as he looked to the window. “Where is his majesty going?”

You shrugged. “I never know. He could go to his own room, or his study or stay next door. Doesn’t matter to me. As far as anyone knows, I’m with him currently, so you need not worry about trying to hinder your voice. The king has always been rather…” You hesitated, feeling heat crawl up your neck. “Vocal in our marital acts.”

Eijiro glanced to you. He decided to be daring. He put down his wine glass. “And you?” He asked as he took slow steps towards you. “Are you vocal?”

You shrugged as you gave him your wine glass to put down. “What is there to be vocal about?” You asked. “Speaking of which…” you shuffled higher up the bed, moving to slip down your robe. You revealed to him a mid-thigh silk night dress that fell on your body like something Eijiro could only dream to afford for you. You moved to splay yourself before him. You lay down on the covers, making yourself comfortable. “I’m ready.” You announced.

Eijiro blinked once. Twice. Three times. He tilted his head. “Your… Y/N, what are you doing?” He asked confused.

You lifted your head to look at him. “I am in position.”

“For what?”

“For you to bed me.” Eijiro raised an eyebrow confused and a bit hesitant. Was this how you and the king did it? You frowned at his confused look. “This normally works with his majesty. Do you wish for me to be in a different position?” You asked as you sat up. “I can be on my hands and knees if you wish. That usually is what works if this doesn’t.” Eijiro watched you shuffle trying to take on a position that would be best for him to bed you, yes, but… it didn’t seem very pleasurable at all.

Was this what you meant when you said there was nothing to be vocal about?

Eijiro scowled as he put down your glass. “Y/N, may you sit up for me.”

You turned your head back to look at him. He seemed rather angry, maybe even offended with you. You moved to sit upright on the bed. “I’m sorry, did I offend you. If so-”

“Your majesty, I don’t know how you and the king’s intimate life is like, but with me…” You felt large hands be placed on your hips. Your eyes widened in surprise as you were pulled forward closer to him. Your legs naturally parted to allow him between them from where he stood at the edge of the bed. You looked up at him wide eyed in surprise. He moved one hand up to your chin to keep you looking up at him. He looked down at you genuinely. “I don’t want to just… excuse my language but, fuck you, Y/N. You are not some common whore and this isn’t some common situation. If I am going to bed you, I am not going to just stick my cock into you like you are some broodmare. If I am going to give you a babe, I want that child to be made out of something as close to love as possible. I am going to make love to you and pray that a child can come out of that. Do you understand?”

You looked up at him surprised by his statement but most of all there was something about the way he had you that had you feeling so… strange. You looked up at him wide eyed and almost feeling at his mercy. Your stomach was in knots and your nether regions had an odd pulse to it that almost scared you. You let out a shaky break but nodded your head. “Okay.”

Eijiro eased seeing that you understood. “Okay.” He let out softly. He moved his other hand so that both hands could cup your face. “May I kiss you?” Heat went to your face as you nodded wordlessly up to him. He slowly bend down to place a kiss on your lips. You were breathless as you felt his lips on yours. Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest it made you feel as though it was bruising you. His kiss was delicate and soft, almost as if you were made out of gold. He separated from you for a moment, your eyes closed as you were still trapped in the moment.

Then he was back on you with more vigour now. His hand moved to cup the back of your head, keeping you close to him. His tongue bullied his way into your mouth and you felt heat spread all over your abdomen. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe and your body was acting on its own like it had never done so before. You reached up to him, your hands grabbing onto his tunic in need for him to be closer.

Eijiro’s hand moved down your dress, moving under your dress to feel your bare skin. You gasped at his warm hands on you, allowing him to swallow you whole entirely. You keened against his lips, wanting more. Needing more of him. You needed him closer unlike any man before. Eijiro moved his lips off of yours as he bent down to your neck. You whined at the feeling of his mouth on your neck, sharp teeth grazing your neck making a shiver run down your back. You moved your own hands underneath his soft tunic to feel hot muscle rippling underneath. Your hands searched the expanse of his large body in front of you as he mad work of going down your body. Then he stopped, reaching the collar of your dress.

Without warning, Eijiro moved to lift it up over your head, leaving you stark naked. He paused to look over your body making you look away in embarrassment. “You are gorgeous.” You turned to look back up at him, his eyes hypnotised by your being. “Genuinely. You are… gorgeous.”

Eijiro moved to slip off his shirt, exposing hard earned muscle that you had seen time before, and admittedly eyed whenever he was training with other knights. He moved over to pull your forward, moving to put kisses down your front. He crouched down in front of you, moving to keep you at the edge of the bed. He moved your thighs onto his shoulders as he moved his mouth closer to your sex. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as to what he was going to do. He flicked his eyes up to you, as he moved to lick up your slit.

You straightened up with a gasp, a shiver running up your spine. “Eijiro… What are you-” Another lick went to your cunt making you nearly clasp your thighs around his head. His tongue moved over to your clit, moving to suck on it. Immediately you felt a hot jolt of pleasure that you had never felt before. “AH!” You couldn’t help the moans that came out of your mouth as Eijiro smirked as he attended to your sex. Your thighs were slightly shivering as you tried not to absolutely lose yourself in thralls of pleasure. You had never experienced anything like it in your life. You weren’t even sure that sex could make you feel this way, and yet here Eijiro was, pulling sounds out of you like a damn whore. Yet you couldn’t care much.

Eijiro found you heavenly like this, spread out all for him, like a five-course meal he will only ever have once in his life. He thought you were more than just delectable; you were everything and more. He was practically tongue fucking you, pushing in fingers to stretch you out around his fingers. He slurped up every inch of your inner nectar that he had the honour of tasting, leaving you a whining mess.

You gasped. You moved a hand through his thick locks of hair. You looked down at him with a whining expression, almost scared of this new feeling you had inside of you. It was building and growing like you had never felt it before. You had felt it in a small way when you and your husband had first started learning to be intimate together. However, you only now started feeling it in full force.

You moaned. You didn’t want to moan his name too loudly and risk getting questions so you stayed to moans and groans. “Harder.” You pleaded softly, almost bashfully, making him chuckle around your clit. He stuffed in another finger inside you, before curling his fingers up to nudge a place inside you that had you cry out in pleasure. He smirked. He found it. He found it and he was going to abuse it. The knight abused that spot inside of you as if it was gold worth all for the taking.

You couldn’t control. It was so fast hitting and hard that you found yourself coming around his fingers so hard, you couldn’t think. It was a rush of pleasure you had never experienced before. It was so violently beautiful that you rolled your eyes back in utter ecstasy. Eijiro loved the look on your face, the sight of you so satisfied by what he was doing to please you.

Finally, the redheaded knight left from between your legs. He stood up with a grin. “You taste delicious, your majesty.” He complimented. You looked up at him bashfully as he finally took off his pants.

Your eyes drifted between his legs and you paused. Your eyes widened. Your husband was definitely not that big or thick. You looked up at Eijiro as he slowly moved over you, leading you to fall back onto the bed, with him ontop of you.

You hesitated in slight fear as you looked down before looking up again. “Will it fit?” You asked softly.

Eijiro held his hard cock to your entrance. He glanced down at it and then back up at you. He smiled with a soft chuckle. “It will.” He told you confidently.

Slowly, he started to push inside of you. You gasped at the stretch as he slowly started to make space inside you to fit his cock. You whimpered as you wrapped your legs around him, keeping him in place as he gently pushed inside you. Eijiro tried to hold back his groans, but you were just too good to feel. You were so soft and warm and he couldn’t understand why you felt so good. How could something so untouchable be so good.

Finally he pushed all the way in, making you both gasp. You looked up at him, wide eyed and almost unsure. Eijiro looked down at you, making sure that this was what you wanted. You nodded your head with a trying smile.

With that knowledge, Eijiro slowly began to thrust in and out of you. Your moans were soft and gently as you held onto him. You enjoyed the way he moved inside of you, it almost felt like a dance. A dance between two bodies. A push and pull motion of give and take. You wanted what he would give you and you wanted to take it and grow it into something you would love for all of eternity.

Eijiro held your hips and increased his pace. The soft sound of your sexes together was lewd and almost unthinkable that such a sound could come for you. You were perfect. Even right now as you huffed underneath him, moans coming out of your mouth so beautifully that Eijiro almost thought of himself as blessed to hear. Your eyes were closed in pleasure as you held onto him tightly, your brows furrowed as all you focused on was the moment between the both of you.

His large hands held you with vigour as he held you tighter. “You’re doing good. You’re doing so good, Y/N.” He praised you softly, a kiss to your lips that you eagerly reciprocated.

There was s flush on your face as you nodded. “You as well.”

He found your embarrassment cute but he found your sounds even better. He focused on the task at hand, thrusting into you and focusing on the soft feeling of your sex tightening around his cock in need. IN want. It made a rush go down his back at the reality that he was here to breed you. He was here to put a future king inside you and it made him moan at the thought. The thought that this was him and you creating something so precious it almost seemed uncertain. And yet here he was, cucking your husband. It sounded like the bard tale of any man’s fantasy.

Eijiro huffed as he put a certain thrust that hit a specific part inside you that made you squeal, a sudden rush of hard pleasure going through you once more. Your cunt tightened around him as you squeezed hard and came around his cock. Such pleasure felt forbidden to you and yet you found it exhilarating. Eijiro continued you to fuck you through it, his thrusts going harder as he huffed. You held onto his large frame holding onto him tightly as your teary eyes looked up to the canopy of your bed.

Eijiro held onto you tightly in return, but that’s when he realised that you weren’t just blabbering off in pleasure. No. You were praying. You had your own arms wrapped around his neck as you closed your eyes. “Please.” You whispered. “Please, bless me with a son.” You had your face buried in his neck. “May we bless this kingdom with an heir. Please.” Your pleas were desperate and almost painful. Almost as if so much inner pain and turmoil had gone into this one thing you wanted.

Eijiro’s grip tightened. You weren’t praying to him, but he knew he had to fulfil your wish. He wanted to.

He increased in his speed, pounding into you with low groans. You moaned at his pace. Eijiro could feel it. He could feel it building in the pit of his stomach. He could feel it burning inside him and he was going to give it to you. And for the first time ever did he pray for a noble. He prayed you got what you wished for.

The redhead knight let out a low groan as he finally came inside you. You relaxed back into the bed at the feeling of warm amount of cum inside you. You gasped for a moment, feeling pressed for how much he filled you with cum and his cock. You sighed as you closed your eyes enjoying the feeling of the both of you together.

Eijiro let out heavy breaths as he enjoyed the moment too. Just a second, a second in your arms was all he wanted right now with post sex bliss and the warmth of your arms and the fire in the fireplace. But then Eijiro’s mind brought him to reality. You weren’t his. You weren’t something he had the pleasure of staying in the arms of. You were his queen first and foremost. And he did the job that he wanted him to do.

The large redhead knight moved to slip out of you. “No!” You said a bit too loudly, catching him by surprise. You moved to cup his face in your hands. “Stay.” You urged. Your voice softer now but your eyes were just as soft. “If… if you wish.”

“But… but I’ve-”

“If you must go, then go. But know that I wish for you to stay. Stay with me.”

Eijiro hesitated but he nodded. He knew this might kill him in the future but part of him didn’t care. He wrapped his arms around you and moved to flip the both of you over, moving so that you rested on top of him. He stayed inside you, keeping you full of his seed, having heard from midwives that it was a good way of making sure that it took.

He decided to stay.

You sat under an umbrella in the gardens lounging on one of the most comfortable outdoor chairs that were cushioned to perfection, with a letter in hand. There was a gentle breeze that helped with the warmth of the day. It was a perfect day to be outside. You read over the letter in hand, being careful not to miss a single thing. “Eijiro.” You turned to look up at your most loyal and faithful knight. “Have you heard anything of the raids on the Southern border?” You asked him as you let the letter rest in your lap.

You turned to look at the Head of your Queens Guard. He was dressed in white armour, his black cape still on his shoulders. The large redhead still towered over you like normal, but he wore a smile on his face as he looked down at you. “Yes, but unfortunately I can not tell you, your majesty.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why not?” You asked.

“Because…” Eijiro chuckled as he crouched down next to you. His ruby eyes moved down to your stomach. “Such news isn’t good for you or the baby.” He reminded you.

You looked down at your swollen stomach underneath your dress. You were big enough now to resemble close to a large fruit, your stomach a large indicator of the life you carried inside you. You sighed as you put down the letter and looked up at him. “You’re always making my life difficult.” You pouted.

He chuckled as he stood back up straight. “Never.”

“Mother!” Running over to you was the little four year old prince, dressed in suspenders and a white tunic with padding on his knees and chest. Your son ran over to you with a broad sharp smile bringing a smile to your own face. “Mother!” He threw the play sword to the side and ran to your side.

You chuckled as you took him into your arms, squeezing him close to you. You looked down at him, wide ruby eyes staring up at you in adoration. You caressed his soft chubby cheeks. “Hello Kousuke, my beloved.”

He pushed you gently. “Can you come play with me now?”

You smiled with a coo. “I wish I could, my love, but I already told you that I can’t.”

Kousuke pouted as he looked at you almost broken hearted. “But why?”

You put one hand on your stomach. “I don’t want to hurt your little brother or sister.” You reminded him.

Kousuke looked down at your stomach with a frown. He pat your stomach gently with small hands before moving in close. “Get out of mother so that I can play with her. You are keeping her all to yourself.” He scolded with a mini scowl on his face. The action made you and your guards laugh. Kousuke turned to look at Eijiro. He looked up at the giant man, identical ruby eyes looking at one another. “Will you train with me, Sir Kirishima?” He asked.

Eijiro smiled as he crouched down to the little prince. “Well, of course, your highness. You’ve been doing your exercises?” The boy nodded his head furiously making Eijiro laugh. He beckoned him away from you and towards where he once was on the grass attacking a hay bail. You watched the two of them fondly, rubbing your stomach gently with a smile.

“You now, your majesty…” You looked up at Sir Midoriya Izuku of your knights. He was put as one of your knights by your husband, and you knew why. He was used to spy and monitor on you and Eijiro. “The king…” At the mention of your husband, you looked up at the large green haired man. He stood tall beside you, luckily in the shade this time. He glanced to you with slight unease. “The king refuses to see the boy.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “How come? Kousuke is the prince. He is our son.” You sat up insistently as you looked up at him.

You saw the large knight hesitate. “Of course, your majesty. However, he finds the boy rather…” He glanced at Kousuke and Eijiro. The young boy tried to copy Eijiro’s stance but was corrected by the large knight easily. “He finds him rather hard to look at.”

You swallowed down hard. You were not a fool. You knew that day by day, as Kousuke grew older, his features looked a lot more like Eijiro. He had the red eyes but was basically nothing like his majesty the king. Although high lords knew this, and all the doctors who worked with the king, gossip moved around court like wild fire. “And what do you think, Sir Midoriya?”

Izuku paused at your question. His green eyes moved over to your son who let out a loud fit of laughter as he ended up on the ground, with Eijiro holding him. You watched his eyes soften at the sight of Kousuke. “He is the heir to the throne, your majesty.” He answered. “The true heir.”

!!NEWS!!

so uh recently some important things have come up in my life and some internal stuff that will restrict breedingtober. I won't be able to write as much as I do which is a problem because I have not finished the last two days of breedingtober and won't be able to upload them until December. I am truly sorry about this but... things have happened in my life and I sorta have to be offline for a while again, but I'll try my best to still upload all the ones I've already finished writing because I promised them. And I will finish the rest of breedingtober in december.

So yah. Please understand that. But please, I love seeing your comments although I won't be able to respond to them for a while but they really make me happy.

Either way. Thank you.

#kirishima x reader #mha x y/n #eijiro x reader #kirishima smut #kirishima eijiro #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijiro smut #kirishima eijirou x reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader #eijiro kirishima #mha #mha fantasy au #knight kirishima #knight kirishima eijiro #kirishima eijiro x y/n #tw pregnancy

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spiderlyla · 7 months

Note

Omg since it's fluff and it's October...

Cuddling up with Miguel and watching scary movies

(I'm such a baby with scary movies 🫣)

Day 1 of Flufftober

tags: gn!reader × miguel o'hara.

join the flufftober taglist here!

when the weather gets chilly, and when the leaves start changing colours, miguel deems it the perfect weather to cling to you.

don't get it wrong, he always is clingy, but it gets a little less subtle when the first hints of fall roll around the corner. especially if it's the two of you, alone in your apartment.

one of miguel's arms was wrapped around you, hand resting on your waist, occasionally tracing your skin or lightly tickling you, just to hear the sweet sound of your giggles and funny snorts. he pulls you closer, and adjusts himself, making sure your head is laying comfortably on his chest, while his is set on top of yours. your arms wrap around him, in a side hug sort of position.

there is a soft, velvet blanket around the two of you, and the apartment is pitch black, except for the faint light of the TV, lightning up the spot infront of it and leaving the corners of your living room looking like a black void.

"mig, i don't like this." you whispered, eyes glued to the TV as the main character on the screen took baby steps down a dark hall. miguel thought it would be a brilliant idea to put on a horror movie, saying he always lets you choose which movie to put on and that he wanted to see something other than the Pride & Prejudice remake of 2005.

though that was not true, he put on this shitty horror movie just because it'll make you hold onto him like how you very much were as of this moment.

"amor, 'is just a movie.." his hand travelled to your hair, messing with it ever so gently, occasionally letting his claws protrude just to give you a nice massage. he was not paying attention to the actors screaming on screen, eyes fixed on you, and how you let out those squeaks and how your eyes widened at the frankly expected jumpscares. "c'mon, that was too obvious."

"It's still scary!—She appeared out of nowhere!" A deep chuckle erupted out of him, his free hand squeezing your thigh comfortingly. "They were building up to it, didn't you notice?"

you let out an annoyed huff and miguel laughed, leaving a kiss on your cheek. "just teasing, don't pout." he held your chin between his index and his thumb, making you look his way. you rolled your eyes, but smiled nevertheless, how could you not what that handsome face infront of you?

he tilted your head up a little bit, placing his soft lips on yours for a brief second, distracting you wholly from the bloodcurdling screams on the TV. he moved his hands and placed them on your waist, just to pull you onto his lap and hold you even closer. your eyes look back at the screen, just in time for another jumpscare and you almost fall off the couch if it werent for Miguel's strong arms holding you down.

and he laughs, again. you groan and bury your face into the crook of his neck, and he squeezes your sides. "what? you're not watching the rest?"

"what is there to watch! they keep scaring the viewers, that's no plot." Your voiced sounded muffled, and you refused to move from the position you were in. seems like miguel's plan worked a little too well, because you really weren't letting go of him any time soon. "there is a plot."

suddenly, he finds his eyes meeting yours, as you arch a questioning brow at him. "mhm, then what is the plot, mig?"

frankly, he had no idea, too focused on your rather adorable reactions and the way your hands tightened around him whenever you got scared, still, he pretended to think for a moment.

but when he glanced back at you, he couldn't help but chuckle. "I...wasn't paying attention."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm a man with alot on my mind, amor," He defended, grinning ever so slightly you could see a pearly white fang showing. "If it's not to your liking at all, I could change—"

"you know what, no." You placed your head on his chest, and a hand around his neck. "You could watch it, and tell me what happens next morning."

"Hm? And what will you be doing?" He saw you shut your eyes, and a soft smile made its way onto his lips. "I'll be sleeping on you as punishment."

Miguel chuckled, the vibrations from his chest making you a little light headed already. His arms wrapped around you protectively, as he pulled the blanket over your shoulder a little bit.

His lips pressed a kiss onto your forehead, and his eyes lingered on you for a moment before he looked back at the TV.

"What a punishment it is."

🏷: @lizard757 @thevoiceinyourheadx @lulu-baked-beans @obi-mom-kenobi @bibikaiherau

@thechloralkatniss-blog @sukunamoon @crazy-ravioli @autismsupermusicalassassin @dangerousness15 @dumb-gemini12 @telefood @unear7hly @deffnotnia @ginger23 @vicravluv @sakinetic @longer-than-i-should-admit @dbiebxiwns @sweetlemongrove @currentlyinflames @minalovesyoubabes @lili-lilac @graves4girls @spineyy @barotaro @softcrayon @nerdyninjaprincess @spooookyqueen @jellyfishxxi @champa1n–problemss @levrenes-space @swampedboy @coolbbruh @numberonetyrantyouth @boringpersonality @parapsycholozka @heyohalie @johfaam @bubbsieeee @iite-cool @oharasmommymilkers00 @mousettea @jokmi @nayylas @namjoons-baby @liviiyyy @viriexo @vermillions @deltaworkwarmpepsi @number1gal @swiftyangx12 @millswifeyofkeigo @library-lunatic

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pin-k-ink · 6 days

Text

Gojo Satoru X Reader (pt. 1)

pt. 2

CW: teacher-student relationship, male masturbation, lots and lots of sexual tension, third-person perspective

a/n: i just watched miller’s girl last night so this was heavily inspired by it. well…somewhat

Whispers slithered through the hallowed halls of Jujutsu High like ominous serpents - rumors about the scandalous relationship between Gojo Satoru and his sole female student. At first, she dismissed the gossip as absurd. Sure, her mentor could be incorrigibly flirtatious at times, like their first meeting when he mistook her for a new teacher and gallantly swept down to press his lips to her knuckles. Even after she corrected him, the silver-haired sorcerer seemed delighted to have "such a lovely little lady" as his pupil.

He proceeded to give her an unsanctioned personal tour of the dormitories, escorting her to the teachers' quarters, claiming her room was mixed-up just to have her staying close by. Now she has to explain to new students why she’s rooming with that notorious manchild.

The rumors intensified after she officially joined Gojo's class. Though undeniably childish outside the training grounds, he proved an exemplary mentor, deeply familiar with the nuances of her innate techniques. More importantly, he was fiercely protective, exemplified the day he saved her life.

She'd been ambushed during a mission, her ribs crushed by some malevolent spirit. Splayed helpless amid the rubble, she watched in detached horror as the skeletal beast sidled closer, drawn by her agony. Then, a blinding flash of black and white - Gojo had arrived.

The next thing she knew, she was gasping in his arms, pain screaming through her body as he jostled her with calculated roughness. "Glad you didn’t puke on me this time," he teased with a wolfish grin, referencing her violent reaction to her first forced teleportation.

This bizarre, backhanded banter marked the start of a profound intimacy between master and student. What began as a mere academic relationship steadily morphed into something akin to family - perhaps the closest she would ever know. Like now, waiting side-by-side for the train home, his dexterous fingers idly weaving the silken strands of her hair into intricate braids. A futile bribe of mochi had failed to dissuade his pleas to use his teleportation, so she resigned herself to crowded public transit, crumbs inevitably showering her shoulders as he kept himself busy.

Aboard the train, packed amid throngs of exhausted salarymen, she stiffened as unfamiliar calloused fingers trailed up her stockinged thigh. A harsh reminder of her juvenile "uniform" - another of Gojo's juvenile pranks. She clenched her fists, nostrils flaring, determined to withstand this violation with dignity.

Suddenly, a strangled yelp split the air as the unseen hand retreated. She found herself crushed against her mentor's powerful frame, his broad chest pressed to her back, arms enveloping her in an unmistakable claim. His fingers trembled with barely contained fury where they splayed across her abdomen.

After that sickening highway incident, when she awoke battered and bloody amid the wreckage, new rumors swirled about the disturbing closeness between teacher and pupil. Gojo's gentle touch roused her from the hazy brink of consciousness, his thumb swiping some blood from her ashen lips before he murmured, "You look like shit, kid."

From that point, a new routine emerged - one she anticipated with visceral dread, yet perverse longing. In addition to their intensive training regimens, where he enacted relentless "lessons" that seemed calculated to map every aching plane of her body...at night, he would appear in her dorm. Her sanctuary from prying eyes, where he could tend her wounds and brandished injuries with exacting care, stripped down to her underwear.

Even the most casual gestures between them began to carry subtext, like at the school sports festival. One ill-advised taunt from a rival combatant, and Gojo materialized behind her in an instant, hoisting her over his shoulder with barely-veiled possessiveness. His fingers dipped to swat her rear before facing down the offending student, eyes glinting with menace. Mere inches from flaying the young man with his Hollow Purple technique before the principal intervened.

Such public indecencies fueled fevered gossip about the forbidden relationship between the supremely powerful sorcerer and his nubile disciple. Rumors she could neither confirm nor deny...especially after the way he claimed her that night in the sanctum of his apartment.

The celebratory dinner after her sports festival triumph was a blur of italian cuisine and sultry looks. Gojo escorted her back to his flat for "freshening up" before returning to campus. Or so she assumed, until emerging from his steamy bathroom engulfed in a cloud of vapor, wearing nothing but an oversized dress shirt pilfered from his wardrobe. The damp fabric clung like a sensual rumor, outlining her lithe curves in diaphanous definition.

Whatever semblance of self-restraint typically graced Gojo's demeanor nearly disintegrated as he pulled his student into his lap. For a torturous minute, primal instincts threatened to overrule his better judgment - to simply slam her down onto the mattress and fuck her with reckless abandon.

But a flicker of lucidity pierced the haze of lust just in time. This was his precious protégé, the woman who had utterly bewitched him both in body and spirit. He couldn't simply take her like one of his flings. Not without her explicit consent.

Drawing a steadying breath, he reached over to gently take the towel from her hands, using it to slowly dry her hair. All the while, desperately attempting to ignore the insistent throbbing in his groin, the painfully prominent bulge straining against the fabric of his pants.

That night marked the first time he'd allowed himself to truly surrender to the sinful fantasies that so frequently plagued his thoughts when in her presence. As she retreated to her room, Gojo mentally praised his own restraint. But the image of her, draped in nothing but his oversized shirt, branded itself into his psyche.

Only after bidding her a quick goodnight did he seek the solace of his own room to fist his cock with unrestrained fervor, her tempting image fueling each increasingly frantic stroke. When his orgasm finally washed over, her name spilled sacrilegiously from his lips in a guttural rasp.

Come morning, he maintained an aura of unruffled nonchalance around his student, as though the pervious night's events were merely fever dreams. But she could see the hairline fractures in his implacable veneer, instinctively sensing their dynamic had irreversibly shifted after beholding the undisguised hunger burning in his eyes.

Something primal had awoken between them. And neither was prepared to confront the smoldering aftermath.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut

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shogunish · 21 days

Text

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼𝘀 & 𝗶. [𝟬𝟲]

synopsis. all that mattered was the taste of strawberries and whip cream on your lips and his hand caressing the nape of your neck.

words. 2.8k

warnings. none

note. IT'S FINALLY HERE 🥳 i hope you guys have as much fun reading this chapter as i had writing it 🥹🥹

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as you thought, you didn’t belong to these sorts of people.

grandeur surrounded you like the sea encapsulated an island in the middle of nowhere.

men dressed in expensive suits filled the dimly-lit hall with their wives hanging on to their arms like the finest jewelry. waiters and waitresses alike steered their way through the crowd with practiced ease and grace in their feet all while carrying a silver platter around, giving champagne away like candy and offering little treats.

such things were foreign; you only had seen such things on tv and for a moment, you felt somewhat intimidated by the sheer scent of money in the air. sometimes, you forgot that satoru worked for a great company, enjoying a high ranking and an even greater paycheck if his tailored suit was anything to go by.

“you look amazing,” satoru reassured you with a whisper in your ear. “don’t be afraid. i’ll be with you all the way.”

and his words did soothe your worries, but not the rapid pounding in your heart. maybe you wouldn’t feel so light-headed if satoru didn’t wear this damned suit and didn’t add a hint of his cologne on his neck and wrists. even his hair was styled and you swore you had suffered a heart attack when you first laid your eyes on him.

smoothly, with your palms clasped around his arm, satoru guided you through the crowd like he had never done anything else. a pinch of pride shone in his eyes; not only did you look stunning, but you also wore the dress he had picked for you.

“it’s too expensive,” you had argued with a pout on your lips when you saw the price tag still attached to the graceful thing. “i can’t possibly wear that.”

and look at you now, turning the heads of his colleagues as he showed up with you.

like a ship in the vast sea, satoru steered you from person to person just to exchange some pleasantries and introduce you to those he worked with for the majority of the time. to your surprise, it was easier than you initially believed. occasionally, he even snuck a little snack from the platters and shared the small treats with you.

it was at these times that your satoru shone through the cracks of the styled businessman in your hands.

everything was going smoothly until your not-date date suddenly got stolen away by some chubby business man in his fifties and drowned in the sea of people and lights and grandeur.

“satoru?” you called out softly, worry in your eyes when you realized he wouldn’t hear you over the soft tunes spilling from the speakers.

damnit.

how hard was it to find a 1,90m man with white hair and dazzling blue eyes in a crowd of people? yeah, you were surprised as well when you found out it was indeed hard.

heels clacked against the polished marble floor when you found yourself at the bar, giving up on finding satoru for the time being. next to you, three ladies chatted amongst themselves. draped in diamonds and silver, they gleamed in the dim lighting of the grand hall like they were gems themselves. their eyes found yours when they appeared to recognize you.

“oh, you have to be gojo’s date for tonight, right?” lady #1 chirped in kind and mildly surprised tones. you recognized her; she was the wife of one of the businessmen satoru had introduced you to earlier. at least one face was somewhat familiar.

“i think it’s the first time gojo brought a woman with him, right?” the second lady added with a glass of champagne in her manicured fingers.

you perked up. “excuse me? the first time? i fear i don’t quite follow..”

lady #3 sat back in the bar stool and flashed you a smirk, her lips painted a deep burgundy as she spoke, “gojo’s never shown up in the company of another woman. many have tried to become his plus one, but he always brushed them off.”

“yeah, you should’ve seen everyone’s faces when he first started talking about you and how well you get along with his son. lots of hearts were broken that afternoon,” lady #1 giggled as your face fell into disbelief.

sure, you suspected that satoru was popular with the ladies. not only was he handsome to the bone, but he could provide a stable life, he was funny, charming, smart and– you were getting carried away.

before a response could make it out, the topic suddenly shifted when one of the ladies realized she hadn’t shown off her newest necklace which glimmered and split the lights into the colors of the rainbow.

at this moment, you realized that you truly didn’t belong in the same boat as them when they talked about tiffany’s jewelry, mansions, vacations in malaysia and venice. the topic of satoru and his lack of female company was wiped clean from the shared canvas of their mind and was instead painted with problems and luxuries you couldn’t even dream of having.

luxury meant for you ordering takeout twice a month when the delivery app had some sort of sale going on.

satoru’s strong arm wraps itself around you like a blanket of comfort as he sweeps into the conversation with one of his charming smiles. the eyes of those women were as drawn to satoru like a flock of moths to the flame as he spoke in soft, suave tones that had even your heart beating a tad bit faster. a bit harder.

“excuse me, but i fear i must steal my lovely lady from you.” satoru flashed them a gentle smile and left the women giggling amongst themselves as he guided you towards the balcony, away from all the hustle and bustle, away from unnecessary attention that wasn’t his.

the moon hung high in the sky in its entirety, filling out the dark heavens above as it watched over countless twinkling dots. below the balcony railing, city lights glimmered in bright neon colors. streets were alive with as many people as there were stars in the sky and yet all of them seemed so far away when you finally breathed.

“sorry.” satoru broke the beat of silence before he combed his fingers through his snowy hair. leaning against the steel railing, he looked handsome. the moonlight caressed his features with the touch of a lover while those cerulean irises bathed in the infinity of the skies. or so you thought. “i didn’t expect anyone to need my attention tonight when it was reserved for you."

heat rose to the apples of your cheeks and suddenly, your heart was pounding underneath your ribs. this feeling budding in the core of your heart was blooming with each word satoru said. especially tonight.

there was no child to take care of. no stomach aches that made you feel horrible.

in this little corner, you found a glimpse of paradise with satoru by your side.

“don’t worry about it,” you said, resting your elbows on the railing and letting your eyes drift towards satoru like he was pulling you into his orbit. “you must be really important when you’re stolen away from me in the blink of an eye.” up until this moment, satoru didn’t know that a chuckle could be like silk in the form of sound and dribble into his ears like warm honey.

leaning closer to you, satoru bumped his shoulder against yours – or rather his biceps. even slumped over, he was still taller than you.

“so tell me, have you been gossipping about me while i was gone?” it was a light-hearted joke, you knew, and still you had half the heart to let satoru know that you would never talk about him behind his back.

you shook your head, eyes crinkling at the edges as you gave satoru a smile. “not about you. but they had a lot to say about their men.”

that seemed to pique satoru’s curiosity if his cheeky grin and the twitch of his ears was anything to go by. a funny look was painted all over your face; one that made satoru only more curious than he already was.

“don’t look at me like that.” he almost pouts. almost. “you can’t just say you got some juicy details on my colleagues and then seal your lips shut.”

fuck. if anything, you wanted him to seal your lips shut. ever since you had laid your eyes on satoru, dressed in that tailored suit which accentuated the slimness of his waist..your thoughts decided to wander and they wouldn’t be coming back any time soon.

“my man and i argued and he got me a tiffany’s necklace. my man gifted me this dress, my man gave me this, my man gave me that,” you mocked voices, tone going up by a pitch before you ended the show with a sigh slipping past your lips. those ladies weren’t bad people, but gods were they exhausting. “it felt like a competition.”

“what, don’t tell me you’re jealous.” a teasing lilt lingered in satoru’s voice. he couldn’t wipe the smirk off his face when you shivered and pouted your glossy lips. if only you were his..he’d pin you against the railing and kiss you stupid until your lipgloss was smeared all over his lips.

“of them? never.” shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you leaned your weight against satoru’s strong frame and basked in the way his warmth seeped through the fine fabric of his suit and into your pores, keeping you warm and toasty. “i don’t need fancy things to have a happy relationship.”

acting on auto-pilot, satoru rested his arm around your waist and pulled you a little tighter against him. “well..what would you need to be happy?”

now that was a question you had never given much thought. the only answer that you could come up with sparked the butterflies in your tummy to life. right then and there, you swore you were a silly teenager again who had come face to face with her crush and there was nowhere to hide.

you didn’t know if the goosebumps on your skin came from the pounding of your heart or the chilly breeze passing by.

“..maybe someone who can communicate his feelings. someone who’s fun but can be serious when the time calls for it. someone who buys me a year worth of pads and prepares a hot water bottle for me. someone who eats so many sweets that it’s a miracle he doesn’t have diabetes yet.”

usually, satoru would like to tease you and say something so cheesy that you were certain you’d regret opening up to him, but he just looked at you with those infinitely deep eyes that glimmered in the moonlight. his hold around your waist tightened.

“you know, i think i’d also be happy with someone who gets along with megumi and doesn’t know how to use my stove. someone who laughs when i buy all the pads with wings and dozes off on my shoulder. someone who brought cookies when she asked if she could help me watch over megumi.”

a smile, that of a lovestruck fool, graced satoru’s lips as you stared at him with round eyes and shock written all over your face. for a moment, he feared you’d ask “me?” like you didn’t even dare to think that satoru could be into you when it was so painfully obvious that it was you.

the moment he saw you standing at his door with that batch of cookies in your hands, he knew it was you.

“gojo, there you are! there’s that man i wanna introduce you to.” one of his colleagues popped the intimate bubble satoru had carefully crafted for the two of you. bubbles were meant to pop eventually, but this was probably the worst timing ever. “oh, you can bring your girlfriend, too! he’ll be delighted to see her!”

this was the hellish equivalent of getting cock-blocked, he thought.

apologies swam in the irises of satoru’s eyes as he furrowed his brows and let out a defeated sigh. he would get his chance. and it’d be tonight.

“shall we?” satoru offered you a hand which you gratefully took before he led you back inside.

an hour or two later, you found your arms looped around satoru’s biceps as he escorted you back home. street lamps lined up next to the concrete going through the park illuminated the space around you, adding a golden glow to satoru, to you, to the feelings that wouldn’t stop growing.

you only took a break on a bench when you mentioned the ache in your feet. walking around in heels for an entire evening, for hours on end, was not one of your many (hidden) talents.

words of memories past fell from your lips like honey as you recalled something about you changing shoes in the middle of an important event.

if satoru was honest to himself, he wasn’t truly paying attention to what you were saying. he did add an occasional hum of approval or offered a chuckle, but what he really focused on was the glimmer in your eyes, the sound of your voice, the way your hair fell. you were imperfect, he knew, but to him, you were perfect for him from head down to your pinky toe.

he wanted it all. he wanted it all for himself.

“..and then there was– oh.” following your line of sight, satoru spotted a small food stall illuminated from within and occupied by an elderly lady who seemed to be distracted by the malfunctioning radio. but that wasn’t what stood out – it was the strawberry crepes being sold.

“you want some, don’t you?” satoru chuckled, cerulean eyes glowing even in the dim lights of the street lamps lined up right beside the two of you.

“how did you know?” you inquired with curiosity laced in your voice.

shrugging his shoulders, satoru smirked. “you’ve been with megumi and me for a while now. it’d be a shame if i didn’t know what you wanted just from a glance.”

you couldn’t protest when satoru already strolled over to the elderly lady and ordered two strawberry crepes. gladly, the lady prepared the sweet treat and even added some extra whipped cream for satoru as if she could sense his sweet tooth. within mere ten minutes, the crepes were done, warm and adorned with ripe slices of scarlet strawberries.

sauntering back to you, satoru handed you your crepe, sat down right next to you and enjoyed the first bite which was as messy as it was sweet. a frown was etched onto satoru’s features as he dropped a strawberry onto the ground. a sweet treat forever lost and never to be savored as god intended.

taking note of satoru’s misery, you offered him one of your strawberries with a gentle smile adorning the curve of your lips. “here. you can have mine.”

“are you sure? it’s your strawberry after all.” who would’ve known that an insignificant thing such as a strawberry would bring a blush to his cheeks? sky blue eyes blinked once, twice at the fruit between your fingers before settling on your face. this was the chance he had been waiting for all evening, he realized.

“you’ve got some whipped cream on your lips.”

“huh?” hastily, you rushed to wipe your lips with your index finger and when you were done, you lifted your face again for further inspection. “is it gone?”

oh, how sweet you were. amused, satoru shook his head. “no. right there.”

nimble fingers tilted your face upwards while cerulean irises gazed into the cracks of your soul as satoru leaned in, closed the gap and sealed your lips with his own.

for a moment, your muscles froze. was this truly happening? was satoru actually kissing you? or was this another one of your daydreams right before he dropped you off at your doorstep? no, it was better than a mere daydream – it was reality.

fingertips twitched, needing to hold his face, his shoulders, anything. but before you could even lift a finger, satoru pulled away with a smile on his soft lips and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “this is much better than a strawberry.”

like a fish, you were left gaping at the man who just kissed you with the care of a lover. you wanted to say yes a thousand times over, but not a single words made it past your lips. satoru liked you, that much you knew. he had said so himself earlier that evening and yet, you were still left speechless like a canvas that was waiting to be painted with his love and kisses.

“it is,” you finally breathed, set aside your crepe and cupped satoru’s cheeks as you pulled him in for another sweet kiss.

lips melted into each other like candle wax as they danced with each other, explored and got to know each other all over again. no words were needed to explain the feeling, now in full bloom, engulfing you and satoru like a cocoon.

all that mattered was the taste of strawberries and whip cream on your lips and his hand caressing the nape of your neck.

taglist. @torusmochi, @cinnamonmon, @risuola, @ayanominitrash, @lordbugs, @phoenix666stuff, @hotvinimon, @stevenknightmarc, @sukunasleftkneecap, @erigaur , @lu-lynds, @staryukis

#gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru fluff #fic. the gojos & i

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seonghwaddict · 10 months

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★ NEVER SAY NEVER. [ 008 ] as you wish, princess.

synopsis. something about the eight most well-known boys of your campus just didn't sit right with you, so you never gave any effort to interact with them. but after a series of… interesting incidents, they can't seem to leave you alone. pairing. college students! vampires! ot8! ateez x fem! reader. genre. fluff, angst, eventual smut, college au, vampire au. chapter warnings. suggestive content, undressing, alcohol consumption, swearing, use of pet names, drunk y/n is very.... affectionate :). word count. 4.3k

　　　　　　　　chapter vii // chapter viii // chapter ix

As you followed Hongjoong’s instructions, you slowly began realising how drunk you were as you sloppily climbed up the steps. After what felt like an eternity, you made it to the final step, sighing with relief as you caught your breath and looked around.

Just a few steps in the front of the stairs, a girl crouched on the ground with two of her friends comforting her as she sobbed and swore herself off men. A little farther than that, a couple was making out very loudly against a wall. You grimaced and turned to look down the other way of the hall, finding one of the bedroom doors open and deciding to check in there.

As you approached the door, a different couple ran out of the room, a slightly drunk and stern-faced Yeosang stepping out behind them as they fled down the stairs. His eyes landed on you and it took him a second to realise why you looked so familiar—squinting and leaning forward comically as you approached him—but when he did, his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas.

“Y/N!” He called out to you happily, stepping towards you as his voice was slightly louder than it needed to be.

You matched his giddy smile, “Yeosang!”

His eyes moved down from your face, taking in your appearance as you assessed his. You completely missed how he blushed and looked you up and down, suddenly a bit breathless.

His blond hair had grown long enough to be swept into a half-up-half-down hairstyle that tied together his outfit made up of a green sweater and blue trousers, fitted on his hips with a black belt.

Yeosang’s breath caught in his throat as his gaze travelled down to see your exposed thighs, the hem of your skirt gently brushing against the soft skin he’s always wanted to touch. He shook away any inappropriate thoughts he had and stepped closer to you, enveloping you in a warm hug.

“How much did you drink?” He laughed softly as the two of you separate, leaving you stumbling slightly.

You shrugged, a goofy grin on your face. “Not sure, I lost count.”

“Let’s get you some water?”

“‘m fineee!” you slurred once again but wrapped yourself around his arm and leaned against him for support, your feet tired. You flinched when another song came on downstairs, much louder than the rest as the beat boomed throughout the house and left your skull pulsing.

Yeosang furrowed his eyebrows and frowned full of concern, “You okay, petal?”

He wasn’t sure where that pet name came from, but feeling a little brave with the small amount of alcohol in his system, he didn’t care much. It was you that had to hide your blush as you shook your head at the question.

“This song… gives me a headache.” You told him, clamping your eyes shut as you buried your face in his shoulder.

A tut left his lips as he looked around, pulling you into the bedroom he chased the couple out of earlier and closed the door behind you. It was decorated very plainly—a large bed, a desk with a chair, a closet and no personal objects in sight. It made sense though, considering they rented this house just for tonight.

You sat on the bed and watched as he closed the door carefully, shrugging off the white shirt since it was getting a bit warmer in the room, exposing your bare arms and shoulders. When he turned around and saw your full outfit without the annoying white shirt, leaning back on your hands as you looked up at him, his breath caught in his throat for a second time, eyes glazing over as he tried to collect himself. You looked so inviting and he had to fight himself internally to not devour you right then and there.

He sat next to you and hitched a knee up on the bed to look at you better, tentatively moving a little closer and watching to see if you’d protest but when you didn’t he relaxed a bit. “We can stay in here until you feel better.”

You opened your mouth to say something but a noise beyond the window above the head of the bed distracted you. A familiar, obnoxious cackle rang through the glass and had you perking up slightly, kicking off your shoes to climb further up on the bed (Yeosang tried his best not to look at the way your skirt rode up your hips, ever so slightly exposing a sliver of the plump flesh of your upper thighs). Once you got the window open, you leaned forward, kneeling on the bed and poking your head out the window.

Your confused face was quickly overrun by a bright smile as you watched the commotion down in the garden. There weren’t many people outside so it was easy to spot Wooyoung, San, Yunho, Jongho and Seonghwa. San and Jongho sat on the ground, separated by what looked like a crate, using it as a platform for them to arm wrestle on. Yunho stood behind Jongho and Wooyoung behind San, each of them cheering on their fighters while Seonghwa acted as a referee.

You called out to them, waving one of your hands around mildly aggressively as you used the other to prevent yourself from falling down. All of them looked up, smiles stretching onto their faces as well.

“Y/N!!!” Wooyoung was the first to call out to you. “Come join us!!”

You giggled, nodding your head and leaning back on your knees and into the room. Yeosang had settled down on the bed next to you, laying on his side as he watched you communicate with the guys outside, face full of adoration.

“They want us to go down and join them,” you told him once you made yourself comfortable kneeling next to him.

He didn’t answer you right away, nor did he make any moves to get up. “You look so beautiful right now…” He breathed.

You blushed, looking away and hitting his shoulder playfully.

“I’m serious, you look beautiful… now and always.”

“Yeosang, you’re drunk…”

He gently caressed your arm, leaving trails of goosebumps in his wake. “I don’t have to be sober to tell you the truth. I think you’re beautiful, petal. The prettiest flower I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeo…” you whispered, “I could say the same for you.”

It was his turn to blush, the apples of his cheeks swelling as he gave you a small smile, his hand slipping further down your arm to intertwine your fingers. “You think I’m pretty?”

A chuckle left your lips as you nodded.

A beat of silence passed between the two of you and he sat up, leaning against the headboard of the bed with his legs stretched in front of him, looking into your eyes as you watched his perceptive ones. His hand never let go of yours as he angled his body to face you, his thumb tracing light circles on your skin as his gaze flicked down to peek at the way your hand fit in his. Your gaze roamed all over his face, lips parted slightly as you took in the soft angles of his features. Yeosang revelled in the way you looked at him then, basking in the warmth of your gaze.

“I want… can I…” He hesitated, but you nodded at him, silently beckoning him to continue as you waited patiently. He glanced down at your lips. “May I…?”

He didn’t need to elaborate, his question clear enough for you to understand just by watching him. Your breath hitched as the hand that was holding yours grazed just above your knee. A tiny nod was all you needed to give him before he was leaning forward.

His hand let go of yours, featherlight touches trailing up your side until it rested on your jaw softly. You copied his movements, bracing your hand on his thigh as you leaned forward to brush your lips against his. His breath shuddered against your lips as he leaned forward, deepening the peck slightly before pulling back. And then you watched each other for a second. He adored the way your cheeks were slightly dusted with pink, flustered.

A moment later, you both dove in again. This time, there was more heat behind the kiss as your mouths worked against each other, setting an almost bruising pace. His hand moved up your thigh to rest on your hip, pulling you forward to straddle him on his lap before the hand moved down again, gently massaging your cushiony thighs. You sighed softly against his lips, your hands trailing up his body, one resting on his shoulder as the other played with the soft hair on the nape of his neck.

When you felt his tongue swiping along your bottom lip, you didn’t protest as you parted your lips, letting him explore your mouth as your noses nudged each other. Tongues bumping against each other, he faintly tasted of mint and whiskey.

Eventually, he disconnected his lips from you, loving the slight swell of your lips and the way a tiny string of saliva connected his and your lips as you parted, only snapping once you leaned too far back as you heaved breaths. His hand continues caressing your thigh, occasionally slipping under the hem of your skirt before slipping out just as quickly, and your hand continued brushing his beautiful blonde strands as you both caught your breaths.

“That was nice.” You finally spoke up, shoulders drawing up a little as you giggled.

Your words combined with your actions brought a smile to his face, the hand on your jaw slipping down to rest on your waist. “I agree…”

“My lipgloss got all over your lips.”

“Why don’t you clean it for me then?”

You blinked at him, not used to this kind of boldness coming from him. Your hand on his shoulder hesitantly moved, hovering over his surprisingly soft lips for a moment before you used to thumb to rub off the gloss. Before you could pull your thumb away once you finished, he pressed a light kiss to your digit.

Another beat of silence passed between the two of you, though it wasn’t awkward.

“They’re waiting for us downstairs.” You reminded him, leaning forward to press a short kiss to his lips before leaning back on his lap.

“They can wait a little longer…” He leaned forward to capture your lips in his one last time but was cut off by a shout from outside the window.

“Y/N PLEASE COME DOWNSTAIRS I MISS YOU IT’S BEEN YEARS.” “Wooyoung, it’s been a few hours-” “I don’t give a fuck, I miss her.”

Another laugh escaped you as you smiled against Yeosang’s lips. “Let’s go?”

He groaned and give your waist a squeeze, lifting you off him gently before getting off the bed and offering you a hand. “I’m gonna kill Wooyoung one day.”

“Please wait a few weeks, we still have to finish our project.” You brought your hand up to pat his cheek after getting up, turning to leave the room but suddenly feeling too dizzy to walk. Your ministrations with Yeosang had made you forget you were exceptionally drunk.

He laughed as he watched you collapse back into the bed, shaking his head slightly as he leaned his head out the window. “Can someone more sober than me please come get her?”

And before you could register it, Jongho was carrying you down the stairs and across the very busy living room to get to the garden where the other guys were waiting, one hand under your back and the other under your knees. As he walked outside, you missed the reactions of them as they finally laid eyes on what you were dressed in, your face affectionately nuzzled into Jongho’s bicep.

Seonghwa’s jaw just about dropped as he heard a sharp intake of breath from his right, where San was pouring himself a glass of soda next to the barbecue. Yunho nearly dropped his glass while Wooyoung showed no shame in the way his gaze travelled over your body like a predator, suddenly regretting the fact he was so drunk and would probably forget this delicious image the next morning. Jongho set you down on one of the two couches they dragged outside, still blushing over how you pressed a kiss to his cheek as a thank you when he scooped you up into his arms earlier.

“What took you so long?” Wooyoung pouted, throwing himself on the couch to sit next to you, pulling you into his chest with his hands around your waist.

“She was too drunk to stand up and I tried lifting her a few times, but turns out I’m too drunk to do that without running both of us into a wall.” You looked at Yeosang over Wooyoung’s shoulder as he spoke, nodding him a thank you.

As you leaned away from the embrace, you looked around and observed the guys. San was in a tanktop that did nothing to hide his muscled and blue jeans, Yunho in a ripped camo sweater and grey ripped jeans while Wooyoung dressed himself in wide-cut black trousers with a black t-shirt tucked in and a large denim flannel on top. Jongho was dressed in a fluffy lilac sweater with denim pants. But the biggest change in appearance came from Seonghwa.

What was light pink hair was now dyed black and neatly swept back from his forehead with gel. His outfit was a lot edgier than you were used to when it came to him—a short-sleeved white dress shirt, a loosely done tie, black leather pants and, to top everything off, a strappy black harness pulling his shirt to his chest and accentuating his perfect waist. You willed your eyes to stop trailing over his figure so desperately, but you were only human after all.

Two hours later you were still outside, comfortably sandwiched between San and Mingi as you all laughed at a story Yunho was telling. At some point Seonghwa had thrown a blanket over your legs, your heart warming as he explained it was so you wouldn’t be worried about anything showing. Occasionally you’d stand up or go inside with one or two of the boys, feeling the need to dance every time a good song came on—which was quite often because Hongjoong had impeccable taste.

At this time it was nearing three in the morning. Most people had already left and the people still at the party were already passed out in various areas of the house. Your friends had come over to let you they’ll be leaving in case you wanted to join them but you assured them you’d be fine staying and San—the 100% sober one, was unable to handle alcohol very well so he opted to not drink that night—promised to take you home. Minseong handed you your phone before he, his boyfriend and Sangmi left (Daniel had gone home with some girl already). Hongjoong turned the music down on the speakers and left a softer playlist running as he and Mingi joined the rest of you in the garden.

Snuggled in between the large bodies of San and Mingi, you yawned, hugging your knees tighter to your chest. A quiet rumble of laughter came from Mingi on your right as he gently rubbed your left shoulder, his arm slung over you as San’s was looped around your waist and toyed with the waist chain.

“Are you tired?” San leaned his head down, speaking into your ear lowly and sending shivers down your spine. Not trusting yourself to speak just yet, you just nodded with a pout, to which he chuckled. “Do you want me to take you home now?” You nodded again, this time looking up at him with wide, tired eyes. He let out another short chuckle as he turned to address the rest of the group. “Our little lady is tired, I’m gonna take her home now. I’ll be back in a bit.”

They all nodded and wished you a good night, Mingi absentmindedly leaning down to press a quick kiss to your hair before San picked you up from the couch. He carried you the same way Jongho did, one hand under your knees and the other under your back. He wrapped you in the blanket a bit more securely before lifting you up, knowing you’d die of embarrassment if you accidentally flashed any of them.

“Don’t rush, I can drive the rest of us home, too. Just get her home safely.” Seonghwa called after the two of you as San went around the house to get into the car.

Soon enough you were seated in the passenger seat of San’s car. You mumbled out the address of your apartment building and he soon began driving as you dozed off. Once you arrived a few minutes later, he gently patted your knee, coaxing you to wake up.

“Wake up,” he muttered, careful not to startle you. San smiled when he noticed you were beginning to stir awake. “We’ve arrived.”

You stretched slightly in his seat as he got out and rounded the car, opening your door and extending his hands to help you get up. You obeyed him quietly, the blanket falling to the ground of the car as you step out. A rosy tint dusted the tips of his ear as you leaned up and embraced him over his shoulders, clinging onto him tightly as you stood on your toes. After recovering, he reciprocated the hug by wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pulling you closer.

“Your awfully clingy when you’re drunk.” He joked, leaning back to look down at your tired face. “Come on, let’s get you to bed, yeah? Do you want to be carried again?” You waited a moment before nodding, a small smile on your lips when he laughs again. “Well, as you wish, princess.”

He winked playfully before turning around and leaning down a bit more, gesturing for you to get on his back. Once you did, he placed his hands under each of your thighs to secure you better. He listened to your instructions carefully as you leaned your head on his shoulder and murmured into his ears. Since it was so late (or early might would be a better fit), the lobby staff was nowhere to be seen as he entered one of the main elevators.

When you got out on the fifth floor, you directed him to the apartment you shared with Sangmi. Since you didn’t bring your keys, you pulled out your phone from where you tucked it into the waistband of your skirt, quickly pulling up your chat with her to ask her to open the door. But your face drained of colour when you saw the messages she sent you half an hour before.

minnie <3 – 2:37 am I’m going home with a guy from the party I think the spare key is where it always is

You groaned and dropped your head on San’s shoulder, making his head turn to look at you as best as he could. “What’s wrong?”

“My roommate isn’t home,” you sighed, not wanting to get off his firm but comfortable back quite yet, “Can you let me down for a moment, Sannie?”

He set you back on your feet and watched as you crouched in front of the door, flipping over the corner white doormat to reveal a key taped to the bottom. It didn’t take long for you to unlock the door and let the two of you in, taking off your shoes and making a beeline for the bedroom as San looked around the entrance area and living room before following behind you.

He wasn’t sure what he expected your room to look like, but if someone asked him he could confidently tell them that your room feels like you. It was a wonderful display of organised chaos. Not messy at all, but rather full of personality. Posters hung on the wall and a variety of sketchbooks and pencils littered your desk. The large window behind your bed was covered by sheer curtains and then a layer of more solid ones, drawn close to give you some privacy. A slim bookshelf full of books and other trinkets was placed in the corner opposite your closet, two different guitars and their stands leaning against the furniture piece—one white electric guitar and one acoustic.

He inspected the room, his gaze finally falling on you as you switched the much too bright lighting from the overhead lamp to the lamp on the bedside table, giving the room a softer, warmer glow. You sat on the bed, turning to look at him.

You weren’t exactly sure what made you say it, and you definitely knew it was a bad idea. Hell, you’ve only known San for, what? Three or four months? Sure, you’ve formed closer relationships in a shorter time and you were already very comfortable with him, but as soon as your words left your mouth you were fully aware of the consequences if he didn’t reciprocate the same kind of comfort.

“Can you… can you help me change?” You asked quietly, hoping the dim lighting would hide at least some of your flushed face.

When he didn’t answer immediately, you were sure he was ready to walk out and never talk to you again. But he didn’t. Instead, he stepped closer to you and crouched in front of you to face you eye-to-eye.

“Are you sure? Would you be comfortable with that?” You nodded and he held up a hand for you to stop. “I need your words. I need you to say you’d be comfortable with me doing this for you.”

You weren’t sure why he needed such concrete permission for just changing you, but you nodded again. “Yes, I’m comfortable. I think I’m too tired to do it myself.”

He cracked a smile and nodded, standing up and turning around to take some steps to your closet. He opened the drawers you told him to—the first and the third—and pulled out an oversized white t-shirt and wide sweatpants and walked back to you. He set the clothes next to you on the bed and kneeled on the ground.

First, he took one of your legs and placed it on his knee, carefully taking off the thigh-high sock and then setting it down and doing the same with your other sock. Next, he grabbed the sweatpants and pulled them up your leg and under the skirt so he could slip the skirt over the sweatpants without exposing your most intimate parts. He did the same with the shirt, pulling it over your corset after unclasping the waist chain. With the large shirt covering the corset, he reached his hands under the fabric and wound them around your waist until he found the zipper.

With his eyes on you, he began pulling down the zipper, at first a small tug to see if you’d change your mind and push him away, but when he saw no insecurity in your soft gaze he dragged it all the way down. His gentle hands grazed your bare sides as he removed the clothing item, causing your breath to hitch. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything as he got up to neatly put all the clothing he removed on top of the dresser.

Minutes later, he helped you remove your makeup and was now guiding you into your bed, pulling the covers over you. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you were nodding off into your dreams, barely registering San tenderly caressing your hair before moving to the door to let you sleep for the night.

“Thank you, Sannie.” You told him as you grabbed a hold of his hand.

He looked down at you and smiled, leaning down and pulling your hand to his lips, your skin tingling in the spot where he kissed it. “Anytime, princess. Good night.”

“Good night…” You covered half of your face with your blanket, your words slightly muffled. “I had fun today.”

“Really?” He smiled wider, a dimple surfacing on his cheek.

You nodded.

“Good, that’s all we cared about really. We just wanted you to have a good time.”

“I… Thank you, that’s very sweet of you. Of all of you…”

A look passed over his face and you had the feeling he was thinking about something, contemplating something. The mystery was soon solved as he leaned down again, this time placing a chaste kiss on your forehead before straightening himself out, switching off your lamp and leaving your room with a final “Good night.”

A smile lingered on your face even and you fell asleep as soon as the door of your room clicked shut. The next morning you stirred awake, moving to lay on your back to sit up with a groan. As you rubbed your eyes and your vision cleared, you looked around, distantly remembering a figure in a tanktop crouching on the ground.

Finally, your eyes zeroed in on your nightstand, a white pill and a small water bottle with a sticky note stuck to it were placed on top. You shuffled forward on your bed, gently peeling the note off the plastic and reading it, placing it in between the pages of your favourite sketchbook that you keep in the drawer of the same nightstand.

Take these when you wake up and make sure to eat well. - San

　　[ lilo's notes ... ] i hope you all enjoyed this chapter because i certainly enjoyed writing it~ i'd like to take a second to thank everyone who's been checking on me, whether it's by comments, dms or asks. thank you all so much for your support, let's all look forward to the future of never say never together!

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lalacliffthorne · 4 months

Text

when there´s snow in the middle of the night, it means luck.

(I smell snow. also, this is us manifesting a white christmas time, babes, so - fingers crossed *squeezes eyes shut and crunches nose in concentration* 🎄)

Quietly closing the bathroom door behind me, I rubbed a hand over my face, trudging through the dark hall towards Azriel's bedroom door. The only light was falling in from the living room and the kitchen, and only after staring at it for a second did I realize that it looked strangely bright for three in the morning.

Feeling my brows scrunch in sleep muddled confusion, I slowly came to a halt a few feet away from the bedroom where I had left Azriel under the covers, his arm only slipping away from me when I had pressed a sleepy kiss onto his cheek.

Blinking and raising my head, my eyes found the windows on the other side of the living room, and my breath hitched.

Outside, huge white flocks silently sailed through the air, landing on the balcony that was already covered in a thick blanket of snow.

My lips parted as something in my chest soared, a beaming smile slowly spreading over my face as I slipped into the living room, quietly hurrying towards the windows and feeling my heart rise in a wild flutter when I pressed my nose against the window and stared at the big white snowflakes that were slowly falling outside, covering the street and cars and houses in a thick white layer that reflected the streetlights.

There was a soft, hoarse mutter of my name somewhere behind me, and when I quickly looked over my shoulder, beaming and sleep forgotten as my heart skipped and fluttered, Azriel appeared in the doorway, hair tousled and eyes filled with sleep when he raised his head and stilled a little. His gaze moved over the sight outside, and I saw the moment the haze of sleep slowly lifted from his mind, his shoulders straightening as his eyes trailed the snowflakes.

A twinkle slowly spread through his iris, and Azriel looked at me. Then he lightly raised a brow.

My heart skipped high, and I started beaming.

A waft of icy cold, crispy air hit my face when I pulled open the door, and my breath hitched, my lips parting as I slowly stepped out onto the sidewalk.

The snow had silenced the city like a thick blanket, muffling the little noise of the night. My pyjama pants, tucked into my furlined boots, did little to hold off the cold, but I barely noticed as I carefully stepped through the pristine, thick layer of snow that covered the cobblestone before raising my head, feeling my heart rising against my ribs as I stared up into the dark night sky, thick snowflakes silently sailing through the golden light of the streetlamps.

There was the sound of snow crunching behind me, and when I looked over my shoulder, Azriel stepped out of the door, and something toppled in my chest. His hair was tousled from sleep and sticking out from under his beanie as he raised his head to squint against the snow, and there was the shadow of a crease visible in his cheek. Just like me, he had just thrown on a thick jacket and a scarf, his dark pyjama pants tucked into his black boots, and even though it should´ve looked ridiculous, something suddenly did flips in my chest as my gaze flickered over him.

Raising my head again, I blinked when a snowflake landed on my lashes and felt a wide smile spread over my face as, even with the cold nipping at my skin, warm giddiness filled my chest, growing with every second.

Turning, I spread my arms and held my face up towards the sky, a giggle building in my chest as I felt snowflakes land on my cheeks, melting slowly into my skin.

Opening my eyes, I stared up into the gently swirling snow and felt my heart swell when I slowly turned on the spot, beaming at the flakes silently sailing to the ground and the thick white layer of snow covering the whole street.

Grinning, I looked over my shoulder, and my heart got caught in my throat.

Azriel was staring at me, snowflakes caught in his hair and melting on his cheeks. In the golden light of the street lamps his eyes glowed, and he looked a little like he´d forgotten how to breathe.

"What?" I felt heat bleed into my cheeks, crunching my nose when a snowflake landed on the tip of it, and Azriel blinked, the corner of his lips slowly tipping upwards. Then he moved towards me, the snow crunching under his boots, and my breath hitched when I tipped my head back slightly to look up at him as he stopped in front of me, so close that our chests touched.

Azriel's gaze dragged over my face, and I distantly wondered if his heart also turned over at the sight of flushed cheeks and snowflakes caught in lashes.

The soft crease next to Azriel's lips deepend, and he raised a hand to carefully brush some snow from my hat. His fingers, warm and rough, brushed against my cheek, then they hooked under my chin, and Azriel dipped his head and pressed his cold, soft lips onto mine.

My breath caught, and I reached out to fist the front of his jacket in my ice cold fingers as heat washed through me. My heart rose in a wild flutter, and Azriel's lips curved against mine. Then he slipped his hands to the back of my neck, tilting my head back and kissing me deeper, and a quiet sound built in the back of my throat as I stretched and kissed back.

Azriel groaned softly and moved closer, until his chest pressed into mine and I had to cling to his sides to not stumble back, the kiss slowly shifting from gentle to feverish, his tongue sliding over mine before his teeth sank softly into my bottom lip, and I dug my fingers into his jacket and pressed closer, my heart tumbling -

"Aw, look at them."

I jumped and quickly pulled back, and Azriel breathed a sigh and rolled his eyes.

Cassian was leaning against the doorway, grinning widely, his plaid pyjama pants stuffed into his boots, a hat pulled haphazardly over his bedhead and his puffer jacket making him look twice as broad as usual. Rhys was standing next to him, his hair a tousled mess, likely because he had misplaced his beanie again, tired eyes twinkling a little when he sent me a feline smirk.

Azriel scowled and turned to face them, and I buried my hands in my pockets and crunched my nose sheepishly.

"Did we wake you?"

"No, love, we just randomly both decided to wake up at three am because it felt like a good decision." Rhys stepped down onto the sidewalk and squinted into the sky, lips twitching, and I huffed.

"Ignore him, he´s grumpy." Cassian jumped down the step and stuck out his tongue, catching a few snowflakes and sending me a wink.

"Well, you could have stayed in bed." I raised my brows innocently. Azriel shifted beside me, his arm brushing against my back as he slowly reached towards the hood of the car behind me.

"And miss this?" Rhys grinned widely and stared at the street covered in a thick blanket of snow. "Are you joking?"

Azriel's elbow brushed against my back, and I discreetly shifted my weight, blocking the view of his hand behind me.

"Though if I am going to be inevitably sleep deprived tomorrow, I will be blaming the two of y-"

A snowball hit the side of his head, exploding into a cloud of twinkling crystals, and Rhys blinked while Cassian snorted and started laughing, head tipping back and shoulders shaking.

Rhys slowly turned his head, his violet eyes narrowing, and Azriel returned his stare. Then one corner of his lips ticked up lightly.

Rhys' nose twitched.

"I was going to be civil about this but,", lazily reaching out and scooping snow off the seat of a bike chained to a lamp post, he raised his brows, "if this is the way you want to play -"

A snowball hit my shoulder, dousing me in white powdery snow, and opening my mouth in disbelief, I slowly raised my head.

Cassian smirked and winked at me. "Sweet cheeks."

"You´re dead." I reached out to grab a handful snow off the car´s roof. "Completely, and absolutely -"

A snowball hit Azriel's chest, Rhys snorted a laugh and tipped his head back, and I tossed the ball in my hand, nearly knocking Cassian's beanie off his head.

Cassian blinked, and slowly, his face split into a broad grin. Then he raised his brows at me. "Run."

I snorted a giggle and bolted.

Giggles and deep laughter filled the street, muffled by the sound of the snow sailing from the dark sky and thickening the white blanket, drowning the noise. I darted behind a car, kicking up clouds of white glittering snow behind me, and just for a second caught a glimpse at Azriel, grinning widely, his cheeks creasing and eyes crinkling as he dodged a snowball Rhys threw his way, a deep laugh breaking from his throat that caused something in my chest to tip over.

Then arms grabbed me, and I jumped and squeaked; deep laughter vibrated in my back, and I was lifted off the ground, my feet kicking uselessly. A big heap of snow was dumped over my head, and I slumped, glowering at the cold tricking over my neck.

Damn it.

It was four am when we trudged back into the flat, soaked and tired, cheeks pink and icy, bodies hot and limbs freezing.

Half an hour later, I was curled up back next to Azriel, my hair dried haphazardly, in fresh pyjamas and shivering tiredly as Az dragged me into his chest, his warm body curling around me and fingers twining with mine as he buried his nose at my shoulder and breathed out slowly. I could feel the remnants of a smile lingering on his face, in the curve of his lips and the barely there dimple in his cheek, and my heart hopped tiredly against my ribs as I stared towards the window, my eyes becoming heavier and heavier as something warm slowly pulsed under my ribs.

Through a crack in the curtains, I watched the snow slowly sailing through the air.

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secret-ly-here @knmendiola @luvmoo @azriels-mate2 @bookishbroadwaybishh @maybe-a-winchester @stayinglow-exploringworlds @harrystylesfan2686 @icey--stars @ssmay123 @ailyr92

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luveline · 8 months

Note

you're writing for bradley!! i am so so excited!! could i request just some domestic fluff with shy!reader and bradley? maybe her coming home from a long day and he's just the perfect boyfriend with a glass of wine and a hug ready for her? love u gorgeous 💗

thank you for requesting, babe, I absolutely adored writing this and him, let me known if you have any more!! —bradley helps you feel better after a bad, long day with wine and a multitude of hugs. fem!reader 1k

You push into your apartment, a ground floor slotting of sandblown terracotta tiles and wooden shutters weakened by termites, and pause. There's something wrong, a humming sound.

You take a step back toward the door and slide your phone from your pocket.

Hi Bradley, where are you? I think somebody has been in my apartment. Should I worry? you text him. You've continued a streak of politeness with him even now, too shy to dip into the familiarity you feel when he's holding you close over the phone. You follow it up quickly. Don't worry, I'm sure it's okay. Do you know what time you'll be coming over? Any time is OK.

"It's me!" Bradley calls with an easy chuckle. Couch springs creak as he jumps up, and a second later he appears in the living room doorway with a frankly breathtaking grin, shoving his cell into his pocket. "I'm coming over right now. Holy shit, would you look at you?"

You hold your bag closer to your side, hair not nearly as neat as it started that morning, the day's chaos etched into the small wrinkles either side of your eyes. "Me?"

When he smiles, it's all white top teeth and joy. For someone who's been through so much, and who works so hard, he's a shaken bottle of fizzy happiness whenever the moment allows —you barely have time to put your bag next to the rack of shoes (and there, his shoes you must've missed toed off and perfectly aligned with your sandy flip flops) when he's crossing the hall in quick strides and pulling you into an ecstatic embrace.

"Hey," he says, kissing your cheek, moustache not scratchy but far from soft. It rubs a wonky trail as he kisses without goal. Kiss on your nose, your cheek, close enough to your eye to make you cringe and back away.

"Hi, Brad," you say breathlessly.

You need time to prepare yourself for seeing him usually, his sudden closeness catching you off guard. You struggle to make any sense of how much he likes you, but you've given up denying his attention. You want it too badly.

He doesn't stall at your obvious (embarrassing) flustering; he doubles down. His arms like steel cords behind your shoulders, Bradley noses at the side of your face, his breath warm on your cheek as he says, "Sorry, I thought surprising you might be nice, but I didn't think about your nerves."

"My nerves," you say.

"Your bad nerves. You're flighty." He gives it another press, the straight line of his nose digging into your cheek before he pulls away.

Bradley doesn't give you time to miss his arms around you. He makes for the kitchen, notices you aren't following, and grabs your hand. Tugging, he takes you into the kitchen and elbows open your refrigerator, revealing a better sight than what you'd seen this morning.

"I had to go out again when I saw your fridge," he says, ducking down to push aside what looks like the makings of your favourite meal to unearth a pretty bottle of red. "Sweetheart, when you said you had a shitty breakfast, I was picturing, like, half a grapefruit. Did you eat anything?"

He only knows what you'd texted him, shitty breakfast code for the found half of a cereal bar in your jacket.

You don't like to text Bradley too much in case you put him off, but today was bad, and you know he doesn't mind. He'd told you so only a few days ago. His hand full of your stomach, hot under the collar, you can't remember what you'd been talking about initially, your memory intricately busy remembering the planes of his tightly muscled torso and the feeling of his weight atop you, but suddenly he'd been leaning down, brown eyes pleading. "You can talk to me," he'd said. "About anything. I want to hear it. You know that, right?"

So you texted him somewhere around lunch time and had been delighted to find him puttering around doing a whole lot of nothing. He's been keeping himself busy on leave, staying fit, helping your elderly upstairs neighbour put together her new chest of drawers between half marathons and surfing, regular dreamboat stuff.

I think I'm having a bad day, you'd said. What are you up to, Brad? Can I still see you tonight?

Why do you act like I'm not obsessed with you? he'd text back immediately. Kidding. Kind of. What's wrong? Can I bring you lunch?

Raincheck on lunch? I don't think I'll have time. I'll explain later if that's OK. Miss you.

Miss you too, baby. I wanna hear all about it tonight.

You blink up from his hands to find him staring at you worriedly. You're in your own head, exhausted and a little muddled after such a long day, and he clearly doesn't like it.

"Is wine gonna make you feel worse?" he asks, tapping your thigh with his knuckles.

"Definitely not," you say.

"Before dinner?"

Your smile turns sheepish. You want the wine much more than the dinner, but if you get both, you won't complain.

He leans back against the fridge, arms crossed, the neck of the wine bottle held precariously in a confident hand. "Sure you're okay?" he asks.

"I will be." You take a brave step forward and look up into his face. It's difficult to grasp what it is he sees in you when he's like something out of a movie, all brains, brawn, and bleeding heart. You don't get it, but he wants you, and he's here. "Thanks for coming over, Bradley."

"This shtick again?" he asks, raising his brows.

"This shtick again," you repeat, grinning at the implication.

He hooks your ankle with his. "Thanking me for coming over is like thanking a fish for swimming. Couldn't stop myself if I wanted to."

Your laugh is a wheeze. Brad does you the generosity of pretending you've made a more intelligible sound and pulls you in for a one-armed hug, rubbing a rough up and down into your side. It's such a nice feeling to be tucked up under his arm that you can almost forget how badly you want a glass of wine.

"Want the big glasses from the top shelf?" Bradley asks knowingly.

"Yes. Please."

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pisupsala · 19 days

Text

Follow Me Where I Go

Or how you stopped worrying and learned to love trouble.

John "Bucky" Egan x female!reader Part 2 of Are You Going My Way?

Words: 8.5k Warnings: smut, 18+

“Dance with me.”

“No.”

Bucky towers over you even as he casually leans against the dance hall bar while you sip your drink. You lock eyes with him before looking off the side. His gaze follows your line of vision. Matron is hovering near the dance floor, looking like she just swallowed a lemon. Bucky looks back at you, grinning. He’s standing too close to you, moving even closer when he speaks, leaning toward you as he listens. When he touches you — fleetingly putting his hand on your waist, brushing past you, lightly bumping his hand against yours — you feel that same spark as when he kissed you.

You’ve never had someone vie for your attention so persistently, so overwhelmingly, so intensely. At moments, you’re not sure if you want to bask in it forever or just fall through the floor from awkwardness. Sometimes, you think Bucky might just enjoy you telling him no, whether because he clearly doesn’t get told no very often or because he can tell everything, but your mouth is saying yes. It’s the most delightful kind of trouble, but trouble nonetheless.

Whatever it is, he is making damn sure you only have eyes for him.

The singing, the touching, the way Bucky always finds you. His eyes fix on you from across the room, popping up in places where he has no business being as a force of habit now, stealing a kiss the moment he sees an opening.

Your roommates like to joke that you have Major John Egan on a string. It would certainly appear so. But you know better. If you have him on a string, it’s he who is doing the pulling.

In a sudden rush, airmen crowd the bar. Someone bumps into you, your drink spilling over your sleeve. Yelping, you put it down, but before you can turn around in indignation, Bucky pulls you into him, boxing you in between his strong arms, wedging you between his body and the bar. Safe from the surrounding push but right in his crosshairs. The tip of his nose is brushing along the side of your neck. He nips at your jaw. Bucky revels in hearing the small, quivering sigh, your hand gripping the edge of the bar so hard it’s turning your knuckles white.

If Bucky has realized one thing about you, it’s that you don’t like breaking rules. It’s like you are not used to it. By all means, you move comfortably and serenely between the constraints of your job, rarely complaining about the rigid rules imposed by the Matron. However, it’s not that you lack an adventurous streak; you just do things on your own terms. He can tease you all he wants, goad you into action, and you will look him straight in the eye — flustered, licking your lips in anticipation, breath shallow — and coldly tell him no. You have the worst poker face but the strongest resolve.

And yet.

It’s worth it because it makes it all the sweeter when you relent. Like now. Once you are sure you both have blended into the crowd at the bar, you spin around to face Bucky, biting your lip. The grin on his face tells you that he has been waiting for this. You grin back coyly. When you reach for him, cupping his face, he easily allows you to pull him into a searing kiss. The music suddenly sounds far away; the surrounding voices are drowned out — he is in his own little bubble with you.

When you pull away a fraction, breathless, he eagerly captures your lips again. There are few—too few, in Bucky’s opinion—moments when he gets you like this. When your attention is on him, and only him. When you choose to break out of the neat little mold of an army nurse, you are extraordinarily alluring—from your fiery kiss to your soft, curious hands. It’s exhilarating, it’s addictive. You are only like that for him.

“John,” Your whisper, so tender and clear, cuts through his heated thoughts. Pulling away, you lick your lips—it tastes like Bucky’s smokey whiskey. He pulls you closer again, hands running up your sides.

“One more, Dove,” He murmurs against your lips.

“Just one?” You giggle, chastely pressing your lips against his. He kisses you slowly, longingly. It makes your insides quake like nothing else when he does this. You thought Bucky was all about fun, but this isn’t fun. You thought he sparked like electricity, but this isn’t a shock to the system. It’s searingly intense in its tenderness and earnestness, leaving you speechless, helplessly clinging to him.

He doesn’t grin or smirk at you; he doesn’t bask in his apparent victory — he just holds you like you are the only two people in the room. And at least for a moment, even John Egan has nothing to say.

Someone bumps into Bucky’s elbow, breaking the moment. You smell the pipe smoke. The color drains from your face because you know exactly who just approached the bar next to your romantic display.

“Doctor,” You greet, trying to keep your voice from cracking. Your hands fall from Bucky’s shoulders as if that makes you look any less guilty. You just hope letting go will actually cause you to fall through the floor now. “Nurse,” He replies, all too calmly, nodding at you before signaling the barman for another drink.

“Smokey,” Bucky sounds bored.

“Major,”

You look at your shoes, embarrassed, fidgeting with your hands. You wish you could put more space between Bucky and yourself, but there is nowhere for you to move. You are so unused to being in trouble, flustered so quickly that it’s adorable to Bucky. Caught red-handed, you might as well own it. So, instead of stepping back, he tucks you against him so you can hide your face against his chest, kissing the top of your head. A small noise of mortification escapes you.

“I’m not going to give you grief, nurse,” The doctor sounds wonderfully unbothered — he understands there is no regulation, no rule book, or punishment that will keep people, lonely and far away from home, from finding comfort in each other. “Just be sure Matron doesn’t see; you’ll be scrubbing baseboards for the rest of the month.” He adds almost jauntily.

“Yes, Doctor,” Your voice sounds much more confident than you feel, but you make no attempt to move away, content with hiding your face against Bucky’s jacket.

“That said, Bucky.” The doctor pauses to puff on his pipe before looking at the pair of you pointedly. “She’s one of my best. Take care not to get her sent away, will you?”

You hear Bucky's deep rumble of laughter resonate through his chest. It’s such a strangely sweet sensation—you heard his laugh before anyone else did. His fingers move soothingly down your spine.

“I’m quite partial to having her around myself.”

***

It’s one of those nights that if not everyone at the table were dressed in uniforms, you’d forget the circumstances of how you all came to be in a pub in a small town in East Anglia playing an entirely too intense game of Oh, Hell. It’s a Friday night, packed — you are sat snugly at the corner table, between the wall and Bucky, who seems to keep finding excuses to move closer to you. His knee is brushing against your leg; he keeps finding a reason to touch you, he whispers in your ear. You are unsure if Bucky is trying to get at you, your nerves, or the hand of cards that you are holding.

You are not supposed to be out this late, but you’ve come to find out it’s becoming harder to say no. Sometimes, you have the nagging feeling that your days with Bucky are numbered. It’s like a dark little splotch in the back of your mind — a small, creeping eclipse. You never mention it to Bucky. Speaking it would make it true.

And it’s so easy to forget when you are around him. The weeks and the days pass in a blur. Your heart soars every time he steps off that plane, every time you hear that bicycle bell after a mission. Every kiss is electric and sparks new depths of your attraction to Bucky.

Trouble was never this sweet or this persistent.

You brush his hand off your leg, again, decidedly not looking at Bucky but keeping your cards close to your chest and talking to Gale and Charles across the table from you. “So, what exactly happened to that narwhal tusk?”

Gale smiles but doesn’t look up from his cards. He is entirely too cool and level-headed to get distracted from making his play. “I recall unicorns were to blame,” He simply replies before grabbing two matches from the pile. “I bet two.”

“None for me,” Bucky smoothly puts his cards face down on the table before returning to you. You can feel his eyes boring into the side of your face as you chew your lip, trying to weigh the odds — each has five cards. Charles is playing for one. Gale is confident that he’ll win two hands. Bucky is playing for none. Which, in his case, means nothing in terms of whether he drew a good or bad hand. John Egan deals in chaos — he wins as long as everyone else loses. And considering he has a seventy-five-point lead, he’s a deft hand at it.

As he leans into you, you know he’s about to say something to annoy and distract you. So before a word can make it out of his mouth, before that infectious grin wipes you of all rational thought, you gently put your index finger against his lips. It stops him dead in his tracks for a mere second. From the heated look in his eyes, it’s clear this wasn’t a deterrent; it’s fuel on the fire.

“I bet three,” you announce lightly, trying not to look too flustered. Bucky grabs your hand and kisses your fingertips.

Gale politely pushes three matches your way.

“That’s how you shut him up, then?” Charles jokes. “Any other tricks you’d be willing to share?” The whole table bursts out laughing. You just grin into your wine.

You first notice something is off when a fellow nurse suddenly dashes past and disappears into the men's room. Suddenly, chairs around the room scrape, and a mad scramble of heels is on the wooden floor. Belatedly, you look at the pub's entrance and realize that the Matron just walked in, rollers in her hair, apoplectic.

“Shit,” You breathe in panic, starting to get up out of your hair, hoping you can hide before Matron sees you, but you are completely stuck between the table, the wall, and Bucky. You freeze — you are going to be in so much trouble. You’re going to be cleaning the whole infirmary. You’ll be redoing the entire inventory. She might transfer you away.

She might send you home.

Your stomach plummets.

Bucky’s hand, suddenly pushing down on the crown of your head, shocks you out of your paralysis.

“Get down,” He says calmly like this is a completely normal request. As you clearly were not the type to sneak out or break the rules, and all things considered, you have a pretty poor fight-or-flight reaction.

Almost stupidly, you allow him to push you under the table, crouching on your hands and knees in the cramped space between the table legs and the men’s legs. Gale moves his legs out of the way, giving you some space, while Bucky motions you to come closer to him, gently guiding you to kneel between his legs. Above you, the conversation resumes like nothing happened.

Quietly, you try to find a comfortable position in the small space, taking care not to bump your head against the tabletop. Finally, you settle by leaning your cheek against the inside of Bucky’s knee and resting your hands on his thigh. His muscles flex under your touch, and Bucky shifts slightly in his seat.

The sound of heels marching over the wooden floor is like a death knell.

“Gentlemen,” the Matron says, standing so close to the table that you can see the shoddily repaired ladder on her nylon. “It’s past curfew, and I have several nurses missing from their rooms.” She looks sharply around the table, probably noticing your oddly abandoned seat, slapped-down hand of cards, and half-empty drink.

“No nurses at this table, Captain,” Gale responds coolly — not quite lying. Charles busies himself looking at his cards.

Bucky doesn’t even bother responding, lazily smoking his cigarette. He is currently trying very hard not to think about you kneeling between his legs — your fingers pressing into his muscle, your face so tantalizingly close.

“Are you sure, Major?” Matron presses. “Awful lot of chairs unoccupied in this pub for a Friday night” She trails off as she looks around the room.

Under the table, you cringe, tightening your grip on Bucky’s leg. She never takes any answer at face value. Your knees are hurting by now, but you don’t dare move with her standing less than a foot away from you.

“That’s Hambone’s.” Crank supplies helpfully.

Several voices call out for Hambone, who you assume must be hanging around somewhere close. Your heart is beating in your throat. Bucky’s leg presses into you as Hambone clambers over the back of the chair. The conversation picks up naturally — they are all pretending like he’s been sitting there all along; that’s his hand on the table. You can’t help but wonder how many times they have pulled this little gambit before or if it’s a side effect of the blind trust forged between the men. No questions asked; just play along.

“White wine, lieutenant?” Matron intones mildly—your breath stocks. You should have really picked a less… obvious drink.

“I like what I like,” Hambone shrugs, downing the glass in one go. He puts the glass down less than gently. “It’s still alcohol.”

Bucky shifts his leg nervously, bumping into your shoulder.

“Major Cleven, Major Egan.” Matron looks down at them sharply, like a teacher about to scold children. Buck remains polite, looking at her as she speaks, while Bucky barely tries to conceal his contempt. “If you happen to see any of my nurses, I expect you to act in your capacity as senior officers and report them to me.”

“And if we don’t?”

Your nails dig into Bucky’s leg. Shut up.

“Major Egan, you would interfere with Army procedures like that?”

“If we see any stray nurses around,” Buck cuts in before Bucky can reply. “We will be sure to let the Captain know, won’t we, Bucky?”

“Sure,” He agrees curtly. “Goodnight now, Captain.” He dismisses the Matron bluntly, turning his attention back to the card game.

Matron hesitates; you can tell by the uncertain shuffle of her feet. She’s just been dismissed by a superior officer, although she clearly wasn’t done with the conversation. Having her put in her place like that should not bring you joy. It should not give you a warm, fuzzy feeling when you listen to Bucky give an order like that. After an awkward pause, Matron finally bids the table goodnight. You watch her walk away, finally disappearing in the mass of legs near the bar.

You release the breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, finally shifting on your aching knees with a small groan. Bucky is doing everything in his power to pretend he didn’t hear that. You just hope Matron finishes her round of the pub quickly — there really is no comfortable position in the cramped space under the table.

Bucky reaches under the table, stroking your cheek. Your heart nearly stops at the loving touch. He never ceases to surprise you with how tender he can be in these small moments — when he allows himself to let all the bluster and the jokes fall by the wayside. You lean into his touch with a sigh.

“Is it safe yet?” You ask in a small voice.

“Currently,” Bucky glances over his shoulder. “The Captain is looking for you at the bottom of a martini glass.”

“Bitch,” Your muffled voice sounds so acutely indignant, Bucky inclines his head to look under the table.

You peer up back at him with those big eyes; your lips slightly parted — fuck. He had thought of you in that exact position more than he would like to admit, but seeing you on your knees in front of him like that gives his half-formed fantasies substance. You pout, leaning against his knee again, waiting for the danger to pass.

Matron has another two rounds. At this rate, she will at least be unable to hear you and your fellow nurses sneak back into the dormitory. The moment Matron walks out the door, the whole pub sighs a collective sigh of relief.

“Come here, Dove,” Bucky offers his hand to pull you back up. Hambone makes no attempt to vacate your seat. Bucky doesn’t care as he pulls you into his lap despite your protests about losing a good hand. And you drink.

Instead, he busies himself with brushing the dirt off your bruising knees, his hand dipping under the hem of your skirt for a quick second. You narrow your eyes at him, pushing his hand away.

“You have to be nice to me,” He smiles warmly at you. “I saved you.”

“You almost got me into trouble in the first place,” You retort levelly. “Again,” You add, looking at him sharply.

Bucky’s fingers gently wrap around your chin, pulling your face close to his. “Allow me to remind you, Dove,” His voice is low, warm like melted chocolate as he squeezes your hip — it’s the only thing you can focus on; everything else fades into the background. “You invited this trouble, insisted on it even.”

“What can I say?” You murmur innocently, refusing to admit that he is technically correct. “Trouble follows me where I go.”

Between Bucky and sips of his whiskey, your head is spinning as he leads you down the street of the small village. You split off from the rest a while ago. Giggling, you pull him into a dark corner between two buildings. With your arms around his neck, he accepts your eager kisses.

“And you have the audacity to call me trouble,” He comments, laughing as you push him up against the wall.

“I’m only repaying the favor,” You breathe against his lips, nimbly unbuttoning his uniform jacket, desperate to get closer to him. Feeling the definition of Bucky’s chest and how his muscles move through the layers of fabric thrills you. His hands run down your sides, grasping your hips, pulling you closer. Bucky relishes in your gentle voice and the caring touches that come so naturally to you. But he enjoys cracking through that sweet exterior even more, following your feverish lead, the way you unashamedly rub yourself against him, and your unabashed hunger for him.

“You know what you want so well, Dove,” He encourages you. “I like that about you.”

“I just want you,” You manage breathlessly between kisses, so lost in the moment, so lost in every touch, not really thinking about what you’re saying. Quickly, Bucky turns you around so your back is against the wall. Sure, he likes you showing him what you want, and whether it’s the whiskey or the tension that has been building all night — this is the most forward you’ve been. And he’ll be damned if he’s not going to make the most of this precious moment, now that he has you like this, all to himself.

Lightly tracing his hand over your leg, he hitches up the hem of your skirt. It bunches up around his wrist as he moves upwards. You are looking at him in anticipation, taking deep breaths to steady yourself, stroking the side of his face softly as you shift your stance, allowing him to move further.

“Just me?” He rasps. His fingertips lightly graze the fabric of your panties, studying your reaction carefully.

“Yes,” You keen, rolling your hips against his hand. He thought a lot about the delicious sway of your hips when you walk and how it would feel if you moved against him, wrapped around him, the soft, warm flesh of your thighs pressed against his wrist. There is nothing calculated about your movements, only the intuitive pursuit of pleasure.

“No one else?” It’s as much possessive as it’s an admission of vulnerability.

“Of- of course not,” You stutter in confusion, pulling back a fraction. The worry etched on your face melts away the moment Bucky’s fingers slip past the elastic of your panties into your warmth. You are so wet for him already, so sensitive that the smallest touches make your eyes flutter in pleasure.

“Good,” Bucky murmurs against your lips possessively, needing to feel your every gasp and breath. “Because that would break my heart.”

You don’t think Bucky is joking. He doesn’t sound like he’s joking. It doesn’t feel like he is joking. A too-sincere confession in the heat of the moment like only he could make, leaving you reeling between the physical sensation of his deft fingers and the soul-searing candidness of his words. You would never have imagined that it would be in your power to change anything about the way that Bucky moves through this world, let alone that he would admit to you that you have the capability to break his heart.

“What about me?” The words tumble from your mouth all wrong, jumbled in a stream of strangely disconnected thoughts and lustful moans. Fighting through the amorous haze, you blink up at Bucky, trying to find a way to re-arrange your question into something more coherent. Until a few seconds ago, you were sure you were the only one in danger of heartbreak in this situation.

“You,” He replies softly, brushing the tip of his nose against yours, as your breath quickens and your stomach feels tight. “Can have anything you ask for.”

***

It’s the waiting that is the worst. When there is nothing left to do or prepare, you just stand there, scrubbed in. Listening. When you hear the faint roar of the airplane engines, you hold your breath and try to count how many you hear on approach. It’s always too few.

After that, within minutes, the doors to the OR will swing open, and the medics will storm in, carrying the worst casualties. The longer you stay at Thorpe Abbots, the more names and faces you recognize on the operating table.

But the agony doesn’t end there.

Inevitably, when you walk out of the OR, you find out who didn’t make it back. Whispers go around about how many parachutes were seen and where they went down. Rarely does someone admit that they couldn’t have made it out.

The knot of nerves in your stomach has been weighing you down since you got up that sunny morning. It is the oddest feeling, and you cannot figure out what has gotten into you. Your hands shake as you sterilize equipment; lunch looks even more unappetizing than usual. Your Bucky is not flying today; he’s up in London for R&R. He’s coming back tomorrow, but you don’t feel that kind of nervous. It’s not excitement.

It’s dread.

You don’t mention it to anyone — it would be bad luck. Instead, you stretch your arms and flex your fingers to relieve the tremors. You force down your lunch, chatting with your fellow nurses. You do everything as you do every day, and a mission is flown.

Standing at attention in the OR, you listen. It’s an eternity before you finally hear the sound of a plane on approach. And then another.

Nothing.

It's too long of nothing.

For an uncomfortably long time, you just stand there, listening. That couldn’t have been all of them. Surely, the rest must have been delayed. The minutes tick by. Even as the first casualties come in, everyone works in grave silence. But not another plane passes. You look across the operating table at your fellow nurse. She looks ashen under her mask. The doctor won’t even meet your eye.

As the remaining crews — those who did make it back — filter out the interrogation, the whispers start. At dinner, no one is even pretending to eat.

So many crews lost—Major Cleven’s among them. For now, designated MIA.

Your heart aches for every one lost. Your heart aches for Bucky.

You have no idea how Bucky has taken the news because although you know he’s returned, you have not seen him. Bucky has not sought you out; you haven’t even caught a glimpse of him in passing. It’s like he’s suddenly a ghost — you hear how he moves about the base, how he’s torn into the CO and Air Exec, how he’s torn into Mission Planning — always, everywhere, just around the corner, a shadow in the corner of your eye.

After four days, you’ve had enough. You can’t stand the pitying looks from your roommates anymore.

Oh, I’m so sorry.

He hasn’t spoken to you yet?

I saw him near the officer’s club today.

He’ll come to you — I heard he’s flying soon.

He doesn’t get to do this to you, you decide. He doesn’t get to kiss you like that and say all those things to you only to all but disappear. If Bucky won’t come see you, you’ll go find him.

You’re not on duty tonight, but you should take care to look at the part. Matron would be proud of you: hair neatly pinned, not a crease on your seersucker dress, your navy cape and white oxfords spotless. A neatly wrapped brown paper package with a pill bottle prescribed by Doctor Stover. Although, he might not strictly speaking remember signing that prescription of sleeping pills. It’s part means to an end, part because you believe Bucky might actually need them.

You've observed that Bucky always easily moves through every situation and effortlessly maintains control. It's like he is right where he’s supposed to be, and subsequently, no one really stops him. And if they do, he just blusters past them. That’s the kind of confidence you don’t have, but you better start finding it quickly now if you’re going to pull this off.

You walk with purpose, smiling politely as you greet the officers and servicemen you pass. It’s just coming up to 9 PM on a summer’s evening — the sun has barely set, and everyone is trying to make the most of the rare free hours of sunshine. You make it all the way to the men’s barracks before the officer on duty stops you from entering the building where you are pretty sure Bucky’s room is.

“Anything I can help you with, lieutenant?” The young officer inquiries suspiciously.

“I’m tasked with delivering this to Major Egan,” Forcing a smile on your face that you hope doesn’t look too artificial, you hold up the small package.

“Let me take that for you,” he offers, reaching for the package. “Major Egan is in a foul mood; a nice nurse like yourself should not be on the receiving end of that.”

Chuckling nervously, you snatch the package out of the officer’s reach. “Are you a nurse too, lieutenant?” You blurt out.

“I’m sorry?”

“Medication can only be distributed by medical personnel,” You recover quickly, your voice pleasant, although the back of your neck is prickling with sweat. “Army procedure — doctor’s orders,” You add chaotically.

The corner of your mouth is quivering slightly under the pressure of maintaining your smile. The duty officer looks at you strangely before finally shrugging.

“Major Egan’s room is at the end of the hall, to the left.”

Heart pounding, you thank him before entering the building.

As expected, there is no reply when you knock on the door.

“Bucky?” You try softly. “It’s me.”

Nothing.

“Bucky?”

You listen with bated breath for any sign of life on the other side of the door. With shaking hands, irrationally terrified of what you will find, you try to open the door. To your surprise, it clicks open.

Tentatively, you step into the darkened room. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust and get your bearings. Bucky is on the bed, half under the covers, lying on his stomach, with one arm propping up his pillow and facing the wall.

“John?” You venture softly. He doesn’t reply, doesn’t stir. As you step closer, you note his slow, deep breaths—the slow, deep breaths of someone pretending to be asleep. You hesitate. Maybe you shouldn’t have come here; he doesn’t want to see you to the point of ignoring you for almost a week. He lost his best friend. He’s lost so many. You understand, but you can’t help but feel the sting of his silence a little.

“I brought you something to help you sleep,” You continue. Standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, the small brown package feels oddly heavy in your hands. Bucky still doesn’t respond, not even the slightest change to his breathing.

Extravert, talkative, center of attention, John Egan grieves in stern silence.

Carefully stepping over Bucky’s boots and clothes, which are strewn across the floor, you place the package on the nightstand next to his bed. He is still stubbornly pretending to sleep. You should go. Bucky doesn’t want to talk to you, and you shouldn’t impose.

But something doesn’t feel right. Nervously, you rub your fingers over the hem of your woolen mantle. It’s like Bucky’s darkness is radiating from him, sucking all the air from the room. In your heart, you understand that he shouldn’t be alone.

After unclipping your mantle, folding it, and placing it on the ground, you gingerly sit down on the edge of the narrow bed. There is still no reaction, although at this point, you don't expect anything from Bucky. You just want him to know you are here. Leaning over him, soothingly brushing your fingers over his temple, you notice that his stormy blue eyes are open, firmly fixed on the wall. It’s not the only thing you see, even in the room's darkness.

“Di-” Did someone punch you in the face? The words die on your tongue. You retract your hand to stop yourself poking at the bruise.

He is so stubborn — eyes open, pretending to sleep. Bruise on his face, not a blink. It’s clear Bucky doesn’t want you to do anything for him. You are not here to play nurse to him, you remind yourself. He doesn’t need you to make sure he takes his medicine and ice his wounds. Everything about his actions is screaming that he doesn’t need you. He doesn’t want you. But he shouldn’t be alone.

Taking a deep breath for courage, you toe off your white Oxfords, untie your cap, and carefully lie down behind him, just on the edge of the bed, over the covers. It takes you a moment to settle. You wrap your arm around him, although you can barely reach over the broad expanse of his torso. You hold on to his undershirt at his ribs, pressing your cheek into his back. You match your breathing to his.

Your synchronized breathing is the only movement in the room for a few minutes. Finally, Bucky stirs. Nervously, you wait to see what he will do. He doesn’t get up or acknowledge you in any way. He reaches for your hand, unlatching it from his shirt as he turns to his side, his back still to you. You brace yourself, expecting Bucky to push you away.

Instead, his grip on your hand tightens as he pulls you closer, placing your palm over his sternum and anchoring it in place with his large hand. You scoot closer to him, shimmying your legs under the covers and pressing yourself fully into him. Bucky hooks his ankle on yours, tangling your foot between his. You are wrapped around him, listening to his heartbeat. You stay there, finally feeling his breathing steadying naturally, his heartbeat slowing.

Bucky didn’t want to talk, but he didn’t want to be alone either.

He just didn’t want you to see him like this when he’s so not like himself. Or maybe that’s the problem: he is exactly like this, but he doesn’t want you to know that. He doesn’t want to spoil, poison, how you think of him. Most people, Buck being pretty much the only exception, wisely avoid him when he’s in his dark moods. Bucky couldn’t bear the thought of you doing the same. So he convinced himself not to seek out you as a mercy to himself—a bitter mercy, in the hope you’d still be there when he came around.

But you came to find him. He realizes he underestimated you in that respect. Of course, you would never just stand by, sit pretty, and wait for things to resolve themselves. You walked through pouring rain with a busted boot, making your way home through darkness and icy winds. You do things on your own terms.

He’s just glad that you’re here now rather than leaving him and all the trouble he brings you behind. It calms the storm in him enough to finally fall into a deep sleep.

It’s hours later—it must be—when you startle awake. You are still in the same position you fell asleep, tangled up with Bucky. He is still fast asleep. You blink against the darkness in the room, trying to focus your vision on something that will tell you the time. Gently, you extricate yourself from Bucky, quickly checking the time on his silver watch that had been discarded on the nightstand. It’s barely 4:30 — plenty of time to get ready for your shift. But if you want to sneak out unnoticed, you should get going before the whole base wakes up.

Tiptoeing around the room, you try to fix your hair in a bun in the darkened reflection of the small mirror — just so it doesn’t look so obviously slept in before you tie your nurses’ cap back on. Your dress is hopelessly wrinkled.

Behind you, Bucky groans, rolling over in the bed.

“C’mere,” His voice is thick with sleep.

You look over to him, bun untwisting between your suddenly unsteady hands. Bucky is motioning to you, arms outstretched invitingly. The sheets are pooled around his waist; his normally carefully styled dark curls are a delicious mess. Powerless against his magnetic pull, you drop your cap on the floor as you climb back into his bed, into his waiting arms.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice still rough. He pulls you against him, kissing your forehead. Your fingers run through his tussled hair.

“Of course,” You breathe, tilting your head up, hoping to get another kiss. Bucky’s hungry mouth on yours is almost more than you bargained for, hand running up your dress, over the top of your stocking, hiking your leg over his hip. His movements are deliberate, intense. Your breath hitches between the fiery kisses as you try to find equilibrium from his roaming hands. Where before he would playfully tug at the ribbon keeping your wrap dress closed, he now single-handedly undoes the knot, pushing the dress open.

“Bucky,” You gasp, pushing against his chest, trying to slow him at least down. “John,”

“You didn’t think you could come crawling into my bed and then play this innocent, did you?” He is smirking at you, hand now firmly planted on your ass, squeezing.

“I - I didn’t-” You swallow dryly. Bucky notices that you are pumping the breaks — eyes wide, hand planted against his chest — so he switches gears. Gently rolling you onto your back, Bucky sits up on his knees, slowly running his hands over your thighs. He leans forward, pressing kisses against the swell of your breast, peeking out from under your slip dress, up your neck, along your jawline.

“Just let me take care of you,” He hums against the sensitive skin of your throat. “Like you took care of me,”

“I didn’t do anything.” You try to make sense of the feverish thoughts, your hands aimlessly traveling up Bucky’s arms, the muscles taut under your touch.

“You stayed,” he replies simply before capturing your lips in another searing kiss. You had so many reasons and every chance to walk out last night. He certainly didn’t make a very enticing choice, but you chose him anyway when he probably least deserved it. All he can do now is make you don’t regret it.

He’s pulling at your dress, dragging it over your shoulders, flinging it somewhere into the room. You struggle to keep up, yanking up Bucky’s shirt over his head, dog tags jangling on his neck. Bucky is shimmying the slip over your hips, pooling it under your breasts. You curl up, allowing him to pull it over your head. His body is on yours — skin to skin. It’s a beautiful feeling; so warm, so intimate. You run your nails over Bucky’s broad shoulders, getting acquainted with every ridge, bump, and rippling muscle under the skin.

Bucky rolls his hips into yours, drinking in your reaction — the gasping breath, the soft moan, the pleading look in your eyes. He needs to feel something. Something to fill that gaping hole in his chest, something to stem the simmer of crushing anger and pain before he loses grip on it.

Thankfully, you have so much to give, and give it to him so freely. Bucky wants to drown in your soft skin, every gasp and moan of his name torn from your lips, your loving touch. He wants you to make him forget for just a moment that his best friend has gone down behind enemy lines and how many more friends he has lost already. He wants to feel something else that isn’t the crushing weight of the world that no amount of alcohol and no punch to the face could make him forget.

Somewhere in the frenzied movement, Bucky skillfully rids you of the rest of your undergarments.

“You’re so beautiful, Dove,” he breathes, looking down at you, naked, hair splayed over his pillow. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this.”

He's straining against his shorts, but he also wants to savor this moment with you. And in that moment of quiet, you realize you should tell him. You've never been with anyone like this before — never gone this far.

But the second his body covers yours again, his lips on yours, all hesitation dissipates together with the rest of your rational thinking. It feels too good, and you don’t want to stop now. Experimentally, your fingers dance over his chest, down to his stomach. Bucky twitches under your touch — breathing ragged between hungry kisses covering your body. His teeth tug at your nipple, tearing a loud moan from you. You’ve never experienced pain so pleasurably.

Bucky’s hands also roam over your body, squeezing and caressing every curve and dip with reverence. He traces a finger down the length of your spine before cupping your ass and pulling you closer to him. You can feel his hard length pressing against you through the thin fabric of his shorts.

You suppose you should feel nervous, but every bit of your body and mind is already entirely occupied with Bucky; there simply isn’t room. All you can think about is how you want to feel him, how you want him to feel you. If you’re not ready now, if you are not sure now, with Bucky, then you doubt you’ll ever be.

Bucky’s fingers travel down your ribs, tickling the small of your waist, caressing your hipbone, ghosting over your slit. You arch into him, your hips jerking against his touch.

“Tell me what you want, Dove.” He grins against your mouth.

You doubt you could find the words. Maybe talking is overrated anyway.

“John,” You just keen softly, biting down on your lip as you grab his hand and guide his fingers inside to rub small circles over your clit.

“You are a demanding little thing, aren’t you?” Bucky teases, although he is enjoying this immensely — your small hand over his, showing him exactly what you want, the little domineering edge to your actions. You keep surprising him in the best ways — beyond the sweet and caring, you know what you want and how to get it. And he will gladly give all to you.

You muffle a moan against the crook of his neck as Bucky starts to move his fingers in a slow rhythm, curling them just right to make you start clenching around him. He knows what you like — he has had you come apart by hand. But having so eager, so needing yet assertive while naked under him, is everything he needs right now.

Bucky’s fingers continue to move inside you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your mind is hazy with desire as you grind against his hand, wanting more of his touch.

“Like- like that,” You whimper, your hips moving feverishly against his hand — your hand is tangled in his hair, tugging at his messy curls. “Don’t stop, please - fuck,” You breathe.

Bucky smirks, moving his fingers faster, and adds a second one, pushing them deeper inside of you. You shudder at the feeling, unable to contain the moans escaping your mouth. You can feel yourself getting close to the edge — you know that Bucky can sense it, too.

“Shh, Dove,” He leans down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss to silence as his fingers keep working you to a climax. “You’ll wake everyone up like that — or do you want an audience?” He chuckles. You can feel his hot breath against your ear.

“No,” you giggle at his words despite your brain being close to short-circuiting. “I don’t like to share,” You add with a soft sigh, wrapping your arms around Bucky’s neck, holding onto him tightly as the pleasure builds within you. Bucky captures every moan and sigh that he tears from you.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” He whispers against your skin, his voice rough with desire. “So responsive and needy for me.”

Your breath hitches, your body trembling as the pleasure builds within you. Bucky’s words only fuel the fire that is consuming you. Bucky can feel how close you are getting, and he knows that it won’t take much for you to reach your climax. His fingers move faster inside you. The feeling of fullness is overwhelming, yet not enough.

“Come for me, Dove,” Bucky urges, nipping at your earlobe, encouraging you so sweetly to let go. A wave of ecstasy consumes you as you cry out Bucky’s name into his mouth. Your body shakes, contorting against him, as the orgasm washes over you, leaving you breathless, eyes closed, floating between. Bucky gives you very little time to recover — you barely register that he’s rid himself of his shorts, wrapping your legs around his waist, his hand clutching your hip, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance.

“I need you so badly, Dove.” His voice trembles slightly, and his breath is shaky. It’s strange, in a way, how it warms your heart that Bucky allows you to see him, experience him, in these moments of vulnerability. He trusts you with these glimpses of him — beyond the jokes and bluster, beyond the clever comebacks and impulsive challenges — stripped back to the things he keeps hidden.

“I need only you,” You sigh in ecstasy, eyes fluttering as he enters you slowly. It feels tight, but it doesn’t hurt. It feels odd but not wrong. You swallow, shifting awkwardly, trying to accommodate how full you feel, but not sure what to do. Bucky is not moving, his fingers tight on your hip, body tense.

“Fuck, you are so tight,” He groans, eyes screwed shut. Slowly, he starts moving, calculated and deliberate — as much for his own sake as yours. Every time he bottoms out against you, it’s a shock of pleasure that runs through him from his crown to his toes. You are suddenly a lot quieter, breath softly catching with every move, your loving gaze fixed on his face, hands grasping his shoulders, as he draws out of you again with agonizing slowness before driving back in forcefully.

Your nails dig into his shoulders in response to this new pace. He looks down at your body — every supple curve moves as he drives into you, the jiggle of your hips and ass precisely as he imagined it so many times now. Bucky knows he’s not going to last very long if he gives in to how hard he really wants to fuck you. He should make this last; make it good for you. Make sure you keep coming back to him. And only him.

Bucky feels so good, and you cannot help but stare at him. His taut muscles, those broad arms and shoulders, the way he moves with such grace, his face contorted in pleasure—the pleasure of being with you. Intuitively, you move your hips in tandem with him, wanting to feel more. It’s such a small movement, but it elicits a string of curses from Bucky. You almost want to ask if something is wrong, but before you can even start finding the words, Bucky grabs you by the ankle, hitching it over his shoulder, angling your pelvis up. As he drives into you again, so much harder than before, all control and grace suddenly forgotten, your eyes nearly roll into the back of your skull from the overwhelming pleasure.

He wanted to be nice — he wanted to be gentle, but you are so impossibly beguiling it drives him to madness. He sets a punishing pace, unrelentingly slamming into you now. He presses his face into your ankle, kissing and nipping at the skin. You are crying out incoherently; he hears you swear, repeating his name in ecstasy, clawing at him desperately.

Bucky wants to remind you to be quiet, but he’s so focused on your walls tightening around his cock, he cannot come up with the words anymore. Bending forward, your leg still hooked over his shoulder and not once breaking pace, his free hand wraps around your mouth, muffling the delicious noises you’ve been making. You look surprised for a second, still under his grip.

“You are so goddamn loud, Dove,” Bucky wrenches out. “And I’m not in a sharing mood,”

The way your eyes crinkle, he can tell you are smiling — you think this is funny. You are actually fucking impossible. Your hands are running up his arms, gripping onto his shoulders tightly, your nails digging into the hard muscle as you buck your hips against his again and again, trying to take him deeper.

He leans further forward so he can look into your eyes. Something in his gaze makes your heart stutter, an intensity that takes your breath away, smile melting off your face. Then suddenly, he’s moving faster, harder, and the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. You’re both panting now, sweat slicking your bodies as Bucky’s hips are slamming into yours uncontrollably; he can feel his release rapidly approaching. It’s like fireworks going off in his head, every nerve ending on fire as he desperately chases his own pleasure.

It’s like the flick of a switch that makes the dam break, and he spills into you, his movements coming to a halting stop as he groans out your name, intermingled with curses, like the dirtiest prayer. You keep rolling your hips, every move making him moan and tremble, delighting in watching Bucky helpless against the tide, riding out his orgasm with you.

Finally, he nearly collapses into you, putting all his weight on his forearm so as not to crush you. Bucky’s hair is hanging over his forehead, the sweat on his chest intermingling with yours. Dazed, you grab this hand, pulling it off your lips, softly kissing the tips of his fingers.

Gently, Bucky pulls out of you, wrapping your arms around his neck so he can shift you both on your side. You cuddle up to him, peppering kisses along his jawline, enjoying how his mustache scratches against your cheek. His fingers caress your loose locks as he tries to get this breathing back under control. Brushing Bucky’s messy hair back, he looks relaxed even in the faint light of the room. The tension has left his body, and the darkness consuming darkness has also abated.

“I like it when you look like this.” You confide softly. Bucky looks at you, eyebrow raised.

“Like what?” He asks laughter in his voice. “Fucked out?”

You shake your head, laughing too. Although you don’t think you will ever be able to look at him normally again — how are you supposed to function now that you know what Bucky looks like, what he sounds like when he comes undone, how gentle and sweet he can be, and how mind-blowingly he can fuck you?

No, you don’t think you’ll ever be able to not think about that when you look at him. And you’re glad.

“I meant when you look relaxed, happy,” You correct. “But yes, fucked out suits you too,” You add a little flippantly.

“Well, lucky me,” Bucky presses his forehead against yours, his tone turning from light to that deep timbre that pulls every string in you. “Because you look delightful in every position.”

After everything you’ve just done, the afterglow actually feels deeper, more intimate. Now that the lustful frenzy has melted away, only softness and fondness remain. Soft kisses, gentle caresses, sweet nothings—anything to fill up the time that is ticking away for you. You know that you will have to get up soon and try to sneak back unseen. If you could, you’d put it off forever.

“I’m flying today,” Bucky announces soberly as you’re pulling your stocking up, sitting on the edge of the bed. You pause, looking at him, waiting for him to continue. He is still sitting in bed, naked and smoking, with covers around his waist. You knew Bucky would be flying soon, probably on the next mission; however, he has never told you explicitly like this. It just never really came up before. When he doesn’t say anything else, you just nod in reply.

“I won’t be on duty when you come back,” You say, focussing back on getting dressed.

“So you can wait for me here.” Bucky leans into you, offering you a drag of his cigarette. He’s smiling playfully.

“Here, here?” You joke back, mockingly incredulous, blowing the smoke into the room.

“Preferably,” Bucky presses a kiss onto your exposed neck, close to the messy bun gathered in the nape of your neck. “Right in this bed.”

“How about I come to find you?” You tease, pushing Bucky backward, hand on his chest. “You just focus on what you need to do. I’ll be there.” You assure him with a wink.

#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #john egan fic #john egan imagine #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfic #john egan x nurse!reader #are you going my way?

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