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in-search-of-a-fallen-star · 1 year ago

Text

i just wanna put my hands on you

Pairing: Jing Yuan/Reader

WC: 2,643

Content warnings: smut. no pronouns used for the reader but they are described as having breasts and a vagina.

i have a note on my phone that i keep open at night because i'll have ideas as i'm falling asleep that i'll forget in the morning. this was one of them. the note just said 'jing yuan fingers you in his office chair.' enjoy.

title taken from Put My Hands On You by DEAN, Anderson .Paak

as usual, minors and ageless blogs dni.

You stretch languidly on the couch, setting your novel down on the table behind you. The sun in the artificial sky outside your window has set, and the stars have come out. Time has truly gotten away from you, and you suspect it has escaped your lover as well.

Normally, by now Jing Yuan would have emerged from his office in your shared home and flopped himself in your lap to beg for attention, like a big cat wholly unaware of the size of his body. Instead, the door to your lover’s office remains closed, and when you put your ear to the door you hear the rustle of papers followed by a gusty sigh.

You can picture him, seated at his desk behind the door. You know he’s practically pouting, shuffling through the mounds of paperwork that require his attention. He likes to reserve his time at home to spend with you; both of you lead busy lives and what time you have together is precious to him.

However, there are some days where he gets distracted. Your lover is a hard worker, dedicated to his job and efficient to a fault, for all that he likes to play the fool. Today must be one of them. You know that by this time he’ll have completed all of the work that needs to be done today, otherwise he would still be at the Seat of Divine Foresight. Jing Yuan doesn’t like bringing his urgent work home.

He probably needs a distraction, you muse to yourself. It’s more than likely that a complicated matter came up and he got lost in the weeds, reviewing every piece of connected information, no matter how tangential.

You can’t lie, you’re craving his attention right now too. It’s been a long day and you came home ready to sink into the warm embrace of your loving partner, only to be thwarted by his own dedication to his job, so you can’t find it in yourself to be upset with him. Getting his attention is worth the attempt, though. If he’s truly busy he’ll tell you, with mournful eyes and a loving kiss.

If he has time and just needs a reminder to pull himself out of work, well then. A smile pulls across your lips as you remember the other times that he’d apologized to you for getting distracted, and a shiver runs down your spine as you feel his phantom touch on you.

It’s worth an attempt, you decided. To make your intentions clear, you go to your shared bedroom and pull out a nightie that he’d gifted you, a tiny thing made out of deep maroon silk. It’s practically lingerie, an idea supported by the matching panties you slip over your legs before you pull the nightie over your head. The hem just kisses the tops of your thighs, and you smile at your reflection. The only thing left is to pull on the short silk robe that hangs in the closet; Jing Yuan does like to unwrap his gifts.

You knot the tie at your waist, loose enough that he can see the peek of maroon lace under the collar of the robe. Your dear general does also love a tease. Satisfied, you make your way from the bedroom to his office, gently tapping your knuckles against the hardwood door.

“Come in,” you hear his low voice rumble, and you let yourself in his office, closing the door behind you. Jing Yuan sits behind his desk, still dressed for the day with his hair bound up. He looks remorseful as you approach him, trailing your fingers over the edge of his desk. When you get close enough he gathers you into his arms, pulling you to stand in the space between his spread legs.

“I’m sorry, my love. Time got away from me today,” he sighs, burying his face into the soft silk that covers your midsection.

You stroke your hands through his soft hair. “There’s nothing to forgive. I’m not going to fault you for doing your job,” you say, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

“You are too kind to me, my love,” he breathes against you, voice muffled. He nuzzles his face into you, and you huff out a laugh at his childish behavior. You feel him nudge aside part of your robe, and he smiles against you. “What’s this?” he purrs, pulling back just enough to undo the sash of your robe. It falls open, revealing the silk and lace underneath.

“Pajamas,” you deadpan. You run your hand through his hair, scratching your nails gently against his scalp as he shamelessly admires the way the deep crimson lace frames your decolletage. “It’s late, Jing Yuan. You should come to bed,” you admonish as you slide your hand from his hair to cup the side of his face.

He leans into your touch, turning his head to press his lips to your palm. His golden eyes gleam as he looks up at you over the top of your hand, and you know he’s planning something. You decide to try and beat him to the punch and bait him out of his chair.

You step back, pulling out of his arms. It’s immediately suspicious that he just lets you go, and you can’t help the thrill of anticipation that shivers down your spine. Affecting an air of disinterest, you turn away, taking a step towards the door. “I’m going to go run a bath. Feel free to join me whenever you finish.”

His arm snakes out, grabbing your wrist. You bite back a grin and let him pull you into his lap, his other arm banding around your waist, pressing you against his chest. “Leaving so soon?” he murmurs, tracing the line of your neck with his nose.

He brushes his lips in a delicate kiss on the sensitive skin underneath your ear. You sigh and tilt your head to the side, exposing your throat to his attentions. Ever the obliging lover, he trails his lips to the spot where your pulse flutters under your jaw, his tongue tasting your skin for a brief moment before he bites. He’s careful- or perhaps deliberate, biting just hard enough to bring a flush to your skin. That’s going to be difficult to cover in the morning, you muse.

You feel him smirk against the new mark on your throat. He kisses it before he moves on, nipping and sucking a trail down your throat, leaving a swath of marks in his wake. Thinking of all the makeup you’re going to have to use in the morning to cover them, you lift a hand to push his head away. He must sense your intent because he changes tactics, trailing a hand up to grasp at your breast. His palm is large, and you can feel the warmth of his hand and the calluses on his fingers through the thin silk of your nightgown.

Your fingers sink into his hair, pulling him close instead of pushing him away as he mouths at your collarbone and squeezes the fat of your tit in his palm. He slides his hand under the lace to pluck at your nipple, as a musician plucks the strings of his favorite instrument. You sigh and arch your back, pressing yourself into the heat of his hand.

The movement also grinds you down against his lap, where you can feel the growing weight of his erection against your ass. Deliberately, you roll your hips back into it, and you feel him groan against your shoulder. You go to repeat the movement, hoping that it will drive him to do more, when his other arm stills your hips.

He chuckles into the curve of your neck, one hand still playing with your breast and the other rubbing soothingly at your hip. “Don’t be impatient, I’m going to take care of you.”

“You had all day to play around, Jing Yuan,” you demand, tugging lightly at his hair. “I want you now.”

“Good things come to those who wait, my love,” he says, pressing a fond kiss to your cheek. He resumes his slow exploration of your body, his large hands moving gently over your skin. One hand glides down to tease at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

You spread your legs, inviting him to touch you where you want it most. He obliges, and you almost wish he didn’t as he skates his fingers over the damp gusset of your panties. He runs a finger up and down your covered slit, teasing at your clit through the cloth.

His movements are deliberate. Whenever you get impatient, he always slows down and teases you until he gets his way, the insufferable man. Jing Yuan has had centuries to cultivate his patience, and it always shows up at the worst times. You know that if you push him further, he’ll just continue to tease, bringing you closer and closer to the edge but never letting you fall.

So you relax into him, running your fingers through his hair while he does what he pleases. He practically purrs in satisfaction, bringing his fingers up to gently pinch at your clit through your panties. His chest rumbles with a laugh under you at the sound you make, and he presses a kiss to your temple. “You’re so good to me, my love. I suppose I shouldn’t make you wait any longer.”

He slowly slides your panties down your legs, stopping to tuck them in his pocket before he finally puts his hands where you want them. You moan at the first touch of his finger to your clit, throwing your head back to rest against his shoulder. He slides his fingers through your slit, coating them in the slick that’s gathered there before he returns to your clit, rubbing gentle circles on it.

Each touch stokes the fire in your belly. It had been simmering low while he’d been teasing you, but now that he’s actually touching you it roars to life, sending sparks skittering through your bloodstream.

You can hear him murmuring soft words into your hair, but you don’t register any of them as he sinks a finger into your hole, continuing to play with your clit. You have a sneaking suspicion that he’s writing his name in the shapes that he traces, but in this moment you can’t bring yourself to care.

You moan as he adds another finger, curling them against the spot inside you that makes you see stars. He nudges your cheek, prompting you to turn your head so he can capture your lips in a kiss. You moan into his mouth as his fingers pick up speed. Gone are the teasing touches; he seems intent on bringing you to your orgasm as fast as possible.

Jing Yuan consumes all of your senses. He’s warm against your back, his lips move hot and heavy against yours, and his fingers are thrusting deep inside you, pounding against the spongy spot in your core that makes your blood sing. You can’t help it, you see the peak of your orgasm approaching and then in the next moment are thrown off it, your back arching as you break away from the kiss in a silent scream.

He works you through it, wringing every drop of pleasure he can from your body as you come down from the high. When you still, he finally withdraws his fingers from your dripping center, bringing them to his lips and sucking them clean with a hum of contentment.

As you settle into his lap, you can feel his erection. He’s fully hard under you, and you feel the fire in your belly spark to life again. He makes a noise of confusion as you turn in his lap, but you silence him with a kiss. Luckily his chair is big enough that you can plant your knees on either side of his hips, and you roll your hips down to meet his as you settle over him. He moans filthily into your mouth, his arms coming up to wrap around your body.

You reach your hands down to pull at the belts and buckles of his clothes, cursing in the back of your mind that he wears such a complicated outfit.

“You don’t have to do that, my love-” he starts, breaking away from the kiss. You silence him with a look.

“I want you inside me,” you say. He moans as you wrap your hand around his newly freed cock and stroke him. He’s ready for you, you just take a moment to pay him back for his earlier teasing as you pump him with your hand, paying special attention to the sensitive spot underneath the head.

Lining him up with your entrance, you sink down on him, and he throws his head back against the chair with a moan as your slick heat envelops him. It’s a torturous few moments as you take him; your lover is big enough that you have to give yourself time to adjust no matter how well prepared you are.

When your hips finally meet his, you moan at the sensation of fullness. He tips his head forward to rest his forehead against yours, and the two of you rest like that for a moment, eyes closed and simply basking in the closeness.

You break away first, shifting on your knees as you prepare to ride him. He leans back in his chair and watches you from heavy lidded eyes, his hands stroking up and down your thighs and waist.

He moans as you lifted and dropped your hips against him, his eyes dropping fully closed as you moved against him. You feel his fingers tightening against your hips as you pick up the pace, grabbing his shoulders for support as you ride him.

His hips move under you, matching your rhythm as he rolls them in time with your hips. He leans forward, taking the opportunity to catch one of your breasts in his mouth. You twine a hand in his hair, and you can’t help the whine that slips out of you as he sucks on one of your sensitive nipples.

Your thighs quiver, and Jing Yuan takes over, your breast leaving his mouth as he plants his feet and begins thrusting in earnest. You cling to his shoulders as he moves under you, moaning helplessly as he chases his pleasure.

“Please, I’m so close. I need-” you gasp, pulling one of his hands off your hips and guiding it to your clit. He knows what you mean, and immediately starts rubbing the sensitive nub gently with his thumb. You arch your back and keen as your orgasm washes over you, shuddering in his hold.

You feel a pulse and then a flood of warmth inside you as he comes, groaning and falling forward to rest his head in the valley between your breasts. You wrap one arm around his shoulders and run your other hand through his hair, both of you panting as you come down from your highs. With a sigh, you press a fond kiss to the top of his head.

He bites gently at the side of your breast and you swat at his shoulder. “You’ve left enough marks.”

He pulls back with an impish grin, tightening his arms around your waist. “You wear them well, my love,” he says, smiling up at you. “I think I’m ready for that bath now, if your offer still stands.”

You test your legs as you raise yourself up on the chair, not trusting the wobble in your knees as you move. “You’ll have to carry me,” you decide, flopping back down into his lap.

“Anything for you, my love.”

#jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan smut #hsr x reader #jing yuan #honkai star rail #ves.writes

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in-search-of-a-fallen-star · 11 months ago

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hit me with your best shot; koushi sugawara/reader

content warnings: smut, no pronouns used, afab genitalia briefly mentioned, a splash of daddy kink.

reader and Suga are hinted to be in an undefined/fwb situation; they have history together, written post Haikyuu timeskip so all characters are 20+

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

i, uh, learned some things about myself while writing this. enjoy <3

"Hey there beautiful, come here often?"

You hear the line as you see a familiar teasing smile and flicker of golden eyes, as a patron in a soft sweater vest slides into a seat at your bar.

"I see you at least once a week, Sugawara. That line isn't gonna work on me," you huff, throwing him a smile as you busy yourself wiping down glasses behind the counter.

"What can I say? Work drives me to drink," he drawls, propping his chin up on one hand and smiling at you under hooded eyes.

"I can think of a few young admirers who would be disappointed to hear their beloved Suga-sensei blame them for all the money he spends at the bar," you snipe back, hands steadily measuring out ingredients into the shaker tin before you.

You make a little show of mixing the drink, moving through practiced motions as you shake the cocktail and then strain it into a cut crystal glass with a flick of your wrist. You preen a little bit at the way his honey gold eyes track every movement you make, from the shaking the last drop out of the jigger to the way your sleeve rides up as you slide the glass across the counter, crisp cuff revealing a flash of the tender skin of your wrist for just a moment.

He catches the glass, taking a sip and catching your eyes over the rim. "How could I stay away when the drinks are this good?" he asks, resting the glass near the elbow of his folded arm.

"Oh please. You've been coming here since we were both in college and just learning how to pour."

"Maybe I keep coming back for your... service, then." He leans back on the barstool, one delicate hand coming up to flick open the buttons at his collar. You can't help the way your eyes are drawn to the motion, tracing the line of his throat as it's exposed by each flick of his fingertips.

"I'm working, Suga. You can't just say things like that," you hiss over the counter, hiding from his sly smile and the way it makes you feel too exposed in the dim lights of the bar.

He pouts, faking offense as he raises the glass to his lips for another drink. "I thought you liked the things I say to you," he says, smirking over the rim of the glass.

You roll your eyes. "You have the worst lines."

He lifts his index finger from the rim of the glass to point at you. "They worked on you, so I don't think you have room to judge."

"That is true," you heave an exasperated sigh. "What does that make me?"

"A person with good taste," he sniffs.

"In men, maybe. But not for pickup lines."

"Was that a compliment? I'm touched," he preens, pressing a hand over his heart.

"I said maybe. Jury's still out."

"There has to be something I can do to convince you," he purrs, leaning over the counter.

You make a show of considering your options. "Well, there is that thing you do with your-"

He gasps in mock offense. "Bartender, that's dirty. I thought you were working."

"Only for the next-" you check your watch, "eighteen minutes. After that, I'm at your service."

Once the bar is closed and locked, it's a brisk walk in the pre-dawn autumn chill to your apartment. Suga behaves himself until you rummage in your pockets for your keys, pressing up behind you with two large hands gripping your hips and his hot mouth tracing patterns up and down the column of your neck.

He huffs a laugh, and squeezes the fat of your hips when the puff of his breath on your neck makes you shiver and almost drop your keys. "Hurry up, beautiful. I wanna get inside," he whispers against your throat, teeth tugging gently at your earlobe.

You swat at one of his hands and finally get the door unlocked, pushing it open and pulling him inside, hopefully before the obaa-san next door hears anything.

"Easy, baby. I just wanted inside your apartment, it's cold out in the hallway."

You don't have to see him to know that he's wearing that impish smile; you can feel it pressed against your skin as he traces his lips over the corner of your jaw and up to capture your lips.

He's pivoted you perfectly so that your shoulders hit the wall just to the side of the switches that control the lights for the genkan. Suga runs his hands up and down your sides, landing back on your hips to pull yours against his own, grinding his growing hardness into the apex of your thighs.

You thread a hand into his silver hair and pull, just enough to separate him from your lips. A whine slips past his lips at the sensation, and it turns into a full blown moan as you sink your teeth into the side of his exposed throat.

It turns into a shuffle in the dark, the two of you shedding your shoes and leaving a trail of clothes in the dark as you try to stay within the reach of searching lips and grasping hands. You grab his hips and pivot at the last moment when you enter your bedroom, letting him bump the back of his knees against your bedframe.

You give him a gentle push, and follow his momentum down as he lands on your bed with a soft grunt. His teeth gleam in the dark as he grins up at you, tracing your curves with an appreciative hand. You straddle his waist and lean down to suck a trail of plum bruises across his pecs.

"So - ah- you're taking the lead tonight, then?" he asks, moaning as you graze your teeth across his pert nipple.

"Hmm," you trail your lips against his throat, making sure he can feel the vibrations. "No. But I wanted to make you work for it."

You see the curve of his smile in the moonlight, and then your view spins as he flips you on to your back, pinning your hands above your head.

"So cruel," he whines, panting against your lips. You crane your neck to kiss him, nipping at his bottom lip.

"You love it."

"Mhmm, I do." He laughs softly and gently bites your lip in response, before he shifts back. He reaches off the bed to fish something out of his pants pocket. "I was hoping you'd let me lead tonight. I'm gonna make you scream, beautiful."

He pauses for a moment, and squeezes your hand. "Remember the safe word?"

"Strawberry," you confirm, returning his squeeze.

Suga huffs a laugh. "Good. If you're ready, I'm going to blindfold you."

You raise your head so he can tie the blindfold over your eyes. It's soft; silken and cool over your eyes as he carefully fastens it behind your head. He grabs your wrists and gently presses them to the pillow behind your head.

"The one rule tonight is that you can't move," he says, tracing a finger along the line of your jaw to tilt your chin up, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. "If you do, I won't let you cum. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Koushi."

He clicks his tongue. "That's not what you should call me right now, is it?"

You swallow. "Yes, Daddy," you correct yourself.

He rewards you with another gentle kiss. "Very good. Now just lay back and let me make you cum."

You feel his lips trace gentle patterns down your throat, stopping to leave a mark on the fat of your tit as he makes his way to your nipple. Without prelude, he sucks one of your nipples in his mouth and begins rolling the other one between callused fingers. The double sensation startles a moan out of you, and you feel him smile around your breast.

His lips pop off your now stiff nipple, not before he grazes it gently with his teeth and blows against the spit-slick skin, the cool breeze sending a shiver rippling down your spine. He kisses his way over to your other nipple and repeats the process until both of your nipples are slick and stiff in the cool night air.

There's the sound of shifting skin against skin, and you feel him lowering himself down your body, leaving soft kisses in his wake. He skips over where you're wet and glistening like a summer peach, throbbing for his attention.

Instead, he kisses his way down the inside of your leg, pressing a kiss to the inside of each of your ankles as he guides your legs over his shoulders. He toys with the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, leaving biting kisses and tracing nonsensical patterns with the tip of a callused finger.

You can't help the whine that slips from your lips at his ministrations.

"What was that? I couldn't quite hear you," he says from between your thighs, laughing softly against your dripping pussy.

"Please, Kou-Daddy. Please touch me," you whine, trying to hold still.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," he drawls, and leans in to lick a broad stripe up your slit with the flat of his tongue.

Your back arches at the sensation, and he tuts under his breath, pulling back. "I'm sorry," you babble, pressing yourself into the bed. "I won't move, I promise."

"I believe you, you're always so good for me," he murmurs, leaning back in to stroke your clit with his tongue. He slides one hand along the inside of your thigh, teasing your hole with one finger before he slides it inside.

When you're fully shaking from the effort of trying to hold still, he adds another, curling them against the spongy spot inside you that makes you sob with pleasure. Combined with the gentle pressure of his lips sucking your clit into his mouth, you let out a wail as flames of ecstasy flicker up and down your nervous system.

"G-getting close, daddy," you hiccup, panting for breath.

"Good job, baby. I didn't even have to tell you to wait," he coos, pressing a wet kiss to the inside of your thigh. "I'll let you choose. Do you want to cum on my fingers, or on my cock?"

"Cock, please," you whine, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

"Whatever my baby wants," he says. He flips you over on to your stomach, pulling your ass up into the air. You can feel him lining himself up behind you, slicking himself in your juices that dripped down your thighs.

He teases you with the tip at first, shallow thrusts that just catch on the rim of your hole, playing with your clit the whole time. When sob escapes your throat, he coos behind you and finally slides home, his cock filling you.

You moan brokenly at the sensation, but manage to hold your hips from rutting back into the feeling. He strokes your flank and pulls out, thrusting back in deeply.

You can feel his composure start to slip; his moans start coming more and more frequently and his thrusts build in intensity. He reaches around to roll your clit between his fingers again, and you hear him whisper above you, "Cum for me, baby. Cum on daddy's cock."

You don't need further permission, you've been teetering on the edge of orgasm for a while now. It cascades over you, rolling like a thunderstorm with lightning bolts of pleasure dancing along your nerves.

He follows shortly after with a grunt, pressing himself inside you as you feel his cock jump and twitch with his own orgasm. He falls forward, pressing his chest against your back while he catches his breath, before sliding out of you and collapsing on the bed next to you.

The two of you lay in silence for a moment, the only sound in the room the faint chirping of birds as the sun slowly rises and your own heavy breathing.

Then your eyes meet, and the two of you dissolve into giggles.

"Daddy? Really?" you arch an eyebrow at him.

"What?" he asks defensively. "It's been a while since we used that one, and I didn't hear you complaining."

"You have a point," you concede. A yawn escapes your lips, bringing tears to the corners of your eyes for a moment as your jaw creaks.

"You're tired; I should go," he murmurs to himself, sitting up to start looking for his clothes.

"Don't be stupid, Kou," you sigh, throwing a sleepy arm over his waist. "You're welcome to stay. I'll only kick you out so that you can go brush your teeth, your toothbrush and toiletries are in the usual spot."

"Ah, thank you," he sighs, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

"You might be able to even tempt me out of bed, if you cook breakfast," you mumble, face smushed into your pillow.

"I can do breakfast," he says, a soft smile creeping over his face as he watches the crease in your brow smooth out as you fall asleep.

#sugawara koushi/reader #sugawara x reader #sugawara x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #sugawara koushi #ves.writes

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in-search-of-a-fallen-star · 2 years ago

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All the Stars in Your Eyes

Pairing: Jing Yuan/Reader WC: 2062

Content warnings: this fic contains smut between two consenting adults. For the purposes of the smut, reader is described to have breasts and a vagina. No pronouns or gendered language are used to refer to the reader. No mentioned kinks, other than a slight oral fixation and hair pulling (JY receiving).

This is very loving reunion sex born out of me daydreaming about my selfship lore with this man.

Minors and ageless blogs DNI.

Jing Yuan has had centuries to cultivate his focus. A general of his years should be paying attention. He wants to, since you are clearly passionate about the constellations you are speaking about, but he cannot draw his eyes away from your legs. They peek out through the slits in your sleeping robe as you walk.

He is entranced by the movement of the silk over your smooth skin, teasing and tantalizing him as you pace around the room. A hunger stirs in the pit of his stomach, and a languid smile tugs at his mouth as he makes himself more comfortable in his position reclining on the bed.

“Distracted, general?” there is a teasing lilt to your voice, and Jing Yuan’s smile widens at being caught out. He drags his eyes up your form, to see that you’ve stopped moving and have crossed your arms over your chest, affecting an air of disapproval that is ruined by the amusement dancing in your eyes.

You slowly walk over to him, and he pushes himself up from his reclining position to greet you. As soon as you are within reach, he reaches out long arms to run his calloused palms up your legs. His fingers glide over the smooth fabric of your stockings, and the smile on his face takes a hungry edge when his hands reach your plush thighs. He dips a finger into the top of your stocking, snapping the band against your leg and watching entranced as the soft flesh jiggles.

Above him, you laugh softly, covering the sound with the long sleeve of your robe. He hears it regardless. Emboldened by your amusement he leans in and bites, sinking his teeth into the plush roll of your thigh, just above where the band of your stocking squeezes your leg. He smirks against your skin when he hears you gasp, a soft moan stuttering past your lips behind the silk sleeve of your robe.

He presses a tender kiss to the mark, a curl of satisfaction warming his belly at the ring of teeth marking your inner thigh. Just one taste is not enough, he decides, and leans in to repeat the process on your other thigh when he is intercepted.

You reach down and gently take his chin between your thumb and forefinger, pulling his head away from your legs. He is a sight to behold, sitting with his legs spread and looking up at you with golden eyes that shimmer with desire. His long hair is unbound in preparation for sleep, and you give in to the impulse to run your fingers through it, and he leans into the touch like an overgrown cat, practically purring at your touch.

With your other hand, you thumb at his plush bottom lip. He takes the opportunity to kiss the pad of your finger, before making eye contact and drawing your finger into his mouth. You feel him trace the length of your thumb with his tongue, before his cheeks hollow as he sucks for a moment and he releases your finger, leaving a teasing nip at the tip.

Grasping at the threads of your thoughts, you finally give up on maintaining the pretense of disapproval. He must see the change in your expression, because his smile grows wider and his big hands squeeze the backs of your thighs, thumbs sweeping over the skin as he pulls you closer.

“It seems you’ve distracted me too, General,” you purr, swiping your spit slicked thumb over the seam of his lips. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Only that I’ve missed you, my love.” He takes your hand and presses a lingering kiss to the back. For a moment, the desire in his eyes melts into a love so raw and tender that it sends shivers down your spine.

Then the heat is back in his gaze, and he tugs you down into his lap. “Let me make it up to you, dear one,” he whispers against your lips.

You lean in first, closing the scant few inches between you to tangle your hands in his hair and seal your lips over his. He tastes like coming home, his mouth sweet with the sugar of the milk tea that he so favors. He groans, fingers digging into the meat of your hips as he slides his lips against yours.

He swipes his tongue against your mouth, silently asking to deepen the kiss. You feel him twitch under you when you part your lips and allow him in. Your tongues tangle, and his hands slide hot and heavy from your hips to your back, pressing you against the firm muscle of his chest.

Leaning into him, you rest your weight fully in his lap and roll your hips against him. He makes a punched out sound, and he immediately slides his hands down your back to grip your rear, giving it a squeeze before encouraging you to roll your hips again. In the same motion, you fist one of your hands in his hair and pull, partially to break the kiss so that you can breathe, but mostly because you know he likes it.

As you roll your hips and tug his head back, Jing Yuan lets out a filthy groan, fixing one hazy golden eye on your face while his hips chase the friction. He grinds up against your core, and you can feel him hot and hard through the thin layers of your underwear and his sleep pants. You both moan at the contact, and you slide your hands from his hair to ruck his shirt up over his chest, pushing up in a silent demand for him to take it off. He chuckles low in his chest at your rush but complies, squeezing your ass one more time before he raises his arms to shed his shirt.

You begin work on shedding your robe, loosening the hidden ties and letting the silk slide off your shoulders, leaving it to pool forgotten somewhere on the floor. You waste no time in bearing down on your beloved general, pushing him down into the soft tangle of pillows and sheets. He huffs out a laugh that stutters off into a groan as you suck a mark into the side of his throat, and he strokes a warm hand down the length of your spine as you continue to nip and suck at his neck and chest.

He lets you have your way with him for a moment, before his hands return to your hips and he begins to pull you up his chest. You waver for a moment, putting a hand on his chest to stop the movement. “You don’t have to,” you murmur.

Reaching up, he gently covers your hand with his. “I want to, my love. I’ve been waiting for a chance to taste you again since you left,” the corner of his mouth cants up. “Also, I owe this to you for getting distracted.”

You huff out a laugh. “That is true. I expect you to make this distraction worth my while, General,” you tease.

He grins underneath you. “I intend to,” he promises, pulling you the rest of the way up, until your glistening center hovers over his mouth. You shudder at the first touch of his tongue, the slick slide sending sparks racing through your body. His touches are gentle, exploratory. It feels as if he is reacquainting himself with your body. The touches stoke heat in the pit of your stomach, but every time you begin to near a peak, he slows down. You groan in frustration as your third peak fades away, and you can feel him laugh softly against your most sensitive parts.

You fist a hand in his hair and pull, drawing his eyes to yours. The molten gold of his irises sparkle with amusement, but that spark is drowned in the lust that fills his eyes as you pull again. “You said you would make this worth my while. Stop teasing.” The weight of the demand is somewhat lessened by how breathy your voice is, but it doesn’t seem to matter.

“As my love commands.” You can feel him smile underneath you, and he pulls you down by your hips so that your pussy rests on his face. He immediately begins bringing your simmering orgasm roaring back to life, working you over with his tongue so efficiently that you are clinging to the headboard and trembling within a matter of minutes.

Your peak hits you like a hurricane, and Jing Yuan does not relent, holding you to his face until you are squirming away and begging him to stop. You both are breathing heavily, and you take a moment to take in the scene beneath you. He is flushed, hair a mess and eyes blown black, and his cheeks and chin glisten with your release. He makes eye contact, and very slowly and deliberately, he wipes your essence off his face with one hand and sucks his fingers into his mouth to clean them, humming at the taste.

You slide down his torso to rest on his thighs. His thin sleep pants do little to hide the shape of him, hard and leaking against his leg. He makes a wounded noise when you grip him through the cloth, and you stroke him once before pulling down his pants. You tease him for a moment, relishing the sounds he makes and the way his abdomen and thighs move as you spread the precum down his shaft, tracing the large vein on the underside. He doesn’t make any moves to rush you, but the clench of his jaw and the small, aborted thrusts of his hips tell you that he is holding himself back.

Getting on your knees, you line him up with your entrance. Your breath hitches as the blunt head presses into you. “I’ve been thinking of you inside me since I left,” you breathe out as you sink down on him, drawing him fully into your wet heat. He moans at that, throwing his head back into the pillow as your hips touch his.

His hands trace up and down your thighs as you begin to bounce on him, squeezing and kneading at your ass while you move. He is transfixed by you, watching your chest bounce and his eyes are drawn to the point where your bodies are joined. You put on a show for him, one hand resting on a firm thigh behind you while the other hand pinches and tweaks one of your breasts. His cock hits something deep inside you, and your head lolls back on your shoulders as you moan. At the sound, his hips stutter and his hands spasm, digging his fingers into the meat of your ass.

When your rhythm starts to falter and you fall forward, hands on his chest, Jing Yuan reaches up to press a kiss to your sweaty shoulder. He plants his feet on the bed and begins fucking up into you in earnest. His cock drives against something inside you that makes you collapse boneless against his chest, helpless against the waves of pleasure that crash over you. In your haze you feel your peak crest again, making your pussy squeeze him like a vice. He groans long and low into your hair, following you over the edge.

The two of you lie there for a moment, basking in the afterglow. You run a hand through his hair, and he has one arm looped loosely around your waist and the other stroking soothingly up and down your back. You prop yourself up on one arm, so you can see his face. “I did miss you,” you whisper, brushing his hair away from his face. He leans up to kiss you softly in acknowledgement, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You turn your face to muffle a yawn into the back of your hand. He pulls the covers up, tucking you into his side under the blankets. “Sleep, my love. You’ve had a long day. We can talk more when you’ve rested,” he kisses your forehead.

“When we talk tomorrow, you’ll need to keep your hands to yourself,” you pin him with a mock glare.

He smiles, unrepentant. “You look so tempting, how could I possibly stay away from you?”

#jing yuan x reader #jing yuan smut #jing yuan x you #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #jing yuan #fic #ves.writes

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in-search-of-a-fallen-star · 11 months ago

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that magic touch; hajime umemiya/reader

content warnings: descriptions of fantasy violence, injury, and blood. nothing too graphic but read ahead with caution.

fantasy au, cleric!reader and fighter!umemiya, established relationship. probably ooc but i couldn't get the idea out of my head.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

The fight had erupted out of nowhere. One moment, your party was walking down a wooded path, the next, you were beset on all sides by a group of bandits.

When the bandits had first struck, Umemiya had unceremoniously shoved you behind a tree, with an order to stay safe and a serious look in his blue eyes before he had pulled his helmet on and charged into the fray.

Steel clashed, the ringing of swords on swords filling the once quiet clearing. You watched from your position, hidden just beyond the treeline, as your party engaged the bandits. You're outnumbered at least two to one, but your friends are holding their own; you see Sakura flying through the enemy, a whirlwind of kicks and punches. Hiragi stands tall, his shield a bulwark that the enemies break against like waves.

At the front, his armor shining silver in the light, you see Umemiya, sword held high as he rallies your party to him. You glance behind him to see a shadow lurking, knife held poised to stab into the gaps of Umemiya's armor.

You curse, leaping out of your cover with a spell sparking to life in your hand. You should have been watching his back; you know Umemiya is too trusting, he always leaves his flank open, trusting that one of his friends will cover it for him.

Most of the time, he's right, but in this circumstance the rest of your party is battling their own opponents and Umemiya is about to pay for it.

You charge out of the treeline and hurl a crackling ball of radiant flames at the assassin behind Umemiya. The spell is a bit weak and a little off target; offensive magic isn't your forte but it does its job. The assassin lets out a howl of pain and reels back, giving Umemiya time to whirl around and cut down the attacker with a flash of his sword.

Several of the bandits break off from the group and run towards you- you've made yourself a target. Bracing for the incoming attack, you go through the motions of a spell, fire flickering at your fingertips as you summon a wave of flames between you and the enemy.

One of them lashes out through the fire with his sword, the tip of it catching the sleeve of your robes and cutting into the flesh of your arm beneath. You can't hold back the yell of pain, and retaliate with another ball of radiant fire. Your attacker stumbles back, and you see Hiragi slam them to the ground with his shield.

Hiragi looks at you, his eyes following the blood dripping from your fingertips and the way your arm hangs limply at your side. You wave him off, the glow of healing magic already forming around your uninjured hand. He nods and heads back into the fray; you run your healing magic along your wound, breathing a sigh of relief as the comforting warmth knits your torn skin back together.

The fighting slowly comes to a stop, the enemy's plan thwarted when you stopped their assassination of your leader. The survivors are left kneeling on the ground, heads bowed and hands tied behind their backs while they await judgement.

You make your way to each of your party members, healing magic sparkling at your fingertips as you heal their injuries. You can't help the laugh that escapes you at the way Sakura blushes when you take his chin in your hand to heal a cut bisecting his cheek.

He swats your hands away as soon as the spell finishes, stomping over to the prisoners with a shout about figuring out why they attacked you.

You look around and notice one missing. Hiragi meets your eyes and points in the direction of the river. You thank him and stow your staff before heading towards the sound of running water.

You see Umemiya sitting on a rock, the dappled sunlight shining on his armor and his helmet resting on the forest loam at his side. He straightens up at your approach, wide blue eyes uncharacteristically serious.

"I told you to stay behind," he says, pulling you towards him with a gentle hand behind your knee.

"And I did," you retort, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You ran out from cover and got hurt in the process."

"It wasn't that bad. I healed it already." You roll up your sleeve, showing just a stripe of pink, newly healed skin across your arm.

Umemiya takes your hand and presses a kiss to the healed mark on the back of it. "Just because you can heal yourself doesn't mean you should be endangering yourself recklessly," he murmurs quietly, lips brushing against your skin.

"I'm no more reckless than the rest of you," you sniff, rolling down your sleeve. "You always tell us that you trust us to watch your back, so you can't get mad when I do what you ask me to do."

He laughs, placing your hand against the warm skin of his cheek. He nuzzles into your palm and places a kiss against your skin. "You have a point," he admits. "I'm lucky to have you watching my back, especially today."

"You are lucky to have me," you smile, cupping his face with your other hand and leaning down to kiss the furrow in his brow. He wraps his arms around the tops of your thighs and buries his face in your stomach. "You know I'd do anything for you, Hajime."

"I do, that's what worries me," he groans, voice muffled in your robes. "I don't want you to get hurt because of me."

"Well, I don't want to see you get hurt either, so you understand how I feel," you say, stroking his hair back from his brow. "But we both have jobs to do that come with a certain amount of risk. I trust that you'll protect me, and you'll have to trust that I'll look out for you. If I can keep you from getting hurt I will, but I'll also do what I can to make sure that I stay in one piece so that I can patch you up when you do get hurt."

"So wise," he laughs, pulling his face out of your robes. "I can't argue with that." He stands up, looking down at you with a fond smile. "Let's get back to camp. I'll make us a good meal, I'm sure everyone's hungry after that fight."

You stop him with a palm against his chest. He looks down at you questioningly, and you lean up to capture his lips in a kiss. He immediately pulls you close, careful not to get his gauntlets caught in your hair.

"I wanted to get at least one kiss before tonight," you say when you pull away. "I'm pretty sure Sakura would combust if he saw us do that in camp."

#hajime umemiya x reader #hajime umemiya x you #umemiya x reader #wind breaker x reader #umemiya fluff #umemiya hajime #wind breaker #ves.writes

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in-search-of-a-fallen-star · 2 years ago

Text

the choice of hercules

Pairing: Mainly Gojo/Reader, hints of Geto/Reader

WC: 6,361 (I have no explanation for myself)

Content Warnings: This does contain NSFT smut. There are no pronouns for the reader, but they are described to have breasts and a vagina during the smut. The reader is also hinted at losing their virginity during the smut. There are also themes of yandere behavior from both Geto and Gojo, but it gets pretty overt towards the end.

This is a part 2 of my piece The Fall of Icarus, that I wrote for @strawberrystepmom 's It Takes a Galaxy collab. You can find part 1 here. I do recommend reading it, as there will be lore and references in this that won't make sense if you haven't read part 1.

Speaking of lore, I really do play fast and loose with the canon for both Star Wars and JJK in this one, so I would not recommend reading this if you're looking for accuracy from either series.

Once again, thank you to the marvellous Miss Kendall for hosting such a fun collab, and encouraging me to take this from an outline to an actual finished piece. It really is an honor to participate in a collab with and hosted by such amazing and talented authors.

Minors and ageless blogs, DNI. If you don’t have an age in your bio or pinned I will block you.

In the darkest hours of the night, during the increasingly frequent evenings when sleep eludes you, you find yourself silently wishing that you had the strength to walk away. You can picture it; the weight of your saber leaving your hand as you surrender it to the masters, and the weight that would leave your shoulders as you walk away from the Temple for the last time.

Those thoughts fade like frost in the warmth of the morning light. You take your time getting dressed, making sure that every layer sits perfectly. When you look in the mirror, you wonder who you would be without the armor of your robes and the title of Knight. You are willing to concede that the Order is not perfect, but for all its flaws it is your home and the only family you have ever known. The thought is a comfort in the wake of the despair of the night, and you know in your heart that no matter how deep the despair gets you will not walk away.

Perhaps this is the attachment you have been warned about since you were a small child- the feeling of craving a home and the security that comes with it that you would do anything to keep it. You wonder if it makes you loyal, or just greedy. You reflexively reach for your comlink, preoccupied with the question you want to ask Geto.

Then you remember Geto left, and you let your arm fall limply to your side.

You reach up to the phantom space where your pendant used to rest, the memories of your last meeting with Geto playing in your mind. Part of you wonders what would have happened, if you had taken the offer he had laid so temptingly before you.

The details of Geto’s fall have become a closely guarded secret. Those files have a high enough security clearance that even you can’t access them. Gojo, who will normally tell you anything, just smiled when you asked and ruffled your hair, telling you not to worry your pretty little head. All you were told is that Geto was responsible for the death of an entire village, and you only have the confusing images left by your Force premonition to go on.

You know something happened. Your premonition confirmed that much, and was further strengthened by the state Geto had been in when you saw him in that alley. The dark side leaves a mark on those who come into contact with it. You are still haunted by the sight of his eyes, glowing gold in the dark shadows of the alley.

The only information that you’ve been able to glean in the months since is that Geto has been sighted with two young girls, and you’ve heard rumors that he’s started some sort of cult somewhere in the Outer Rim. For a moment you entertain the thought of getting in your ship and setting out to find him, but you are pulled from your thoughts by the sound of a knock at the door. You glance at the clock on your desk and realize that you’ve missed breakfast; someone must have come looking for you. You know it’s not Gojo, he would have just let himself in. You take a moment to recenter yourself, soothing your roiling emotions with the Force, then go to open the door.

A young man with dark hair and white robes stands on the other side. You recognize him as Gojo’s new Padawan, and a new recruit to the Jedi. He had been discovered only a few months ago, and the overwhelming strength of his power made him dangerous to leave alone. Gojo had volunteered to take the young man under his wing and train him, much to the chagrin of the Council, but that was to be expected from Gojo.

Yuuta pulls his hand back from where he had been about to knock again. “Ah, good morning! You weren’t at breakfast, so Master Gojo wanted to check on you- he would have come himself, but he was summoned to the Council, so he sent me instead,” he says, smiling and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Good morning to you too, Yuuta. I’m sorry you had to come all this way. I merely lost track of time thinking about a case,” You pat him gently on the shoulder and move to step past him into the hallway. “Since I lost track of time, I’m afraid I’m late for my duties. Excuse me.”

Before you can move past him, he grabs your wrist to stop you. “Master Gojo told me you’d say that. He also gave me specific instructions to make sure you went to the kitchens first and got something to eat before you go to the archives.”

“Ah, that does sound like him,” you smile ruefully and gently pull your wrist out of Yuuta’s hold. “Well Yuuta, would you like to accompany me? I’ve been meaning to talk to you about our upcoming trip, and this is as good a time as any. I’m sure you must have questions.”

He brightens and falls into step alongside you. “I do have some that I’ve been hoping to ask before we leave. What is Dantooine like?”

“The planet is mostly grasslands, so the view from the enclave there is like looking out onto a moving sea of green. The window from my old room there faced the sunrise, so I used to wake up before dawn to watch the sun come up and turn the clouds pink and the grasses gold,” you smile wistfully. “You can also see the brith playing in the clouds, and if you’re quiet you can get close and watch the piket graze the tops of the trees.”

“Oh, one thing you should be wary of when we go,” you turn to Yuuta. “The kath hounds on Dantooine are dangerous, and easily provoked. If you run into one, do not underestimate it.”

He looks at you, puzzled. “I thought I was just going to study at the archives there?”

“You grew up in the underbelly here on Coruscant, didn’t you?” When he nods, looking confused, you explain. “It’s important for Jedi to explore many different types of environments, and Dantooine is about as different from Coruscant as you can get. The planet is peaceful, without the pollution and constant noise, but it can be just as dangerous. Part of your training while we’re there will be learning how to navigate an environment that is unfamiliar.”

When his pale face gets even paler, you reach out and reassure him, both physically and through the Force. “Don’t worry, Yuuta. You won’t be alone while you’re doing this. I’ll be there to help, every step of the way. Think of it as a part research trip, part camping trip.”

Some color returns to his cheeks, and you see him unclench one hand from the sleeve of his robe. “Ah, that’s good. Master Gojo likes to ‘let me figure things out for myself’, and I usually learn something, but I also usually end up seeing Master Shoko at the end of it.”

Yuuta’s comlink buzzes. “Oh stars, I’m late for sparring. Maki’s gonna kill me,” he mutters to himself, reading the message.

You shoo him off with a gesture. “Go, go. I’m sorry for keeping you. I’ll see you in a few days when we leave.”

“Thank you!” he gives you a quick bow and turns to run down the hallway.

“Good luck!” you call out after him. You watch him run for a moment, before turning back to your current mission of getting something to eat. The halls are quiet, with the comforting sounds of running water, murmuring voices from the classrooms, and the distant sounds of saber blades crashing providing a backdrop to your walk.

You are startled out of your reverie by a voice.

“It’s good to see you smiling again,” Gojo looms from the shadow of a nearby pillar, looking uncharacteristically serious.

“I smile all the time,” you cross your arms defensively, watching Gojo warily as he approaches. Slowly, he walks you backwards, until you hit the smooth stone of a pillar. He plants a big hand on the pillar next to your head, while the other comes up to cup your chin, one thumb tracing the curve of your bottom lip.

“Those aren’t real,” he says dismissively. “I missed seeing your smile actually reach your eyes. What were you and my darling apprentice talking about that made you so happy, hmm?”

You know he probably heard you, but you decide to indulge him in whatever game he seems interested in playing today. “He asked me about Dantooine. You know, the trip you asked me to take him on in a few days?”

“Do you miss it that much? That just talking about it makes you glow like this?” he swipes a thumb over the ridge of your cheekbone. His eyes are covered by his blindfold right now, but you can still feel them on you, following every movement of your face.

“It was my first home, Gojo. Of course I miss it,” you uncross your arms and make a conscious effort to relax. “My duties have kept me away for a long time, so it’ll be nice to go back, even if it is only for a few days.”

Reaching out with the Force, you try to get a read on Gojo. He’s closed off at first, but when you make contact he opens himself up to you, just a bit. You get a taste of an anxiety so potent it makes your stomach churn, and the pieces click into place for you.

The last time one of his friends had left on a mission, they didn’t come back.

Sighing, you reach up and thread your fingers through his silky white hair. You scratch gently at the nape of his neck, in the way that makes him practically purr when he seeks you out and throws himself down into your lap, demanding your attention after he gets back from a long mission.

“I know where my duty is, Gojo. It’s just a few days, and then I’ll be back.”

He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours. “Promise me. Promise me you’ll come back.”

“I promise. I’ll make sure your Padawan comes back in one piece too,” you try a joke, attempting to lift the mood a little, but Gojo ignores it. He folds himself down even further, wrapping his arms around you and tucking his head into the crook of your neck. You feel more than hear him whisper something as he tightens his arms around you.

You let him stay like that, his tall body folded down to wrap around your smaller one. It’s only when you hear the approaching voices of other Jedi that you begin to untangle yourself from him, pulling your fingers from his hair and pushing at him gently to try and persuade him to let go. He tightens his grip in response, and you swat at the back of his head.

“Gojo! What if they see us?” you hiss at him, pushing more insistently.

“Would that be so bad?” he pulls back a little, just far enough to see your face.

“This is crossing a line and you know it. It would risk both of our positions if someone saw.”

He finally pulls away from you, and the small window he’d opened for you in the Force shuts abruptly. He steps back, putting an appropriate amount of distance between you two, and reaches out to ruffle your hair. “Take care of yourself, starlight,” he says as he walks away, giving you a cheerful two fingered salute as the other Jedi come into view.

You watch him leave for a moment, waiting until he turns a corner before you continue on your way to the kitchens. Your mind is racing, replaying the interaction in your head. It’s not out of the ordinary for Gojo to do this, but it is strange for him to be so clingy out where you could get caught. Normally he seeks you out either early in the morning or late at night, finding you in either your quarters or your small office in the archives, where he occupies as much of your personal space as he can and demands your attention for however much time he can hide away from his responsibilities.

Your mind keeps circling back to the words he whispered into the crook of your neck: “If you don’t come back, I swear I’ll find you.” He’d left the door to his emotions open, but you didn’t need to look to know he’d been talking about you, and also Geto. His regret for not being able to save his best friend in time haunted his steps as closely as his own shadow.

You could feel your own regret begin to creep closer, and you shook yourself physically and mentally. You’d spent enough time thinking about loss and regret today. You grabbed a quick meal from the kitchens and made it to your office, throwing yourself into your work.

That seemed to set the pattern for the week. Yuuta started seeking you out on his own, asking questions about the history of the Jedi enclave on Dantooine, and about the history of the Order in general. It seemed Gojo had taken a very hands on and practical approach to Yuuta’s training; his lightsaber forms and piloting skills had progressed far beyond anyone’s expectations. However, his education was a bit lacking, and you were happy to fill in the gaps and provide the young Padawan with anything he desired, whether it was information, guidance on Force techniques, or simply a quiet place to meditate.

Gojo also began seeking you out more often, pulling you into dark corners just to hold you for a moment in between his meetings and assignments. He laughed off your questions, simply saying that he just wanted to spend time with you before you left. Even though he was demanding your attention in riskier and riskier places, and you knew he was hiding something, you found yourself unable to say no to him. Physical contact was rare amongst the Jedi, touch limited to a friendly hand on the shoulder or a brief touch in passing.

There were moments that you found yourself craving the warmth of Gojo’s touch, the way the world narrowed to just the space of his arms. The more he touched you, the hungrier you felt- you knew you were walking a dangerous line but couldn’t find it in yourself to stop. You reasoned with yourself that it would just be for this week, you’d both get it out of your systems, and then things would go back to normal after you returned from Dantooine. So you let yourself indulge, ignoring the specter of Geto’s words from the last time you’d seen him.

The night before you are set to leave for Dantooine, you wake up in a cold sweat. Your thoughts are a garbled mess, caught halfway between the waking world and dreaming. All you know is that Gojo needs you, right now. You’re still close enough to sleep that the world feels fuzzy at the edges, but you manage to throw a robe over your sleep tunic and make your way out into the dark and empty halls of the Temple. There’s no moon tonight, meaning that the halls are lit only by dim sconces, leaving you to fumble your way in the dark. You can feel Gojo’s presence drawing you in, like the crushing gravity of a black hole.

You make it to his door, tapping out a code that you know so well it’s muscle memory. The door slides open and you practically fall into the room, looking frantically for Gojo. He’s in his bed, locked in the throes of a nightmare that has him convulsing in the thin sheets of his bed. The dim lights of the hallway shine on his sweat-slicked skin, making it gleam like alabaster before the door slides shut again, leaving you in blackness. You let the pull draw you to him, catching yourself on the edge of his bed. You almost fall forward, planting a knee on the edge of the mattress and resting your hands on Gojo’s chest.

“Gojo, wake up,” you call, voice hushed but urgent. When he doesn’t respond, you push harder, shaking him as gently as you can. You open the Force connection between you two, and are rapidly overwhelmed by a deluge of images and sounds. You push through it, using your ability to try and calm the storm that is raging in Gojo’s mind. You catch some flashes of his dream before he wakes, coming to consciousness with a jerk. His eyes snap open, glowing electric blue in the darkness as he activates his powers in a self defense reflex. Your eyes meet for a second, his wide and wild as he begins to register where he is.

He reaches a shaking hand up to you, trembling fingertips tracing the curve of your jaw, the line of your neck, and the delicate wings of your collarbone left exposed by the skewed collar of your sleep tunic. “You’re here,” he breathes, the panicked fight bleeding out of his body. You don’t respond, letting him calm down and also trying to sort through the fragmented flashes of his nightmare you’d seen before he’d woken up.

Your attention is immediately drawn back to him when he sits up, a flash of movement and a blur of motion before you feel your back hit his mattress. His fingers are entwined with yours, pinning one of your hands to the pillow above your head. You can feel his other hand slip beneath your robe, the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of your sleep tunic as he runs his hand up and down your side. He leans down, and his hot breath on the sensitive skin of your neck sends a shiver down your spine.

Gojo nuzzles your neck, tracing the line of it with the tip of his nose. He’s babbling something, but his voice is low enough that even in the quiet of his room you can’t quite hear what he’s saying. He seems to realize this when you stay silent, and he drags his head from the crook of your neck. “Please, let me have you, starlight. I need to feel that you’re alive,” he begs, eyes blown so wide that the luminous blue of his eyes is pushed to a thin ring around the cavernous black of his pupils. A thought echoes in the back of your mind; this is the first time you’ve seen Gojo without his blindfold since Geto fell.

Whatever had pulled you to his room has worn off, leaving you slightly dazed but aware of where you are. You cannot blame it for the feelings welling up under your skin, threatening to burst with each brush of Gojo’s skin. You know that the Code dictates that you should push him off, go back to your room, and meditate to drive this attachment away. You move to do so, and your leg brushes up against him. He makes a punched out sound, caught somewhere in between a filthy moan and a sob. You freeze, hands on his chest.

“Don’t go,” he pleads, voice thick with an emotion you are afraid to put a name to. “Please, starlight, I need you. Let me take care of you.” He drops his head to yours and reaches for one of your hands, pressing it further against his chest. You can feel his heart pounding, racing like the engines of the speeders he loves to fly so much. “Please, stay.”

There are two thoughts at war in your mind. One is the Code, a creed you have had memorized for so long recalling the words is as easy as breathing. You know what the Code dictates, what it demands from you. From both of you. You also know what it has taken from you.

The other is the fact that you are getting a second chance at something you’ve wanted more than anything- a chance to be close to someone you love. That thought stuns you for a second. Geto was your first love, a secret that you buried deep after he fell and swore to never dig up. You’ve been scared to face your feelings for Gojo because of that. You know what your feelings are, but have hidden from them out of fear, fear that they will lead you astray from your duty, from the oath that you swore when you became a Knight.

In the face of Gojo’s desperation, you feel ready to voice those feelings. The closed door and the darkness around you makes you feel bold, finally ready to face a truth you’ve been hiding from for months now. Mind made up, you lean up, closing the scant few inches between the two of you to press your mouth to Gojo’s. He makes a broken sound, his hand moving to cradle your head as he presses closer to devour your mouth. He wastes no time pulling you as close as possible, tongue plundering your mouth.

He sinks his teeth into your bottom lip before pulling away, resting his forehead against yours. He nestles himself between your thighs, hips making small, jerky movements against you, as if he can’t control himself. “It’s been unbearable, starlight,” he moans. “To have you so close and not be able to do anything. If only you knew how often my last thoughts at night are of you. I see signs of you everywhere, and each one makes me crave you in a way I can’t endure.”

Gojo trails kisses from your lips down to your jaw, nipping at the corner of it and tugging at your earlobe with his teeth. His mouth keeps travelling down, biting and sucking at your neck. A soft moan stutters its way out of your mouth, and he shivers against you. “That’s it, starlight. Let me know how good I make you feel,” you feel his breath, cool now against the sheen of saliva on your skin. You feel him bite down, hard enough to leave a mark, just below where the collar of your robes sits against your throat. “There we go,” he murmurs, kissing the mark. “A secret for just us.”

He retreats just far enough to give you space to shed your robe and sleep tunic. He touches every inch of exposed skin, hands and mouth on you like he cannot bear to be separated from you for more than a moment. He moans low in his throat when your breasts are revealed, pushing you back down into the mattress to bury his face in the soft mounds. You moan again as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, the sound high and sweet in the quiet of his room. The vibrations against your nipple of his answering moan make you squirm against him, and you thread a hand in his hair, unsure if you’re trying to keep him close or push him away.

He releases your nipple with a pop, blowing teasingly against the spit slicked peak and laughing low in his throat when you squirm against him again. “You taste so good, starlight. I can’t think about anything else,” he moans against you. He slides a hand down, teasingly dragging his fingers down your skin to your folds, where he swipes a finger through the wetness that he finds at the apex of your thighs. He teases your clit with a finger, tracing nonsensical shapes over it until you’re panting breathlessly underneath him. He slides a finger in, and you cling to him at the sensation of him inside you. He adds a second finger, slowly working you open, moving his fingers and rubbing his thumb over your clit. You can feel something twisting in your gut, a molten heat that spreads from your center to the rest of your body.

“I wish I could do this for longer, but I need to be inside you, starlight,” he murmurs. He brings his hand, still slicked with your wetness, to his shaft. He strokes himself a few times, before lining himself up at your entrance. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes, Gojo, please,” you beg, dragging your nails gently down his back.

“Say my name,” he growls, pushing into you slowly. There’s a prick of pain as he enters you, but he reaches down to rub your clit and lets you slowly adjust. Once you open your eyes again, he grabs your hand and twines your fingers together, pressing into the pillow next to your head as he starts to move.

“S-satoru!” you cry out, arching your back at the sensation of him inside you.

“That’s it,” he encourages you, using his free hand to hike one of your legs further up on his back, opening you up to him. You can’t control the noises you’re making anymore, clinging onto him as he pounds into you. Gojo doesn’t seem to be faring much better, squeezing your hand and scattering mindless kisses wherever he can reach as he sinks into you. “Come on, cum for me starlight.” He bites at your neck, and with a twist of his thumb on your clit you find yourself coming apart at the seams. Your back arches and you clamp down on him, pulling a deep stuttering groan from his chest. You feel him twitch inside you, and as your body relaxes you feel a rush of warmth inside you. He finishes with a long moan, dropping his head to rest in the crook of your neck.

Gojo loops his arms around you and rolls over, letting you rest on his chest. You feel him press a kiss to your hair as he rubs a soothing hand up and down your spine. You move to get up, but his arms stay fixed around you. “Don’t leave,” he begs softly, his wide blue eyes staring up at you from his mussed sheets. You’ve gone this far, you decide. What’s a little further?

“Okay,” you whisper, nestling back down against his chest. He hums happily and pulls you closer, and between the gentle caress of his fingers, the warmth of his skin, and the beat of his heart you find yourself drifting back to sleep. This time, your rest is peaceful, unmarred by dreams of any kind.

You wake early, before the sun has risen. Gojo is still asleep, one arm loosely around your waist. You take in your state of undress, and spend a moment thinking about what to do next. There’s no future for the two of you together. You know this. For that to happen, you would both have to abandon your duty, and you know Gojo is as unlikely to waver in his duty as you are to walk away from yours. However, you can’t bring yourself to regret anything. Slowly, as to not disturb him, you climb out of bed and grab your clothes. You dress quietly and turn back to Gojo before you leave, coming over to stand next to his bed.

“Goodbye, Satoru,” you whisper, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. Then, you walk away, shutting the door quietly behind you. You are quiet as you return to your room. There’s not much to do to prep for your trip, but you find what you can do to keep your hands and mind busy in the short time between now and your departure.

Yuuta greets you in the hangar, but seems to sense that you’re not up for conversation this morning. You finish your flight prep together, and take off a little before you’re scheduled to leave. As you leave the hangar, you see a flash of white hair on the ground. You know he’s down there, but you choose not to look, focusing on the sky above you and the stars beyond.

One hyperspace jump later, you and your temporary apprentice land in the Dantooine enclave. Once you step out of the ship, you are greeted by the familiar sights and smells of the first home you can remember. The enclave smells like sunlight on warm grass, and old parchment and ink. It feels like coming home.

You are greeted by Knights you remember from your days in the creche, and introduce Yuuta to them. They are instantly taken by the young boy’s earnest charm, and you leave them to exchange pleasantries for a moment as you walk, taking in the familiar sights. Your comlink buzzes, but you choose to ignore it.

The both of you settle into your new environment quickly. Yuuta blooms like a flower under the doting care of the older archivists who are overseeing your work for the week, and spends every moment he can outside. After the first day, you introduce him to the wonders of the sunburn ointment the archivists of the enclave make for people who spend as much time out in the sun as he has. Your comlink has been buzzing regularly since you arrived, and you’ve taken to leaving it in your quarters, trusting the enclave masters to let you know if any important messages come through for you while you’re in the archives.

Four days into your trip, the enclave gets a ping from a distress beacon deep into the plains. You volunteer to investigate, bringing Yuuta along to help him with his field experience goals. In the interest of urgency, the two of you share one of the enclave’s speeder bikes, and you track the beacon to a grove of blba trees far to the north of the enclave. You leave the speeder bike a safe distance away, and reach out with the Force to try and assess the situation. Strangely, nothing appears when you cast your net, which sends a cold feeling trickling down your spine. Making a sign to Yuuta to be quiet, you approach the grove.

The beacon is embedded in the ground, flashing and beeping in intervals. There are no bodies around it, and after further investigation, not even signs of conflict. Your feeling of dread intensifies; either this is a simple prank or a trap, and your instincts are telling you it’s the latter.

“Hello, little light,” comes a smooth, deep voice from behind you. You straighten, and turn. Geto stands behind you, dappled in light and shadow underneath one of the trees. His hair is longer, and he’s clad in unfamiliar robes. A strange saber hilt is strapped to his waist, though he makes no move to draw it. “I have been waiting for this reunion for a long time. But before we can be properly reacquainted, I must speak to your young friend here.”

Geto turns to Yuuta. “Greetings, young Padawan,” he calls from across the glade. “I am glad to finally meet you. The rumors I have heard about you are simply fascinating.”

You step in between them. “Stay back, Geto,” you warn, hand on your saber.

“I came simply to talk,” he raises his hands in a placating gesture. He looks over your shoulder, where Yuuta is watching warily. “My name is Suguru Geto, young one. My goal is to liberate those blessed by the Force in our wide universe. Those blessed with gifts like ours should have people at our beck and call, instead of being at someone else’s disposal, don’t you agree?”

“We have our gifts to defend the weak,” Yuuta recites, taking a step back.

Geto clicks his tongue. “So new to the Order, and already reciting their scripture. Think, young Padawan, how many more people would we be able to help, to save, if things were different? Don’t you wish Rika could have been saved?”

You hear Yuuta’s gasp, though he tries to hide it. “That’s enough, Geto.” You draw your saber, finger on the ignition. “Don’t make me fight you.”

Geto ignores you, continuing to look at Yuuta. “Will you join me, Yuuta Okkotsu? All I want is to make the galaxy a safer place, one where young ones like you don’t have to become soldiers, and one where girls like Rika simply get to live.”

You hear Yuuta waver. You refuse to sway his emotions- you know this is a choice he must make on his own. He takes a step forward and your heart drops for a moment, before you hear the sound of his saber leaving his belt.

“I’ve heard stories about you too, Suguru Geto,” Yuuta says, leveling his saber at the man. “I’m not sure that your vision for the galaxy is not one that Rika would have wanted to live in.”

“What a shame,” Geto shakes his head. “If you will not join me, then take a message back to your Masters. Either they bring you to Malachor within a month’s time, or I will unleash what I have learned in my time in the shadows on both this enclave and the Temple on Coruscant.”

Your blade ignites with a hiss. “That won’t happen,” you level your blade, the tip pointing steadily at Geto. “Yuuta,” you call the Padawan’s name without breaking eye contact with your former friend. “Take the bike back to the enclave. Tell the Knights there what happened.”

“I can’t leave-” Yuuta begins, but you cut him off.

“Go, Yuuta. It is my duty to protect you and the rest of the enclave. Tell them what happened, and return with reinforcements.” You feel the boy’s emotional conflict, and you use your abilities to bolster his resolve. He hesitates for another moment, before nodding and clipping his saber to his belt.

“I’ll be back for you!” he calls over his shoulder as he darts to the bike. The engine roars to life and you hear him take off over the plains.

The only sounds in the glade now is the wind rustling through the tall grass, and the hum of your lightsaber, still ignited and leveled at one whom you had once sworn never to raise a blade against.

“What a loyal dog,” Geto shakes his head. “This is not quite what I had in mind for our reunion. Though if you insist we come to blows, I will indulge you.” He unclips his strange looking saber from his belt, and the scarlet blade roars to life with a crackle. You set your feet in your stance, lifting your blade to meet his as Geto comes flying at you. There is a sizzle and crackle as the blades cross, sparks flying in your vision as you stop his swing.

You push back, using a blast of Force energy to break his guard and swing at his weak spot. He manages to leap out of the way of your blow, his robes fluttering on the wind. Your blades crash together, his scarlet saber crackling with a strange energy. It shoots off sparks that burn your hands and face, and you find yourself on your back foot, trying to guard against his powerful swings.

In an attempt to regain some ground, you take a risk and drop under one of his swings, the sparking blade flying just past the top of your head. As you stand up, you position your saber in the path of his momentum, hoping that you’ll at least be able to wound him.

Geto chuckles. In a flash, he’s caught your saber hand, twisting your sword arm off to the side as his momentum carries you both to the ground. “I taught you that move, little light. I appreciate your resolve, but I will not be felled by such a trick.”

You watch his gaze drift lower, to where the collar of your robes has loosened. “Oh, what’s this, little light?” his free hand nudges aside your collar, revealing the shadow of the mark Gojo had left on you several nights before. “Who could have left this on you, little light?”

Geto powers off the saber he has held to your throat so he has clear access to your neck. He leans down, delicately sniffing along the skin that still bears the marks from your night of passion. “It was our dear friend Satoru, wasn’t it? I can practically smell him on you,” Geto purrs. “I did tell you to indulge, I suppose. I wish you would have waited, I wanted to indulge in you first.”

“What’s your game, Geto?” you ask. You wiggle your fingers, trying to subtly get a grasp on the hilt of your saber.

He clucks his tongue at you. “Now now, none of that,” he grabs your saber and clips it to his own belt, out of your reach. “I told you my plan- I want the boy. I’ve given those fools at the Temple everything they need: a reason to doubt a boy they already fear, and now I have you. You think Satoru wouldn’t give up that little apprentice of his to get you back?” Geto strokes a hand down your neck, pressing his thumb into the healing bruise just under your collar.

“I suppose the question now is, would I give you back for one apprentice?” he muses, looking down at you. He slides his hand up, grasping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “There’s something about you that just makes me want to keep you, my plan be damned. I doubt you’d mind, you’d just be trading one pretty tower for another. Either way, you’re very important to what happens next, and I can’t have you trying anything that would only end up hurting you. So, sleep, little light. You’ll want the energy for what comes next.”

Geto’s smile is the last thing you see before your eyes close, the power of the Force command dragging you under. You feel him lifting you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin, and then the darkness takes you.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #tw virginity loss #tw yandere #gojo smut #jjk smut #if you got this far mwah thank you ily #thank you for indulging my delulu #ves.writes

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in-search-of-a-fallen-star · 1 year ago

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i've got my love to keep me warm

Pairing: Diluc Ragnvindr/Reader

WC: 468

Content warnings: none, just fluff. No pronouns used for the reader; i I tried to keep them gender neutral. Diluc uses German endearments for the reader (ex. liebling, mein schatz).

Title taken from the song I was listening to while writing- Love to Keep Me Warm by laufey and dodie.

Just a quick drabble to make myself feel better about it being snowy and cold as balls. Hope you enjoy <3

As usual, minors and ageless blogs dni.

You’re roused from your sleep by quiet footfalls and the clank of metal. You rub the sleep from your eyes and look out from your nest of blankets to see Diluc hang his claymore on its hook by the wall. He turns to the wardrobe and starts shedding his layers, starting with his signature black coat.

“Diluc? What time is it?” you ask sleepily, sitting up in bed.

“Too early for you to be awake,” he replies, walking over to the bed to cup your chin in his big hand and press a warm kiss to your forehead. You shiver at the chill that still clings to his skin, turning your head to kiss his palm. You see him smile in the dark. “Go back to sleep, liebling. I’ll join you shortly.”

You nod, before you realize he probably can’t see the movement in the dark. “Okay,” you sigh, settling back down into your pile of blankets. “Hurry up though, I missed you.”

The water starts in the bathroom, and you fall into a light doze to the sound of running water. You’re woken from your slumber by the feeling of your blankets shifting. Diluc picks up an armful of blankets and moves them to the low sofa at the foot of your bed, and you whine in protest.

“If I don’t move them, there’s no room for me in the bed,” he says in response to your protests. Once the bed is somewhat clear, he slides underneath the covers. You cross your arms over your chest and pout, the expression deepening as he laughs quietly at you. “Come here, liebling. Let me keep you warm.”

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close, and you bury your face in his chest. You sigh happily as you sink into his plush pecs and his body heat surrounds you. You feel him laugh softly as he runs one big hand up and down your spine.

“Am I forgiven for moving your blankets?” Diluc asks, surrendering to the urge to lean down and press a kiss to the top of your sleep rumpled hair.

“Yes, as long as you don’t move for the next eight hours,” you retort, voice muffled against his chest.

He huffs another laugh. “I won’t, liebling,” he murmurs, continuing to trace the line of your spine through your soft sleep shirt. Gradually, he feels your breathing even out under his ministrations, and your quiet snore brings a soft smile to his face. “Sweet dreams, mein schatz,” he whispers, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

With your comforting weight in his arms, he relaxes against the pillows and lets sleep claim him. The two of you slumber peacefully, blissfully unaware as the sun slowly rises, casting golden light over the creeping frost.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x you #ves.writes

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in-search-of-a-fallen-star · 11 months ago

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a challenge issued, a challenge answered; wyll ravengard/reader

content warnings: very limited descriptions of violence (sparring match). otherwise completely SFW.

"What do you say, Blade of Frontiers? Up for a little sparring match?" you tease. You can't help the way your smile widens when you notice how his eyes flicker to the flex of your arms as you lean on the fence separating him from you.

Wyll flicks his eyes back to your face. "Let it never be said that the Blade backs down from a challenge," he answers, a matching grin pulling at the corners of his lips. He hops the fence in one clean vault, and you get a chance to appreciate the flex of his arms as he makes the jump.

You turn away before he sees, moving towards where your greatsword lies propped up in the arms of the very chipped training dummy. As you reach to pick it up, Wyll interjects.

"I have one request," he asks, shedding his shirt and leaving it to hang on a nearby fencepost. "No live steel in this match."

"I thought the Blade never backed down from a challenge," you cock an eyebrow in his direction, but withdraw your hand from your sword.

"I would abandon any challenge before I would risk hurting you," he responds, his voice dropping low as he meets your eyes.

You can feel your heart flutter in your chest in response to his words, and you cover it up with a cocky grin. "Bold of you to assume you'd be able to hurt me, Ravengard," you say, dropping into a fighting stance.

"Every warrior has a weakness," he answers, matching your stance. "Even ones as skilled as you are."

"Are you saying you know my weaknesses?" you ask, circling him, arms raised.

"I don't presume to know all of them," he says. He steps towards you, light and quick on his feet, delivering a swift blow to your side. "But I do know that you leave your guard down on your left, for one."

You swing back, but your strike ricochets off of the arm he brings up to guard himself. "I'm gonna wipe that smug grin off your face, Ravengard," you promise, a grin playing on your lips as you dance on your feet, preparing for another strike.

"You'll have to hit me first," he teases, smirking at you with his arms held loose at his sides. He has the audacity to beckon you towards him, and you make him pay for it as you swoop in, feinting a blow aimed at his side.

You pull the punch at the last second, shifting your weight to step in close and sweep his legs out from under him. The Blade of Frontiers hits the dirt with a grunt, and you smile teasingly down at him.

"Guess I found your weakness, Ravengard," you mock. You get a brief second to celebrate your victory, before your world upends and you find yourself staring up at the sky as Wyll hooks a leg behind yours and pulls you down onto the dirt beside him.

You move to push yourself up immediately, only for Wyll to swing a leg over your hips and grab your hands with his, pinning them to the dirt next to your head. "That's two more of yours," he says, smirking down at you, haloed by the afternoon sun. "You overextend yourself when you take a winning strike, and you leave yourself exposed in the moment of victory."

You wrap your legs around his waist, leveraging your body weight to flip your positions, ending with you sitting above him. Before he can struggle, you grab his wrists, pinning him in the same position you were a moment before.

"At least you're right about the moment of victory," you crow down at him. "You know, you're giving away your advantage by pointing out my weaknesses. You could've done some real damage if you had just taken those openings instead."

He frowns. "I told you, I would never hurt you," he says, staring up at you. For a moment, you're hypnotized by the way the golden afternoon sun dances in the rich brown of his eye.

"I don't understand why," you say, frustration seeping into your tone. You push yourself up, releasing his hands to rest on your haunches. "I can take a little punishment." You look away, one hand picking at the stitching of your pants. "Do you truly think me so unskilled?"

Wyll pushes himself up, resting on his elbows between your legs. "Never," he says. "You are one of the most talented warriors I have ever met. Watching you on the fight is," he pauses for a moment, searching for the right word. "Captivating. Seeing you on the battlefield is breathtaking."

You can't help the tinge of bitterness that seeps into your tone. "You've noticed a lot of weaknesses in something you say is so breathtaking."

"I hate seeing you hurt," he answers. "You are a capable fighter, and I know injury is unavoidable for people like us. That does not stop me from wanting to keep you safe, when I can."

He leans into your field of vision, trying to catch your eye. "I saw you take that arrow for Shadowheart, the other day. Is it so wrong for me to want to do the same for you?"

"That's my job," you protest, crossing your arms. "I'm supposed to take hits for the people in my party."

"We have both sworn oaths to protect people," he says. "But that does not mean we don't need protecting, from time to time. I would be your shield, if you let me."

You can't help the smile that cracks your face. "Be careful, the Shield of Frontiers doesn't have nearly the same ring to it."

Wyll laughs, and opens his mouth to reply. Before he can get a word out, Gale's voice cuts across the camp.

"When you are both quite finished rolling around in the dirt, lunch is ready."

You snort and stand up, offering Wyll a hand. He grasps it, allowing you to pull him to his feet. You studiously avoid his gaze as it searches your face. "I'm going to go wash up before Gale complains about me getting dirt in his cooking again. I don't need to give him any more ammunition to grumble about my table manners."

Before he can respond, you saunter off in the direction of the river, whistling a little tune. The cool water on your hands distracts you from how fast your heart is racing, and you take a moment to slow your breathing. The image of his face is still at the forefront of your mind; the earnestness on his face as he asked to be your shield.

"I'm so fucked," you whisper to yourself.

#wyll ravengard #wyll ravengard x reader #wyll ravengard x tav #wyll x reader #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 x reader #finally writing for my fav fantasy boyfriend!#ves.writes

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in-search-of-a-fallen-star · 2 years ago

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i've tasted blood (and i want more)

Pairing: Yuuta Okkotsu/Reader

WC: 5,542

Content warnings: if you do not like blood, this is probably not the fic for you. Contains depictions of canon typical injury/vampire bites, as well as the symptoms and aftereffects of blood loss. Also contains some yan behavior/themes. Read at your own discretion. This fic also contains an explicit smut scene- no pronouns are used for the reader, but they are described to have a vagina.

Happy Halloween, witches! It only took me a month but I did finally finish my first Halloween fic. This one is a vampire au for JJK, featuring vampire!Yuuta. I had fun writing it, and I hope you have fun reading it as well <3

Title is from the song Toucha, Toucha, Toucha, Touch Me from Rocky Horror.

Minors and ageless blogs, DNI. If you don't have an age in your bio or pinned, I will block you.

Yuuta’s been looking tired lately. Well, more so than usual. Even though he was turned only recently, Yuuta has the bone-tired look of someone who has seen many centuries pass. The transformation had deepened his dark eyes and sharpened his cheekbones, creating more places on his already angular face for the shadows of exhaustion to cling to. You might say it in jest, but a part of you really does blame Gojo for working poor Yuuta into the ground.

However, as much as you would like to, you can’t place all the blame on Gojo. Since he’d transformed, you’d only ever seen Yuuta drink from the cold storage synthetic blood bags kept in reserve- never the donated ones, and he avoids the volunteer feeding drives like the plague. Shoko just shakes her head. She tells you that while it’s not healthy, it’s survivable, so she can’t force him to feed.

When you finally worked up the courage to ask him why he hasn’t fed, he just smiled that disarmingly charming smile of his and told you not to worry, he just wasn’t hungry. You had to drag your gaze away from the points of his fangs, gleaming ivory under the harsh lights of the clinic.

You’ve been close to vampires before; there are several in residence at the Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical School. Maki feeds to maintain her incredible strength, and Nobara says that anything other than real blood will wreck her complexion. Both of them are beautiful- Maki in the way a leaping panther is beautiful, all lean muscle and coiled power, and Nobara in the way a roaring tiger is beautiful, brash and proud.

Yuuta is different. He is still beautiful, under the dark shadows that cling to his face like soot. But he is striking in the way a hurricane or car crash is. You look at him and can’t look away, in a way that feels a bit like morbid fascination in the face of disaster. He is a force of nature on his own- you’ve seen him spar on campus, and you know he’s the only person who can keep up with Maki or Gojo. You also know some of the tragedy that dogs his steps. People still go out of their way to avoid speaking Rika’s name near Yuuta, even after the dramatic mission last year where he finally put her soul to rest.

You’ve wanted to reach out, to offer him some comfort, especially after everything with Rika. For the most part he’s let you. He’ll sink into your embrace like it’s a soft bed after far too many hours awake, and you are content to hold and be held for as long as he needs.

These moments are unfortunately few and far between. Since he was turned, you’ve noticed Yuuta retreating further and further from you. He still acts like your friend, but he no longer drapes an arm around you, tucks his chin over your shoulder when he wants to see something you’re holding, or links your pinkies together when you stand close enough that your shoulders touch. You feel the loss of the casual intimacy keenly, and you can’t stop yourself from wondering what might have caused your best friend to pull away from you.

As a human with no special powers of your own, you assumed that Yuuta was simply gravitating towards people who shared his experiences and understood what he was going through. It didn’t make it hurt any less when he would startle when you walked in the room, look at you with those soulful dark eyes, and leave. You’d even noticed that when you stood near him, he would hold his breath. You knew that the turning sharpened mortal senses, but you didn’t think that you smelled quite that repulsive.

Since then, you’ve resigned yourself to this new state of your friendship. Yuuta has been through hell, more literally than most people, and you don’t want to put undue pressure on him to do something he obviously doesn’t want. So you let him keep his distance, opening your arms for him whenever he comes to you for comfort. You stroke his hair and murmur soft words in his ear, and try to tell yourself that those moments are enough when you watch him smile and laugh with his other friends.

You are caught off guard when he stumbles into the clinic in the middle of your graveyard shift. You are startled out of your studying by the loud crash of the metal doors being thrown open, and you look up to see Yuuta, fair skin and snow white uniform stained scarlet. His eyes are wild, and while his katana is sheathed you don’t miss the way he reaches for it when you jolt up behind the desk. You hurry around the desk, snapping on neoprene gloves before you reach for him, intending to check over the wounds that are still sluggishly oozing crimson.

Instead he bats you away, pressing one hand over his mouth and nose. “Stay away,” he growls at you, pushing past you into the clinic. He goes straight for the sink, turning on the faucet and leaning down to swallow mouthfuls of water. You watch him swish it in his mouth before spitting it out again, the water running red with blood.

“Yuuta, you’re hurt. Let me do my job and help you,” you try again, approaching slower this time, hands out as if you’re nearing a wounded animal.

He’s resting his head on his forearm, leaning against the wall. Pinkish water is still dripping from the corner of his mouth. “No. Don’t come closer,” he pants out. He’s trying to be commanding, but the state of his injuries and the way he’s struggling to regulate his breathing override any fear you feel.

You get close enough to carefully wrap a hand around one of his wrists, and you almost jerk your hand away in surprise. Yuuta’s normally cool skin is burning hot, pulse pounding so fast you can feel the beat of it on his wrist.

Gently but firmly, you pull him away from the sink, leading him to sit down on the nearest table. Now that some of the blood has been washed away, you can finally get a good look at his face. His eyes are bright, the bags gone. There’s even a flush to his normally pale cheeks. He looks healthier than he has in months, despite bleeding all over your operating table.

“What happened, Yuuta?” you breathe, looking him over. The immediate concern is two deep cuts, one reaching from the side of his neck down to his chest and the other biting deep into his side. You begin cutting away the tattered remains of his shirt and surprisingly enough he lets you, swaying forward to rest his head in the crook of your neck as he often does after rough missions. You feel him take a deep breath against your pulse point, the movement of air sending an involuntary shiver down your spine.

“Was tracking a witch,” he murmurs, voice muffled against your skin. “Set a trap for me. Tricked me into drinking some of her blood.”

You keep your hands steady, treating what you can reach until you’re forced to put a hand on the uninjured side of his chest and gently push him away so you can reach the rest of his injuries. He doesn’t let you get far, keeping you close with a dazed look in his eyes and a flush burning high on his cheeks. His symptoms make a little more sense now; this has to be his first taste of real blood since he was turned. He’s going to have to stay overnight for observation; there’s a chance he could go feral.

You move to go to the cold storage unit and get him a blood bag. You know he’s probably ravenous right now. Blood will help him heal, and hopefully take the edge off his appetite so you can call for Shoko. Before you can get more than a step away, he locks his arms around you and pulls you back to his chest. He runs his nose along the curve of your neck, hot panting breaths blowing at the delicate skin. You reach up, running a hand through his dark hair and he practically purrs, leaning into your touch.

“You gotta let me go, Yuu,” you tell him softly, trying to coax him into letting you go. “I’m just gonna get you something to eat and I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t want it.” The words would sound petulant under normal circumstances, but right now it sounds desperate. “Tastes bad.”

“You have to feed on something, Yuu,” you say. “You’re running on empty, and you need something in your stomach so you can heal.”

“I know,” he mumbles. “It just all smells bad. It makes me sick.”

A thought crosses your mind. “You could feed on me,” you suggest, running a calming hand up and down his spine. “I know it smells bad but it’s fresh, and it’ll help you heal the fastest.”

You feel the shudder that rips through him. He sits up a bit, swaying. “No,” he protests. “I can’t, I’ll hurt you.”

You’re already unbuttoning your shirt, sliding it off your shoulders to rest in the crooks of your elbows, far enough away that hopefully it won’t get too bloody. You grab his hand, catching his attention. “It’s okay, Yuuta. I trust you, I know you won’t hurt me.” You slide a hand up to the back of his neck, drawing him close to you. He resists at first, but lets you pull him back to your neck.

His nostrils flare and he groans. “God, you smell so good,” he whines against your throat. “I’ve been wanting this for so long. It’s not fair for you to do this to me.”

“You don’t have to hold back. Take what you need,” you tell him, holding him close.

Yuuta hesitates for another moment, before his hunger overwhelms him. You feel the cool touch of his spit-slick lips before the hot prick of pain as his lips pierce the skin of your neck. The pain is sharp and hot for a moment, before it melts outwards in a wave of pleasure that crashes through your limbs like the aftereffects of a supernova. Now you understand why the volunteer feeding drives are always packed- this rush, the spread of his venom in your bloodstream, triggers a cascade of hormones that drives you into a state of euphoria.

You feel boneless, relaxed and adrift in a sea of warmth with only a slight sensation of suction on the side of your neck to ground you. Everything is hazy and electric all at once. You hardly register the cool wall of the clinic pressing against your back, but each brush of Yuuta’s hands on your skin makes every hair on your body stand on end. Every touch of his hands as they roam your body and each movement of his lips on your neck sends a shockwave right to your core. Within seconds, you are dancing on the edge of a peak that promises to be more intense than anything you’ve reached before.

Helpless to do anything else, a wavering moan escapes your lips. Distantly, you register an answering one rumble from Yuuta’s chest. A moment later, you feel his lips leave your neck and you whine at the loss of sensation. Everything still feels hazy, and not in a fun way. You see Yuuta’s face swim in front of your vision, a mass of pale skin, dark hair and darker eyes that are wide with an emotion you don’t have the capacity to name right now. You know he’s saying something, his words are high pitched and panicked in a way that makes your oncoming headache worse.

The air of the clinic starts to feel bone-chillingly cold. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to preserve the body heat that seems to be rapidly leaching from you. Yuuta’s fuzzy form dips out of your vision for a moment, returning with what you assume is one of the flimsy blankets kept in the clinic for such a purpose. He carefully drapes the blanket around your shoulders, but it’s not enough to keep you from shivering.

Ever so gently, you feel him scoop you into his arms. He sits down somewhere, cradling you to his warm chest so close that you can hear his heartbeat, pumping your lifeblood in his chest. The sound lulls you to sleep, pulling faster at the threads of exhaustion already dragging you down. As you fade away, you feel a faint press of lips to your forehead, and Yuuta’s gentle voice whispers to you, “I’m sorry. I know I should, but I don’t know if I’m strong enough to let you go after this.”

When you swim back to consciousness, the first thing you feel is a splitting headache. You open your eyes to the sharp pinpricks of early morning sun stabbing at your pupils. Somewhere next to you, you hear Shoko’s voice. “Easy there kid. You’ve had a rough night. Take these,” she presses two pills and a bottle of water into your hands.

You swallow the pills and the cool water gratefully. After the pills have kicked in, you sit up, grateful that the world is no longer swimming in front of you. “Where’s Yuuta?” you croak, touching a hand to your sore throat. Your fingers meet the edge of a bandage, pressed neatly over the two puncture wounds on the side of your neck.

“Had to kick him out this morning. The two of you gave me a hell of a scare,” she looks at you reproachfully. “Came into the clinic to find the two of you looking like you just escaped a Saw trap. At least the kid was lucid enough to stop the bleeding last night, or this would have been a much rougher morning for you.” Shoko gestures to the bandage on your throat. “Practically had to pry him off of you though. He wouldn’t leave until I swore to him that I would stay with you until you woke up. Which reminds me, now that you are awake, I have a significant amount of blood to clean up out there.”

You move to get up and help, and she pins you with a glare. “Absolutely not. You are staying put until you’ve slept more and eaten that,” she points to a wrapped bento box on the bedside table.

“I’m sorry, Shoko. I’ll make it up to you,” you say meekly.

“You can do that by not letting a half feral vampire feed on you,” she grumbles, pulling on gloves and grabbing the cleanup kit from the closet. “Also by not complaining when I stick your ass on cleanup duty for the next month.”

You toss her a salute. “Yes ma’am.” You bite back the smile that’s threatening to pull at your lips. You must have been in a bad state last night, for your normally cavalier boss to fuss over you so much. It feels good, to have someone care for you like this.

The thought does drag your mind back to Yuuta- your last memory from the night before is his voice, saying something about not leaving you, but he is nowhere to be found. Shoko did say something about kicking him out of the clinic, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she’d threatened him to stay away for some time. She does get protective of you. You can’t help but feel guilty; you knew the potential consequences of what you were offering last night and had done it anyway, and now you’re sitting pretty in the clinic and Yuuta is most likely facing serious consequences for circumstances that had been largely out of his control.

You lay back down, lost in thought. There’s a lot of last night that’s blurry. You remember pretty much everything until Yuuta bit you, and after that your memory gets foggy. However, there are some things that you do remember that you can’t seem to get out of your head. Up until now, you’d thought that Yuuta had avoided you because he couldn’t stand your smell. After last night, you’re not so sure of that anymore. Granted, he was half feral with hunger and definitely not in his right mind last night, but you can’t help but hope that this means that things will change between you two. It had sounded like he’d been forcing himself to stay away from you, and you find yourself hoping that he meant it when he said he wouldn’t let you go again.

You fall asleep with that thought on your mind, and a faint smile on your lips. Your dreams are strange, disjointed things, but throughout them all you see familiar dark eyes in different places and you can’t bring yourself to be afraid.

When you wake a second time, the light in the clinic has changed to the golden rays of the late afternoon. For the second time today, you find someone waiting for you at your bedside, and for the second time today it’s not the person you’re hoping to see.

Even though you’ve been studying at the technical school for years now, Gojo still unnerves you. He wears those strange dark glasses everywhere, and they somehow make him look more unsettling than the few times you’ve seen him without them. Sure, they hide his wide, electric blue eyes that are so bright they seem to glow on their own. But the glasses also accent the two smaller pairs of crystal blue eyes that sit on the edge of his cheekbones and just above his brow bone. Both sets of eyes meet yours as you wake, and you’re met with the strange feeling that he’d known exactly when you would open your eyes.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Gojo greets you, making an act of looking up at you from the documents in his lap as if four of his eyes hadn’t been watching you wake up. “How are you feeling?”

“No worse than after a night out with Nobara,” you shrug your shoulders, reaching for the water bottle on your bedside table.

“Glad to hear it. You’re tough for a little lab rat,” he laughs, crossing his legs. “Shoko threatened me to keep it brief, so I’ll get to the point. Yuuta has been asking to see you. Do you want us to let him in?”

“Yes,” you answer immediately.

Gojo is uncharacteristically serious. “Are you sure?”

“I am. I knew the risks. I don’t blame him.”

“As long as you’re sure.” Gojo stands up, shuffling the papers on his lap back into their folder. You catch a glimpse of an ad for a local bakery mixed in with what looks like the pages of an incident report. “I’ll go tell him he can come see you. He’s been bothering me nonstop about it since Shoko kicked him out this morning.”

He walks to the door of your room, pausing on the threshold with one hand on the doorframe. “I hope you’re prepared for what you’re getting yourself into,” he tells you over his shoulder.

A few minutes later, you hear quiet footsteps outside your room. Yuuta has showered since you last saw him, his hair soft and clean and face free of blood. He hesitates at the threshold, but you beckon him through. “Come here, let me look at your injuries.”

He follows your demand, sitting on the bed next to your knees. You can feel his eyes on you and you know that there’s something he wants to say, but you decide to check where those wounds had been last night first. Thankfully, you are met with smooth, unblemished skin at his side and chest.

You pause there, one of your warm hands resting against the cool side of his neck where one of the wounds had been. You lift your eyes to meet his. A moment passes, then you both speak at the same time.

“I’m so sorry-”

“I’m glad you’re-”

You laugh, sliding your hand down his arm to his hand. You gently untangle his fingers from where they’re clenched in the hem of his shirt, and slowly twine your fingers with his. “I’m glad you’re alright, Yuu. You scared me pretty bad, running into the clinic all cut up like that.”

“I’m alright thanks to you,” he brings your hand up to his mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of it. “Please don’t put yourself on the line like that again. I can’t lose you,” he asks, dropping his head to rest his forehead against yours.

“I’m a tough cookie, Yuuta. I can take a little bite.” You squeeze his hand.

He groans above you. “You’re so cute. I don’t know how I ever convinced myself to stay away.”

You can’t help the smile that stretches across your face. “You think I’m cute?”

“I do. You’re irresistible to me,” he says, dipping his head down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. “You smell divine. You have no idea what a temptation you are. I tried to stay away; I was so worried that I would hurt you. And then you offered yourself up to me and I couldn’t resist anymore.” He lifts his head, bringing his free hand to your neck, tracing a whisper of a touch against the bandage. “I wish I could be stronger. Be better, for you.”

“You were starving, Yuuta. You endured so much.” You squeeze his hand. “I know you didn’t mean to, and I trust you. You won’t hurt me again.”

“I won’t,” he says, his voice full of conviction. He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “I won’t ever hurt you like that again.” He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and then lets go, reaching over to the bedside table to get the bento box that’s still waiting for you on the bedside table.

He shuffles closer to you on the bed and brings a piece of food to your lips, holding it patiently at the seam of your mouth until you open and delicately take the morsel from his fingers. You chew thoughtfully, watching him select the next piece of food from the box.

“What does this mean, for us?” you ask him softly, in between bites of food.

“It means I’m yours,” Yuuta answers, his voice solemn. “I’ll do whatever you want- be as close as you want me to be. I understand if you don’t want-”

You cut him off before he starts to spiral. “What if I want this? Want you?”

“Then I will give you all of me,” he says, dark eyes locked onto yours. “And you’ll be mine. Are you sure that’s something you want?”

You reach out, cupping his jaw in your hand. “I’m sure. I want you, Yuuta.”

He covers your hand with his, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm. “I’ve wanted to hear you say that for a long time.

“What do we do now?” you ask, looking at him.

He laughs. “All you need to do is let me take care of you,” he says, eyes warm. “There will be time for other things after you’re feeling better.”

True to his word, Yuuta does take care of you. Every moment he’s able, he spends time with you, making sure you eat, stay hydrated, and stay warm. He even brings you a selection of his hoodies to wear, and it’s hard to miss the way he preens whenever you wear one in public.

You spend the evenings together. He’s taken to cooking for you, complete with a ‘kiss the cook’ apron, and he smiles brightly whenever you oblige and plant a kiss on whatever part of him you can reach without getting in his way. After he’s fed you, the two of you will curl up on your bed and read together, or watch a few episodes of a show you both enjoy. It makes for a very cozy routine for the two of you.

Well after the point when you’ve fully recovered from the incident in the clinic, you notice that Yuuta’s cheeks have begun to hollow again, and the shadows are starting to cling to his face. You kick yourself for forgetting; he should have fed again by now to keep up his strength. Shoko will probably kill you herself if you end up in the clinic again for a bite gone wrong, so you approach the situation with care.

It just takes a bit of patience. You’ve noticed Yuuta is happiest when you let him do things for you, so you spend the evening asking him for help with little chores around your small apartment. You let him cook dinner and do the dishes afterwards, sitting at the counter and keeping him company while he works. You’ve done everything you can to make sure it’s a relaxing atmosphere; there are candles lit that give your little apartment a golden glow, and soft music plays from your little speaker.

You wait until the two of you are warm and curled up in your bed before you make your move. Yuuta is leaning against the wall, his chin on your shoulder and his arms looped around your waist, ready for you to pull out the book you’ve been reading together and find your place.

Instead, you turn slightly in his arms, just enough that you can see his face. “Yuuta, I think you need to eat,” you tell him.

He looks down at you, a very cute confused expression on his face. “What do you mean? We just had dinner?”

“You need to feed, Yuuta.” You take off the hoodie you’ve been wearing all night, leaving you in just your tank top and shorts. You let your head loll to the side, exposing your throat to him. “Let me take care of you like you take care of me.”

“What if I hurt you again?”

“You won’t. You only hurt me last time because you were half-feral and starving. I want you to feed before you get to that point again.”

His eyes are massive; the dark irises trained on the movement of your pulse at your throat. You can hear him swallow.

“Are you sure?”

You take his hand. “I’m sure, Yuuta. I trust you.”

He brings your hand to his lips, scattering delicate kisses over the back and where your pulse flutters at your wrist. “You are too good to me,” he sighs, breath skating over your skin. Gently, he slides out from behind you but he doesn’t go far. He pulls you down to rest on your back, hovering over you with a soft look on his face.

“What’re you doing, Yuu?” you ask, watching him from your position on the pillows.

“I wanna make sure you enjoy this, too,” he murmurs, dusting kisses down your throat to where the edge of your tank top sits on your chest. With tender care he lifts the edge of your tank up, waiting for your approval before he pulls it off of you. He repeats the same process with your shorts, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks as he looks at your naked body with such reverence in his eyes. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe you’re finally mine.”

He trails his lips over every inch of your exposed skin, paying special attention to your nipples until they are stiff and puffy, shining with saliva in the soft light. Slowly, he moves his way down your body, kissing down your stomach until he’s hovering over the part of you that’s been crying out for attention under his gentle ministrations.

“You smell heavenly,” he breathes. He leans in and drags the flat of his tongue up your slit, savoring the wetness that’s begun to gather between your legs. “You taste divine,” he moans, the vibrations of the sound dragging an answering one out of you.

His tongue laves hot strokes over you, your pussy clenching around nothing as he tastes you. He keeps teasing your clit, flicking it with the tip of his tongue or rolling it between his lips for a moment in between licks, the motions stoking a fire in your belly When he pulls it between his lips and sucks, stroking it with the flat of his tongue, fire sears through your veins and you arch up off the bed, a long moan stuttering its way past your lips.

Yuuta pulls away from you for just a moment. “That’s it, my love. Let me hear you,” he moans, before diving back in and continuing to devour your pussy. His ministrations drive you higher and higher, fast approaching the peak with no sign of stopping. Pleasure floods your body, turning your limbs to jelly as he indulges in you.

When your orgasm hits, you feel a prick of pain on the inside of your thigh. A moment later, you feel a rush that amplifies and extends your release. It hits you so hard that you can’t even make a sound, arching silently off the bed, your mouth open in a soundless scream as the waves of pleasure wash over you. Your vision even whites out, everything going blank for just a moment before you collapse bonelessly on the bed.

You hear a faint slurping sound as you come back to yourself, and you look down to see Yuuta pulling himself away from your thigh, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. The gesture doesn’t do much beyond smear the blood and cum across his face, but neither of you really care.

He pants for a moment, dark eyes unfocused, before his gaze sharpens and he looks down at you.

“How do you feel?” he asks, worry creeping into his expression.

“Like I just saw the face of god,” you joke, a breathless laugh leaving your lips. “What about you? Do you want me to return the favor?”

He blushes at that, a slow scarlet flush creeping up his neck and across his cheeks. “Ah, I’m fine. Don’t worry, I enjoyed myself.” He pulls back, sliding off the bed and standing up. You catch a glimpse of a dark spot on the front of his loose sleep pants before he walks away, moving towards your little ensuite bathroom. “I’m going to run us a bath. Don’t move.”

“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to,” you sigh, sinking into the soft pillows beneath you. You hear the faucet turn on, and a rustle of cloth. A few minutes later, Yuuta returns. You hold out your arms to him and he laughs softly, scooping you into his arms. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, carrying you gently into the bathroom.

He sets you in the warm water and then slides in behind you. He lets you rest for a moment before he starts to run a warm washcloth over your skin, lathering you with bubbles that smell like your favorite soap.

You let him take care of you, only taking the washcloth for a moment to wipe the blood and fluid off of his face and neck, scrubbing his skin with a gentle hand. He leans into your touch, practically purring with his eyes closed for a moment.

Once you’re both clean, he gets out and dries himself first before helping you out of the tub and wrapping you in a fluffy towel. He leads you over to sit on the closed toilet before he opens a drawer and pulls out your little first aid kit. Gently, he pushes your knees apart to inspect the two neat puncture wounds that decorate the meat of your inner thigh.

He carefully swabs them clean, pressing an apologetic kiss to your knee when you hiss at the sting of the disinfectant. You watch him open two bandaids, bubblegum pink and printed with Hello Kitty, and position them over the cuts. Satisfied with his work, he rocks back on his heels and looks up at you. He pulls your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to the back before he stands up.

“Wait here, I’ll grab you some clothes,” he tells you before he walks back out into your bedroom. He returns a moment later, clean pajamas and underwear in one hand and your favorite hoodie of his in the other. Yuuta helps you dry off and dress, making sure to support you when your knees wobble.

Once you’re clean and dressed, he takes you back to bed and settles you down with a bottle of water and some snacks, before curling in beside you and wrapping his arms around your waist. You snag your laptop from your bedside table and turn on an episode of the show you’ve been watching together and snuggle in, opening up the snacks that he brought you when your stomach rumbles.

The two of you fall asleep like that, wrapped up in blankets and in each other.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuuta okkotsu #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta x reader #tw blood #tw vampire #tw yandere #if you got this far mwah thank you ily #ves.writes

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in-search-of-a-fallen-star · 2 years ago

Text

sate your appetite

Pairing: Beelzebub/Reader

WC: 1,978

Content warnings: this fic contains smut between two consenting adults. For the purposes of the smut, reader is described to have breasts and a vagina. No pronouns or gendered language are used to refer to the reader. Very slight size kink, towards the end if you squint.

Minors and ageless blogs, DNI. If you interact and don't have an age visible in your bio or pinned I will block you.

Even after all the time you’ve spent in the Devildom, the rules of Fangol are still a mystery to you. It seems to combine the elements of many different human games you vaguely know, and elements you don’t, which you assume to be celestial or demonic. You’ll freely acknowledge that while you’re an appreciator of the sport, you don’t know what’s happening on the pitch.

After all, you are first and foremost an appreciator of the players. Everyone looks fine as hell, so to speak, in their jerseys. Thirteen cuts a beautiful figure in hers, spoiling for a fight with her hair tied up and paint smeared across her cheeks, her jersey number stamped across her back. The jersey highlights Simeon’s trim waist and lean build; anticipation for the games help break the angel out of his shell, and he looks dangerous with the ball in hand. Even Mephistopheles looks good in the uniform, though you’ll never say that where he can hear it.

Ultimately though, you only have eyes for your boyfriend. Beelzebub looks amazing in his gear. It highlights the muscles he spends hours in the gym to maintain. While he’s in uniform, you can see the way the sleeves strains against his biceps and every flex of his powerful thighs. The best part is when it’s mid game, and the stadium lights shine on the sweat beading at his brow, his hair is mussed, and his jersey is grass stained and disheveled.

You’d come to these games anyway, just to support him and your friends, but being able to see him like this is definitely an incentive.

Even though the rules still elude you, you’re able to pick up that the game tonight is a nailbiter. The points on the opposing scoreboards tick up slowly in a grueling exchange, and the players on the pitch seem especially fired up. You hold Beel’s jacket closer around your shoulders, watching each play with bated breath as the teams fight tooth and nail for victory.

You can feel the tension in the air as a penalty is called, seconds before the time runs out. The air is thick, and you can feel the crowd around you holding their breath as the teams take the pitch for a redo of the last play. Both teams are tied, and the match comes down to this final point.

The whistle blows, and there is a clash on the field. You lean over the railing, trying to get a glimpse of what’s happening. You hear a crash, and then far down by the goal, you see Beel stand up, arms outstretched, holding the ball. The crowd surges to their feet and a roar of noise sweeps over the field, one side thunderously crowing their victory and the other booing the victors.

You make your way to the edge of the stands near the entrance to the locker rooms. You can see the team celebrating, and you lean against the railing while you wait. It’s obvious when he spots you, you can see his bright hair pop up out of the crowd and turn towards you, then his broad shoulders part the sea as Beel jogs over to you, a bright smile on his face and helmet in hand. You lean down to cup his flushed face in your hands, and your lips meet in an adrenaline fueled kiss.

Vaguely you can hear his teammates whooping in the background, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You kiss the salt off his lips before pulling back, just far enough that you can meet his eyes. “That was an amazing game. You were incredible out there,” you tell him, brushing his damp hair off his face.

It’s so charming the way his flush deepens at your praise. “Yeah, both teams played great today.”

His stomach rumbles, and you both laugh. You press a kiss to his forehead before pulling him close and leaving him with a lingering kiss on his mouth. “Go, eat, celebrate with your team,” you whisper to him. “Just come see me when you get back. I have a surprise for you.”

Beel tries not to shiver as your breath skates over his ear and neck. “I don’t know what time I’ll be back,” he warns you.

“That’s okay. We don’t have class tomorrow, so you can wake me up if you get home late.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later.” He leans up to press a soft kiss to your cheek before turning back to his team, ducking his head at their whoops and cheers. You wave to them as they parade into the locker rooms, watching the last player head inside before you turn to walk back to the House of Lamentation.

You have preparations to make, after all.

Several hours later, you’re curled up in bed with a handheld console Levi had lent you, playing a game that had looked interesting. It helps you pass the time, slowly getting more engrossed in the game until you hear a knock at the door. You know who it is, but you peek through the peephole on your door just to make sure.

Beel stands outside your door, wearing a clean t-shirt and sweats, hair mostly dry from a shower. You open the door for him and usher him inside, taking in the scent of soap and fresh laundry that wafts off his skin. He looks a bit poleaxed as you pull him in, staring at you. It’s a bit unusual, normally he’s a perfect gentleman when he’s with you, but right now he can’t seem to pull his eyes away from the way your chest moves under the numbers on the chest of his jersey, and the way the hem flutters teasingly just below the curve of your ass.

He’s used to seeing you in his team’s colors- he gives you his jacket to wear anytime there’s a hint of a breeze. But there’s something about seeing you in his jersey, with his number stamped on your chest- his name on your back has him transfixed. You hide a smile in the curve of your shoulder as you do a little twirl for him. “What do you think?” you ask, stopping just in front of him, well within arm’s reach.

“You look amazing.” He finally drags his eyes away from your chest to meet yours. You can see his gaze darken, and a hunger flares to life in his eyes. Slowly, he walks you back, and your legs hit the edge of your bed. Beel leans down to press his face into the crook of your neck, where you feel him take a deep breath. “And you smell so good.”

His large, warm hand trails up your thigh, fingers dipping underneath the hem of his jersey. He encounters no resistance as his hand swipes up to rest on your hip. Beel stops mouthing at your neck to pull back just far enough to confirm that you are indeed wearing nothing underneath his jersey.

“Just for you, baby,” you coo, dragging the jersey up the rest of the way to expose your pussy, left bare in the warmth of your room.

He sinks down to his knees, large hands bringing your legs up to rest on his broad shoulders. He trails his hands along the backs of your thighs to grab your ass, giving it a squeeze before he pulls you to rest on the edge of the bed. “I missed you,” he murmurs between your legs, and you can’t tell if he’s talking to you or your pussy.

You feel his lips moving over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, pausing to leave love bites as he slowly moves his mouth to where you want it. He starts off slow- Beel had told you once that he likes to savor a good meal, and he considers your pussy to be one of his favorites. Your hips jerk as he circles your clit with his tongue, but you don’t get far, his strong arms holding your hips to his face.

Falling back onto your elbows, you hold yourself up just enough to watch him work between your legs. He is totally engrossed, kissing your clit wetly and tracing over it in firm strokes with his tongue. He moans at your taste in his mouth, and the vibrations from the sound on your clit trigger a moan in response from you.

It’s a slow and steady buildup as he eats you out. He holds nothing back but moves at his own pace, and the steadily growing ache in the pit of your stomach is rising towards a toe-curling orgasm. At this point you’ve fully collapsed onto the bed, one hand clutching the covers next to your head and the other buried in his hair. It’s wholly unnecessary; the only thing that could separate Beel from your pussy right now is you asking him to move, but the feel of his hair in your fingers helps ground you.

As your orgasm steadily begins to crest, you bat at his head. “Ah, wait, wait, please,” you beg.

He pulls his head away immediately. His lips and chin shine with your juices, and he looks slightly dazed but his gaze quickly sharpens as he looks you over, checking to make sure everything is okay.

“Wanna cum with you in me, baby,” you reach down to his face, swiping your thumb over his lip.

Beel rocks back on his heels immediately. You hear the rustle of clothing as he begins to strip, and you turn on shaky limbs to position yourself on your knees. His hands find your skin immediately, and he grinds his cock against you. You hear him moan at the sensation, and you push back against him, his cock sliding through the slippery mess between your legs.

He guides his cock to your entrance with a shaky hand, and pushes in. You both moan at the sensation, the stretch of him filling you. At this point in your relationship you’re well acquainted with how big he is, but the feel of him inside you sends a shiver down your spine every time.

You feel him begin to rock his hips into you, the head of his cock hitting something inside you on each thrust that makes stars burst behind your eyes. The simmering flames of your orgasm roar back to life, and you feel your limbs beginning to shake as it draws closer.

Beel is a heat at your back, mindlessly tracing kisses up and down your spine as he thrusts into you. You do your best to keep up with him, but ultimately his stamina overwhelms yours and you’re left to face his onslaught and the orgasm that overtakes you. You keen underneath him, shaking apart as you come around his cock.

He follows you over the edge a moment later, groaning long and low into the nape of your neck as his cock pulses inside you. You feel him bite gently before pressing one last kiss to your neck and pulling away. He leaves your field of vision for a moment, and you flop boneless down to the bed, trying to regulate your breathing. Beel comes back a moment later, a warm washcloth in hand. He watches his cum, mixed with yours, ooze out of you for a moment before swiping a finger through the mess. He brings it to his lips, eyes closed as he savors the taste.

“Delicious,” he sighs, before gently wiping you down. He tosses the rag into the hamper and lays down next to you, tucking both your bodies under the rumpled blankets and drawing you into his arms.

The excitement of the day quickly catches up to both of you, and you fall asleep in a warm nest of blankets, wrapped up in each other.

#obey me x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel smut #if you noticed that this is not one of my halloween event wips no u didn't <3 #this is just a little treat in between wips that have gotten longer than they should be #if you made it this far mwah ily #ves.writes

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in-search-of-a-fallen-star · 2 years ago

Text

the fall of icarus

Pairing: Suguru Geto/Reader, hinted Satoru Gojo/Reader

WC: 3269 (do not perceive me)

Content warnings: canon typical violence, for both Star Wars and Jujutsu Kaisen. Also, I borrow some plot beats from the Hidden Inventory/Premature Death arcs, so there are some potential spoilers if you haven't seen those yet.

I saw the lovely @strawberrystepmom 's It Takes A Galaxy collab and immediately knew I had to write something for our greatly beloved tragic bastard.

This was so much fun to write, as a mash up of two of my favorite universes. I did kind of play fast and loose with the lore of both series, but it was all in the name of ~drama~ so I feel like it was for a good cause. Two things I do want to mention, just for clarity's sake, is that Reader uses a modified version of Force Empathy, and that when a force user falls to the dark side, their eyes turn yellow. IDK if that's technically canon in Star Wars anymore, but I thought it was a cool detail from the older stuff and decided to use here.

Minors and ageless blogs, DNI. If you don't have an age in your bio or pinned I will block you.

There is a specter that dogs your steps in the halls of the Temple. A name, only muttered in hushed whispers in the shadowed corners. Most will refer to him as the fallen one, as if saying his name will bring misfortune.

You know him as Suguru Geto.

He was your friend, once.

You remember his smile, and the way it made his dark eyes crinkle and his whole face soften. The way his big hands felt warm even through your layers of robes as he would correct your form during saber drills. The low, smoky timbre of his voice that made even the driest of texts hypnotizing to listen to.

Most importantly, you remember the day he left. Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo, freshly Knighted and already being hailed as some of the Order’s best and brightest, sent on a mission so important that they couldn’t tell you anything other than they were leaving. Gojo ruffled your hair and promised that he would bring you back something sweet. Geto pulled you into a hug and promised that they wouldn’t be gone long. You remember the sound of their laughter in the hangar, and the smiles on their faces as they waved goodbye from the cockpits of their starfighters.

Geto was right, they weren’t gone long. Just a few short days, long enough to miss them but not long enough to worry. When you got the ping that their ships had docked, you ducked out of meditation and hurried to the hangar to greet them.

When they emerged from their ships, you didn’t need the Force to tell you that something went wrong. You reached for it anyway, drawing it around you like a comforting blanket as you took in their expressions. Gojo had his eyes covered, a rare sight on Temple grounds, and walked without his usual boisterous charm. He half-heartedly ruffled your hair, resting his hand on your head for a moment before moving past you.

Geto avoided your touch entirely. His face was dark and drawn, black eyes inscrutable. He met your eyes for a second, before hurrying past you into the Temple. You reached out to him with the Force, and felt a wave of anger and pain so potent it hit you like a punch to the gut. The contact lasted for just a second, severed on his end as he turned to look at you. The expression on his face reminded you of a wounded animal backed into a corner, savage with pain. It was the first time he’d looked at you and made you believe that he could hurt you.

Things changed, after that. Gojo seemed to recover the fastest, bouncing around the Temple with his usual antics. He started seeking you out more, and finding increasingly transparent excuses to touch you, like draping an arm around your shoulders as you walked in the halls or dropping his head in your lap when he would find you studying in the archives. Each time, you would reach out with the Force, tapping into your abilities to connect to Gojo’s emotions. His control was ironclad, so you rarely were able to forge a connection, but there were sometimes where you caught a trace of a deep sorrow. On those days, Gojo seemed more withdrawn, and would burrow into your touch like a small child seeking comfort. You let him, using your abilities to push feelings of calm through the bond you shared.

Geto began avoiding you. Like Gojo, he made an effort to return to normal, but it fell through quickly. He no longer joined in on Gojo’s teasing commentary, and avoided your touch. You reached out to him with increasing desperation, trying to rekindle the embers of your connection, and were met with silence at every turn.

There were moments where you would wake up at night, sensing Geto’s presence outside your door. He would linger just outside your room, as if he couldn’t bring himself to knock. Each time, you would get up and go to the door. At first, you would open it to invite him in, but he would disappear before the door could slide open. After, you would stand behind the door, feeling his presence and letting him feel yours. You would rest a hand on the cold plasteel, and for those moments in the dead of night, it was almost like you could feel the warmth of his hand on the other side.

You also began to feel eyes on you. It’s not uncommon to be watched in the Temple, but it usually happens during lessons, sparring, or meditations, with instructors keeping an eye on students who might need assistance or masters looking at prospective padawans. Those eyes are usually calm and detached, the gaze feeling almost clinical as it passes over you. This gaze is heavy, like a physical touch. It feels almost… covetous. You feel it most when you’re alone, usually poring over a holocron in the archives or practicing your lightsaber forms late into the night. In those moments, you can feel those eyes following a bead of sweat that slips down your neck into the loosened collar of your robes like a lover’s touch, soft and possessive.

In your heart, you know who those eyes belong to. The Jedi teach their students to let go, and that attachment leads down a dark and dangerous path. But you can’t deny that you’ve looked at him the same way- stolen glances admiring the curve of his jaw, or the way his muscles flex under his tunic as he moves effortlessly through his saber forms. You’ve felt it, a need that simmers low in your gut, a dark whisper to sink your teeth in and never let go. It’s something that you’ve spent many hours of meditation trying to will away, very carefully thinking about anything else. It’s an honor to be chosen, to be brought to the Temple and trained. You won’t let this temptation lead you astray, and you won’t let this feeling call one of your dearest friends away from the Light.

Geto begins to spend more and more time in the archives. You see him moving like a specter, the light of the holocrons casting strange shadows over his bone white face. His eyes are dark and the bags under his eyes are darker, and you notice that his robes hang more loosely on his body. The next time that you see Shoko, you bring it up, and she shrugs helplessly.

“You can’t help someone who doesn’t want help,” she sighs. “All we can do is be there for him. Don’t worry too much, little light,” Shoko ruffles your hair affectionately. “He’s a big strong boy. Focus on your studies for now. Look for some fancy theological problem you can argue over with him once he pulls himself together.”

You swat Shoko’s hands away from your hair and smile. A voice calls her name, and she hastily puts out the very against Temple rules cigarette and throws it into a nearby wastebin. “Duty calls. Take it easy,” she gives you a little salute as she makes her way in the direction of the voice.

The smile on your face is weak, and fades when Shoko turns her back. She’s older and more experienced, and has known Geto longer. Still, you can’t shake the feeling of wrongness that has been dogging your steps, and is getting steadily more insistent as Geto continues to withdraw into himself.

Gojo is the next person on your list, but he’s been increasingly more difficult to pin down. Since being Knighted, he has fully come into his powers, and is a darling of all the masters. You hear whispers in the halls, calling him the strongest knight the Order has seen in over six hundred years. He is regularly dispatched on high profile missions and sent as an envoy of the Order to the Senate- you hear his name everywhere but rarely catch a glimpse of the man himself.

You never see him without his blindfold, anymore.

Geto is the moon to Gojo’s sun. He is still respected as one of the strongest of this generation of knights. He takes the missions he’s assigned without complaint. He never tells anyone where he’s going or when he’s going to be back, and you have to make a nuisance of yourself to have any idea where in the galaxy he is. When he is at the Temple, Geto makes an effort to act like things are normal. He laughs and jokes with Shoko, and assists with the training of the younger knights when he can. His smiles don’t reach his eyes, and he still won’t touch you. You’ve reached out to him with the Force, and it’s like there’s an obsidian wall between you, glittering black and diamond hard.

Looking back, you think the catalyst was the Jinata mission. You don’t remember the details, but you vividly remember the pyre.Yu Haibara was your age, a new knight sent on one of his first missions without the supervision of a master. He was outgoing and friendly, liked by everyone around him. Even though the body was covered during the funeral, you could picture his warm brown eyes and bright smile. Kento Nanami, another young knight your age, had gone on the mission with him. His face was badly beaten, the firelight of the pyre flickering across the yellowing edges of bruises that spattered across his elegant features. He was stoic, face set and hands folded in the deep sleeves of his robe. You wished you could offer him a hand, any reassuring touch to soften the grief you could feel roiling off him like a storm cloud.

A few days later, Geto disappeared.

At first, you assumed that he had just followed his normal procedure- taken a mission and left without telling anyone. So you waited, despite the anxiety clawing at your stomach. A week later, you woke up, gasping from a dream filled with so much blood and fire you could taste the iron and smoke on your tongue. You hadn’t been able to make out any faces in the carnage you had witnessed, but your instincts told you that something had happened to Geto, wherever he had gone. You threw yourself into meditations, playing the dream over and over, trying to glean any clarity or information from the chaos. You knew the masters would dismiss this as an anxiety fueled nightmare without proof, so you searched for some kernel of truth that would prove this was a Force premonition.

You were still searching when the news broke. Suguru Geto, Knight of the Jedi Order, a murderer. He hadn’t returned within the time allotted for his mission, so the masters had dispatched a team to investigate. The knights had arrived to find the village Geto had been sent to help burned to ash, and every one of the villagers dead. The damning evidence was the distinctive wounds of a lightsaber blade on the corpses, burned almost beyond recognition.

Flight records showed that Geto’s ship had returned to Coruscant, and the Temple began a manhunt for the rogue knight. Gojo and Shoko joined the search, both of them dropping everything. The masters squawked in indignance at having their most recognizable knight and one of their only healers leave their posts to trawl Coruscant’s underbelly, and in the resulting chaos you were able to slip out and search.

Your abilities made you uniquely qualified for this. Closing your eyes, you reached out to the Force and let it wash over you. The noise of the endless city faded away, and the duracrete jungle bloomed with color as the auras of the people around you came into view. You shuttered your mind against the rising tide of thoughts, focusing your attention, looking for one signature as familiar to you as your own. You cast your net wide, and let yourself float in the sea of noise. You could be patient.

It caught you off guard, when you finally sensed it. A presence, so close to you that you could taste it in the back of your throat. You recoiled at the seething mass of anger and malice, and opened your eyes to see a figure shrouded in black, backlit by the flickering neon at the mouth of the alley you had hidden yourself in. You scrambled to your feet, putting a hand on the hilt of your saber. Before you could make another move, the figure moved, so fast it looked like they teleported the short distance down the alley. One hand caught yours, gently pulling your wrist away from your saber. The other grasped your chin, thumb and forefinger softly but firmly pulling your gaze up to their face.

Under the hood, you met their eyes. Blazing yellow irises, set in familiar fine boned features you’d dreamed about running your fingers over. Geto stood over you, radiating a power that he had kept locked away all your years together at the Temple. You felt your knees weaken under you, and the corner of his lips quirked up as he felt you sag in his grasp.

“Hello, little light,” he murmured, eyes sweeping over your face. “So brave of you, to leave your pretty tower and come looking for the murderer.”

“I don’t believe it,” you bring a hand up to his face, and he lets you touch him. His skin is warm, almost feverish. There is more color to his face than you have seen on his features for a long time, and the bags under his eyes have all but disappeared. All you can look at is his eyes. His deep inky gaze used to draw you in, and now you can’t look away from the burning gold of his irises. “Suguru, please. Tell me it isn’t true,” you beg, hand dropping to rest on his shoulder.

He grabs your hand, flattening your palm over his heart. You can practically feel it racing through the layers of muscle and black robes that now cover his chest. “Look for yourself, little light. All my secrets are finally open to you.”

You close your eyes. It’s not strictly necessary, but you find yourself looking for solace from the way his eyes seem to pick you apart. Taking a deep breath, you focus on the beat of his heart and tap into the Force. Geto fully opens himself to you, and you have to fight to orient yourself as the riptide of his emotions and memories threatens to drag you under. You find yourself choked by feelings that are not your own; grief so sharp it feels like a knife in your ribs, rage that feels like a fire in your throat, and beneath it all a yawning chasm of despair that slowly begins to drown everything else out.

Frantically you search through his memories. His most recent ones are a mess of blood and fire. You recognise the burning structures from your dream, and through his eyes you bear witness to the humming green of his lightsaber blade cutting through villagers.

You feel tears running down your face as you watch the carnage in Geto’s memories. Gasping, you sever the connection, jerking your whole body away from the man in front of you, achingly familiar but now wholly a stranger. He doesn’t let you get far, pulling your hand back to his chest and looping his other arm around your waist, preventing you from pulling away.

“Don’t run away, little light,” he croons, looking down at you as you fight to catch your breath through your tears. “Let yourself feel. You tried so earnestly to reach out to me, to ease my burden. The perfect little Jedi,” he sneered, his face twisting into something ugly for a moment before his features smoothed out again.

“The Order teaches us to be ashamed of feeling anything other than tranquility. They train us to be perfect little emotionless soldiers, ready to fight and die for their cause. How many friends do we have to watch die, how many funerals do we have to attend without being able to grieve?” he smoothed a hand over your hair, cupping your cheek with a gentle hand. “It shouldn’t be like this, little light,” he turns your face to meet his eyes. “We shouldn’t be running around the galaxy, solving every little problem for every person too weak to fend for themselves while being afraid of our own emotions, our own desires.”

“The Force made us strong so we could help the weak,” you counter.

“Why should we be given all this power to only serve those without it?” Geto asks. “Do you truly believe that because you were born with this gift, you are to live your entire life in servitude?” You see a gleam in his eye, a teasing twist to his mouth that sends a shiver down your spine. “Tell me, little light. When was the last time that you did something only because you wanted to? How many chances have you passed by to take something that you want?”

“I know of at least a few,” he purrs, his hand sliding back to the nape of your neck, his lips close enough to yours that you can feel the soft puffs of his breath. “I don’t need your empathy to see the longing glances, the way you would start to reach for me but catch yourself.”

Geto closes the gap between you, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I’m right here. You don’t need to stop yourself anymore,” he whispers against your mouth. He’s so close, all it would take is a slight movement of your head. He waits for you to close the gap, and in that moment you think of all of the times you wished to be in this exact position, wrapped up in his arms and a breath away from the kind of kiss you’d only dreamed of.

He is a siren. The promise of his kiss and what it would mean calls to desires long since hidden in your heart. He is offering you everything you’ve wanted, and for a moment, you almost give in.

Almost.

“Not like this,” you whisper against his waiting lips. Calling the Force to you, you blast him back down the alley with the palm still pressed against his chest. You meet his wild eyes and settle into a fighting stance, pulling the hilt of your saber to your hand. The blade ignites with a hiss, the light casting harsh shadows in the dark alley. “Suguru Geto, I must take you in for crimes against the Galactic Republic.”

“So this is how it’s going to be,” he says with a sigh, standing to his full height and running a hand through his hair that had been blown out of its tie by your push. He pulls up the hood of his dark cloak, and steps out of the alley. You run forward, saber in hand, only to be greeted by a busy street of underworld denizens who recoil at the sight of your ignited blade. You frantically search for a trace of your old friend in the crowd. You feel a tug at your neck, as a familiar hand reaches around you to grab the pendant you wear.

“I’ll see you again, little light,” Geto whispers in your ear. He waves at you when you whirl around, your pendant twinkling in his hand, before he fades into the crowd around you.

#jujutsu kaisen #suguru geto #jujustsu kaisen x reader #geto x reader #jjk star wars au #if you made it this far mwah ily #thank you for indulging my insanity #ves.writes

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in-search-of-a-fallen-star · 1 year ago

Text

at the last stroke of midnight (pt. 5)

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki/Reader

WC: 2,195

Content warnings: aged up characters, everyone is in their 20s or older. fantasy au. no pronouns used for reader, but they are described to wear skirts and are referred to as ‘my lady’. brief descriptions of fantasy violence, brief mention of blood.

part 4 : part 5 (you are here) : part 6

It feels like you’re floating on clouds for the rest of the day. How could it not? You’ve been replaying his words in your head for hours- the open look in his beautiful grey and blue eyes, the smoky sound of his voice in your ear as he told you that he’d known from the first moment you spoke he’d wanted you to go with him. It feels like a dream, but the weight of the circlet in your hands reminds you that it was real.

Part of your brain is stubbornly waiting for a catch, for the other foot to drop, or something to burst the bubble you’re floating in. This feels altogether too good to be true, says the little voice in the back of your head. You choose to ignore it for now- this isn’t interfering with your duties, and Shouto’s words earlier had eased most of your doubts

Perhaps this isn’t just a passing fancy for him. He wants you, and he’d told you himself, not caring who heard. It’s hard not to feel giddy when you know how it feels to be the sole focus of that intense heterochromatic gaze.

The afternoon flys by. The palace is abuzz with activity, full of people setting up for the ball that’s taking place in just a few short hours. You’re kept busy, there are many tasks that require your attention, and you find yourself running around the palace, carrying messages, making deliveries, and overseeing decorations.

You’ve lost track of time, immersed in your current project when you feel a hand tap at your shoulder. A younger maid stands behind you, and curtsies to you when you stand up and dust your hands off.

“The queen requests your presence, my lady,” she says, indicating for you to follow her.

You hand your work over to one of the people who’d been helping you and get up to follow the maid to the queen’s quarters. You wince when you look out the window; the last rays of the setting sun are painting the western horizon in vivid colors and you realize that you’re very, very, late.

The maid stops at the doors and bobs her head to you before turning and walking back down the hallway. You sigh and push the doors open, ready to apologize to the queen. To your surprise, you find her already dressed and seated at the small table with her wire reading glasses on, a book in hand.

She looks up when you enter and smiles, tucking a ribbon between the pages of her book. “I’m glad you could make it,” she says, her voice gently teasing.

You sweep into a deep curtsy. “I apologize for my lateness, your majesty. How may I be of service?”

“I have a gift for you.” She stands from the table and walks to the wardrobe, opening the carved cedar doors to reveal a beautiful gown hanging inside. The kirtle is a beautiful cream plisse crepe, underneath a cream silk gown embroidered with gold and silver flowers. Pearls glimmer along the neckline and the cuffs, and the girdle is hammered gold, inlaid with river pearls and abalone.

When you stand in front of it, stricken speechless, the queen laughs. “I take it you like it,” she says, placing a cool hand on your shoulder.

It takes a moment for you to find the words. “Y-your majesty, this is too much. I can’t accept this.”

“It’s already been altered to your measurements,” she says. “I wanted you to have something nice to wear to your first ball here in the south.”

When you stay frozen in your spot, she nudges you forward with a gentle hand. “Come now, let’s get you dressed. We don’t want you to leave your knight hanging, do we?”

“You don’t have to do that, your majesty,” you protest as she pulls you to the mirror.

“I have not been queen for so long that I’ve forgotten how to dress,” she says, an amused smile pulling at her lips.

She helps you out of your working dress, leaving you in just your undergarments. First she pulls a fine cotton chemise over your head, then she sets down a pair of silver slippers for you to step into. The next layer is a petticoat, finely made and frilled with cream lace at the hem. Next comes the kirtle, which flows like water over your head. Finally, the gown settles on your shoulders. The gold and silver flowers shine under the candlelight.

The queen maneuvers you to her vanity, pushing you into the seat with a gentle hand. She puts your hair up with a few simple combs. “Now, for the circlet. Do you have it with you?”

“Yes, it’s in my pocket,” you say, turning to look for your work dress. She beats you to it, pulling the circlet out of your dress and returning to you. She directs you to look in the mirror before placing the circlet on your head, carefully centering it on your brow. She pins it in place with a few cleverly placed hairpins, and then steps back to look at her handiwork.

You take a moment to take yourself in. You glow in the warm candlelight, the gold and silver embroidery making you shine. You feel…beautiful.

In the distance, you hear trumpets sound. “I have to go,” the queen says, placing a hand on your shoulder. Her grey eyes meet yours in the mirror and she smiles, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You’re released from duty- the night is yours to spend however you wish. You can stay here as long as you need, you don’t have to come until you feel ready.”

She sweeps out the door in a swish of skirts, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You take a deep breath, looking at yourself in the mirror. Until yesterday, your only plan for tonight was to do your job and hopefully get well acquainted with the buffet table in between your duties. Now you’re faced with the very real prospect of having to dance, in front of a crowd of strangers no less.

You know the dances; when you’d arrived in the south you’d been put through a boot camp of court practices, including a grueling few weeks spent studying the steps of the courtly dances. However, you’ve never danced with anyone other than your instructor. The prospect of dancing with Shouto in a crowded ballroom of people is daunting, to say the least.

You hear the distant sounds of the heralds, and you know they’ve begun introducing the guests. Time to go, you decide, standing up from the vanity.

You don’t want to be late, after all. There’s someone waiting for you.

When you arrive at the doors, there’s a line of people waiting to be introduced. The heralds announce them by name and title; it’s rather a spectacle as each noble enters the ballroom in a flurry of silks. You begin to second guess yourself- you have no title or accomplishments to accompany your name. You look at the line, and then duck into an alcove. Perhaps it’s better if you sneak in at the end, with no announcement.

Finally, the line dwindles, and the heavy doors swing shut. You can hear music pick up from inside the ballroom, and decide to make your move. You pull the door open just enough to slip through, and enter the grand ballroom.

Everything inside glitters. The many candles on the chandeliers glitter off the strands of crystal drops, sending spangles of light skittering over the rainbow of silk and satin gowns in the room. The queen sits on her throne on the balcony across from you, surveying the people as they mingle. Princess Fuyumi and Prince Natsuo sit next to her, engaged in conversation.

Your eyes are drawn to the figure standing on the other side of the throne. Shouto looks dashing, his hair slicked back and dressed in a fine military uniform, decorated with medals. Your eyes meet over the crowded ballroom, and the sounds of the crowd drop away around you. He leans down to whisper something in the queen’s ear, and then leaves the dais to walk down towards the ballroom.

You curtsy to the throne, as is custom. You haven’t completely forgotten etiquette, even though Shouto is handsome enough that your brain goes a bit gooey. The crowd parts as Shouto approaches, the throngs of people stepping off the dance floor as he makes his way to the foot of the stairs.

He bows to you, low and with one hand clasped over his heart. He holds out a hand, offering his support to you as you descend the last few steps to the floor.

The two of you stand in silence for a moment, simply gazing at each other.

“Hi,” you say, feeling a bit bashful.

“Hello,” he says, voice low and warm. The band begins playing a song, a sweet melody ringing out over the quiet ballroom. “Would you do me the honor of sharing the first dance with me?”

You nod, not trusting your voice, and he pulls you out onto the dance floor. You can feel the warmth of his palm on the small of your back, even through the layers of your gown. He pulls you close, closer than what is technically socially acceptable, you know. The way he holds you is tender and gentle, but it also has a possessive edge to it as he leads you through the steps of the waltz.

“Why is everyone staring?” you whisper, looking up at him.

“They probably can’t take their eyes off you. I certainly can’t,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

You can’t help the blush that rises to your cheeks, choosing to turn your gaze to the line of his throat. This close, you can smell the scent of campfire and winter pine that clings to him. Around you, the music reaches a crescendo, and you feel both of Shouto’s hands at your waist before he lifts you effortlessly, spinning you before returning you to your feet. The action startles a laugh out of you, and you see an answering smile spread across his face.

He lifts you once more before the song ends, and you get a brief moment to look down at his face. He’s gorgeous like this, a few stray strands of hair dangling over his forehead, a slight flush to his cheeks, and a twinkle in his eyes.

The song ends, and the band starts playing another, a lively tune as other couples flood onto the dance floor. Shouto leads you into the dance, never taking his eyes off of your face. This dance is energetic and fun, and you find yourself laughing on the floor as Shouto twirls you around.

You do find yourself out of breath after that, so Shouto leads you off to the side for a moment of peace while the dancers continue. He fetches you a glass of cool water and you drink it gratefully, smiling up at him with flushed cheeks when you finish.

“You look stunning, my lady,” he leans down to murmur in your ear. A shiver runs down your spine at the feeling of his breath on your neck.

“You clean up pretty okay yourself,” you tell him, hiding your pleased smile behind the rim of your cup.

A new song starts playing, and he takes your hand. “Would you like to join me for another dance?”

“I can’t,” you say wistfully.

“Why not?”

“Isn’t it considered rude here to dance with the same partner for more than two songs?” you ask. “I’m sure there are many other ladies who’d like a dance with the tournament champion.”

“I don’t care,” he says, squeezing your hand. “You’re the only lady I want to dance with.”

“Are you sure you won’t get in trouble? I know you said you have responsibilities.”

He flashes you a smirk. That look on him should be considered a deadly weapon, with the way it instantly turns your knees to jelly. He looks like he’s about to say something, when you hear a voice from behind you.

“Your highness?” says a beautiful black haired woman, clad in a deep red gown. Shouto freezes, his playful expression dropping. “Ah Prince Shouto, I’m glad I caught you,” she smiles as she approaches.

Your head whirls. Prince Shouto? You look at him, and you feel stupid for not realizing it before. He looks like the queen, with the intense grey eye and the white hair. You can see the resemblance in his face, in the set of their mouths. You remember this morning- the same name as the prince, your ass. You should have known.

You pull your hand from his, taking a step back.

“Wait, please,” he begs, reaching for you. “I can explain-”

You don’t listen. You turn and run, pushing your way through the crowds. Somewhere behind you, you hear his voice calling your name. It’s the last thing you hear as you pull open the heavy doors, disappearing into the night.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #my hero x reader #todoroki shouto #my hero academia #ves.writes

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in-search-of-a-fallen-star · 1 year ago

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at the last stroke of midnight (pt. 3)

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki/Reader

WC: 2,303

part 2 : part 3 (you are here) : part 4

The melee is, in a word, intense. The sixteen knights who won their jousts circle the arena, their weapons in hand, looking for an opening to bring down an opponent. There are wards placed around the arena, one to dampen magic and the other to prevent lethal damage, so these warriors are fighting in earnest.

It shows, too. One knight, in black and orange colors, has completely disregarded his shield and swings a massive two handed hammer, sending opponents who come near him flying. Another knight, dressed in lighter armor and trimmed in red and white, is using only a weighted staff. They are hypnotic to watch, staff moving and twirling in an elegant defense.

You find your eyes drawn to your knight. His armor shines in the afternoon sun, red and white shield in one hand and sword in the other. He is a sight to behold in combat, blade gleaming as he knocks out one opponent after the other.

The clash of steel keeps you at the edge of your seat, eyes fixed on the warriors locked in combat below you. One after another, they fall, carried out by attendants and squires until there are only two left.

Your knight and the knight in black circle each other, weapons at the ready. The knight in black charges first, a fierce war cry echoing across the arena as he swings his hammer down for a mighty blow. The impact echoes across the arena as your knight blocks it with his shield, the force of the blow knocking him down to one knee.

He retaliates with a precise strike, sword piercing the gaps in the plates of the opposing knight’s armor.

Blood drips down the gleaming blade, falling to the dirt.

Rising to his feet, your knight goes on the offensive, driving the black knight on to his back foot. While the black knight is off balance, your knight’s blade flashes in the sun and the black knight stumbles. Your knight rushes forward, slamming into the black knight with his shield.

The black knight falls, losing his grip on his hammer. Your knight takes the opportunity and kicks it out of his opponent’s reach, leaving the black knight sprawled weaponless in the dirt.

Your knight levels his sword at his opponent. The arena is so quiet you can hear his level voice from the queen’s box as he speaks to the knight in black.

“Yield.”

The knight in black snarls and starts up, his hands crackling with sparks. The ward around the arena flashes red, and two mages start forward, casting spells. The black knight’s hands are immediately bound by magic, pinning him to the dirt. The master of ceremonies ducks under the fences of the arena and runs to your knight’s side, something in hand.

He lifts your knight’s hand aloft, and the crowd roars in applause as your knight is declared victor. The master of ceremonies hands your knight something- it’s dainty in his gauntleted hand, and gleams gold in the sun.

Your knight turns to the queen’s box, and your heart sinks in your stomach as he takes a step towards you. He’s not actually going to offer you the prize in front of all these people, is he?

He keeps walking towards you, and you start to panic. The thought of all those eyes on you makes your palms sweat and your knees shake. Panicking, you make a split second decision and squeeze your way out of the box. The queen reaches out for you, a question in her eyes, but you brush by her hand and run.

Your feet take you to a spot deep inside the royal gardens. The path to get there is deserted- you thank the stars everyone seems to be gathered at the tournament grounds. You step off the path and slip into the woods. At the heart of the glen in the center of the palace gardens is a large willow tree, long branches draping to the ground, forming a curtain that separates the space from the rest of the world.

You part the willow branches with one hand, stepping past the curtain into the sanctuary within. Sinking down against the trunk, you slip off your shoes and bury your toes in the grass. It’s soft against your feet, and the feeling serves to ground you. No one’s around to see, so you decide to shed a few layers as well.

Left in just your chemise, you flop down in the grass. Without the heavy outer layers, you can feel the breeze kiss your skin, and it feels wonderful. From your position in the grass, you watch the breeze move the willow branches, making them gently dance in the air. You feel much calmer now, away from the tournament grounds.

Your knight is probably swarmed by admirers by now, you muse. It feels wrong to call him your knight; you don’t really have a claim on him. All that’s passed between you is a bit of conversation and a favor. You’re sure he’ll get over his passing interest in you, especially now that he has a pack of noblewomen clamoring for the tournament winner’s attention.

You should feel relieved, and for the most part, you do. But there is a small part of you that wishes he would look at you a little longer with that intense mismatched gaze. For a moment, it felt like there was someone at this court who really saw you, not just the snow woman from the mountain village. You have the queen- a fellow stranger in a strange land, shared kinship with someone of shared heritage. But it would have been nice to have someone closer to your age to call a friend. You left a lot of those behind, when you chose to come serve the queen.

Distant cheers ring out from the tournament grounds. You decide that you’re going to savor this moment of peace, able to wear light clothes outside without potentially scandalizing someone. The queen was kind enough to clear your schedule for the afternoon; you don’t have anywhere to be until you attend her at the banquet later tonight. You know she’s probably going to be disappointed you didn’t spend more time at the festivities, but that will be easily smoothed over.

You move to the lip of the small pond that cuts underneath the willow boughs. The water is cool against your toes as you dip them in, though not as cool as the river of your home village. There’s no one around to see, so you run a hand through the still water, using your ice magic to chill the water even further.

The water becomes refreshingly cold, and you sigh with relief as you sink your legs in up to the knees. The ends of your chemise drag in the water, the cotton turning semi transparent against the skin of your legs. The damp material will be cool when you have to put the rest of your gown back on, which will be nice.

With one hand in the water keeping it cool, you reach up the other hand and call frost to your fingertips. This is your other talent, the reason why you were chosen to come serve the queen. Illusions dance from your fingertips, visions of ice fairies moving along with the breeze. It feels good to practice these, you really don’t have a chance to use your magic in the castle at all, save for the precious few moments you find to sneak off by yourself. It’s easier if the people of the palace believe you’re just a commoner with a little talent for ice magic, brought in to give the queen a piece of home. The nobles who ask you to do party tricks like chilling their drinks are annoying, but you can put up with them. Your life would get much more complicated if your true talents were revealed.

You dismiss the illusions, deciding to call forth the real thing with your ice magic. A small cloud forms above you, and snow begins to softly fall. The flakes melt instantly when they touch your skin, but it feels nice all the same. A small piece of home that you’ve been missing. You turn your face up and close your eyes, letting the flakes melt on the warm skin of your cheeks.

You’re so relaxed that you don’t hear the footfalls approaching until someone parts the willow branches and makes a small noise of astonishment. The sound startles you, so much so that you fall forward into the small pond. The person rushes forward, and you look up to see the varicolored eyes of your knight, who is currently offering you a hand.

“Do you make a habit of startling people in the woods?” you ask, reaching up to take his hand. His palm is warm against your chilled skin, and you see a flicker of concern on his face as he pulls you out of the pond. “I’m beginning to see a pattern here.”

“I was told you might be here,” he says. A flush quickly rises to his face and he turns away.

You look down to see that your chemise has been soaked, the cloth practically see through as it clings to your every curve. Scrabbling for something to cover yourself, you grab your surcoat off the ground, pulling it over your head to preserve what’s left of your modesty.

“Why are you looking for me?” you ask, holding the surcoat close to you. “Aren’t you busy, after you know, winning the tournament?”

“I promised to give you the prize, but you left before I could make good on my word.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to actually win!”

“Do you truly think so little of my abilities, my lady?” his mouth twists up in a wry smile.

“The first time I met you, you were running away,” you deadpan. “Forgive me for not expecting much of you.”

He laughs, and oh, your heart melts a little at the sound. It’s rich and velvety, and he looks so handsome with the late afternoon sun gilding his fine features and highlighting the little dimple in his cheek as he smiles at you.

“Perhaps it’s all due to the luck you gave me,” he says, a gentle smile on his face.

“If you had my luck, you would have tripped over your own feet the second those horns blew,” you poke him gently in the chest. “You lied to me about needing luck. Isn’t that against your code of honor or something?”

His hand comes up to grab yours, pressing your hand against his chest. “I would do it again if it meant you would look at me,” he says, a serious look in his eyes.

“I’m looking at you now,” you breathe. You can feel his rapid pulse under your palm, and under very firm chest muscles.

“So you are,” he murmurs. His eyes drop to something below your nose.

You turn your head, worried that he’s noticed a piece of leaf or something stuck to your face from your surprise swim a minute ago. He just laughs softly, and pulls something out from his tunic.

“Would you accept this prize, from me?” he asks, presenting you with a small cloth bundle.

You pull your hand from his and take it, unwrapping the linen to see a beautiful circlet resting inside. It’s made of gold and silver wire, with every curve and bend adorned with hammered gold and silver flowers. The centers of the flowers are set with pearls that shine in the golden hour sunlight. You can’t help the gasp that slips past your lips- it’s stunning.

“I- I can’t take this. This is too much,” you say, pushing the circlet back towards him.

He closes your fingers around it, gently pushing your hands towards your chest. “Please, take it. I want you to have it.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you turn the circlet over in your hands, admiring the delicate wire vines. “This is too great a gift. I have to give you something back.”

“There is one thing,” he starts, a pensive look on his face.

“Name it,” you plead.

“Would you tell me your name?”

“That’s all you want?”

“There is one other thing. I would like to see you wear it, if you would permit me to put it on you.”

“Are you sure that’s all you want?” you ask incredulously. He nods resolutely, and finally accepts when you pass the circlet back to him. You tell him your name, and bow your head so he can place the circlet on you. When you pull your head back up, he has an awed, almost reverent expression on his face.

“Beautiful,” he whispers.

“Will you tell me your name?” you ask, feeling bashful under his gaze. When he pauses, you press him. “Please? I can’t just keep calling you ‘my knight’ in my head.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “You think of me as your knight?”

“Well, I had to think of something different to call you during the tournament full of other knights,” you say, looking away in embarrassment. “Will you please tell me your name? It’s only fair.”

“I think I like being your knight.”

“Don’t tease,” you whine. You have to restrain the urge to stomp your foot.

He opens his mouth, and you can tell by the twinkle in his eye that he is definitely about to tease you again, when the sound of trumpets cuts him off. “Duty calls, my lady,” he says, taking your hand and lifting it to his lips. He presses a soft kiss to the back of it before he steps away. “I’ll see you again soon.”

#todoroki shouto x reader #shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #my hero x reader #todoroki shouto #my hero academia #ves.writes

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in-search-of-a-fallen-star · 1 year ago

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at the last stroke of midnight (pt. 2)

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki/Reader

WC: 1,904

part 1 : part 2 (you are here) : part 3

Your first impression of the tournament is that it is loud. The stands on both sides of the field are crammed with people, and the sound of chatter washes over you like a wave. The queen had made it a point that her box not be above the stands this year, so you are down in the thick of it.

It’s a far cry from the peace of your mountain home, where the loudest noise is the rushing water of the glacial runoff that flows through the center of your village. It’s even quieter in winter- it gets so quiet that you can hear the snow fall.

This is… not that.

Another thing you miss about your home is how cool it is. Even in the summer, the nights get cold enough that an extra blanket or a sweater feels nice. Here you’re sweating under three layers of skirts. Curse these southerners and their damn formal clothing, you think as you try to subtly adjust your skirts to get some semblance of airflow.

You hadn’t been informed that this tournament would require even the servants to be in formal dress, so you’d missed the beginning of the tournament while the other ladies in waiting quickly stuffed you into a gown. You’d almost deliberately left the favor the queen had given you on the vanity in your quarters, but then you remembered the hopeful look on the queen’s face when she’d given it to you, and begrudgingly stuffed it in your pocket.

Unfortunately, since you’d missed the introductions at the beginning of the tournament, you didn’t know any of the knight’s names, and you haven’t been in the south long enough for any of the crests the knights are wearing to mean anything. You watched the ladies around you hand out their favors to knights who came riding up with a bit of interest. Luckily it seemed like they knew the knights who approached them, and blushed and tittered when the knights would tip their lances to them for the ladies to place the favor.

You don’t know any of these knights, and it seems unlikely that any of them will come to you for a favor, so you busy yourself watching the spectacle. You know the queen is going to ask you what you thought about it, so you want to have answers for her interrogation questions later.

It means that your eyes are elsewhere when a knight rides up to you. They have to clear their throat and tap their lance against the railing of the box to draw your attention. You look to either side of you to see who the knight is trying to catch, when the knight speaks.

“I was looking for you,” they say, and their voice sends a shudder up your spine. They lift a hand to their visor, opening it just enough that you can see the mismatched eyes underneath, twinkling with amusement. “You’re hard to find.”

“Well you found me,” you huff, crossing your arms. “Do you want a prize?”

“Yes, actually.” The knight smiles, and tips his lance in your direction. “Would you grant me your favor, my lady?”

“Why should I give it to you?” you ask, looking the knight over for any clue to his identity. His armor is plain, and his shield bears no crest, only a red and white field. Like his hair, your brain supplies.

“I need the luck,” the knight says, his eyes earnest.

“I’m sure there are dozens of ladies here who could give you luck,” you gesture to the stands filled with women, wreaths of flowers clutched in their hands.

“But I want your luck,” he pleads.

“Fine,” you cave, leaning down to slide the wreath of flowers over the tip of his lance. “But if you win, I want the prize. It is my luck, after all.”

He stands up in the stirrups of his saddle, reaching up to grasp your hand in his gauntleted one before you can pull away. “As you wish, my lady,” he murmurs, keeping his eyes on yours as he presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

You open your mouth to say something, but the horns ring out, signaling the start of the tournament. The knight smiles at you one last time, before he sits back down in his saddle and shuts the visor of his helmet. He waves at you before turning his horse to ride to the start line.

You pull your hand to your chest, unconsciously rubbing the spot where he kissed. His lips really are as soft as they look, you muse for a moment before snapping yourself out of your daze. You do your best to ignore the pounding of your heart as you watch the knights assemble for the first part of the tournament.

Jousting is the first event. You’ve seen knights practice in the training yards of the castle, trying to knock each other off their horses or gather rings on their lances. It’s much different watching it up close, and you find yourself swept up in the enthusiasm of the crowd, cheering at the clash of lances on steel.

As loath as you are to admit it, the queen was right, you muse as you watch. This is more fun than you were expecting. You groan inwardly at the thought of telling her that. She might have a reputation as being refined and elegant, but she can be smug as hell when she’s right about something.

The knight with the red and white shield is one of the last to go in the jousting event. You watch as he takes his place at the end of the tilting lane, lance in hand. The flowers you gave him flutter in the wind at the base of the lance, and you can feel the queen’s knowing gaze on the back of your head. You stubbornly refuse to turn and look, keeping your eyes fixed on the knight.

The stands quiet as the heralds call the start of the round. The crowd seems to be holding their breath, waiting for the sound of impact. You hear the drum of the horse’s hooves on the dirt as they pound down the tilting lane, and the crowd roars as both lances shatter against the knight’s armor. Both of them stay seated, turning their horses to go back to their starting point and prepare for another pass.

Brushing aside the lance that his squire offers him, your knight clambers off his horse and runs into the tilting lane with a clank of steel. The crowd gasps, watching him root around in the dirt before he finds what he’s looking for- he pulls the favor you gave him out of the dirt and dusts it off, before trotting back to his side of the tilting lane and climbing back up on his horse. You watch as he slides the favor over the tip of his new lance before getting into position. The crowd murmurs around you as the heralds call the start of the next pass.

There’s a clash of wood on steel and you watch as your knight unseats his opponent with a clean hit, the other knight going flying off his horse and landing in the dirt. Your knight reins in his horse and swings down, walking over to offer the other knight a hand up as the squires run down the lanes.

After making sure that his opponent landed safely, your knight turns to the queen’s box and salutes with his lance, as is the victor’s tradition. For a moment, you feel his eyes on you, even though they’re covered by the steel of his helmet’s visor. You dismiss the feeling as nonsense, but you can’t help the slight flush that colors your cheeks.

Once the jousts finish, you watch the tournament attendants clear the tilting lane markers and reset the arena. The victorious knights gather around the edges, talking quietly with their squires as the tournament attendants finish setting up the arena for the melee.

Over the chatter of the festival goers around you, you hear the queen call your name. You leave the railing and turn towards her seat, curtsying as you approach. “Your majesty,” you greet, bowing your head with your curtsy.

“I have a favor to ask you,” she says, inclining her head to you conspiratorially. “Take your handkerchief to that knight with the red and white shield.”

You snap your head up, looking at her incredulously. “What? Why?” You hiss, lowering your voice to not be heard over the crowd.

“You gave him your favor, did you not? Take him your handkerchief to wipe his face, and go congratulate him on his win.”

You want to say no, but she looks so excited that you can’t bring yourself to deny her. “Yes, your majesty,” you say with another curtsy as you turn to leave. As you walk away, you hear Princess Fuyumi, seated next to the queen, start “The knight with the red and white shield? Mother, isn’t that-”

The queen shushes her, and begins to say something that gets lost in the crowd as you make your way out of the box. You see several other ladies walking toward the field as well, each of them approaching one of the knights with water or towels in their hands.

Your knight has his visor up, a cup of water at his lips as he surveys his competition. His eyes catch you approaching, and they brighten as he turns toward you. He waits for you to approach, varicolored eyes watching you as you walk closer.

“I told you I needed the luck,” he gestures to the favor, which he now has pinned to his breastplate.

“Your lance broke on the first hit,” you offer your handkerchief to him, which he accepts gratefully. He dabs at the sweat on his brow, and you’re briefly distracted by how unfair it is that he looks so handsome while sweating. It makes his skin glisten in the summer sun, highlighting his high cheekbones.

With his hair pushed back inside his helmet, you can get a good look at his face, and you notice the scar that surrounds one of his eyes. It makes him look dashing, you decide.

“But I stayed in the saddle,” he reminds you. He goes to return the handkerchief, but his hand halts midair. “May I return this to you after I’ve had a chance to wash it?”

“That would be preferable.”

“I’ll need to know who to return it to,” he looks at you hopefully. “Will you tell me your name?”

“I already told you, I’m no one of consequence,” you sniff, turning your head to survey the arena and crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’re seated in the queen’s box,” he points out. “That makes you of consequence.”

“There are servants in the queen’s box too.”

He starts to ask another question, but the herald’s trumpets interrupt him. Something in his expression makes you pause as you turn to go back to the queen’s box. “Uh, good luck out there,” you offer, smiling at him tentatively.

His answering smile is luminous, before his squire grabs his attention and begins preparing him to enter the arena. You begin the walk back to the queen’s box, turning over the thought in your head that your knight has a very cute dimple.

#todoroki shouto x reader #shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki shouto #my hero x reader #my hero academia #ves.writes

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in-search-of-a-fallen-star · 1 year ago

Text

at the last stroke of midnight (pt. 1)

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki/Reader

WC: 2,021

Content warnings: aged up characters, everyone is in their 20s or older. fantasy au. no real content warnings for this part, mostly just fluff. no pronouns used for reader, but they are described to wear skirts and are referred to as 'my lady'.

i've had this idea kicking around for a while, and finally decided to finish it for shouto's birthday this year! i have this mostly written, so updates should be consistent, with the last part hopefully coming out on his birthday next week.

soundtrack for this: the whole story was written to the 2015 Cinderella soundtrack by Patrick Doyle. 10/10 recommend.

part 1 (you are here) : part 2

Curse these southerners and their confounded layers,” you muttered angrily as you tried to situate your skirts and petticoats so you could lay down. After some pulling and twisting and more grumbled swearing, you sank down into the soft grass, a sigh of relief escaping your lips at the cool shade underneath the sweeping branches of the trees. You fanned yourself, trying to create any sort of breeze as the haze of the summer afternoon rippled in the air.

You were still close enough to the palace gardens that you could hear the chatter of passing courtiers and servants, the hum of conversation blending with the buzzing of the cicadas to create a soothing kind of white noise. You had time yet, you mused. Time enough for a nap, before you were summoned back to your duties in the castle. Settling your head on your arm, you closed your eyes and began to doze off in your woodland bower.

Crashing sounds rudely roused you from your peaceful rest. There’s no time to react before a form hurtled through the bushes, landing on top of you with a grunt. You catch a flash of red and white hair, and you come nose to nose with surprised blue and grey heterochromatic eyes. You raise your hands to shove him off of you, but a loud noise catches both of your attention.

“GET THE FUCK BACK HERE, ICY HOT!” comes a bellow from somewhere in the palace gardens, accompanied by a crackle of something that sounds like… firecrackers?

The man above you smirks faintly, and you push at his chest, meeting surprisingly solid muscle. Unfortunately, all your shove really does is remind him of your presence, and he turns back to regard you with a curious look. You open your mouth to scream, and he quickly raises a hand to cover your mouth. “Quiet, just for a moment. Please?” he murmurs, his voice low and soft.

You glare but remain silent. The two of you listen to the angry man’s footsteps and grumbling recede, and the moment he fades out of your range of hearing you open your mouth and drag your tongue across the palm still covering your mouth. He recoils immediately, and you take the opportunity to push him again. This time he goes, rocking back to kneel on the grass in front of you. He offers you a hand, but you brush it to the side as you sit up.

“Did you… lick me?” he asks, looking at you incredulously.

“Would you rather I bit you instead?” you retort, focused on righting your dress. “Both are justified when a strange man puts his hand over one’s mouth.”

This startles a huff of laughter out of the strange man. “Ah, no. I am glad you did not bite me.” He looks you over with a strange glint in his eye. “What is your name, my lady?”

You examine him in return. He’s dressed in loose clothes under leather armor, and has a fine dusting of dirt that suggests he’s come from the training yards. A knight, perhaps? “I’m no one of consequence,” you say airily, leaning on the tree behind you for support as you stand up.

He rises with you, his hand moving on instinct to offer you assistance, hanging in the air between the two of you. You brush the grass blades off your skirt and look up, surprised to find his varicolored eyes still watching you. There’s a moment of stillness as your eyes meet, and a shiver runs down your spine at being studied so intently.

The sound of distant bells breaks the atmosphere that has settled over the two of you. Tearing your eyes away from the stranger’s face, you look towards the clock tower and count the bells. You curse under your breath, realizing that you’d taken a longer nap than you’d meant to. As you turn to push through the bushes, a cool hand wraps around your wrist.

“Will you be at the tournament tomorrow?”

“Perhaps, if my lady wishes for me to accompany her.” You pull your hand from his grasp and turn to push through the bushes, returning to the manicured paths of the palace gardens. His gaze remains on you as you walk away, and you can feel it on you like a touch. It sends shivers skittering down your spine, and your skin tingles where his fingers wrapped around your wrist. Discreetly, you shake out your hands and tip your chin up, making your way to the queen’s apartments.

The queen is seated at her vanity, and her grey eyes twinkle at you in the mirror. “You missed dinner,” she says calmly, a sly smile curling the corners of her mouth.

“I apologize, your majesty. I was… delayed,” you say, falling into a deep curtsy before moving behind her. You begin gently removing the pins from her snow white hair.

She lets you work in silence for a moment, letting you relax for a moment before she meets your eyes in the mirror. “Were you napping again?”

“I would do no such thing, your majesty. I was simply enjoying the weather,” you say loftily, refusing to meet her knowing gaze.

“Ah yes, enjoying the weather that you’ve complained about since you arrived.”

“Perhaps I would enjoy it more if I didn’t have to wear all these accursed layers in the middle of summer,” you grouse, running a soft bristled brush through her fine white hair. “These southerners have such delicate sensibilities. I don’t know how you put up with them, your majesty.”

“You’ll grow accustomed to them in time,” she leans her head back with a sigh. “You might even come to find their ways charming.”

“Perhaps. It will be difficult to find them charming while I’m sweating like a pig in three layers of skirts, though.” Your hands still in her hair, and you can feel her eyes on you. “I would kill for a swim in the glacial river,” you joke, resuming your work.

“I know you miss home,” Rei says, her voice gentle. “If you ever want to return, just say the word.”

You let out a distinctly unladylike snort. “And leave you alone to play nice with these southerners? Unlikely.”

She laughs, the sound clear and tinkling like bells. You tie off her long braid with a silver ribbon and do a once over of her room, checking to see if there’s anything you missed.

“You’re free to go,” Rei stands from her chair, pulling a soft blue robe over her nightclothes. “I can take care of myself for the rest of the evening. You’ll need your rest before you attend me at the tournament tomorrow,” she says, a sly look in her grey eyes.

You let her see your eye roll as you dip into a curtsy. “As your majesty wishes,” you say, voice saccharine sweet.

“It’ll be fun,” she tells you. “This city knows how to put on a show.”

“Ah yes, people in metal suits bashing each other over the head with sticks, my favorite.”

“There’s more to it than that,” she admonishes. “You’ll understand once you see. Now run along,” she shoos you out the door with a flapping motion. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

The next morning finds you stifling a yawn behind your hand as you wait in the kitchens for the maids to assemble the queen’s breakfast tray. You hum to yourself as you ascend the stairs to her chambers, where you find her already awake.

You set the tray down on her small table and begin setting out her food. The queen finishes the letter that she’s working on at her desk before she joins you, sitting elegantly in one of the chairs. Once you’ve finished unpacking her tray, you move to her wardrobe.

“Any preferences for your gown today, your majesty?”

“Let’s do the light green one that I wore on May Day.”

You retrieve the requested gown from its place in the wardrobe, laying it out on the bed before you begin gathering the required accessories. Once the queen finishes her breakfast, she stands at the vanity, and you begin the process of dressing. Over her chemise goes the petticoat, then a royal blue kirtle woven with gold. The pale green gown goes last, finely made and patterned with verdant leaves.

You fasten a golden girdle at her waist, studded with emeralds and sapphires. She takes a matching necklace out of her jewelry box and hands it to you to fasten around her neck. Rei takes a seat at the vanity for you to do her hair, which you then place a fine golden veil over, holding it in place with combs.

The final piece is her crown, a delicate golden thing set with moonstones and star sapphires. It rests on her brow, and it makes her look regal and imposing.

Satisfied with your handiwork, you leave her to inspect the gown in the mirror while you go to the table and begin gathering the breakfast dishes to take back to the kitchen. Before you can leave, the queen calls your name.

“Come here,” she beckons you. Rei pulls something out from a drawer in her desk and offers it to you. You set the tray down on the table and approach. The object in her hand is a wreath of silk flowers, bound together with colorful ribbons. It’s too big to be a bracelet, and too small to be a crown. You turn it over in your hands, trying to deduce its purpose.

“It’s a favor,” the queen explains. She laughs softly at your look of confusion. “It’s a token that’s customarily given to a knight of your choosing before their bout at the tournament. As queen, I cannot show favor to one knight over the others, but you have no such restrictions.”

She sees the hesitation on your face. “Just think about it,” she asks, her voice gentle. “I won’t order you to participate in this country’s customs, but this would be a good start.”

You tuck the favor in your pocket. “I will, your majesty,” you curtsy. She looks pleased, and the two of you share a smile before you leave the room.

You bring the tray back to the kitchens and see to your other duties. The favor burns a hole in your pocket while you dash about, finishing chores and preparing the queen’s box. Perhaps she’s right, you muse. Since you arrived four months ago, you��ve avoided every custom and tradition the south has to offer. You’re at court so little that you’ve only met two of the queen’s four children- Princess Fuyumi is the picture of an elegant southern lady, and Prince Natsuo seems like a kind man, devoted to his studies.

The other two princes have eluded you so far. Prince Touya has been in recovery since the whole business with the king, and hasn’t been seen in the capital since. As far as you know, the youngest prince has been away for several months, studying magic under the great mage Yagi Toshinori. You’ve heard that the youngest prince has made quite a name for himself, as he roams the country slaying monsters with his teacher. It’s unlikely that either of them will attend, but you wonder if they’ll make an appearance.

Your mind strays to the strange knight with the heterochromatic eyes. You can’t deny that he’d been handsome, with those blue and grey eyes, delicate features, and a soft mouth. As a knight he’s most likely going to be somewhere in the tournament tomorrow, a part of your mind whispers.

You quash that thought immediately. Your duty is to the queen, you remind yourself. You have no business getting distracted, no matter how pretty the distraction might be. Besides, most of these southerners are only interested in you because you’re an oddity. They’re curious about your snow woman heritage, and their interest quickly wanes when you refuse to do tricks for them.

The knight didn’t know, your brain points out. And he was interested in you anyway.

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