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Company | Megumi x fem!reader
word count: 7.7k
warnings: Fingering, Megumi is whipped for reader, reader is mentioned to have a cigarette but no writing of her smoking, Kissing, Fluff
summary: Megumi finds himself slightly more intrigued by Shokoâs new trainee on placement than he wants to admit
a/n: All characters are aged up to 18+
Megumi didnât like to make the biggest deal about anything.
Pain, inconvenience, exhaustion, heâd learned early on to treat them as background noise. Something to push through, and not dwell on.
But unfortunately, now that his leg had been struck hard enough by a grade three curse that had been labelled a simple mission, that it was almost becoming unbearable to walk on, he was finally forced to take it seriously.
Each step toward Shokoâs medic room was uneven as he dragged himself down the corridor.
His jaw was set and his expression was unreadable as always, It hurt more than he cared to admit, so he didnât.
âSorry english isnât my first languageâ Donât ever apologise baby, iâm about to fuhh this shit up
đđđ đđ đđđđđđđđ jean x f!reader
Ëàšà§â. jean and his bsf w ocd
a/n: lwk sloppy sry guys
warnings: ocd, sh
Having people to love must be a burden for you.
Jean tries not to think of it but he does. Everytime he catches you pacing back and forth till 2am. Everytime he wakes up to the sound of you whimpering, cold hands and sticky hair on your forehead. Everytime you turn the lights on and off and on and off and on and off before you go to bed.
Everytime your compulsive thoughts take over you till youâre not a girl anymore, just a shadow.
"Give it to me." Jean takes the knife out of your hands as you're cutting an orange into slices. For him. For you. It's not a question, it's not a request, either. It's a demand where he grabs onto your hand simply pries it away from your grasp.
"Tch, Jeanâ" your annoyance is evident in the way you frown at him hard. "Give it back!" Jeanâs arm shoots up in the air with the knife and so does yours. The expression on his face isn't the usual. There's no smirk, nor any evidence of casual indifference, just a calm and collected look a concerned father might have. He's not teasing. At all.
"No, Y/n." He mutters. "Please." and it's enough to soften you and let him do whatever the hell he wants. Your arm falls back to your side, you rest your temple over his bicep, curling your hand around it as you watch him slice the orange into uneven pieces. He will save the big ones for you, you know that.
"I'm not a baby, you know." you mumble. And he thinks you sound like a child whining about how grown up they've gotten. "You don't have to look after me all the time."
He tries not to think of the time where you burned the tips of your fingers trying to hold onto a pan. He tries not to think of how you hurt your other hand to just to make it even.
"I know." he smiles like he's trying to hide it from you. "But you know what I see when I look at you?"
Jean thinks back to the time where you were too young to make sense of your condition.
"I get these stupid thoughts sometimes." Turn the page to the age of eleven. Not quiet kids, not quiet teens. Two of them kicking their feet on the wooden bench parked near an icecream stall. Asphalt so hot that it melts your soles off.
"Because you are stupid." You've both got your hands busy, licking Popsicles that threaten to melt off of your hands. The sun around is so bright that it burns into your eyelids and you're too tired to put up a fight.
"They tell me to do things." you lick your barely there popsicle, the taste of cherry and cold numbing the heat in your mouth. "And if I don't do themâ" you take another lick. "Something bad will happen, to mom, to dad, to Sasha, even you."
"Heyâleave me out of it."
"I can't." your answer is simple and clear. You stare ahead, watching people move, other children laugh under the shade of rain trees. You wonder how their minds feel without the constant or mercurial high of thoughts rising and falling all around them.
Jean leans back on the wooden bench, trying to pretend he isn't hearing what you're saying at all. Because he doesn't know what to do at times like these. At times where you're both not trying to get on each otherâs nerves.
"Because I'm scared." You think of how brainless it is of you to be a slave of your own mind. You think of your grades sprawled across the teacher's table and your motherâs booming voice calling you lazy and thick-headed. You think maybe you are this way because of you were never smart. Like your older sister. Like Jean.
"Thatâthat everyone will be gone." Think too hard and tears will gather in your eyes. Like they always do when you think. Think, think, thinkâ that's all you do.
Your hands start to shake and your popsicle drops on the pavement, your pink sneakers tainted red, your face drenched with tears before you even realise it but your voice remains steady. "And-and it'll all be my fault..."
"Hey! what the hell are you doing?" Jean cringes at the splattered red on your sneakers. And then looks over to you. You're crying. This might be his first time seeing you cry. "Hey, Y/nâ" he reaches out one hand to place on your shoulder, leaning in to see your face better as it hangs low.
"I'm sorry, I can't leave you out of itâ" because i love you. Because my mind is a scramble of thoughts. Jean starts to panic, his hands hovering all around, hesitant to touch your shoulder or even speakâ what was he supposed to do? When all the both of you did was bicker and side eye each other all the time or share one or two jokes in class. Jean looks around, trying to come up with something to make a girl stop crying.
"These thoughts that you talk aboutâ" Jean sees the way you're now curling into yourself, hunching down and covering your face. "Are they acting up right now?"
"They act up all the time." you hiccup through your palms. "And what are they telling you to do right now?" he asks, panic high in his voice. "That I have to buy another popsicle even though I dont have any money left and sprint home and kick my feet ten times andâ"
"Fine." Jean sighs, he wonders if it's just an excuse for a free popsicle. Maybe it is, but he just wants you to stop crying.
"I don't have any money left." you manage. "I'll get you one, only if you buy me one next time."
"Two, I'll buy you two, so please."
I'd buy you ten more if you asked me to but I only have four dollars with me right now. I'm sorry, I wish your mind was a quieter place.
Turn the page to the present. You're now an eighteen year old with the same bestfriend she had ever since she was eleven. You hate repetition, familiarity of your compulsions and routine and mundane tasks you have to do everyday. Jean is the only constant you donât mind.
"Say ahhâ" He pops one of the slice in your mouth. "You didn't answer me, Jean."
"It's nothing." he starts gathering the slices in a plate. "Stay in suspense, forever."
"You have to tell meâ or else." you frown at him, your hand still curled around his arm. "Or else?" he smiles at you, it's kind of warm.
"Stupid thoughts acting up again?" you angrily chew on the orange slice before gulping it down, your frown perpetually plastered over your face. "They're pretty quiet right now."
Have you ever told him before? That when he smiles your world quiets down. That you donât care about the stray hair sticking out of his head or the eyelash on his cheek or his lopsided grin. You only care that he's beautiful. And beautiful things have always saved you, classical music, drawing under the sun in your balcony or his habit of always getting on your nerve has always eased the chatter in your head.
Before you can give time for any thought to surface, you tug on his hoodie, causing him to lurch forward, so harsh that his nose almost collides with yoursâ but the both of your lips align in such a way that it's so soft, so warm. It tastes like longing and citrus. Short and sweet. Awkward and naive like teenagers are while sharing their first kiss.
You'd always thought of maybe, you'd kiss the person multiple times when you had your first kiss. So why was your mind so noiseless right now? But when you pulled away, Jeanâs mind was definitely not.
His face is red, his hands are still, his eyes are wide. He is caught off-guard and so, so in love. He shoves another slice of orange into your mouth as you grin wide at him. "Hold onâ" he sputters. "Was thisâ"
"I did it because I wanted to."
"Then I guess...I love you...too?" he gives you a nervous smile, looking everywhere but at you.
You chuckle. "I love you too." you said it once but you meant it a thousand times.
You inch closer, lacing your hands with his, "You're the only chaos that doesn't make me spiral. " You smiled at him like the weight of your disorder flew away all at once. But it'd be back again, when your medication will switch, when it's time to go bed and you didnât repeat whatever random word one twenty times. When it's morning and you failed to take twenty four steps to the kitchen. Atleast right now, it is quite, atleast right now you're not crying like you were last night. Atleast right now, you're smiling.
When I look at you...I still see the girl who stopped crying and smiled when I got her a popsicle.
Guys i finally, on the twenty second chapter, wrote their kissing scene đ«Š
if anyone wants to read my current ongoing viscount jean kirstein x dukes niece bridgerton!au story i have currently released on wattpad (@hibi5cus), here is a short excerpt 𫊠(this scene was heavily inspired from that one daphne and simon scene)
warnings: sexually explicit language
ËăăăăâŠăăă.ăă . ăâËă.ăăăăă . âŠăăă ăËăăăă . â â.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose âThis,â he began carefully, glancing once at the statue before looking back at you, âis a depiction ofâŠâ he then looked up, as if figuring how to better explain it in your terms âa husband and wife.â
âMarried people sit near one another all the time. and it doesnât look likeâŠâ You gestured vaguely beside you, refusing to look again. ââŠthat.â
His mouth twitched as he tried to conceal his smirk âIt is not sitting,â
Silence stretched between you, and he stepped slightly closer, lowering his voice further âWhen two people are enamoured by one another,â he said slowly, âthere are⊠private acts expected of them.â
âPrivate acts,â you repeated trying to make sense of what he was saying
âYes.â
Your throat felt dry. âAnd they⊠stand like that?â
A faint, almost disbelieving breath escaped him âNo.â
âThen whatâŠâ you trailed off
when he looked at you after a moment of hesitation, the amusement in his face was gone entirely
âYour mother truly did not teach youâ he said, more to himself than to you as you looked as if you were just about registering his words
âNo place to speak of such thingsâ you scoffed âNot even am i allowed to read up on itâ
He spoke more carefully âIt is⊠a certain closeness,â he said. âThe sort that is not for public conversation. It is meant to be private between a husband and wife.â
You nodded, understanding very little with the prior knowledge you had on the matter
âwhat is the pointâ you asked him
âIt is meant to be a build upâ he explained thoughtfully
âa build up to what?â you asked again, tilting your head
âAâŠâ he looked up again âa build up until It⊠intensifies.â
âIntensifies?â you repeated taking in a breath
âThere is a point,â he nodded as he continued âwhere the closeness becomes overwhelming and where everything begins to unravel, and then-â
He stopped suddenly, and you feared he might have heard your heart beating
His gaze flickered to your lips before he seemed to catch himself
âAnd then it reaches the sensation,â he said quietly
you innocently held his gaze which made him furrow his brows as he studied your expression
You were watching him with wide eyes, completely unguarded
âYou do not know what sensation I am talking about,â he said slowly, earning a small head shake from you
âyou do notâŠâ he trailed off for a second and you begun to chuckle slowly
âi do not whatâ you asked with narrowed eyes and a smile on your face
âyou do not-â his breath caught as he looked around briefly to ensure it was only you he was talking to ââŠease your restlessnessâ
your smile slowly faded as he walked even closer to you to whisper even more carefully
âlike having a napâ you asked softly
he shook his head ânoâŠâ he looked at the rise and fall on your chest ââŠlike touching yourselfâ he then looked back up to you âyou do touch yourself right miss l/n?â
you stared up at him as he spoke, not gathering a reply
âYou are allowed to feel the sensation when you are aloneâŠâ he smirked âby touching yourselfâ
you still did not reply, instead you swallowed as you continued to listen
âtouch yourself to feel a sensation miss y/n⊠anywhere you feel you shouldâ he glanced down to your skirt ever so slightly âanywhere you feel you need to⊠or want toâ
you closed your lips
âThen you will feel what can only be described asâŠâ
you met his eye again
ââŠhow you would feel under a waterfallâ
currently editing a jean x reader bridgerton!au full story which has been in my drafts for about two years, iâve currently edited 9 chapters!!!!
Thinking about megumi fushiguro never being the type to make a big deal about anything, because as long as you know he loves you, he is more than content.
Megumi had this habit, this way of doing things that never looked like much but always meant everything.
He didnât say I love you the way other people did, he just⊠did.
Heâd hold your tea in the morning without being asked, slip you his jacket before you even realized you were cold, or quietly take the seat beside you when crowds got too loud. He was never loud about it, and he never expected praise from others.
âFushiguro that was so Gentleman of youâ
he didnât care what others thought of it, because he knew it meant more to you
So when Nobara raved about wanting to try that new sushi place downtown, and you had quickly agreed with a smile on your face, it was obvious heâd show up.
Yuji was already at the table waving maniacally, and you and Megumi slid into the seats across from them.
âFinally,â Nobara said, dramatic as ever. âYou two take forever.â
âYou ordered before we even got here, itâs not like you were dependant on our arrivalâ Megumi replied, deadpan, and she only grinned wider.
The food came quick, and conversation was spilling as it always did, Yuji was talking too loud towards you, Nobara was berating yuji about not knowing something, and Megumi occasionally cutting in. it was all normal
Until Megumi shifted beside you, pulling something out of his pocket.
He just said, âHere,â and placed a small velvet box next to your plate.
Yuji and Nobara froze mid-chew.
You blinked, a confused laugh slipping out. âWhat is itâ
He gave a tiny shrug, as if it were nothing. âJust something i saw. i thought youâd like it.â
You opened it, and inside, almost hiding against the dark fabric, was a beautiful ring.
âOh my god,â Nobara breathed. âMegumi.â
âwhatâ he said immediately, tone so dry it made Yuji choke on his drink.
âDude,â Yuji coughed, grinning. âwhy are you always so casualâ
You laughed quietly. âItâs really pretty, thank you megumi.â and you slipped it on your finger, it fit perfectly⊠of course it did
He didnât meet your eyes, gaze fixed on his food again. âit suits you â he smiled slightly
Yuji and Nobara exchanged a look, wide-eyed,
âFushiguro⊠is that itâ nobara breathed out, like she was expecting something else
âwhat else shall i doâ he asked, gaze lifting slightly towards you to see if it was bothering you as much as it was nobara
ânothingâ you said simply, offering him a sweet smile, turning the ends of his ears pink
âyou twoâ yuji said in between his soda pointing at you both âare one of the weirdest couples iâve ever seenâ
âbut theyâre also one of the happiestâ nobara shrugged going back for her chopsticks
Afterward, the four of you left, heading back to jujitsu high before gojo sent a load of messages questioning where his students had gone without him.
Nobara and Yuji darted ahead, bickering about dessert, and you stayed back linking your arms through Megumiâs.
âDo you wish iâd make more of a big deal about things?â he asked, breaking the comfortable silence
You smiled, eyes still on the ring. âYou couldnât pay me to.â
âIf you did itâs alright, i can trââ
You reached up, catching his sleeve gently, and before he could finish, leaned in to press a short kiss against his lips.
âDont change,â you murmured.
ââŠItâs just a ring,â he said quietly, avoiding your gaze
You smiled. âSure.â
And you sure as hell hoped, that megumi wouldnât change
Attack on titan masterlist đĄïž
In progressâŠ
Jujitsu kaisen masterlist đź
fushiguro megumi ~
* megumi being a silent lover
* company (NSFW)
more in progressâŠ
shall i start writing for other fandoms?!
Yes!
No tf?
the fandoms i was thinking of writing for include:
Jujitsu kaisen
attack on titan
More comingâŠ..? (send me requests!!!!!)
courting season | part III
warnings: NSFW, dry humping, fluff, not proofread
a/n: Hey lovelies i hope this wasnât too underwhelming, but here it is! the final part, i may possibly do a short sequel depending on what everyone thinks!! enjoy x đ©·
It had been three weeks since that day.
twenty one days since youâd vowed to forget him
twenty one since heâd walked out without so much as a glance, leaving you breathless and humiliated.
You still remembered the sound of his voice the words that left you still engraved in your mind âForgive me.â
As if forgiveness could ever be that simple.
Youâd tried to be done with him. You really had.
For gods sake, it hadnât even been that long since you first met him.
But he lingered in your mind
And that, more than anything, made you spiteful, this is exactly what you didnât want, something so insignificant on your mind
so you busied yourself, and everyday you continued to do this hours passed, long and heavy,
until, one day, the sound of carriage wheels outside snapped you from your brooding. You ignored it at first, assuming it was some mundane visitor, or a suitor for your sister. But curiosity caught you, and you walked to the window.
A young man, was stepping down from the carriage with a cream envelope held carefully in his hands.
The envelope had not just your name, but your whole familyâs. A single invitation, addressed to each of you.
The whitehalls art museum viewing, tomorrow night at 6pm
You frowned at it
âThatâs⊠grand,â your sister said, examining her own envelope with a small smile. âI think I will attend with someone,â she added casually, âa suitor Iâve grown particularly fond of.â
You raised an eyebrow at the remark, though you didnât press.
Your mother, however, couldnât resist a jab. She chuckled, tapping the envelope with a finger. âWell, I suppose you might like to go too, dear. Keep an eye on your sister, see how itâs done.â
You innocently scowled at her, âI do not need my younger sister to teach me how to behave,â you muttered
your mothers smile softened, but her eyes hardened. âI was only joking. But itâs not a half bad ideaâ
your gaze lifted to meet hers
âI am serious. You are going. I expect you there.â
Your stomach sank, but, you knew better than to protest further, you couldnât wait for your mother to calm it down after the season, you loved her, but she was too much sometimes.
âvery well,â you said, folding the envelope and tucking it away.
The next day came with a quiet sort of dread. the lowering sun spilled across the room, but it didnât warm anything inside you.
You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your hair, trying to focus on the folds of the gown, the way the silk framed your collarbones. But every time your fingers brushed the back of your neck, something shifted in your chest and your mind
His hands. The weight of him pressing you against the bookshelves. His lips. The way heâd pulled back, jaw tight, eyes flicking to yours with plea and then away. Forgive me. That had been the last thing he said before walking out, leaving you alone, feeling everything
You swallowed hard, reminding yourself it was absurd to be thinking about it now. It had been weeks. You were supposed to be done, done with the thoughts, done with him.
But it wasnât done. Not in your head. Not in your chest
You pinched the bridge of your nose and forced your gaze back to your reflection.
Ready, you smoothed the fabric over your legs, trying to focus on the way the color caught the light
You exhaled sharply and ran your hands through your hair one last time.
dear god, please make this night go fast
The carriage ride to Whitehalls was quieter than you expected, though your mind refused to settle, jumping from one memory to another,
Every bump of the wheels against the cobblestones felt like a heartbeat echoing in your chest.
When the carriage finally stopped, you hesitated before stepping down. You smoothed your gown, forcing your shoulders back, though your stomach churned with nerves.
Inside, the hall was vast, bathed in golden lamplight. Portraits and sculptures lined the walls, witnesses to the evening.
You surveyed the room for a while, battling internal thoughts on whether or not youâd see him.
Youâd recently overheard from your mother and her group of gossiping hens that the reason the duke had been so present as of recent, was due to the fact that his father had called him home from his work overseas for the season to attend some family business.
That explains why you caught sight of him almost immediately.
Somehow, it felt funny that he was everywhere, but you couldnât say you were entirely surprised. Deep down, a small, stubborn part of you had known youâd see him tonight.
Your sister, in a soft blue gown, had already glided away with the suitor she fancied, laughter strayed behind her like a trail
With her gone, the hall felt suddenly wider, quieter, as if it were waiting just for you.
After a while of you surveying the beautiful art closest to the door, a young man approached you, bowing with his hand extended. âMiss, may I have the honor of escorting you?â
You hesitated for only a minute
you scolded yourself when your eyes briefly darted toward him, especially when he wasnât even looking at you, then nodded, slipping your hand into his.
The touch was polite, you could deal with it for a while, maybe youâd have something to tell your mother tonight, give her a bit of hope.
As he led you toward the center of the room, you again, stole another glance at him, closing your eyes in frustration again at letting yourself slip. He caught your eye for a brief second while you were passing him, and in that fraction of a moment, the air between you seemed to slow, but you forced yourself to look away and remember the walls youâd so carefully built, to protect yourself from feelings you didnât want to feel again.
You forced your eyes forward, toward the paintings, letting the colors and forms pull your attention.
Thankfully each canvas offered something to lose yourself in and time passed, or at least, you imagined it did. The murmurs of conversation around you blurred
You traced the faint contours of a countryside scene while the young man who had escorted you walked beside you for a while, pointing out details with annoying commentary.
You nodded and smiled in the appropriate moments, gosh your mother would be proud
After a polite discussion about a particularly intricate sculpture, the young man excused himself to âfetch a drink,â
As he drifted into the crowd, the conversation seemed to retreat with him and for the first time since you arrived, the room felt pleasant.
The guests began disperse from around you and you found yourself being drawn to a single canvas, one you had passed several times before without truly seeing it.
Heavy in nature, it was strange, a tangle of forms and muted colors that seemed alive.
You stood there, staring at the gorgeous spread of colours and figures, the longer you stared, the more you noticed.
then, you became aware of a presence.
Not behind you or across the room, but instead beside you.
Your heart slowed, but your gaze remained fixed on the painting. You refused to turn, refused to acknowledge whoever with your eyes and you forced your breathing to steady, gliding your fingers lightly along the folds of your gown.
He did not speak. He did not touch. He did not break the silence in any way. He simply stood there, silently.
You knew who it was.
You tried to focus on the painting again. The figures seemed almost mocking you now.
âWhat can you see?â
The words came, quiet, without breaking the silence of the room. You stiffened, debating internally whether to respond at all
You did not look. Not yet, instead, you drew in a deliberate breath, letting it fill your lungs and without letting your eyes betray anything.
âI seeâŠâ you said finally, âher struggle to maintain her own control, and the effort it takes to keep her emotions in check when everything about him threatens her.â
A pause followed, and you finally let it happen, you finally let your eyes turn towards him
âYou see the painting, but not him,â he said softly, âEvery part of him is at war, heâs locked in battle, because he fears what he might do if he let himself feel even an ounce of what he truly feels for her,â
He reached slightly, and you found yourself reaching too, fingertips skimming past each other with a grace you wanted to stop.
âhe cannot stop thinking of her, cannot stop wanting her, cannot even understand why she has taken hold of him so completely.â
Your fingertips finally grazed his, the brief contact sending heat through you, and yet your chest tightened, not with desire, but with frustration.
Anger at him, and yourself
âYou shouldnât be here,â you muttered, voice low, âAfter everything⊠I donât even know why you came.â
He didnât move, instead he stayed close, the faintest distance between you, his eyes tracing every movement of your expression. âI needed to,â he said quietly. âI canât⊠I canât leave it alone. Youâre in everything I think about, and I donât even understand why.â
You pinched the inside of your palm, begging your heart to stop racing. âI donât want to think about you. I donât want this,â you whispered, more to yourself than him
âAnd yet,â he murmured, stepping a fraction closer, âhere we are.â
Your fingers twitched toward his, almost involuntarily, brushing past his hand.
âStop looking at me like that,â you said pleading. âItâs mean.â
âI canât,â he spoke softly
you suddenly became aware of all the possible eyes around you
it seemed that he did as well because he grasped your hand a fraction tighter and gently guided you away toward a small cupboard behind a board of artwork.
You pressed your back against the shelves, and he instinctively followed
âI hate that youâve done this to meâŠâ you said quietly âagainâ
âI hate that I canât stop,â he whispered, leaning slightly closer, his lips brushing near your ear. âand i hate that I donât understand whyâ
âyou need to understand⊠please tryâ you couldnât even hear yourself anymore
his self control snapped at your plea and before your mind could protest, he leaned in.
Your lips collided, and your breath hitched. It wasnât slow, it was meaningful, as if every second of restraint had been unbearable.
You didnât pull back. Part of you wanted to, the part still angry, but another part, the part that had been aching all these weeks, had already forgotten.
His hands lingered at your waist, guiding you closer, your fingers brushing his chest.
âWhyâŠâ you whispered between kisses
âBecause I canât stop,â he murmured back. âAnd I donât want to.â
He pulled back slightly, his forehead leaning on yours and his breaths uneven. âTell me to stop. i beg of you, tell me to stop, you are still a lady.â
He searches your eyes, his own pleading.
âi wonâtâ
His eyes closed briefly at your words and he captured your lips again, deeper this time
His hands moved from your waist to tangle in your hair, holding you firmly against him and you could feel far too much of him through the fabric separating you. His kisses became more urgent as he leaned back effortlessly onto a desk behind him without breaking contact between your lips, angling you down until he pulled you onto his lap
"we must stopâ he whispered into your ear hoarsely
âNo, you wonât do this to me againâ you breathed out reconnecting your lips with his
âmy lady-â
âStop thatâ you hummed against him using his shoulders for support to move forward slightly, which pulled a low groan from his throat âthen you must promise to tell me when to stopâ he spoke with your face in his hands
You hurriedly nodded and brought his hands to your thighs making him firmly urge them apart over his lap. You heard his breath hitch and felt his hands tremble slightly while he pulled you higher onto his lap
âMy ladyâ he breathed out guiding your hips while he slowly pushed himself backwards
He shifted his weight carefully, guiding you down beneath him as he continued to rutt against you.
you could barely formulate a response as you felt an unfamiliar knot build up in your stomach ever so quickly
Your body arched up against his, your nails scoring through his shirt as waves of pleasure crashed over you. your legs shaking around his waist
Theodores body tensed and he pressed deeper, his body slowing his movements as he found his release quickly after with you. He held you close, his face buried in your neck as he whispered your name
He leaned down to kiss you softly, slower this time, memorizing the feel of you.
Your breath caught, with the sudden awareness of how close you really were.
His hands lingered lightly at your waist, careful,
You tilted your head slightly, letting the warmth of him settle and your fingers curl against his shirt,
âI think we should⊠maybe get out of here before someone starts asking questions,â he murmurs teasingly âi wouldnât let my lady answer to what we were doingâ
You let out a breathless laugh, brushing a strand of hair from your face. âbefore my mother decides to interrogate the entire hall about my whereabouts.â
He laughed, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. âShe would probably faintâ
You grin, rolling your eyes. âfaint from the scandal and then throw a party my lordâ
âSo⊠after this little⊠episode?â you say âare you planning on making sure Iâm stuck with you properly, or is this just another game?â
He pauses, his gaze softening, âProperly, my lady. I wouldnât play games with a woman like youâ
âMaybe my lordâŠâ you reply, letting a small smirk linger âmaybeâ before beginning to walk away
Before you can move much further, his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you.
âcareful,â he says softly, eyes locking onto yours.
Then, without another word, he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips.
You part slightly, catching your breath, and he smiles, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
âNow,â he murmurs âshall we go backâ
You nod
âAnd I suppose I must go tell my father⊠that I wonât be returning to work for a while,â he adds
You raise an eyebrow. âBold of you, my lord.â
He smirks âYou havenât seen bold yet, just wait till youâre walking down an aisle in whiteâ
âmaybe we should spend a few more weeks getting to know each other firstâ you laughed
Came through to you acc through your latest post abt the holy trinity (tumblr, wattpad, chai) and then found out you write for the MARAUDERS and HARRY POTTER
Do you know how happy I am ?
I feel blessed.
I FEEL BLESSED THAT YOU FEEL BLESSED đđ©·
Heyyyy i wanted to let you know that did you just recently change you username? Because i think so you did as now all of you link are under your old username @the0droe something , and now you have change all the links as they are not working-
Just wanted to let you know
Have a great day!
Oh my gosh yes i did! iâll get to this now, then hopefully youâll be able to access them, thank you for letting me know! x
Sometimes you just have to live a double life
Just wanted to let you know how much I LOVE the NottxBridgerton series!! Iâm so excited for more!!
I also love your writing in general, but this one is easily my favorite so far! <3
thank you so so much, i appreciate all the love with all my heart!!!
iâm working on part three, but i want it to be worth the wait so itâs taking a little while loool, also holidays almost over but trying to get it done asapppp
dangerous game | Remus lupin x pureblood!reader
warnings: NSFW, suggestive language, fluff, kissing, hatred, kinda enemies to lovers, Pls guys, wrap it before you tap it. It kind of goes straight into it iykwim
words : 3.3k
A/N : Hey guys i hope youâre all okay, i donât think i like this one much but i hope itâs okay, iâve been working like a dog recently icl but hopefully this is still okay
Remus hated you
The way you stared at him and his friends as they walked past. The way you made no efforts to stop your friends from saying nasty stuff, and instead just laughed along with them.
He hated the way you were actually intelligent despite saying the most dense things sometimes.
And then there were the patrols.
No matter how many times Remus complained to McGonagall about having to partner with you, nothing changed. You hummed a soft tune under your breath, ignoring his presence as if he was a ghost. It drove him crazy.
So tonight, as the minutes dragged on, Remus tried something different.
âWhat time do you finish tonight?â His voice was low, a thread of annoyance barely concealed.
You didnât look at him. âNine.â
That was it. No warmth. Nothing. Just a short answer before you turned your head the other way.
He clenched his jaw.
Maybe it was the full moon looming, making his blood feel full of a restless frustration, but without thinking, Remus reached out and caught your wrist.