#why did i even doubt that my tiny soft side could love this show that much | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

I’ve read a variation of soft and rough König and I’ve enjoyed both but I’d love to see your take on his character.

I can’t deny I have a preference for soft König. I think his size is a major concern, especially if his partner is on the smaller side, which leads me to believe he’d prolong the inevitable and the pining and anticipation would be off the charts on his end. But maybe his SO thinks he’s not as interested as she initially thought.

Add in the fact that he’s gone for long periods of time in which there is little or no communication and perhaps she considers moving on. The ol’ miscommunication trope if you will, with a happy ending. Thanks!

Overflow the Stars

Pairing: König x F!Reader

Synopsis: One more abandoned date night later, you're left wondering if the man you're infatuated with is really interested in you at all.

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Angst, feelings of insecurity, body issues, allusions to König's past w. bullying & his anxiety, size difference, fluff, soft!König, happy ending

A/N: This is my apology to the German-speaking people out there - I think I butchered your language (feel free to correct me). I'm so sorry lmfao. But, Anon, this request was adorable to write, hope you enjoy it!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wanted to say you were surprised when he didn't show up – really, you did – but in the back of your mind, you already knew he wouldn’t. It was hard not to feel disappointed when you swirled your tiny cup of Franziskaner tensely, watching the whipped cream sink away into the concoction of dark espresso and milk; calling attention to the same feeling in your chest.

König had a strange habit as of late, and with a delicate furrow in your brow and perhaps even a smidge of sadness in your eyes, you wondered what you had done wrong. Why had he been avoiding you so…violently? While you wouldn’t have called yourself perfect by any means, nothing you had done over the course of your meetings was strange or downright embarrassing.

You admitted that the man had never been the type to run away from something, and sighed as you brought the cup to your lips and sipped. Caffeine sits on your tongue along with a bitter revelation as the rain begins to pick up in velocity outside. The small and quiet café where you’re spending your afternoon is warm and unburdened by the weather.

Do you think…he’s even interested in me anymore? The sharp thought brings a pang to your chest, fingers over the warm cup flinching back as if struck with lightning. O-or he doesn’t like being around me?

Your relationship was still new, very new, and if you were asked you would say it wasn’t even dating yet. König hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend.

But it had still been going well.

“Or so I thought,” you take a breath, watching the fog on the window as the streets of Vienna are rapidly being emptied of tourists and locals alike. Your shoulders are painfully tight.

Aggressive rainfall like this into the cold seasons was unusual, but it wasn’t like mother nature cared about the whims of anyone but herself. It’ll freeze overnight, leaving a bitter chill that puffs from breaths and a shaky few steps out the door across hardened ice. You’d probably go out – alone – for a walk in the morning to clear your head, or try, at any rate.

Lately, all you could think about was the bear of a man that was supposed to be sitting in the empty seat ahead of you. The cursed wooden chair burns your eyes; its dark wood and red cushion stab your vision over and over until you’re sure you’ll bleed tears instead of water.

He was supposed to be here.

Taking another shaky sip of your drink, one that König had recommended to you himself a few dates ago, the brief moments of warmth it brings to your bones does little to satisfy you. You doubted anything short of a hulking figure trying to stick their knees under the small table could do just that.

The giant man you called your possible future boyfriend was avoiding you, and your subconscious was breaking itself to try and understand why. As if that gracious plea had been heard above the glossiness of your eyes and the gentle hum of the café workers who shuffle about, the phone in your pocket jumps.

You don’t want to admit how fast your hand snapped to your thigh, sneaking under the layers to draw out black metal. A single link to König when he was overseas or out of sight that you were told was unwise to use. He was rarely able to answer you, but for what it was worth, he always tried to call back later.

Even if recently, it had been a brief state of events.

“I-I can’t talk right now–”

“Forgive me–”

Your lips thin.

Pulling the phone out, you immediately look at the contact, though you already know the message before you read it. The sunken whipped cream finally falls under deep chocolate-colored waves.

“Sorry, Bӓrchen, I’m stuck in the building for the day! I swear I’ll make it up to you for missing–” You don’t bother reading the rest, thumb already scrolling upward to see the numerous times other excuses have been made.

His parents were needing some help moving furniture, he was drowning in post-operation reports, or simply just too tired. You weren't stupid. But every time you had stuffed down your pride and responded cheerfully, dressed to the nines and standing in your living room while your fingers shook over the keys.

Holding back tears.

It would hurt less if he’d just tell you to your face what you were thinking. Maybe all of this was just…

Your thoughts trail off.

But that didn’t make sense – König was never malicious!

Placing down the phone, you leave him on read, feeling the pitying eyes of the baristas burning into your skin like a brand. They knew as well as you did that he wasn’t showing up.

When he calls sometime later, you shut the device off completely. Staring out the window at the dimming light, you lean your head into the glass and try not to cry as you watch couples rushing for cover from the rain; laughing and holding the other close.

The empty chair stays motionless in the corner of your eye.

—

The first time you met König, you were left gaping at the sheer size of him.

Towering over ninety percent of the other patrons in the art shop, he had looked down at the package of charcoal pencils in his large, scarred, hands. Turning them over to read the description on the back like an expert with delicate eyelashes that you’d kill for.

You yourself had been cast in his shadow quite by accident, looking along expansive shelves for a sketchbook – your friend had gotten into a watercolor phase lately, and what better to give her than a birthday present she could actually use? The only problem was that you had no idea what was considered good quality or not, but had a strange suspicion the man beside you did. But what a happy accident it all turned out to be.

König had a black surgical mask on, but the milky-white scar that ran up his right eyebrow and disappeared into his auburn hairline was still starkly visible. Expressive dark eyes blink down at his object from a surprising height. Between picking up multiple books, running your fingers over the paper and whatnot, you can’t help but stare at the pure strength the man emanates. Compared to you, he was utterly gargantuan in both mass and height. A bear and a bee, you thought with a stifled giggle.

He blatantly appeared to know more about this stuff than you did as he placed the charcoal pack down and picked up another.

“Erm,” you begin, and his head snaps down to yours immediately, head of hair falling into gentle curls near the ears. He had looked partially surprised to hear you speak to him, and his eyes had flickered around instinctually. But it was only the two of you in the aisle. “I’m sorry to bother you, Sir, but you seem to know a helluva lot more than me about art supplies.” Your voice was cautious, and you were afraid you’d seem rude for disturbing him, but all he did was stare and wait for you to finish speaking. Feet every so often shifting, or his hands twitching as if he never was able to stay still; he blinks a few times like a rabbit. “Any suggestions for watercolor?” A small laugh meets the air as you move your hand to show off the wall of possible options for paper. “I’m not much of an artist, but my friend’s birthday is coming up – thought I’d get her something she’d actually use this year. She wasn't too enthralled with the plant I got her for her twenty-third. Killed the thing in a week.”

A nervous chuckle is softly met and your face heated as his own did. There’s a moment of a clearing throat before the man nods carefully, and the sparse freckles over his forehead shift. His biceps flex.

“O-of course, Ma’am,” his accent is quite strong, and you like the guttural raspiness of his tone. “I prefer Saunders Waterford, though I don’t manage to use it often. Better, eh, was ist das Wort?” He stumbles for a moment over the proper descriptor. “Beständig. Durable.”

A tilt of his head later, and you’re beaming, picking up the large pad with careful fingers, testing the weight in your palms as one would an apple.

“Wonderful! It looks like I owe you one, eh?” Looking back up, you watch his eyes widen as you notice him blatantly staring. Face crinkling into a shy display of heat and curiosity, he slightly moves back, a large hand going to scratch at the base of his neck as his sweatshirt bunches.

Chest tight, you stick out a hand and offer your name with a smile. It was only customary, but the action was pure instinct more than thought-out. All the while restraining a shiver, his limb encompasses yours so completely and radiates a large amount of heat.

“A pleasure,” your voice wavers, but it’s not so much nervousness as it is genuine intrigue. For a man so blessed with the tall gene, he really had a considerate hold – barely squeezing your skin in fear it would break.

The action makes your chest squeeze.

“Ah, guten tag,” he utters, nodding with a firm shake, though his eyelashes caress his cheeks as his eyes rove away, “König.”

A bit awkward, isn’t he? You have to ask yourself. Not that it was a bad thing – in fact, you found the nervous tensing of his thighs to be cute, along with that red tinge that was over his pale ears. So very opposite of how you expected him to act.

That was when you noticed the dog tags, as well, though you found no purpose to say anything. But everything about this man had caught your attention as a large billboard would, and the comparison has you practically bending in laughter. He probably could be a billboard with a build like that. No doubt he’d catch a lot of attention.

You tilt your head and release his hand, nodding to König’s charcoal pencils.

“I bet you can make some killer drawings with those things, huh?” The beast twists them in his hand and turns down to stare at the supplies as if he’d forgotten they’d been there at all. “You draw often?”

“Ja,” his eyes brighten, and the crinkling of his eyes tells you that a small smile pulls at his lips. “Whenever I’m able. I,” König pauses before his shoulders move in a soft movement akin to a shrug. “I…find it calming.”

Your ribs move in reaction to an interested sound.

A bear that likes to draw.

“You’re better than me, I’d just get frustrated if something doesn’t look right.” A deep laugh echoes off the shelves before a lapsing silence settles like a bird’s wings. Overcome by a sudden urge to speak, yet having no other words to say, König’s voice meets your ears before you can find something to say.

It’s slow, the tone, bathed in hesitation and even a smidgen of armor; like the outcome of your response was already measured and taken as null compared to the giant’s own thoughts.

“I…don’t suppose I could show you some if you’d be interested.” At your widening lids, his twitching hands come up to his sides, eyes blinking rapidly as a vermilion hue blossoms like a flower over his visible skin. Dark eyes like broken obsidian pay more attention to your shoes than your face.

“N-not, eh, scheiße, I only meant I–” Watching him stutter was similar to what a high schooler would do when he was called out during an assembly. Though, your giggle makes him clear his throat and pause with a stiffening spreading to his legs. His body seems to deflate, taking your reverence for his soft inward nature as making fun or at worse, a blatant rejection. The delicate makeup of his psyche was on display, though you didn’t know. “I’m…I’m sorry, Ma’am–”

“I’d love to see your artwork, König,” you begin, pulling the watercolor pad closer to your body instinctually, cheeks hot. The man perks up, and you can see his heart hammering through his clothes when his eyes blaze with light. “How about I give you my number and I’ll text you a day I’m free and we can work something out? A local café or library sound good?”

“I…yes, that sounds wonderful.”

—

You throw your soaked coat on the hook as you shut the door, hating how the frigid rainwater had wetted your hair, though still holding it as a blessing. At least no one could see the tear tracks as you walked back to your apartment.

Kicking off heavy boots and peeling the slick layers of fabric from your chest with a sloping sound, you flick on the lights with a shaking finger and a sniffle. Wet footprints are left over the rugs and hardwood as the phantom shuffles over them, beelining to the bathroom to strip.

Your mind was preoccupied as you slipped out of heavy fabric, the pile already on the floor creating a large puddle that you threw a towel on and left as it was.

“He…he’d tell me if he didn’t like me anymore, right?” Whispering, the broken words meet air as you toss on a large shirt – the hem meeting your knees as a pair of thick sweatpants follow.

Quite the look for someone who was having an internal battle. Your friends would say you looked like you were minutes away from grabbing a tub of ice cream and sobbing over a rom-com. The quick-witted part of you confessed that the idea wasn’t even that bad if you threw in a glass of beer. Preferably the shitty kind so you could complain about it and distract yourself.

“Get it together…” You would not cry over a guy that hadn’t even asked you out officially, but with that familiar sting in the back of your eyes, you hissed that König wasn’t just any guy.

You’d really liked him, and for what it was worth, your heart would have exploded if he had asked you out.

He was kind – respectful. Utterly adorable when he was speaking so passionately about his artwork and his parents who he held on a larger-than-life pedestal. König’s heart was just as big as his body, that gorgeous, bear-like body, and…oh, you’d wished he would like you just as much as you liked him.

Before you could stop the wave of hopelessness, the tears were already dribbling down your face, and the dark apartment was echoing with the barely-there sobs that hit the walls.

—

When you hadn’t answered him in the next two hours and his calls were going to voicemail, König was hit with a train’s worth of worry. Feet tapping faster than unusual and eyes were finicky as they passed over documents.

Although his contract with KorTac wasn’t exactly like his own had been in the military, the hyper-vigilance was still ingrained bones-deep. The Austrian man held his personal relationships tightly – and if someone wasn’t answering him, the anxiety reserved for large, uncontrollable, crowds reared its ugly head. König wasn’t sure when it had happened, but you had entered that loyal group consisting of his parents and a few work friends in an incredibly small amount of time.

He really should have bit the bullet and gone out with you today, the man acknowledged as he slipped out of his office and tried once more to get in contact with you. König watched the icon of your smiling face go straight to the familiar voice that in any other circumstance, he would have wanted to listen another moment too.

“...Thanks for calling! I’m not able to speak with you right now, but go ahead and leave a message–”

“Come on, Bӓrchen.” König lightly growls, hanging up and stuffing the infernal device into his cargo pant’s side pocket.

His usually hidden face was twisted up with worry, so commonly lit with bloodlust on Ops now left in a state of unknown. It was stupid to think like this, but how could he not? In such a small amount of time, you’d made him fall for you like a bird does the sky; that thin line between falling and flying caught underwing.

That was why he’d been making excuses, you see.

You were so…good…that he’d been worried about the way he carried himself; second-guessed small actions like a hand on the small of your back in public, or a comment about how nice you looked.

Did she take that the wrong way?

Why did I tell her that?

I hope she doesn’t think that I’m rude…

You were messing with his mind with every turn, but it wasn’t even all that, either. His size also played a part. Your form was so small as it trailed beside him on walks through the city – it fit in the clutch of his arm easily.

König was just scared he might break you, he’s never had to be…gentle so often before. It was against everything he’d been taught in the last decade or so.

Pushing open the front door of the KorTac: Private Military Contractor building, the man pushes on with a frown over his scarred lips and a drawn-in expression. He hadn’t even noticed he’d forgotten his surgical mask in his office, along with a jacket, and braved the volatile winds and slapping rain in a slight jog, an athletic shirt tight across his chest.

By the time he’d reached your apartment building, his hair was dark and stuck to his skin, slight puffs of breath escaping his lips and wracking shivers along his spine. König ascended the stairs in double steps, agile as his heart pounded.

Being ex-military left him with an undeniable state of readiness.

With heavy knuckles and panting breath, his hand quickly rasps against the door, and after a second of no sound, he does it again.

“Bӓrchen, it’s me. Are you there?” König’s shoulders are set, ready to batter the door down at the barest hint of something wrong. He calls your name but like a voice on the wind, there’s no answer. Not even a shadow under the barrier, a whiff of your shampoo.

Grunting, strained eyes going grim, the man’s hand encompasses the handle, arm and body going parallel to the wood. His hips tense, feet grinding over the floor as they set. But the nearly missed footsteps that his ears twitched at gives him pause.

After a few moments of intense listening, his body stone-stiff and eyes spaced out, there’s a clicking of a lock.

König moves back swiftly, hands going to rest at his sides, and when your face graces his vision, a large weight is lifted. Until he realizes that your eyes are red-rimmed. His lids go startlingly wide, fingers coming up to curl into themselves near his middle, but you speak before he does.

With a hatred for interrupting others, König keeps his lips sealed and watches with a concerned once-over and nervous lungs.

Your hand is clenched over the door frame, the muscle of your tongue licking at your lips as beads of water fall from your locks.

“What are you doing here, König?” With a voice more hoarse and dry than a desert. The man itches at the side of his hawk nose, hesitant about what he sees.

You’d never been like this before – always so happy.

“I…” He trails off quietly, seeing your eyes unwilling to meet his own. “Are you…alright?”

The Austrian’s fingers jerk when you laugh, and a surprised blink later he’s coming closer to check on you, hand almost outstretched before he sees the size difference and thinks better of it. He just taps on your cheek instead, delicately, like a hit from a flower.

“Sweet one? Please tell me what is wrong. You weren’t answering your phone.” He wants to beg for you to look at him, plead. “It made me worry for you. Why did you not respond?”

“So you want me to respond when you’re obviously bailing on me for what,” you pull back, disappearing partially behind the door. König watches with a still body as your arms go to wrap around your waist, dread creeping up his throat. “The third time? Fourth? I guess I’ve lost count.”

The man’s lips go thin, eyes crinkling as an expression of pure self-hatred takes hold. He had stupidly hoped you wouldn’t notice that. When times got tough for him in the past – whether with the schoolyard bullies or an operation on wrong, avoidance was usually his best tactic; it was one he had fallen back into time and time again without fail. But he’d never told you that.

And now he looked like a proper Arschloch.

But you’re not done yet. When you leave the door open and disappear inside the dark apartment, König follows after like a lost puppy, water still dripping from his strong chin and stuck in his stubble. Cursing himself out in his head.

“Ach, du Depp, jetzt hast du‘s getan. Die eine gute Sache ruiniert, die du hattest, oder...?" He mutters, slipping out of his boots and frantically looking after you as your form goes to the couch. König closes the front door and stays in the foyer, fingers twiddling and mouth opening and closing.

You hadn’t even looked at him yet, and you’d barely seen him without a mask on.

The Tv was on, playing some show that he’d never seen and he doubted you were watching. Your body plops to the couch with a shrieking of springs and bouncing of pillows. A small huff escapes your lips, though you speak no more.

König clears his throat again, a nasty nervous habit along with the fidgeting, as he takes a few steps forward. The finger of his right hand goes to spread through his hair, pushing the strands back like a red wave and unintentionally slicking them to his skull. The clicking of his jaw reverberates in his ears as he resets it, picking at the palate scar under his left nostril.

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it fitfully and already his face is reddening. König looks away from you for a moment, breathing before shuffling over like a guilty child would on drowned socks. He places one leg on the floor and kneels down in front of you so he can better look into your creased face.

“Bӓrchen,” he liked calling you that – little bear – because the comparison was enough to make him smile every time it passed his lips. It was such an endearing term that it became difficult to look past the blatant harm he could inflict on you if he wasn’t careful. While his size made him perfect for the field, home life was, well, let's just say he could easily force his way through a crowd. Not that he would, of course. But at any rate, that was what you were to him – a little bear. “I…I have to confess to you that I have been avoiding you, yes? That much has been,” a stiff breath is taken in. “Obvious.”

Your head turns to the side, knees brushing his own as you hold your hands in your lap. Behind König the show continues to play, spreading a silver light over the living room and the continuous droning of voices.

Not knowing whether it would be frowned upon or not, and with a steadying breath for confidence, the man loops a cold finger under your chin; bringing you back to him and finally setting your glossy eyes ahead.

He sees you blink in surprise when you find him maskless, and a faint smile flicks over his lips when your expression goes shy. Cautious like a bird.

“It was of no fault of your own, Sweetling, I ask that you believe me. I’ll try to explain the best I can, Ja? If you’ll let me, though, I know that I don’t deserve it.”

“If you don’t like me anymore, you can just say it…Stop dragging me on, please.” His heart stops, mouth still partially open before a sharp breath is sucked in. “I don’t know if I can take that anymore.” The pang in his chest hurts immensely, like taking an arrow and peeling back skin. You look at him so hopelessly, broken beyond belief as though a piece of you was being ripped out.

“W-why do you say that?” König tries to desperately stop the wetness of your tears from falling, shaking his head and cupping both of your cheeks, rubbing at the flesh in agony. “No, no, no, Dear One. That’s not what it is at all, I beg of you to listen.” In the fever, he switches between his native tongue and English, fingers shaking though not from the drenched clothes. “Meine Schöne, oh, meine Schöne. Bitte hör auf zu weinen.“

He takes quick breaths and finds in himself that he would do anything to stop you from crying – take a bullet, run a marathon, or learn to fly. Name it, any of it. Anything to wipe away the sadness that lives in your expression as if it even belonged there in the first place

“Do not cry over me, please, I-I,” König’s tongue trips over itself, but he persists, a similar burn in the back of his nose. “I…You scare me, Bӓrchen,” that gets your attention, creased eyes and a loose jaw going to give him full observation.

What?! Your expression screams.

Face on fire, the Austrian continues with intense eyes, dark obsidian awash with pure light that reflects stars. Overflowing with anxious tears that he refuses to let fall.

He can’t lose you. No, no, not you. You were the best thing to happen to him in a long time. Damn him – damn his own consciousness that’s more of a betrayer than Brutus. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go…

“...What?” Your voice wavers, nose twitching so adorably that the man is momentarily stunned.

“I am afraid of you, my Dear. Utterly and wholly.” König sucks down a breath, now the one unable to continue the stare-off. His foot shifts. “I am afraid of what you do to me. Your smile, Gott, your smile. A-and the way you speak, how you react so honestly to my paintings like you care with all of your heart.” He laughs wetly when you smile dimly, continuing as he caresses your skin. “Everything down to your very bones is like…like…” König’s words fumble, because comparing you to something earthly was impossible to him.

“Ever since I met you in that art store, I cannot string together words with any semblance of meaning when I am around you. Bӓrchen, you have entrapped my mind, and I am afraid.”

He watches you breathe in slowly, tears no longer falling, though the evidence still haunts him. The man’s chest lets go of a tightly wound knot, the anvil on the other side just narrowly missing his heart as the sweat on his brow evaporates.

“A-and,” König sighs, shaking his head and moving his hands to tightly hold your own in your lap. How could he explain the last part of this dilemma? He bluntly states, “you’re small.”

A brief moment of silence bleeds like a wound, long and slow, until a tiny snort echoes. Full-blown laughter emanates not even a second later, and he watches your body heave forward and slot itself with your nose in his shoulder. König’s blush stains all the way down his neck, but minuscule giggles also fall from him in retaliation to yours. His great arms wrap themselves around your waist, dragging you slightly closer as he breathes deeply.

Your scent pulls him under like a ship at the water, riding great waves with sea beasts under the waves guiding the vessel along its course.

“Everyone’s small compared to you.” Your mumbling in his shoulder makes his grip tighten, side-eyeing your visage as his head tilts down. “Not my fault you got every gene that made you sprout like a damn tree.”

With your lips caressing his neck, he blinks softly down at you, amused, as his breath mingles with your hair. He lets you speak, getting it all off your chest and feeling stupid for how he had been avoiding this.

“You’re afraid because you’re so big, then? That you might hurt me?”

“Ja.” Your hands circle around his shoulders, and with a sigh that leaves the man short of breath, you shimmy back and face him, fingers playing with the base of his neck; pulling at tiny hairs.

“Don’t you think being worried about that means something? And, c’mon,” you smile lightly to him, and he watches closely, fingers moving along your spine. “With how conscious you are of your body, it’s hard to imagine anything ever happening.”

Hands grasp his neck, and with a bobbing Adam’s apple, König yields to your pull, angling his head to you as your back straightens. Watching with awe; your silhouette bathed in silver light and eyes fatigued, though never more beautiful. You’re beaming.

“I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you, okay? So stop worrying about it, you big dope – and stop ditching me!” The Austrian’s dark eyes are fastly moved from one spot on your face to another, cataloging every bump and pore to memory.

He’d never been this close to you before, though he’d fantasized about it. And what you were telling him…it’s like his body deflates with relief, and a genuine, boyish, smile blossoms.

“Safe? W-with me, Bӓrchen? Oh-oh, my…” A kiss suddenly hits his forehead, and if you continued doing things like this, he was sure he’d explode. His body was vibrating with pure bashfulness; it was so odd to be complimented and doted on by someone that wasn’t his close family. For someone to reassure him of his flawed concerns.

She feels safe with me.

How could he tell you how happy that made him to hear aloud?

“Hey,” hands cup his jaw, and his spaced-out eyes snap back to you instantly, blinking away the rose-colored fog. You shake his head back and forth until he’s chuckling, like a kid again, and his grip catches your wrists to make you stop. Your breath fans over his blazing cheeks like a wind sent from Zephyrus himself, and the sticking clothes to his body matter little. “No more leaving me hanging, okay? I miss you, König. I want to be around you.”

The eyes that travel down his scarred and freckled face leave him slightly self-conscious, but as if sensing this, your lips curve. Before he could utter a grunt of surprise, your kiss had connected with the scar on his forehead, as well as the palate. Just brushing the top of his lips as his large nose poked your cheek.

“Mein Gott.” König gasps, eyes fluttering shut when you pull back and a grin slashes your face. A whisper meets the room.

“Thank you for showing me your handsome face, mein Schöner, I’ve been wondering what you looked like.” Shyly scanning his features, the redhead lets your fingers trace his flesh, shivers left in their wake, and a soft sigh.

If he opens his eyes, he’s afraid he’d start crying. So he lets you touch his scarlet flesh, nearly the same shade as his hair, though the auburn is more deep-set. Shivering every time you lay another press of your lips to a blemish; more addictive than drugs.

“You’re going to kill me,” König pleads, “but if this is punishment for causing you pain, I will gladly bear it.”

“Sly.” You smirk, pressing one more peck to his nose, and pulling back. He grumbles in his throat before his eyes peel open slowly; pupils blown wide and mouth parted. “Are you alive down there?”

“Barely. Perhaps I’ll need another kiss to tell, yes?”

“You’re horrible.” Looking at his clothes, your eyes suddenly go grim. Like you’d just noticed the state of him now that he was kneeling in front of you and struck by your beauty. “And shivering.” You huff. “Why didn’t you start by saying you were soaked to the bone, König?”

He looks to the ground, and you try to shuffle past and grab him a towel, but his arms trap you. You find yourself in a chest faster than you can blink, hands splayed over a pec that jerks as you’re lifted up.

König hears you squeak and laughs, throwing you up into a bridal-style hold easily. Laughing chest-deep, you curl under his chin and quickly comment, “what are you doing?!”

“Hush, Bӓrchen,” the man squishes you closer, “I’ll find a towel, don’t strain yourself.”

You direct him to the bathroom after he sets you on your bed, hearing the pounding of rain outside as he sneaks off.

The room smells of your shampoo, and König takes a pastel towel from the wrack after half-closing the door, slapping it to his head and violently rubbing it back and forth. Lost in his elevated thoughts and happy demeanor, the knock on the wood is almost missed. He’s just about to take off his shirt and wring it out when he blinks at the sound.

“König – I’ve got some spare clothes, but I doubt they’ll fit you well enough.” An amused twitch of his lips later, he’s opening the door to your soft face, staring down at it. Standing shyly, your eyes crease; head tilting. “Sleepover?”

The man looks at the pile of fabric and nods kindly, a lofty feeling in his bones.

“Yes, please. They’re perfect, vielen Dank.” It isn’t long before he’s coming back out, a shirt that barely fits over his wide chest and a pair of sweats clinging to his hips. But he didn’t mind.

They smelled like you, and thus, he smelled like you. König quickly found out that drawing wasn’t the only thing that could calm him.

An embarrassed smile and a sheen of giddiness never leave his face.

He slides into bed with you, and you quickly latch under his arm, limbs tangling with his own as his fingers twitch over the width of the base of your shoulder blades. An easy expulsion of air leaves him as your weight settles, back curving to the make of the mattress.

The words leave him in the delicate silence; water hitting the window and during the exploration of souls. Cheeks hot and heart hammering.

“Sei mein?” Be mine?

He feels your grin, nose nuzzling his flesh like it was the perfect pillow, and his heart speeds like a shooting star.

“Mein Herz war immer deins. Ja.” My heart was always yours. Yes.

He stays awake for a long while, listening to your breathing and staring at the ceiling, running knuckles over your spine and staying silent.

Smiling.

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adaptacy · 8 months

Note

It’s the anon with the Yearbook!Reader. Honestly surprised that was pumped out so fast with such quality, I was giggling when I read it ngl. Anyways, I am here to put forth another request for you to choose to do.

Got pretty boy Leland first.

Thinking about Leland and his S/O just relaxing in bed. Soft kisses, nice lil cuddles, some of that fluffy shi. My main point to this was called Leland pretty boy and just like, praising him. Give him all that TLC, babes deserves it.

(Could make it angst/comfort with Leland being insecure about scars he has after the Sawyer family incident, but just praising him for no reason is valid as hell)

It’d be chill if I sent several requests at the same time, yeah? I dont wanna fill up your request box, but I love your writing (Leland especially) and just have so many ideas at times. I also didn’t expect my request to be answered same day, usually takes a while, I’m willing to wait a week or two yknow.

-Kuhuahua

im- i- ik i havent been active on tumblr (ive been rping tcsm on discord <3) but i heard 1 song and it made me think of this request and then i rly wanted to write it SO here we go!

TW: aaaaaaangst with extra angst on the side.

Song recs: When You Gonna Run - Alpha Rev

He never talked about them. You understood why. Honestly, you doubted that he even spoke to his therapist about them. It's been four years. Even now, he still flinches when they're grazed, he whispers out quiet, "Not there, sweetheart," his voice tainted with a somber desperation, genuine hurt. You weren't sure if the pain was physical or emotional. Maybe both.

Four years and he still got teary-eyed if you asked about them, or referenced the incident at all. You'd learned not to, even if you did wish he would open up to you. For the first year that you were dating him you'd just assumed that he would talk about them when he was ready. But then the year came to an end. And so did the second one. And now, at 29 months with him, you'd stopped wishing. Gotten used to the shrugs and the soft sighs, the disdain in his gaze when you inquired about it.

So you didn't bring it up. But you knew he thought about it. Knew he felt it. Not talking about it was easy enough, after a while. But being close with him was hard. Physically close, that is. Every brush of your hand in the wrong spot, or a kiss on the wrong hand, touching your forehead a little to hard against the slit in his eyebrow-

29 months, and you still felt like shit for being unable to remember every single one of his scars. Every single placement- the big ones you could remember. But the small ones spanning the rest of his body, snips of horrors on his arms and the dots of regret on his torso, were impossible to map out.

He sat, watching the movie, next to you, one of his knees bent up to his chest while the other leg hung off of the couch, his chin propped up with one hand, his elbow resting on the cushioned arm of the loveseat, his other arm outstretched next to him, where his hand intertwined with yours.

The ones on his hands weren't bad. There were three on this one, tiny marks that you were surprised hadn't healed. You'd overheard the reason why; the second time you'd joined him at one of his doctor's appointments they'd mentioned him overworking himself, reopening the wounds. You wondered if they still hurt when he worked out.

Without thinking much of it, you scooted closer to him, only a few inches, and you snuck under his arm so that it hung off of your shoulder, though you refrained from leaning against him. He didn't react aside from a small squeeze of your hand. You lifted that hand and pushed a kiss to the back of it, earning his attention.

You didn't meet his eye. You didn't want to see the distant, aching hazel behind the kindness he usually showed. Didn't want to see the microscopic frown that tugged at his lips, you didn't want to see his chest rise and fall with another one of his dejected sighs. You just wanted to kiss him.

So you did, starting at the back of his hand and moving up, your mouth brushing against his arm just under another scar, your eyes closing. This time, it was you who sighed, and you took a gamble, moving your lips up and kissing the coarse patch of skin you'd avoided.

"Baby," he muttered, his voice tainted with the same sadness it held any time he was forced upon a reminder of his past. You didn't reply, nor did you stop, moving up to a different scar, this one closer to his shoulder, repeating the same for this one. A kiss, soft and lingering, before you pulled your head up and finally leaned it against his side.

"I think they're pretty."

There wasn't any reason you'd said it. Just that you'd felt it. And the words came to you, so you gifted them. Leland was quiet for a few minutes. His jaw rested against your temple, both of your heads turned towards the tv, though neither of you were really watching.

Whether he was insecure of them, or if they were still tender, or if they reminded him of the past, or, hell, all of it- they didn't change the way you saw him. Didn't change the way you loved him. You were with him to be with him, every part of him that you could manage to get a hold of. It was okay that he kept some things locked away.

You didn't understand, but you knew why. It was hard. Too difficult for him to remain cheerful when he thought about it. Too difficult to be perfect. Too difficult to feel like he was doing the right thing.

"I know you're hurt."

You couldn't stop yourself.

"I know I'm not ever gonna understand like you do. I know we're always gonna be distant. I know you don't like thinking about it."

But...

"I still love you. It was in the past. And I love you for your past, Lee. And I love you for our future, too. And- I love you right now, in the present."

He stayed quiet, though he leaned against your head a little more, his arm bringing you a bit closer.

"I think they're handsome. And... they're you, so I love them. I love every part of you. Even the scary parts, or the sad parts, or the parts you think are ugly. I love all of you."

At last, you looked up at him, just as he brought a hand to his cheek, wiping away a stray tear. His lip trembled as he looked down at you, but they trembled into a smile, a sad one, like a kicked puppy, but a smile nonetheless. You raised a hand too, cupping his jaw and brushing your thumb under his eye, which pulled a broken chuckle from him, and he sniffled, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"Please, don't be," he replied, his voice cracking as he leaned into your palm, fighting to hold back. You scooted back, and he followed you, laying his head against your shoulder, a soft whine escaping him as he cried.

"I'm always gonna be here. I'm not gonna run. Not gonna leave you for your past. I- I just love you, Leland." Your arms wrapped around his neck as you held him close, resting your chin on his head as he cried, and you gently hushed him, doing your best to reassure.

He didn't often cry. Not to you. Sometimes, on his own time, or when you were pretending to be asleep, you could hear him. But he didn't want to push any of his weight onto you. Didn't want to burden you.

"I can shoulder some of it, y'know. Just cause you can lift a lot of weight doesn't mean you need to do it alone," you hummed, your words lighthearted despite being completely genuine. "I'm right here. I'm here to do it together. Here to be here- here to be yours."

You didn't expect a reply, but he gave one, weak and pained, snagging on his tears, an "I love you," short but sweet. You hugged him closer, leaning down to kiss another scar on the top of his back, and he didn't ask you not to, he didn't flinch, he just let it happen.

"You're perfect, Lee. Scars and all."

#adapting to leland mckinney #leland mckinney #leland mckinney x reader #leland mckinney angst #leland mckinney fluff #leland mckinney x reader angst #leland mckinney x reader fluff #tcm #tcm game #tcm game fluff #tcm game angst

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rans-baby · 2 years

Note

Hi! This is my first time requesting cause I don't do good with these but anyway, maybe some izana or gojo soft yandere, cause I'm a sucker for fluff

ahhh thank you for this I'm also a sucker for fluff ♡

soft yanderes! izana and gojo

tw // yandere, stockholm syndrome, lowkey mutual yandere, violence

IZANA

baby boy just wants to be accepted, loved, have a family of his own and who better to do those things with than you, his beloved

he'd seen you around the neighborhood feeding stray cats, greeting people on the street, and knew you worked at his favorite coffee shop

the night he kidnapped you, you were crying on the phone, talking to someone about how you were so so lonely and he knew he had found a kindred soul

when you woke up in a dark basement alone, you were alarmed, but life had been so draining lately that you couldn't bring yourself to care much

when Izana walked in, you were hardly surprised, having seen him around your neighborhood following you around (he wasn't as stealthy as he thought he was)

he bent down tilted your chin to meet his eyes

"hey princess how you feeling? you know I had to do this for you, I love you so much, couldn't stand seeing you in pain"

your eyes immediately welled up with tears

"you... love me? do you promise?"

that's when he knew that you were the one for him

life with him was like a dream for you, breakfast dates, shopping together, watching your favorite shows together, everything just felt so right

he never physically harmed you but whenever doubt crept into your mind he would say "I can't live without you baby, please you can't leave me like everyone else"

how could you resist his precious whines, knowing that you felt the same deep inside?

GOJO

Satoru is pretty similar in disposition to Izana

the biggest difference being that you were already his partner before things got messy

you basically already lived together, but you knew something was off when you tried to go back to your apartment one night to find movers

when you asked them what they were doing, they just said, "Mr. Gojo requested that we have all your personal effects transferred to his residence"

you had never fought with him before, never needing to because you were his princess and he'd never done anything to hurt you and while this didn't hurt you, it certainly struck you as odd

"Satoru why would you do that without asking me for permission?" "don't you love me princess? was just trying to make your life, our life, easier"

you brushed that incident off, agreeing with his logic but slowly your friends and family stopped contacting you, some seemingly dropping off the face of the earth, leaving you with only him as your support

his trap was set and you fell right for it, clinging on to him as your life line

he started treating you even better than before which you didn't know was possible

you hardly had to lift a finger as he was always by your side never leaving you alone

he cooked for you, treated you to your favorite designer brands, and how could you question his intentions when he's peppering your face with tiny pecks and laughing with you about your favorite show?

you never did figure out what happened to your friends and family, Satoru made sure of that

#tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #izana x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere tokyo revengers #black dragons x reader

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monstas1ut2 · 2 years

Text

<3 Shu gets his juicy revenge

| Pair(s) : Shu Sakamaki, black fem reader

| Warnings : Fem reader, black reader, squirting, Shu calls you his little melody, Shu loves how you sound with his music, fingering, risk, teasing, Shu thinking about humiliating Reiji

| Wc : 1.3k

| A/n : I am in need of ideas for Diabolik lovers scenes/imagines/fics.. so please tell me. <3

“Ow.. fuck..”

Glancing up in slight urgency, there was no doubt that those ocean eyes were on edge. The color being darkened than usual, and the aura of harsh tension beckoning you to be more on alert. Although no words mustered from you, you showed your emotion by caressing the new bruise. The darker toned bruise was quite obvious around your wrist, tainting it from the rest of the brown color.

Wanting to complain about how badly it stung, or how it felt like your wrist was broken, you couldn’t. Usually, the thoughts that spiraled in your mind were always spilled. Today, it was different though, he didn’t seem like he was in the mood.

The faint noises of soft classic music coming out of the earbud, was pulled from his right ear. The bud swaying a bit before stopping at his chest, all while, the other stayed put in his ear. The blonde deciding that the music would create harmony with the sounds you were about to release.

The worrisome things that pummeled your mind was making your stomach twirl. Anyone could tell what this was leading towards. The soft duvet that was underneath your butt making you more worried than anything.

“Shu, we can’t do this-..” you whispered out, those pretty, glossy lips of yours almost trembling. Everything about you just seemed oh so doll like, your long black eyelashes fluttering with a plea. Shu could care less though, not only are you his property, but he knows in his heart that his own brother has fallen for you. And That just made it all more fun.

“Why not.”

“Because, this is his room, he can come back any fuckin’ minute and I’m dead foolin’ around witchu’..” You babbled out, just barely getting the words out, all while the soft thump was heard. The jeans that covered your legs were peeled from your skin, the cold air warning you to stop this man from causing chaos.

“not while I’m around..” Shu spoke with that deep, but rich and soft voice. Those half lidded eyes of his watching as you kept your legs closed.

This man had his way of edging you on, so there was no doubt that your blood was boiling from his voice. It’s just always so seductive and sex filled. Watching his lips curve slightly into a cocky smirk when he knew he’d won you over. Either way though, if he hadn’t, you’d still have to endure it all.

“Face it, does the thought of me fucking you… in my brother’s room make you.. hot?” Leaning towards your gorgeous face, you could see every single intention Shu had, in his eyes. Swallowing the nerves, your legs slowly opened again. The soft, f/c fabric covering your slit was barely enough anymore. The smell of your sex giving the vampire a full high.

“That’s my little melody…” Shu whispered with that same lazy smirk, hooking his long index finger underneath the fabric before he’d pulled it slightly to the side. Those puffy brown lips were basically calling his name over and over again.

Slightly biting down on your bottom lip, there was much anxiousness from wanting to feel his fingers caress you right there. Staring down at your aching pussy that began to leak more from exposure. Though, Shu wasn’t going to make it that easy for you, his blue eyes showing much more mischief.

“You’re a naughty woman… Thought you said you didn’t want to do this before..” Shu brought up, his slender fingers gently moving to press against that wet slit of yours. It felt so undeniably good, and somehow someway, it felt even better doing this in a room you weren’t supposed to be in. Slowly aching to move your full, thick hips against his fingers.

“I’m not the one that put me in here, you did..” you slightly whined, lips parted a tiny bit from the soft whispers of touch. A tiny hum leaving his throat as he slipped one of his fingers inside. The pink walls suddenly pulsing around just his one finger. “Yeah.. because I can.” Shu spoke with the lack of fear, it just wasn’t there, nor would it ever be.

This was none other than a grudge filled counterattack. Shu might’ve said a few statements to crush Reiji’s ego, though Reiji said a lot more. This, however did not put a dent in Shu’s ego. This is because Shu is the type of male to do more than speak utter nonsense. He loves crushing Reiji’s spirit physically, but he lacks energy. In result, Shu doesn’t go the ‘Ayato and Subaru’ route of damaging things or smashing walls. Shu does something more .. petty to get under his skin.

Boundaries.

It’s no secret that Reiji has many pet peeves, the main one being cleanliness and decency. So, the second Reiji became petty and uttered the worst combination of words ever, Shu became spiteful. He might’ve looked like he ignored every single thing that passed Reiji’s lips, but he didn’t. Once that button was pushed, Shu basically ripped it and threw it right back in his face.

“Ah~.. Right there-.. right there…”

Gripping tightly around Shu’s two fingers, your soft painted toes curled in an instant. Trying to keep your precious voice down, you softly reached up and gently touched the back of the blonde’s neck. Those soft fingers almost stung him, your nails tickling him just a bit. Shu knew exactly why Reiji wanted you, it wasn’t just about the blood.

There was just nobody who could compare to you. Gently pushing him down towards you, Shu obliged and pressed his lips against yours. A burst of strawberry flavor bouncing around his tastebuds. It was absolutely sweet, the want to kiss you more never leaving. The sweet sounds of smacking making you almost purr with more lust for him.

The pool of wetness inside of you beginning to weep. Your puffy pussy making those squishy sounds from Shu picking up the pace with his fingers. The wet glistening puddle soaking into the covers below you. And that’s what Shu wanted, he wanted you to make a complete mess of yourself and everything else.

Clenching the sheets that you never thought you’d touch, your eyes squeezed shut for just a split second. The clenching also occurring down south, where shu’s fingers were drowning and now stuck inside of you. A slow smirk appearing on his face once again before softly curling his fingers upwards. That sudden motion making you jolt in shock. It really did feel as if you were electrocuted. Trying to keep the worst of your sounds in, the need to cum on his fingers enhanced.

“Don’t be troublesome… cum on my fingers like a good girl.”

The vampire would never admit, but maybe a slight drop of drool went down the side from his mouth. This could be from how sweet and scrumptious you smelt, or just from how weak you looked. Shu knows how strong you mentally are, nobody could bring you down. But, Shu knows all he has to do is push your little buttons and he has you in this mental chokehold.

A burst of wetness exiting you, the puddling sounds only getting louder from Shu giving your special spot so much attention.. his hand drenched in your juices as he had that satisfied look on his face. In his mind, he wanted Reiji to taste what he couldn’t get… make Reiji look pathetic by shoving his face in the wet spot on his covers…

Oh man revenge tasted so sweet.

That’s all he wanted, pulling his fingers away from your soaking cunt. Slowly licking them with no shame, because you tasted like pure honey. Something Reiji could never experience head on.

He could only experience it from his drenched bedsheets.

#black reader #poc reader #smut #diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers scenarios #lemons #diabolik lovers imagine #diabolik lovers x reader #Diabolik lovers x black reader #Diabolik lovers x poc reader #shu sakamaki

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i-did-not-mean-to · 7 months

Text

Misty Mornings - Ori x OC

Ok, as this came a bit...fast...I've written something for my Calendar fic AU of last year :D

-> Calendar Fic 2022

-> Addition 1

-> Addition 2

Characters: Ori x OC

Words: 1 500

Warnings: sexual innuendo, transmasc Ori, social pressure, anxiety

Dotty shivered violently as a surge of cold air struck her naked skin mercilessly, and—with a disgruntled moan—she pried open one eye.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she hissed begrudgingly as she suddenly understood that it had been Ori’s attempt at slipping out of her bed unnoticed that had subjected her to the icy fingers of the misty morning air, blowing in through the half-open window. “And why is my window open?”

“I was just checking whether someone was in the courtyard,” Ori explained, giving her an indulgent smile and a fond pat on the cheek. “You and I, dearest Dotty, are not yet married. I cannot be seen sneaking out of your room.”

Another menacing growl escaped the sensual, pouty lips of his beloved.

“Dotty, darling,” he pleaded, and—drawn in by the flicker of hurt in her flashing eyes—he committed the grave mistake of sitting down on the edge of her bed once more.

Instantly, her soft arms wrapped around his waist and her warm mouth slid along the side of his throat beguilingly.

“Dotty, please,” he whispered as sticky heat started gathering between his thighs. “Do you so yearn to ruin your name?”

Had Ori been even just a tiny bit less honourable, he would have let himself be dragged back into the comfortable, secret heat of Dotty’s blankets. Nothing he had hitherto experienced compared to the feeling of having her crouch over his body, her fingers parting his flesh and her lips closing around his sensitive nipples, but he didn’t even want to think about that now, lest he be swayed after all.

He loved her. There was no doubt about that—indeed, it was because he loved her so much that he admittedly delayed approaching her father to beg for the right to court her.

Truth be told, Ori was still afraid that Dortha’s father would refuse—he didn’t know what he’d do if he were officially told that his most precious, painfully fragile hope was dead.

At the same time, he did not want to start his courtship with a lie.

“I do not understand why you are hesitating,” she mumbled into his hair, and his heart broke as he caught a sliver of that suffering she consistently and stubbornly tried to hide from him.

Of course, he thought, he was being despicably selfish, and she deserved so much better.

“I shall…” Ori fell silent again—he had made that promise once too often for her to believe him anymore, and he felt terrible about his own insecurities that kept him from claiming what mattered most to him in this life.

“I have something for you,” she then admitted softly. “Meet me at the ramparts after lunch?”

He nodded, gave her another deep kiss, and hoped that she could feel how desperately he loved her just by the way he always melted into her clutching embrace.

The hours went by slowly, and—more than once—he forgot where he had put down a specific tome or had to ask one of his colleagues to repeat what they had said because he had not been paying attention.

He wondered what it was that Dotty wanted to show him. A part of him was afraid that it was a letter, explaining that she had waited long enough for him to make a formal request for her hand, and he berated himself sharply for doubting the devotion and love of a woman who had clung to him so affectionately only this morning.

Another voice, sweet and tender, whispered of gifts and tokens that would force him to admit to the world that he and Dotty were more than just faithful friends.

Surely, the good people of Erebor must have noticed that they were seen together more often than was seemly or easily explainable, but—if they had doubts or misgivings—they never brought them up with either one of them.

When it was finally time for lunch, Ori had to admit that he had fallen behind on his work so much that he had to skip the meal if he wanted to meet Dotty without having too much of a bad conscience.

Thus it came to pass that he was wobbling, feeling faint and dizzy, to the ramparts to find her standing there, wreathed in a cloak of stubborn autumnal mist—his heart nearly stopped.

Dotty, for all her sunny, cheery words, was a creature made for foggy afternoons; she looked positively regal in her long, dark purple dress, overlooking the vast lands surrounding the Lonely Mountain, and Ori’s head started spinning even faster and more violently than before.

Before he could hail her, though, she caught sight of him and rushed into his arms.

“You look so very pale, my love,” she crooned, a worried hand pressing against his clammy brow. "Did you eat? I should have brought a sandwich.”

She bit her lip and returned to her previous spot—there, on the smooth stone, lay a wooden box which she eyed uncertainly now.

“Please do forgive me,” she whispered and sought his gaze with a pleading expression on her soft, gentle face. “I might have given away our plans by purchasing this.”

Cold sweat beaded along Ori’s spine, but he took the expertly made container willingly when she picked it up and handed it over.

If his fingers trembled on the latch, it was due to the lack of sustenance and not his all-consuming fear of unexpectedly losing Dotty, he told himself, but he had never been a very convincing liar.

Finally, he had fumbled open the lid and swung it back in a brusque, decisive movement.

On a shrine of dark velvet lay the most beautiful reproduction of a phallus he had ever seen—he gasped softly while she stared at him expectantly.

“Dotty,” he gasped incredulously even as his fingertips brushed reverently against the precious metal and the finely crafted leather straps. “What…”

“I thought,” she admitted in a hushed croak, “that if we were to get married, we’d want to try this as well. We don’t have to, of course, but I thought it would be worth a consideration.”

“You had this made to measure,” Ori mumbled, recognising the stamp of a renowned craftsman who had only recently arrived in Erebor from the Blue Mountains. “Is it for you or me?”

Shrugging, Dotty slung her arms around his waist and pressed a winning kiss onto his bearded cheek. “Either, the straps are adjustable. Do you like it?”

He was overwhelmed and exceedingly shocked by her brazen valour, but Ori could not deny that the mere sight of the implement made his heart clench with longing and his stomach roil with desire.

She wanted him. She wanted him so much that the thought of growing tired of his limitations had never even crossed her mind—no, Dotty had instead made provisions so they could explore, grow, and conquer together.

“Does your family know that you’ve commissioned this?” he asked, suddenly remembering her initial warning with a shudder of apprehension.

“Of course not,” she laughed. “But the craftsman does…I am afraid that you shall have to ask my dear father now, lest I really become the subject of vicious rumours.”

“Ask me what?” A burly dwarf came around the corner, carrying a cloak in the same rich colour as Dotty’s dress. “You’ve forgotten your coat—it’s too misty and cold for you to stand outside without it.”

Visibly taken aback, Dotty sauntered over and took it from him with a grateful kiss. Over her father’s shoulder, though, she sent Ori a flaming look of encouragement.

“Sir,” Ori said hastily, his voice breaking as he stumbled over that single word already. “I wanted to humbly ask whether I could be granted the immense honour of courting your daughter.”

“This here daughter? Dotty, The Menace?” the dwarf chuckled, clapping a broad, heavy hand onto the young dam’s shoulder. “I was afraid you’d never ask. She’s just silly enough to go let herself starve to death because of a broken heart.”

Snorting derisively, Dotty punched him in the ribs none too gently which didn’t seem to faze her parent in the least.

“Sir,” Ori said with a sigh. “There is something you need to know about me, however.”

“No,” Dotty’s father contradicted calmly. “There isn’t. Dot, do you want to be courted by this dwarf? Can you imagine entering a sacred bond with him and staying by his side for the rest of your life?”

“Yes,” Dotty said, her gaze flitting to and fro between her father and Ori. These were the two men who meant the most to her, and she was overjoyed to bathe in the light of their pride and affection.

“My daughter has accepted your suit,” the old dwarf declared and nodded at the open box Ori was still holding in his hands like a sacrificial offering. “Everything else is for you to settle between the two of you.”

Thank you so much for reading <3

-> Masterlist for November (prompts by @cilil)

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #November #Nanowrimo2023 #Ori #Ori x OC #transmasc Ori #Misty Mornings

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silvanils · 1 year

Text

A Reason to Stay

A prompt fill from @blossom-adventures over at @nirnwrote!

I had so much fun with this one! For story-context, this would be after Eira becomes Thane of the Rift but before her ill-fated mission with Mercer... So Niruin’s smitten, but has not quite realized he’s in love just yet!

Rating: T+ (language, mature themes, off-screen sex - no explicit smut!)

Word Count: ~850

You can also read it on Ao3 here!

“Look at all this space, Niruin!” Eira says, gesturing around the kitchen. “There’s room down below for me to put up some displays of my favorite, uh… acquisitions. What do you think?”

Niruin’s not sure why she’s asking, or even why she invited him over for dinner when they’re just friends with a few extra side-benefits, right? They’ve always kept their meet-ups fairly brief.

But she’s staring up at him, now, with her too-pretty eyes — and damn it all, she always leaves him feeling foolish and tongue-tied. He’s been staring too long. “It’s a beautiful house, Eira. Much nicer than my tiny apartment, anyway.”

She flashes one of her knowing grins at him, then, and reaches out to tug him closer by the lapels of his coat. “Just wait until you see the bedroom,” she teases. “And the heated bath! It’s absolutely decadent.”

“Perhaps we should have eaten out,” Niruin sighs, later, poking at his half-burnt dish. “Not that I doubt your cooking abilities, of course, but…”

“I blame you,” she huffs, her cheeks all dark and ruddy. “This recipe is supposed to be foolproof, but you showed up in those snazzy clothes and distracted me!!”

Niruin can’t help but laugh at how stupidly adorable she looks when she’s embarrassed. No one’s perfect, I guess. “Oh? Well, I had to look my best! You live in the nice part of town, now! I can’t strut down these streets looking like a… a… you know!”

“...A thief and scoundrel?” Eira offers, raising an eyebrow. “That’s fair. Honestly, I’m surprised you clean up so well — where did you find that coat?”

Niruin tugs on the end of his sleeve. It’s one of his nicer possessions, a wine-red coat lined with fur. He hasn’t worn it in years. “Valenwood,” he finally says. “It was a gift, and… one of the few things I kept from my old life.”

It feels like a lifetime ago, now: his father’s verdict, all the frantic farewells, the hasty packing… and his older sister showing up, teary-eyed, this coat folded up in her arms. ‘Don’t forget this, you dumbass. It gets cold where you’re going.’

He’d only found the note she had tucked in the pocket much later: instructions on how he could get in touch with her if he ever needed anything. But he’d been to stubborn, too proud, to reach out. And when he had to buy an even warmer coat for the thick of winter, this one had gotten shoved into the bottom of a chest where it had stayed until… recently.

“It really suits you,” Eira says, snapping Niruin back to the present. “You should wear it more often.”

“Well,” Niruin says, coughing and flushing as he sits up a little straighter. What man wouldn’t preen a little when someone looks at him like that? “Perhaps, if I were to go out more…”

“That could be arranged,” Eira teases, standing up so she can move closer. “But tonight, I’d rather you stay in.”

Niruin is used to brief, quick affairs that end before the night does, usually with him picking his things up and slinking out a window feeling only a slightly better than before. He’s not used to staying until morning, or waking up to a sight as lovely as this.

Eira is still fast asleep, surrounded by her collection of soft, down-filled pillows. At some point during their coupling, his fingers had tugged her hair free of it’s binds — leaving it all mussed up, now, fluffed out around her face and curling up around her neck and shoulders.

Niruin can’t help but grin as he hears her soft, barely-noticeable snores, watches the slow rise-and-fall of her bare chest. No one’s perfect, he thinks, but she comes pretty damn close.

He slips out of bed carefully and tugs on a robe before heading upstairs again. “Foolproof, huh?” He sighs, flipping through the recipe book on her counter. “Well, we’ll see about that.”

Soon enough, the whole house smells of warm cinnamon and baked apples, and Niruin grins when he sees Eira pad up the stairs just as he pulls the tray out of the oven. She’s only wearing a thin shirt, her hair still a fluffed-up mess… and she’s pouting.

“Still trying to one-up me, aren’t you?” She mumbles, grabbing one of the fritters and shoving it in her mouth before Niruin has time to warn her not to. “Ow! Fuck, that’s hot — !”

“Yeah, no shit! It just finished baking!” He huffs, setting the tray down. But his curiosity wins out as she keeps chewing, her cheeks growing flushed. “Well? What do you think?”

She glares at him. “They’re good,” she concedes. “Much nicer than mine, anyway. Oh, and we should get some wine-colored curtains.”

Somehow, impossibly, they spend the morning together as well. And when they head out to have lunch together in the market, the falling leaves make Niruin think of autumns at home but… for the first time in ages, it’s not a feeling that leaves him sick with longing. Just a warm, cozy sense of nostalgia.

Maybe our luck is changing, he thinks, his eyes lingering on Eira’s snow-bright hair. One thing is sure, though. You’ve given me a reason to stay.

#elder scrolls #skyrim #niruin x oc #niruin x dragonborn #skyrim thieves guild #nirnwrote #;Eira Silvanil #;Eira/Niruin #;when shadows wake #;knight writes

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

black magic [01]

REQUEST. arranged marriage + enemies to lovers (sukuna is a simp and lowkey a housewife)

CONTENT/WARNINGS. some suggestive scenes, but overall fluff and romance! slight crack fic, I guess? I was laughing when I wrote this lol

NOTES. I NEED A HUSBAND! SUKUNA I’M GOING TO CRY GOODBYE THIS HAS ME SOFT. also anon i’m not sure if you wanted something with more ~sexual tension~ since this is kind of just comedic, but I hope you like it anyway!

part one | part two (nsfw)

“This is new,” you comment with a glare, your ankle propped on Sukuna’s knee.

“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes, pushing your skirt aside to clean the wounds you attained through exorcising curses. You’ve taken a particularly strong curse today and you’re caught off guard, barely finishing the mission unscathed. Limping all the way back home isn’t easy especially since you live on top of the darned mountain, but if Sukuna’s going to kneel in front of you like this...maybe it wasn’t too tough a journey. “You should stop going to missions you’re not ready for. Look at you, all wounded and bloody.”

“You sound like you care.”

“You’re my wife,” he huffs while dropping the bloody towel on the floor. Sukuna wraps the bandage around your ankle and carries you bridal style even though you’re perfectly capable of walking, but he shoots you a silencing glare. You’d have knocked him in the face any other day, but he’s particularly warm and smells nice today – plus you’re beat – that you bury your face in his chest, ignoring that stupid fluttering in your stomach. “Of course I do.”

You snicker, mind tracing back to your earlier years of this dreaded marriage.

It definitely wasn’t the best – the memories blurring between strangling each other to making out as if breathing was never a thing – and it felt like forever ago when you first met him.

You’d never say it out loud, but... you don’t regret this arranged marriage. Not when Sukuna is tucking himself beside you on the bed, your head above his muscular chest a place similar to home. He covers both your bodies over with a blanket, pulling your body closer to him with a strong arm, his lips pressing onto the crown of your head.

Ugh, you think to yourself, giving in to the need to cuddle your husband after a long day of work. You still refuse to say it out loud, though, and you irk him further by muttering, “That’s not what you said two years ago.”

“I wasn’t in love with you then.”

“I refuse to be married to you!”

Sukuna fights back the urge to cover his ears. Ever since your clan decided to visit his land and started exorcising curses one by one, his life has been nothing but hell. Not only are your relatives the most arrogant people ever with a consistent god complex, they just had to let their little mortal child be in charge of taking on the stronger curses. Seriously, what were they thinking, sending you – who’s barely even out of their training bra years – to deal with curses like him?

Everyone knows Sukuna is a no bullshit man. He won’t hesitate to cut your head off the moment you came raging at him, but then he sees how young you are and decides to send you back to your family.

Expecting that everyone would just call it a day and he’d get offerings for his unexpected mercy, Sukuna is beyond stupefied when they send you back to his temple, all dressed pretty with a basket of fruits and flowers braided in your hair. He remembers growling because you look adorable, but that’s easily wiped away when you open your mouth, your voice scratchy against his ears as you stomp your feet like the young mortal you are.

Sukuna pushes a thumb to his forehead to ease the impending headache, and that’s just from your presence. Something inside him tells that you’re going to be a bigger pain than you look.

“You don’t have much of a choice. You should’ve thought of that before deciding to run rampage over my land,” he reminds, turning boredly to his lone servant from above his throne. Sukuna isn’t impressed, to say the least, especially with your clan’s audacious proposition to gain his favour just this once. “Is this really the woman you bring me – the one they insist to be my wife?”

“She is their best fighter, my Lord.”

Well, he can’t disagree to that. You did, after all, single-handedly give him a cut on the cheek. “She’s feisty indeed.”

“Don’t talk as if I’m not here!”

“Mouthy too,” he mumbles to himself, but your sorcerer senses are sharp and easily picks up on it. He sees you flush angry again, looking immensely adorable with your tiny fists clenched like that and he snorts, waving a hand in the air. “Whatever. Get the wedding over with,” he nods to his servant, his sigh loud and tired as he makes his way to you.

You don’t stiffen at each haunting step, his eyes only glimmering harder with entertainment. It’s rare to find a mortal that doesn’t quiver at the sight of him, the urge to break you only growing stronger.

Even as he cups your face, making sure to not let his claws dig into your precious skin, Sukuna smirks. You’ll be entertaining indeed.

So Sukuna makes a promise, four eyes surveying the way your body is starting to fill in curves at the right places, the swell of your flesh just perfect in his hands... He chuckles to himself, daunting you further as he leans down to your ear, taking pleasure in the slight way your breath hitches. “Maybe then I’ll get to teach you a lesson or two.”

You’re definitely something else, taking advantage of each presented opportunity and not wasting any time before you make your move. Right after the wedding and everyone’s left, leaving you alone with your new husband behind closed doors; you push him until he’s on the ground, legs straddling each side of his hips while you growl above him – the sound similar to a battle cry.

Sukuna merely smirks, barely moving a muscle as his large hands come up to rest on your hips to steady you. “I’ve imagined countless ways you’d be on top of me like this,” his eyes light up with humour upon feeling the cold blade on his skin, “None of them included a knife on my neck though.”

“Shut your mouth. I will kill you myself,” you warn, pressing your knife harder until it draws a slight tinge of blood.

You hardly look threatening above him like this, dolled up to look the best in your wedding with this cursed being. If anything, you look more divine than deadly, and Sukuna thinks that perhaps your beauty could be your best weapon. You are bewitching, after all.

“I refuse to be your Queen and sit next to your throne.”

“Then why didn’t you stop the wedding?”

“I—”

Sukuna’s teasing grin grows wider when you pull back, trying so hard to not trip over your words. It takes all of his self-restraint to not take you right then and there, but he does a good job of holding back, enjoying this view above him instead. “Could it be you’re attracted to me after all, hm, little one?”

“Do not test me, Curse. I’m more than capable of exorcising you myself.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. You’re the strongest in the Gojo clan, are you not?” he prompts to appease you, “I don’t even want to see what you’re capable of, but maybe, just maybe...” just as his eyes darken, the edges of his lips turning up into a smirk, Sukuna digs his claws into your thigh in a possessive show of ownership, a painful reminder that you’re his now. “...You could put on a little show for me?”

“I hate you!”

Experienced and strong as you are, you’re nothing compared to a thousand year old curse who’s killed a lot more people faster than you could blink. Sukuna immediately notices the animalistic way you draw your blade, arm swung back with rage written all over your face. Before you could so much as bat an eye, he easily switches the positions until you’re under him, using only one hand to pin your arms above your head, your blade effortlessly thrown to the other side of the room.

“As I thought, you’re a lot prettier under me like this,” he observes, roaming his eyes shamelessly over the fabric clinging prettily to your body. You’ve fallen silent at his unconcealed attention, your compliance enticing him to lean closer just to inhale your intoxicating scent.

“Not so feisty now, little one? Where’d all your hatred for me go?” Sukuna pulls back with widened eyes, “Oh? Am I hearing it wrong or is your pathetic human heart beating so loud right now?” You refuse to look at him, wriggling your hips in an attempt to leave, completely unaware that the mere movement is hypnotizing the curse above you. Sukuna grips your hips in warning, not wanting to destroy you – not now, anyway. “You know all you need to do is say it. I’d gladly take you right here and then.” His words spoken with that deep, throaty voice immediately sends a wave of heat down your core, but you turn away from him, breathing hard and nervously; something Sukuna picks up on in an instant. “Little one...have you never had a man hold you like this before?”

“N-no...”

“I see. Pure and innocent behind that ferocity, huh?” He surprises you by pulling away, smoothening his white robes down as he leaves you panting still on the floor. “Fine. I won’t touch you unless you ask me to.”

“I’d rather die before that ever comes out from my mouth.”

“We’ll see about that,” he smirks, winking at you before he shuts the door. “Little one.”

There’s a lot of weird – and utterly inconvenient things – about being Sukuna’s wife. The man eats everything, absolutely everything, and it doesn’t help that he sucks at hunting too. For a man so huge and burly, he sure is lazy, preferring to do the laundry in the riverside instead while you go out every day to prepare your meals.

You actually don’t mind, but it’s very fun to complain around him.

You’re on your way back to the temple when Sukuna grabs at you, making you drop the freshly caught birds onto the ground. Your brows furrow, about to scold him for being too eager again when Sukuna stares at your arm, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Following his line of sight, your lips form an ‘o’ shape. There’s blood trickling down your forearm from his claws accidentally cutting you, guilt written all over his face. Another weird thing about Sukuna is that he babbles a lot when he’s emotional, and you’re too tired to hear him beat himself over it that you just drag him inside your room, sitting his ass down before taking a clipper.

Sukuna scoffs when you start cutting his nails. It irks him that you don’t even bother wiping the blood off first and he tsks, eyes narrowed at you. “You should have thicker skin.”

You roll your eyes as you file his nails; you’ve been married to him long enough to know it’s his way of saying sorry. Not wanting to let him wallow in guilt any louder, you pad kisses over his knuckles before swiping the black ink off your desk, using a pen brush to colour your nails instead. Sukuna hovers behind you, head tilted to the side as he watched you. “Are you painting your nails black?” he utters in disbelief, trying to ignore the fact he feels...proud and even a little smug. “Not so fitting for the angelic sorcerer now, isn’t it?”

“I’m only doing this so you don’t feel left out.”

“Maybe I’ll add markings to your pretty face too,” he cups your jaw to make you turn to him, landing a solid kiss flat to your lips which makes you sigh, pretending to be annoyed but leaning over for another peck anyway. Sukuna laughs and pulls you onto his lap, kissing your neck this time around, a little annoyed that you don’t stop in brandishing your nails. “Wife, what do you think?”

“I have work, Sukuna. You flirting with me doesn’t change the fact I need to go.”

“Come home safe for me, at least?” he breathes down your neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You’ve definitely changed since the first time he’s met you, starting from a mean (although he stands strong that you are still mean to him sometimes) temperamental little one to a mature, stronger sorcerer who’s secretly weak for his wife.

Unable to resist him as always, you turn around once you’ve finished painting your nails, rubbing your nose over his until your strong, scary husband is turning into putty at your hands. “Of course I will,” you peck his lips one last time, Sukuna’s eyes closing as he dives in for a deeper kiss. “I’ll always come back home to my handsome husband.”

If anyone were to ask how it’s possible that the King of Curses is actually very soft for his sorcerer wife, everyone would claim it’s impossible and a heresy – but if you ask Sukuna, it’s probably just black magic doing its wonders.

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oakenlup · 2 years

Text

The Lord of the Rings Characters comforting an insecure reader about their stretch-marks.

Faramir, Aragorn, Legolas & Boromir

FARAMIR:

Looking down at your body, you felt...wrong. Every maiden in Gondor had perfect silky skin and you felt as though you did not fit into that category. With a huff, you began to dress yourself for the day. “What a beautiful way to wake up” Faramir said groggily, getting a full view of your backside. Shocked, you turn around and slip the gown down further. “What’s the matter?” Faramir questioned, sitting up in his bed. “How is that a beautiful sight?”

“What do you mean dearest?”

“My stretch marks! They’re, they’re”

“Gorgeous, stunning?”

“You’re just saying that” you sigh, folding up your side of the bed. “Excuse me missus, sit down” Faramir demanded, fully serious now.

Slightly shocked at his sudden demand, you sit down on your freshly made side of the bed. With Faramir sitting up right, you could get a full view of his burly chest now. “Your stretch marks, are beautiful, I’m not just saying that” he paused, slightly offended you felt so little about yourself. “It shows your body has been through a plethora of things, and succeeded! It’s just a friendly reminder how badass you are” Faramir ends, a broad smile on his face.

Looking up with slightly wet eyes, you pull your soft husband into your arms. “Thank you” you whisper, rubbing his back. “I love you”

ARAGORN:

Watching Aragorn strip out his gear, his admirable muscles appeared infront of your eyes. From his gorgeous hair to his soft voice to his accepting personality, you started to get doubts as to why he chose you. Your body was scarred with these lines that remind you of your past, and constantly remind Aragorn no doubt.

Without even making a noise, Aragorn already knew you were in distress. “What’s wrong little love?” He pressed gently, removing his tunic that was damp from the sweat, again, flexing his defined chest. “Why are you with me? I’m not the prettiest maiden in the orchard” you shudder at the thought of Aragorn feeling obliged to marry someone he didn’t exactly find beautiful. “Excuse me? Is this because of your stretch marks?”

Oh how did he already know!

“Come here” Aragorn said seriously, petting his lap for you to sit in. With a defeated trudge, you walk straight into his lap, taking a comfy seat. Without a beat, he traces your stretchmarks that littered your body. “You’re like a tiger, each mark resembles a battle, a war you have fought, how resilient you are” he whispered, giving each little one a separate kiss, his beard slightly tickling it. “See this?” Aragorn asked, pulling down his pants slightly to show a nasty gash that went through his lower hip. With a hiss, your fingers glide over it. “Not so pretty huh?” Aragorn laughed, seeing your expression. “Aragorn your perfect, this is just a mark that shows how perfect you are”

“Do you get my point now, darling?”

LEGOLAS:

Why is he so friggin perfect. Perfect lips, perfect skin, perfect hair. Damn him! Damn elves and their perfectness.

“Your thinking is loud, dove” Legolas said, back still facing you from the bed, as he stared out the window. “Sorry, I guess I’m just, I don’t know, insecure?”

Legolas quickly flipped his stupidly perfect body around. “What? How?” Legolas asked, approaching you and taking a seat next to you on the bed. “Legolas, you and every single elf to exist has perfect genes, your hair can’t even get tangled, that’s how perfect you are” you mumble, playing with your hands. “Well, elves do grow up in a very, cleansed environment, but what makes you think your beauty is different?”

“See these?” You say, exposing the skin that held the tiny little lines of insecurity.

“Yes, I’ve always wondered how you got them, they are gorgeous, like little lightening bolts” Legolas chuckled, tracing the lines. “You know, whenever it’s bad weather outside and the lightening rumbles through Mirkwood, I always think of you and those little lines, like your trying to show the whole of middle-earth your appearance shouldn’t be feared” he states, still tracing. “Whenever your away adventuring, and I hear it, I often think it’s you, reminding me you’re still very much alive and saying hello” he whispered out, hearing you sigh in a happier tone than before. “Thats so sweet” you say, a smile inching its way onto your face as you place a hand over his. “Not as sweet as you, my little lightening bolt”

BOROMIR:

Sitting in the bath with Boromir behind you wasn’t common. Boromir was happily scrubbing your back, but you couldn’t help compare thighs with him. His; defined, slight tan, hairy. Yours; littered in little uneven lines.

With an unintentional groan, Boromir stops his scrubbing. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked, turning to kiss your cheek. “No Boromir, it’s just, ugh, look at me!” You splash the water in frustration. “Hey, hey, calm down lovely, what’s got you in a tussle?” He calmed you down with wrapping his arms around your middle, slightly stroking. “I’ve got stretch-marks, they’re ugly” you huff, petting the arms nicely wrapped around you.

“Oh darling, don’t you get me started. Your body is lovely yes, but you think a few silly lines will repulse me? Noo darling, they only show just how different you are to the other maidens out there, in a good way!” Boromir added with a little chuckle. “But in all seriousness, don’t be saddened, it saddens me” Boromir tucked his head into your neck. “You’re so beautiful, if I had to walk into Mordor just to prove it, I would” he says, taking in his own scars now.

“Remember, every warrior has their fair share of marks and bruises, it shows your braveness! Which I know turns me on” he whispered in your ear, which elicited a small laugh from you.

Only your Boromir could get horny from your deepest insecurities.

#faramir x reader #faramir fluff #Aragorn fluff #Aragorn #aragorn x reader #Legolas x reader #legolas fluff #legolas x you #Boromir x reader #Boromir #boromir x you #lord of the rings #lord of the rings fluff

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writer-akihiko · 3 years

Note

hiii! can I get a similar scenario like this but with vice dorm leaders and floyd? I love your works!!! I hope you have a nice week <3

Vice Dorm Leaders + Floyd + Valentine's Jealousy

Thank you for this request! It was a while to post this because I kinda forgot the prompt for the previous one, but I hope you enjoy some equally jealous Vice Dorm Leaders and Floyd!

Lilia Vanrouge

Many knew that you were quite famous, and he was well aware of how others saw you too. You weren't one to accept the presents because you had Lilia, but it was hard to reject them most of the time when they'd all gang up on you.

From the day started, you planned out the day. You planned to take an alternate route back to the dorms, but through every step, some student would stop you with a present. With so many eyes on you, it was overwhelming.

A couple of Savanaclaw boys stopped you in your tracks, with the supposed leader of the pack holding a box of chocolates towards you.

"YN! Please accept my gift!"

The sudden approach made you trip and fall on your butt, but before a hand could reach out to help you, the wall of students collapsed. You smelled smoke, supposedly from something burning, but as you looked over it more, it was the students that were burning…

Lilia stood over them, sneering at the other students that looked on. He gave a deep bow, and you noticed that one of his heels dug into the side of the one who wanted to give you a gift.

"Ara ara... as Vice Dorm Leader, there shouldn't be any fleas disturbing the peace."

The bodies of those students were well stepped and pranced over as Lilia prattled on about 'appropriate' rules for a NRC student. His lecture was done, but you found it odd that Lilia cared about the rules at all...

"Now that you get my point, leave."

All students, burnt and normal, scattered when Lilia said that. You were the only one left, and you began to get anxious once more. Surely... Surely your lover wouldn’t punish you too?

As your boyfriend stepped closer, he got on one knee, somehow conjuring a bouquet of flowers? On further inspection, the flower buds appeared to be your favourite snacks on sticks in... a bouquet. Lilia had his mysterious ways, but the silly bouquet got a giggle out of you.

He got up, pulling you by the waist. "I take it as you love your snack bouquet~" He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "Happy Valentine's Day YN."

Trey Clover

Trey didn't want you to know that you were well-known so instead of doing anything to the other students, he tells you to stay in your room instead as you wait for him to pick you up for a romantic Valentine's date.

As the morning of Valentine started, he could watch in envy at the other students with present clearly meant for you. He did ask Vil for a favour to doll you up for the date, but he wasn't sure if you were going to stay put with Grim around...

He had to curse himself for getting caught up in one of Professor Crewel's ramblings, but he wouldn't be so rude to get up and leave. If he had to be honest, it was very tempting to do so.

It was finally over, and he tried not to let out a sigh of relief. The moment he walked out of the classroom, he was already frowning at the sight that he saw.

Many surrounded you, but particularly those with sweet treats caught your attention the most. They begged you to try their treats, but you never thought it as anything romantic. As someone who was fond of making sweet treats like Trey, you thought that they were asking for your input instead.

One of the students dared to hand-feed you a piece of the sweet he made. Trey being pissed off was an understatement. Cater, who was busy filming the decorations and vlogging, paused when his camera neared Trey's line of view.

Trey knew he wasn't going to get to you in time, so as he saw the treat inch closer to your mouth, he used his magic to alter the flavour of it. You winced at the bitter flavour unlike the sweet flavour before you expected.

You coughed out the piece you had in your mouth, dropping the food. Your head bumped against someone, and an arm wrapped around you. You relaxed once you felt Trey's familiar scent, but with your ear pressed against his chest, the sound of his thumping heart rang through your ears.

"You really dared to poison YN..."

The students backed away, but with a teacher nearby, they were quickly taken away. Trey didn't mind his little lie, after all, you were adorably blushing in his arms.

"Are you okay my love?" He patted your head, checking you for any injuries. It was only then he realised that you were dolled up, and your cheeks were flushed whenever hi fingers touched your skin.

Trey wasn't usually tongue-tied, but the way you just looked made him speechless.

"H-Happy Valentine's... my gorgeous YN."

Jamil Viper

He was an observant man, so the day before Valentine's he knew who was targeting to give you gifts, even if they hadn't made their intentions public. He never made your relationship public, but he targeted those who thought they were the 'perfect' candidate for your love.

It all began with spreading rumours, particularly about how someone was going to be your fiancé. He only had to wait for the rumours to settle in, and then the chaos would commence...

By the morning of Valentine's, many had gathered at your doorstep leaving gifts but some insisted on waiting for you... like a stalker... Oh well, Jamil could remedy that easily.

He couldn't hypnotise to most due to the limitations of his magic, but he was still good at manipulating those around him. He couldn't help but feel such jealousy towards the other students for getting you such expensive gifts, especially when he could never get those gifts for you himself.

He was so distracted with his jealous thoughts that he missed the moment that you walked out of your room. You were hopeful that your boyfriend Jamil was waiting, but you couldn't hide your disappointment when it wasn't.

The more aggressive 'suitors' caught on to your disappointment, and you shrunk in fear as they approached you.

"Hoi, why are you making that fa-"

BLAM!

Before any insulting things were said, a basketball went flying and hit the student in the head, knocking him flat.

"Get away from her."

Jamil's piercing gaze sent a shiver down everyone's spine, causing them to scram. Even those who had the strength to beat Jamil were outmatched by the sheer bloodlust and the objective authority he had, which was better not to mess with if they valued their school life.

It wasn't long before you jumped into Jamil's arms, which caused both of you to topple over. Your large grin was fitting for Jamil's flustered state, as you bestowed your hero a loving kiss.

Jade Leech

If any student in NRC were to say to their fellow friends that they wanted to confess to YN on Valentine's Day, their friends would ask them if they wanted a death wish. This was because it was a well-known fact that you were dating Jade Leech.

And in NRC, you'd never want to mess with the Leech brothers.

Jade wouldn't want to scare you, but he may have overheard some other people talking about giving you a Valentine's gift. Even if it was out of obligation, he wouldn't allow that.

He could personally alter the ingredients of their drinks so that they'd... fall asleep before any present giving...

You always hung around the Lounge but this time around, Jade didn't allow you to walk out onto the floor, so you accompanied Azul with helping him with his papers. He waited for the serum to kick in, and when they were asleep he informed Azul of some loiterers in the Lounge.

Before they fell asleep, Jade couldn't help himself from revealing his tiny plan to the victims.

"Don't try your chances."

They were quickly disposed of, thanks to Floyd. It'd be better not to mention specifics.

Jade did promise you a romantic date, so you were surprised how much the Lounge changed after hours. The simple candlelight shone on the extravagant meal with Jade's specially brewed tea.

You felt the merman's arms wrap around you, as he leaned down, whispering in your ear. "YN, thank you for being my Valentine."

Floyd Leech

Whoever had the idea to confess to you besides Floyd Leech was asking to die by getting squeezed by a merman.

He wasn't sure how did you gain so much attention, but then he remembered that he'd always glomp you whenever he saw you... and then he remembered that Valentine's was today. Oh well, he'll figure something out.

The person Floyd had his eyes on though, was a student who was part of a band that Azul drove into debt. The entire band then on went to work for the Lounge as entertainters, but how could Floyd trust such a scheming bass player?

He heard from Jade that they were going to practice, but he had an inkling that it would be a confession to you. Only when it comes to you, he's observant.

"Hey YN! I just wanna show you-"

You shrugged off the bassist's enthusiasm. "Sorry... I'm a bit worn out. A lot of people have been giving me presents today."

He still took your hand. "Well... um if it helps you relax, I wrote a song for you!"

"A song?" You inched away since he was too close for comfort, but you'd doubt he'd listen to you since those other students didn't listen to you anyway...

"Hands off my Shrimpy."

Floyd couldn't hold it, watching from the sidelines. Jade told him to stay put, but it was impossible. He grabbed the student by the shoulders, squeezing him until he screamed. Once Floyd saw your worried face, he abandoned every thought of 'torturing' the boy and flung him across the room instead.

It was just his luck that the boy landed in your pile of presents, destroying about half of them. That was the presents dealt with...

You eagerly hugged Floyd, finally seeing him after a long day. Floyd couldn't help but twirl his Shrimpy around, joy filling him from your giggles. Oh well, Valentine's was too materialistic anyway. If he could get a laugh out of you just like this, that was all that mattered to him.

"Love ya Shrimpy~"

Ruggie Bucchi

Having so much responsibility in Savanaclaw meant that he had the slimmest of chances to be with you during Valentine's. Sure, most knew that you were his but there would be those idiots that would approach you regardless of your relationship status.

He gritted his teeth as he thought of all the possible presents he couldn't give you, and others could. The moment he stepped out his body simply shook with envy at how lucky those students were to have the spare money to get you something nice.

It honestly made him feel terrible that he couldn't provide those for you. It really did.

He wasn't one to lash out, but he was a hyena beastman after all. He had his limits. The moment he spotted you, he couldn't stop his tail from wagging. What pissed him off though was the idiocity of the students who can't comprehend that you didn't want to deal with them.

A Scarabia student had been following you around, and it was getting on your nerves. He showed off his 'assets' in front of you, which was embarrassing enough but it really struck a chord when the said student disregarded your beloved Ruggie.

"Surely you have better chances with me than some filthy beastman like him..."

You huffed, your fists shaking. "That's my boyfriend you're talking about!"

The student, of course disregarded you entirely. He grabbed you by the wrist, but in the blink of an eye, his palm was bleeding. There Ruggie was, claws out and holding you in one arm.

"She said she has a boyfriend, scum."

He didn't care how much he'd get punished. Knowing how much the teachers favoured you, they might let it pass... He didn't want to deal with the aftermath, so he lifted you up bridal style and ran with you to the Savanaclaw dorm.

"W-Wait Ruggie! I might be heavy..."

"You're not," He bluntly said, angling his face so he could check you for any injuries. His chest swelled up with pride with how much you defended him. "YN, it's okay though. You didn't have to defend me that much..."

You were not one to stand for your boyfriend to insult himself. You kissed him, surprising him to the point he almost dropped you. As you stared at your confused Ruggie, you comforted him with words he needed to hear the most.

"Ruggie, you're my one and only love."

Rook Hunt

This man had a plan. He had a plan and he planned it the moment he realised Valentine's Day was coming which was roughly after the first few months of dating. He never realised that it would be such a meticulous operation.

He runs the grapevine of gossip, so he knows exactly who to target. Sure... some methods were not as graceful as the Pomefiore standard but he had to do what he had to do.

Valentine's rolled around. D-Day. The D stood for Date... as he highlighted in notes. He'd leave you be, because you were the main star of his plan. His star, his moon, his every- Oh and he caught himself before getting sidetracked...

The first mistake was leaving their presents unattended. The second mistake was going to talk to you.

In a sudden moment, many shrieked at their presents getting vandalised by someone's arrow. It wasn't a humble mistake. Someone was doing this on purpose.

While other students panicked, you had stooped to your knees, observing the words on the shaft of the arrow...

'From YN's boyfriend~'

Oh... Oh Rook... How adorable of you... You thought to yourself. You were surprised that none had caught on so far, but you were sorely mistaken as the person who was about to gift you a bouquet of flowers grabbed you in fear.

"Y-Your boyfriend?! Who is he-" The student shrieked and fell to the ground as an arrow flew past his head, cutting off some of his locks. Then and there, Rook stepped out, bow in hand, bowing to his lady.

"My apologies. I was aiming for your head."

Rook was quick to take you in his arms, but that was not before he oh so graciously stepped on the student's hand. You didn't expect him to-

"You didn't think I would get jealous, Mademoiselle," He laughed, getting on one knee with a rose in hand that you were sure was from another student's bouquet. "Ah, I take it you enjoyed my gift!~"

Unfortunately, it wasn't long before Rook was scolded by some teachers and Vil himself. As much as you thought he would put up with the punishment, that didn't stop the hunter from bringing you to the final date spot, a quiet, peaceful forest date with your favourite hunter.

#twisted wonderland scenarios #twst imagines #twst vice dorm leaders #lilia vanrouge #trey clover #rook hunt #jamil viper #jade leech #floyd leech #ruggie bucchi #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst scenarios

1K notes · View notes

1kook · 3 years

Text

BORN SINNER III

→ MASTERLIST

summary; Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you. warnings; virgin jungkook, timid jungkook, church boy jk, a LOT of religious themes/discussion, catholic guilt, fear of sinning, mentions of masturbation, heavy doubts, a little paranoia/fear of being outcasted, jk has a crush, confessions, making out, boob lover jk has his boobs touched, groping/petting, light praise, very brief/light choking, jk is horny like 75% of the time, positive character development <3 rating; m (18+) wc; 9.5k

banner; as always, by @jamaisjoons !! ty ty ty!! <3333

notes; i have to apologize for delaying this update for so long. truth is, it was difficult to write the next part bc i felt like i had trapped myself in pt2-- jk wasn't showing ANY progress & i started to really hate his character. LUCKILY, with the help of my amazing editor n wife @kigurumu *audience cheers* i was able to put him back on the right track towards redemption! (& even more painful angst in the future!) sadly, that means that this part doesn't include any explicit smut, you'll see why. still, I'm very proud of how much i was able to build his character in this part and i hope you enjoy it!!! lemme know what u think <3

in the future, i will try my best to make sure the chapters aren’t so spaced out. again, i am so so sorry about taking so long to update this series

He gets your text the following Tuesday morning.

Now, Jungkook has never been one to be overly invested in his cell phone; he uses it as much as he needs to, just checks his emails, takes some photos, and sends texts when necessary. But you had set up a particularly unique ringtone for yourself the other day, had sweetly asked for his phone as he laid against your chest. His skin had felt warm and the slightest bit sweaty, his body pressed so closely against you that he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. “Did you have fun?” you asked, fingers combing back his hair. He had hummed, eyes fluttering shut to the faint tapping of your fingers across the keyboard. If he closes his eyes, he can still remember the soft beating of your heart beneath his ear, the leg you had hooked around his waist to pull him closer. The memory makes him shiver.

It’s a high-pitched bell sound that alerts him of your messages now, completely unlike the classic default tone he had set for everyone else.

From the other side of his room, Jungkook immediately pauses to look at it, the lit up screen glaring back at him from its idle place on his bedside table. He always leaves it there in the mornings, beside his rosary and the picture of his family, as he gets ready for work.

He knows exactly who it’s from— after all, that’s what you wanted when you stylized your ringtone —which is why his hand trembles in excitement as he unlocks his phone.

[❤️]: picnic tomorrow? 🥰

[❤️]: after my last class of course

Jungkook’s first thought is that this was a date, his first one with you since he had met you. His heartbeat hammers at the thought, at the mere suggestion that the two of you would be able to spend more time together this week outside of your usual weekend… acts. Additionally, if you’re asking him on a date, then surely it means you view Jungkook as a potential suitor, just as he does you? Do you want to maybe date Jungkook? Jungkook certainly wants to date you— in fact, if he starts gathering his courage now, he might be able to properly ask you out tomorrow.

Jungkook’s second thought is of that guilty, gross feeling that’s been gnawing at his insides for three days now, and how it was inevitably going to get worse when he saw you again.

He had lied to you, Jungkook recalls, sinking down against his mattress, shirt half buttoned, as he stares at the screen. He had lied to your face during a critical moment, had felt that seed of doubt in his chest blossom more than ever. And not only had Jungkook lied to you, but he had lied to you about his feelings toward you. How could he ever hope to hold you close, to date you, when he couldn’t even be honest with you?

The memory of your curious gaze presents itself at the forefront of his mind, the soft sound of your laughter ringing in his ears.

You had been so sweet to him despite his blunder, had cupped his face and kissed him on the lips when he dropped you off outside your apartment. “Not today,” you crooned, unbuckling yourself as Jungkook’s eyes trailed over your throat— ignoring your cross —and down your chest. “I have schoolwork to catch up on. But soon, okay?” Another sweet peck had left him trailing after your touch, your finger bopping the tip of his nose playfully. “Call me when you get home.”

And because he was so terribly, irrevocably smitten with you, Jungkook had done as you said and called you. He’d called you and then had whimpered against his sheets as you generously talked him through another sinful deed. You had softly sighed his name over the line, told him he was handsome and that you missed him. That you wanted him in your mouth—

And of course, he had felt… something afterwards.

This is where his dilemma begins: Jungkook had felt something afterwards, and he’s not sure if it had been entirely good or bad. The longer Jungkook stays around you, hangs out with you, does things with you— the more he can feel parts inside of himself change. Because after the phone call, Jungkook had felt two distinct emotions within himself, both of which were up for questioning.

First, there was that one feeling he was becoming all too familiar with, the crushing guilt that would consume him following any sexual interaction with you or himself for that matter. Why was he like this? Why did he indulge himself in such heinous pleasures when he knew, knew better than anyone, what committing such acts meant for the future of his soul? He was practically dooming himself the way he was now, but Jungkook just didn’t understand— why did something so bad feel so good?

But alongside that gnawing guilt was this tiny, weirdly pleasant satisfaction, a gratification that superseded the relief felt by an orgasm. It was this oddly serene feeling that settled over Jungkook in the moments following a climax, the soft brush of your hands through his hair, the low lilt of your voice. They made him feel like he was floating on the softest of clouds, kissed and pampered by its wispy tendrils. It made something inside of Jungkook feel different, new. Good.

(In the back of his mind, Jungkook realizes he’s always felt that way. At the height of his pleasure, at the faintest brush of your hands against his. It was a staple of your presence, one that made Jungkook feel like he was walking on air.)

From whatever angle he looked at it, it just didn’t make sense. They were contrasting emotions; while one made him feel godawful, the other one practically made him transcend. The fact they could coincide, exist all at once, had Jungkook’s brain folding in on itself as he tried to figure out why. They kept him up the last few nights, eyes blankly staring up at his ceiling following his evening prayers. Mulling over everything he’s ever learned and been told, always circling it back to your beautiful presence in his life.

He knows sex in itself is not bad— after all, that was how the beautiful process of life came to be —but years upon years of studying his religion, cultivating his faith, had all led him to the same conclusion: premarital sex was wrong. And for the past few weeks, well. That’s all Jungkook had been doing with you.

It seems like every time you meet, you’re dead set on pleasuring him, turning Jungkook into a shivering, teary-eyed mess while you grinned from above. That confused him too— as far as Jungkook knew, the whole point of sex was to chase after your own pleasure, something you admittedly did not do. It was always Jungkook’s pleasure, Jungkook’s enjoyment that you wanted, covering him in languid kisses and long caresses until he was inevitably shooting his hot cum all over your lap and into your hands.

You had told him it was okay, that he should never feel bad for enjoying himself. But, to return back to his original dilemma, he doesn’t quite know if he can trust your word.

You’re a liar, that much Jungkook can look past his rose-tinted glasses to admit. While you may not have lied to him (or at least, Jungkook wants to believe you haven’t), the fact still stands that you are quite willing to deceive others in order to get what you want. He already knows you aren’t the biggest believer of the Church yourself, that you frequently brush off your religious duties in order to fulfill your own desires— the aforementioned sexual cravings probably the biggest one —so, quite frankly, Jungkook is untrusting of the rest of your practices. Were you lying to him, telling him all was well, just for your own benefit? Just because you wanted to drag him along on your lustful adventures? He wasn’t sure, and as much as he wanted to trust you wouldn’t, there’s a shred of doubt that plagues him.

But still.

Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you.

He taps his phone against his chin, brain a frenzied mess.

If Jungkook really wanted to pursue this relationship with you, he needed to be honest with himself and with you. Did it bother him that you were so flippant with the Church, the one he himself feels so devoted to? Yes and no. Jungkook has never been one to impress his beliefs on others, and truthfully, he would not be the slightest bit bothered if you don’t believe in the same things he does. Would there be some awkwardness in your relationship? Certainly, but at least Jungkook would know the real you from the very beginning.

But to him, posing as an avid follower when you really aren’t rubs part of him the wrong way. He’s slightly put off by that aspect of you, and justifiably felt that anyone would feel such a way if someone were to use something they love as mere leverage for their own personal gain. And to make matters worse, now that he’s been made aware, it weighs down heavily on his conscience.

Part of Jungkook, as selfish as it may be, wishes you had never revealed your secrets to him. He may have been left in the dark a total fool, but at the very least he would have been a happy fool. Would he still feel guilt about all the sexual deeds he’s partaken in with you? Sure, but at least he would only have himself to blame. The way things are now, he’s unsure who really needs to be condemned.

Realistically, it is Jungkook’s fault. He knows how you are and even more, he knows you would never proposition him for any such sexual deed if he told you no, if he simply denied you. But he doesn’t tell you no, and that’s the problem: Jungkook really likes you as you are now, questionable behavior be damned. He likes you when you make him cry and when you pinch his cheeks and when you snake your hand down his pants.

He still thinks you’re amazing, gets this fluttery feeling when you look at him with that sparkling gaze of yours. Your laughter makes him smile, even if you’re not laughing at something he said, because the sound is just so comforting, warm and soothing, makes his entire body relax when you chuckle. You have this gentle touch, these delicate hands that carefully comb his hair back for him in the car sometimes, tracing the side of his face softly. Your smile makes him dizzy, makes him want to cup your face in his hands and kiss you breathless. And, of course, he can’t complain about your… other talents when he’s only been on the beneficial receiving end of said talents. That aforementioned satisfaction, as small as it may be and as difficult as it was to admit to, was something Jungkook has begun to look forward to on the occasions that you meet.

But his inability to overlook his own beliefs and your confusing nature brings about a great strife within Jungkook. It’s the reason he hesitates outside the church after dropping you off, his car running as he glares at his steering wheel. Everything in him says to go inside and confess to his sins, relieve himself of this overwhelming sense of guilt and shame to the closest person to his Lord.

But he’s scared.

Scared that, despite the oath of confidentiality, word will get out. His fellow brothers in faith will hear about what he’s done and call him out for his lecherousness. But even worse, he’s scared of what will happen to you. Would Jungkook’s life be over if he were thrown out of his beloved church? As dramatic as he may be, no. But he recognized that there were different standards to which men were held in this society, that an act of desire by him would not ruin his name the same way it would you.

And Jungkook didn’t want that. He wanted to keep you safe. Wanted you to be happy and smiling, regardless of how conflicted it made him, because he likes you. He likes you so much, despite the fact he has yet to uncover the true extent of your character.

But the cloud of mystery is partially what intrigues him, has him pondering over your very existence instead of getting ready for work as he is now. He’s terribly enamored, thinks about you and prays for you every night. So maybe Jungkook is still the fool, because he still daydreams about you when he knows he shouldn’t.

His phone buzzes in his hand—

[❤️]: i miss you bunny ☹️

—and his decision is made.

Tuesday passes by in a blur and before he knows it, it’s Wednesday afternoon and you’re texting him the location of one of the parks in the city. You had told him not to worry about the food because you would bring it. Jungkook’s only job was bringing the picnic blanket, a huge checkered thing he had spent all morning rifling through three stores for. He wants to impress you, desperately so, that he’s even wearing a nicer outfit today, darker tones unlike his normal warm palette because he had heard a woman at his job say men look cooler in dark colors.

Suffice to say, he sticks out like a sore thumb at the park, the stark black of his jeans contrasting with the vibrant green of the neatly cut grass. Jungkook has half the mind to feel self-conscious about it, but then you’re calling his name from a couple meters away and his breath leaves his lungs.

“Hi,” you greet, the handle of your wicker basket held tightly between two hands; Jungkook rushes to relieve you of the weight. “Did you wait long?” you ask, rewarding his gentlemanly behavior with a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth that kick-starts his heart back into action and has his face burning up.

In all honesty, you have never dressed very modestly— not that you had to, nor that there was anything remotely wrong with that. Jungkook has spent many a mass service fighting the urge to glance down the front of your dresses and tops, ignoring the cleavage you liked to show off now and then. But apparently, what Jungkook had seen up until now was your version of dressing modestly. The dress you show up with today, an off day where there are no church ladies to impress and no unspoken dress codes to follow, makes his brain short circuit. The thin, thin, straps that hold it up giving him an all access view to the broad expanse of your shoulders and chest and collarbones and boobs—

“No!” Jungkook rushes to reassure you, fighting down the blush that threatens to travel further down his neck when you carefully straighten out the collar of his shirt for him. “I- I, um, just got here.”

You beam at the news. “I bought cheesecake,” you tell him, looping your arm through his as you tug him along. “I hope it hasn’t melted yet!”

By the time the two of you settle at a suitable spot near the lake, the cheesecake hasn’t melted. It’s still cold and solid, tastes like heaven on Jungkook’s tongue, and you laugh when his eyes light up. You look gorgeous like this, nestled against the checkered picnic blanket with a glass bottle of sparkling water in your hand, sandals just beside the edge of the blanket. There’s the faint chime of a bicycle bell somewhere to his left and the chatter of birds as they flock over the pond. Wonderful sights that would normally take his breath away and make him marvel at their beauty, but when you smile at him so gingerly like that, all Jungkook can think about is you.

He watches you slip a strawberry past your lips. “Tell me about yourself,” you hum, seemingly out of the blue, wiping the corner of your mouth with one careful finger. “Other than, like, church stuff,” you tease.

As you lean forward for another one, Jungkook’s brain stutters for a moment, eyes focused on the curves of your boobs as they naturally follow the movements of your upper body until he’s dizzy. “Huh?” he says, and you snort. “Oh— me, right, yes um—“

“Your favorite color?” you suggest, tugging the skirt of your dress tighter around your legs. It’s not cold, but there’s a slight breeze that keeps rolling over the two of you, pushing your floral scent over Jungkook and fluttering through his hair. “Right now, all I know is that you like cheesecake because you ate three slices at the bazaar the other week,” you chuckle.

It’s such a basic question, the bare minimum of knowing a person. But when you look at Jungkook like that, blinking those long lashes at him, it makes him forget his answer. “Um… Red,” he murmurs, watching you tug off the stem of the strawberry in your hands. “And white.”

You nod, and then you’re stretching a hand outward to offer him the aforementioned strawberry. When he doesn’t open his mouth right away, you silently demonstrate first, until Jungkook is slowly parting his lips and accepting your strawberry. The flavor bursts on his tongue, sweet and sticky, coating the very tips of your fingers when you don’t pull away fast enough. Jungkook averts his gaze when you pop them between your own lips and suck them clean.

“Red and white,” you repeat, unaware of the lustful images that flicker through Jungkook’s mind, the way his eyes unconsciously drop to the front of your dress, at the crevice between your breasts that he remembers oh so well, the tight suction around his cock as you— “They make pink, which is my favorite color.” He desperately clears his mind of the memories that flash before his eyes.

It’s a pretty color, fit for a pretty girl. Jungkook keeps the thought to himself as he watches you sift through the contents of your basket. It’s the perfect compliment to give you, he knows it’d make you happy, but his valor disappears when you throw him a soft grin and he’s transported back to a more recent memory, the memory in the car instead.

A bad influence, he had called you, had watched your eyes well up with an emotion he had never seen on you before. Sadness? Disappointment? Disgust? He wasn’t sure, all Jungkook could really remember was the acidity on your tongue when you had repeated the words back to him, the ghost of your touch when you had abruptly pulled away from him, shut him out. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so closed off before, not even when he had first met you and you were parading around with that staged shyness.

And even when Jungkook had corrected himself afterwards (read: lied to you to cover his tracks), the emotion had lingered. Even when you had playfully brushed him off, he had caught your reflection in the window beside you as he drove to your place. The sullen look on your normally happy face, lips down-turned, eyes lowered. A look he had put there.

And now he’s watching you carefully rip apart bread to throw at the birds with a tender smile. A cloud moves and suddenly the sun is beating down on your little picnic again, casting a beautiful glow across your skin that renders him breathless for the shortest moment, trapped by the sheer beauty you exude. You’re absolutely ethereal, and yet he had questioned you. Your morals, your character, everything.

“__?” he says before he can stop himself.

You hum, “yes, bunny?” before pausing your little feeding task to glance back over at him. When you look at Jungkook like this, meet his gaze straight on, he doesn’t see an ounce of ingenuity in your eyes. It might be Jungkook’s lovesick heart speaking, but he can’t imagine you ever lying to him. He looks away first, frowning at the various fruits sprawled between the two of you.

You care about him, that much Jungkook wants to believe. And his beliefs are confirmed, when your voice drops an octave lower, becomes softer, as you murmur, “is everything alright?” The fruits are carefully set aside, breaking the wall between the two of you until you can shuffle forward, your knees bumping against his. Hands reach for his, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against his skin.

Before you can repeat your inquiry a second time, Jungkook finds himself asking, “do you like me?”

Jungkook’s sudden inquiry makes your cheeks heat up just the slightest, your startled inhale barely contained.

It’s like a scene straight out of a teenage romcom— a confession in a park, your hearts bared for each other. But it’s a little awkward, you have to admit, unintentionally giving Jungkook’s soft hand a nervous squeeze as his question rolls over in your mind.

Duh, you want to say. But there’s something about the look in Jungkook’s eye— the eyes he very purposefully turns towards your hands, the hair he had let loose today providing him ample protection from your gaze —that has you pausing, carefully considering your next words.

You had hoped by now that it was obvious, that Jungkook understood how much he meant to you, and didn’t require some dorky confession in the park. Partially because, well. This wasn’t your usual role. Usually, it was the guy confessing to you, raving about all your redeeming qualities in an effort to win you over. But with Jungkook, all you know about relationships is flipped upside down, forcing you to play a position you’ve never played before.

Jungkook wasn’t like you; he was soft and sentimental, practically wore his heart on his sleeve for the whole world to see. And it was a massive heart, filled with so much love and adoration for the world around him, that you felt bad when he wore such sullen expressions on his face.

Expressions like the one he has now, lips pressed together tightly as he misreads your silence. He has honest eyes, a dark toffee color that sends tingles down your spine when he looks your way. They glimmer with a sort of innocence for the world, a thin sparkle that makes him look like a prince sometimes. He was devastatingly handsome, and now he was upset. “Um— it’s okay,” he stammers, trying to move the conversation along. But his eyes flicker around nervously, anxiously. Like your silence has left a burn mark on him, painful and delicate to the touch.

His comment isn’t completely unexpected. How very on-brand for big-hearted Jungkook to try to save you from an uncomfortable interaction, even if it was caused by him. “Um…” he murmurs, “it’s okay. If you don’t, uh. Like me?”

It sounds flimsy, even to you.

“No, no,” you rush to correct, your ability to speak slowly coming back to you only after the fact. “I do,” you admit, nerves on edge at this rather foreign situation. “I… like you a lot, Jungkook.”

You shouldn’t be surprised by his reaction. Jungkook blinks slowly, like his brain is still processing the information, and then, ever so artfully, goes up in metaphorical flames. “O- Oh,” he stutters, reaching a free hand up to press his knuckles against his face. The rosy hue that had first blossomed over his cheeks has now started crawling down his neck now, up his ears. It’s terribly endearing. “I— um. I didn’t know,” Jungkook rambles, and it’s so cute, so sweet, how a simple confession from you renders him this flustered.

His face emanates a warmth tangible even on your own skin, lips cutely quirking to the side as he fights off a bashful smile and the raging blush your words bring about. It certainly is a sight to see. His hair tickles his eyebrow, swept out of its usually neat style, but it makes him look all the more gorgeous. “Cute,” you chuckle, feeling the slightest bit shy at such a warm response from Jungkook. You sit back, giving him the space he needs, and turn your attention up at the big blue sky instead. “Really? I thought it was obvious,” you hum.

Part of you actually feels really awkward; as you said before, everything is so brand new with him. With Jungkook, he flips everything around for you, makes you actually admit to your emotions as opposed to simply going along with his. It’s a nice change of pace, as difficult as it may be, and the results are rather… cute as well. (He bites down a smile, but the action makes his normally soft cheeks look more pronounced than usual.)

“Because, I, um. Me too,” he says, voice wavering. He clears his throat and tries to meet your gaze under his fringe, but doesn’t last more than a second before he’s pointedly glancing at the picnic blanket beneath the two of you. “I’m— I like you too,” he admits, ears tinted a bright red. You figured as much but it was always nice to hear, especially from someone like Jungkook. “A lot.”

“Thanks,” you smile, placing a hand on his thigh.

His lips pull into a shy smile, aimed at your knees because he can never look you in the eye when you shower him in praise and other gooey, mushy feelings. It’s the same in the car or against your front door— he always manages to give your hand a tight squeeze, maybe even a kiss if he’s feeling brave. But the second you try to tell him you’ve had fun or that you’ll miss him, it’s like all his courage fades away, leaving him a blushing, smiley mess.

He was cute like that. Despite being so kind and caring, it was like Jungkook’s entire being stopped functioning when those types of gestures were aimed at him. So you relished those moments, looked forward to them with a fluttery feeling in your heart that couldn’t be tamed.

Today, he throws you for a loop. Just as that proud, giddy smile appears, cheeks and ears a pretty pink, it fades away. The excitement from your mutual confessions seems to remind Jungkook of something else, something less warm, that has him quietly mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

It’s confusing, to say the least. Just a moment prior, he had been pursing his lips in a silly attempt to hold back a smile. Now he’s staring at the ground with a rather pensive look, his apology sitting heavy in his throat. “What for?” you tentatively ask after one long beat. It had been so sudden. In your mind, there isn’t a single reason for Jungkook to be apologizing to you, especially so out of the blue. There is, however, an inkling of fear brought upon by what can only be classified as insecurity; you had just confessed your feelings for each other, why was he sorry about that?

Jungkook exhales, a quiet sound that is nearly lost among the bustling noises of the park. If you hadn’t been sitting so close, maybe you wouldn’t have heard it at all. “I just,” he huffs, pointedly glaring at some random spot of grass beside you. His features look sharper than ever now, jawline defined, brows narrowed together. It’s a rather misplaced realization, but Jungkook looks absolutely gorgeous with distress painting his face. “I was… being selfish before.”

In the few weeks you’ve known him, you’ve come to realize Jungkook was many things. First and foremost, he’s an absolute gentleman. Raised on manners and compassion, looking after others everywhere he went. He was caring and sweet, loved this world and the people in it so much. Soft-spoken but straightforward. He was dreamy, disgustingly so.

But selfish? It definitely sounds like something Jeon Jungkook is not.

Before you can interrogate him even further, it seems like Jungkook is dead set on getting through this alone. “I- I’m sorry,” he repeats, eyes downcast. Noticing his wavering confidence, you resign yourself to listening, hand giving him a reassuring squeeze. Finally, after a short moment, Jungkook murmurs, “...in the car.” You tilt your head to the side curiously, waiting for him to go on. “I said, um. Something rude.”

It takes a moment for the memory to load, and when it finally clicks into place and begins rolling, you find yourself muttering a faint, “ah.”

If it’s what you think it is, he’s talking about last weekend outside of the church. That terribly awkward encounter that had left a sour taste in your mouth afterwards. A bad influence, you recall him saying, the memory of his voice looped in your mind the entire drive to your place.

In all honesty, it had stung a little. While you were aware that Jungkook had an ongoing mental battle, you hadn’t realized your role was that big in it. It’s the reason you had sent him home that day, made up a lie about schoolwork just to give him some space. It’s nothing new, everyone’s had someone think badly of them before; gossipy classmates, rivals, maybe even random strangers on the street. But it felt different when it was coming from someone as sweet as Jungkook, so polite and righteous, who wouldn’t even hurt a fly. Like he was stating a fact, not an opinion.

It was a slip-up on Jungkook’s end, that much you could tell. Because he had been frantic to correct himself afterwards, had looked at you with these fearful eyes, like one wrong move and you’d slip from between his hands. Luckily, you weren’t that sensitive— definitely not as sensitive as him, at least —and such a comment had been practically meaningless moments later.

Still, in those few moments where it was meaningful (read: the short period it took for Jungkook to get home and call you, the words looping around your brain until the harsh ring of your cell phone finally interrupted), it had left you wondering. Have you been pushing him too far, asking for too much? The way you saw it, you always gave Jungkook room to object to any of your advances. You know he’s trapped in his thoughts more often than not, but you pay attention to him, you really do. You make sure to take his reactions into account, try to offer solutions where possible. But, for the briefest moment, all of those efforts had felt fruitless that day in the car.

What you say next is not a complete lie; sure, Jungkook’s comment had hurt for a bit, but here he was now apologizing for it. That was a good sign… right? “It’s okay,” you brush off, patting his cheek softly, hoping with every fiber in your being that it really was okay.

Your voice is gentle, soothing his doubts. Just moments prior, Jungkook had felt like he was asking for too much, especially when your feelings toward him were up in the air. But your earnest confession soothed the ache in his heart. It’s all he’s wanted these past few months, to belong in your heart like you do his.

But the guilt from before, the tumultuous feelings he’s been harboring towards you since the weekend, dampens his excitement. From your confession alone, it doesn’t seem like you questioned Jungkook. You weren’t put off by who he was, what he loved. So why couldn’t Jungkook be like you, think like you?

“I’m still sorry,” he says again, feeling like a broken record when he catches this sympathetic smile on your face. The scraps of eloquence he had gathered while originally apologizing seem to fade away, leave him a stuttering mess when he tries again. “That was— I shouldn’t have said—“

“Hey,” you cut off, placing a hand against his cheek. It stops his fidgeting, forces him to meet your gaze head on. There’s a smile on your face but something inside of Jungkook says it doesn’t feel real. “I like you, Jungkook.”

And it’s true and genuine, your words so honest it pains him to think he had ever thought otherwise. And you’re still smiling, even after being hit with the implication that Jungkook questioned your character and maybe that’s what hurts the most. That you still try to put on an easygoing expression for him after he’s said something hurtful. It’s the car all over again, that blank look in your eyes when he had spoken carelessly.

Before he can apologize for the umpteenth time, you’re shaking your head softly, smiling anew. But this time, he can’t tell if it’s real or not. “I brought orange juice,” you say, expertly moving the conversation along. And just as Jungkook has been thinking for weeks now, it’s like you know him so well. You know when things make him anxious or uncomfortable, know just how to help him out.

There’s a feeling of guilt that blossoms in his chest, but this time it’s different.

It’s not the usual sticky gross feeling of before, the one that has him staying up at night repenting for all his wrongdoings. It’s a personal kind of guilt that comes along with the frank realization that, while you have been learning and adapting to being around Jungkook, he has not been doing the same for you.

Though you may be a little playful at times, you don’t tease him for who he is, don’t stomp all over his beliefs as much as he deluded himself into thinking you do. (That whole, faux-believer thing was a different circumstance.) Like with the cross in his house the other day. As much as Jungkook wanted to believe what you had done was evil, he had, quite honestly, enjoyed himself afterwards. There wasn’t that heavy discomfort sitting on his chest anymore, that sense of shame lingering as you’d kissed his body and let him caress yours too, in the safety of your eyes only. It was enjoyable and fun, had felt exhilarating to be so intimate with you.

And instead of being thankful for your mindful efforts, he had questioned your sincerity.

The picnic goes by in a flash. Jungkook is sad he can’t enjoy it to the fullest, his brain filled with clamorous thoughts that circled around to torture him every few minutes. Still, the entire date feels like a dream, vibrant and beautiful, leaving him in a daze. He doesn’t want to wake up.

By the time you suggest wrapping up, the sun is setting over the horizon, the windows and lights of the buildings around you slowly flickering to life like a sea of tiny stars. He feels weak in the knees as he helps you pack everything back in your basket. “All set,” you smile, walking beside him, knuckles brushing against his until you fulfill Jungkook’s wordless wish and slip your hand into his.

Jungkook agrees, hoping his hand isn’t sweaty and that you mean what you say. “I- I liked the food,” he remembers to mention, the fact that you had so carefully and lovingly prepared all this not entirely lost on him. His compliment, as simple as it may be, has you beaming at him as you exit through the park’s front gates. His car is parked along the street, the sleek vehicle coming into view as you round the street corner, hands still fastened. “Um,” he mumbles, pausing beside it. You turn to face him, eyes clear and content.

All good things come to an end, he supposes, reluctantly letting go of your hand when you tug. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” you say, stepping up close, chest pressed against his. His breath hitched in his throat, eyes going wide when you nuzzle against his neck. Your hands slip around his waist. They wrap around him perfectly, make Jungkook feel like he was made for you.

By the time he’s springing into action, jerkily raising his free hand up to your back, you’re stepping away. “Call me when you get home,” you wink, sending shivers down his spine when he remembers what happened the last time you said that.

But Jungkook doesn’t think he can wait that long.

You’re slipping further and further away, fingertips just barely brushing against his forearm, when Jungkook jolts into action. “How are you, um—“ he stammers, feels too big for his shoes when you tilt your head curiously. And then, “d- do you need a ride?” he mumbles, cheeks warm.

It’s a feeble attempt at asking what he really wants. Offering you a ride home, while not a bad idea considering it was late and you had taken the bus here, is nowhere near what Jungkook really wants. What he wants is standing before him, thin spaghetti strap slipping down their shoulder, eyes sensually half-lidded and you know this too— because, again, you know Jungkook so well, know what he wants even if he can’t say it —as you step into his bubble again, peer up at him with your arms held behind your back.

“A ride home?” you ask, blinking your long lashes in a way that robs him of his breath. And he can see that switch flick on inside of you, watches that pure and innocent gleam in your eyes slowly become replaced with something mischievous. Jungkook nods dumbly. “I’d love that.”

Jungkook blinks. “Great,” he chokes out, neatly dropping the wicker basket in his hands. In a way, it brings him back down to reality, lets him snap away from your hypnotizing gaze as he reaches for the keys in his pocket. “Let me— I just have to— yeah,” he stammers, clicking the button on his car keys one too many times, has it perkily beeping. Your lips press together into an amused smile, the last thing Jungkook sees before ripping himself away from you and yanking the back door open.

He nearly throws the basket in like a madman, glassware be damned. It’s his last shred of rationality that tells him not to, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge as he steps up to the edge of the sidewalk and carefully places it on the floor behind the passenger’s seat.

When Jungkook rises back up, there is a hand that brushes against his forearm, a gentle touch that has him throwing a curious glance your way. He’s not expecting to be so entranced by the dreamy look in your eyes, feet glued to the ground as you trail your hand down, catching his wrist between your fingers. You’re standing so close, making Jungkook feel like he’s trapped between you and his own car. His entire body is on edge when you lean in, placing a soft kiss against the very corner of his mouth. It leaves a tingling sensation, and accompanied with the growing warmth beneath his skin, feels like he’s been burned. “I had fun,” you murmur, voice low. It sends a shock of electricity down his spine, a wave of exhilaration that has him fully turning to face you as you eventually step away, that same playful grin on your features again.

A surge of confidence and greed overcomes him, has him stepping forward into your space despite the nervousness that builds within him. There’s a hint of surprise in your eyes that you quickly mask, placating his bumbling nerves with a delicate hand placed over his heart. He can’t breathe when you lean in, softly humming, “kiss me?”

Jungkook’s lower lip wobbles. “O- Okay,” he concedes, voice but an airy whisper that is soon swallowed up. You taste like fruit and orange juice, remnants of your picnic clinging to your lips as you slowly consume Jungkook’s entire attention with this soft brush alone. It’s a rather short affair, one that ends all too soon when you pull away with a soft sigh against his lips.

Your smile is so pretty when you angle it at him, has him taking one jerky step backwards. His back hits the car, feels trapped. But he isn’t scared, doesn’t find himself anxiously awaiting your next move. “Good boy,” you purr, reaching one graceful hand forward, playfully tugging at his tie, wrapping it around your knuckles as you use it as leverage to pull him close again.

You’re just so pretty, Jungkook has always thought so. From the moment he first met you until now, there is something about you—a glint in your eyes, a quirk to your lips—that has had him under your spell for weeks now.

Had Jungkook seriously despised you and your ethics, perhaps this feeling would have gone away. But the fact of the matter is that you make Jungkook’s heart hammer dangerously in his chest, a shot of adrenaline through his veins when you look at him with those low-lidded eyes, touch him with those experienced hands. He wants you so bad, even after all he’s learned, all he’s seen. He wants you over him and under him, pressed against him from head to toe. He wants and he wants, and he knows it’s bad to want so much, to be so greedy. But with you around, Jungkook finds himself giving into that greed, clutching at it like a lifeline. “We can, um—,” he stammers, placing one uncertain hand against the top of the door frame beside him. You raise your brows, egging him on yet patiently waiting all at once.

Your gaze is so strong, and it’s in moments like these that Jungkook feels that feeling crawl up his throat. A serpentine gaze, a sticky sweet tongue. Everything he’s ever known says it’s wrong, but his heart and your confession says otherwise. He looks away, throws a bashful glance at the plush leather seats behind him. “In… inside?”

And the offer has you positively beaming before him, that same flirtatious shimmer in your irises doubling at the words that roll off his tongue. “Oh my,” you swoon playfully, stepping back to, Jungkook assumes, allow him to get in.

He plops down, feels like he would break out in a sweat if the evening temperature wasn’t so cool. The car’s interior blends into the shadows, his clothing practically indiscernible against the dark shade of the seats. A stark contrast to the pretty floral dress that suddenly spills itself over his lap when you climb in, the door tugged shut beside the two of you. All is silent, your thighs over his, hands on his shoulders. “Hi, bunny,” you murmur, lips pulled into a smirk, provocative yet playful, like you know something that Jungkook doesn’t.

Jungkook’s throat feels dry but he still manages to gulp. He’s drowning in your perfume and your body lotion, in the faint smell of the outdoors clinging to your clothes and your hair, the absolutely heavenly scent of just you in your entirety. “Hi,” he whispers back, voice lost beneath the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. And his quiet greeting is rewarded with two soft hands that crawl up his neck, cupping his face in their palms.

“You were so sweet today,” you purr, nose nudging against his when you finally lean in, pressing your breasts against Jungkook. A tiny gasp catches in his throat, his hands instinctively going to your waist. “Can I kiss you again?”

Jungkook has never wanted anything more. “Please,” he exhales, feeling like he’ll explode if you don’t kiss him soon. You take his request in stride, jut your face forward just the slightest bit until your mouth is pressed firmly against his, the movement of your lips a practiced rhythm that he just can’t seem to master. He still tries his best, puckers his lips when he feels it’s right, tilts his head when you urge him with a soft nudge. He tries his best and hopes it’s enough.

By now, Jungkook has come to understand that there is a pattern to your kisses. You always start off slow and relaxed, mouth languidly moving against his as you lure him across a tightrope of anticipation. They gradually become more intense, pulling out whimpers and sighs from Jungkook that he had never known were possible. It’s a carefully crafted art form, the tongue that slides out from between your pillowy lips, dips into his own mouth with a giggly pant. “Good boy,” you hum in between, hands burying themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Always so good.”

Jungkook shudders when you eventually part, can’t catch his breath fast enough before you’re reaching for the buttons on the front of his shirt, easily undoing the casual tie too. “Relax,” you tell him, bypassing his lips for the warm expanse of skin just below. You kiss over his chin, down his neck, as your hands crawl beneath his shirt and around his naked waist.

He’s ticklish, and when you brush against his ribs, he unwillingly releases a sharp huff of laughter. It’s followed by a wide-eyed look of embarrassment, cheeks a warm hue when you lean back in surprise at this new bit of information. “I— sorry,” he blurts out, because he doesn’t know proper make-out etiquette, doesn’t know anything really, except what you’ve shown him.

But the sound makes you snort, looking at him with this gaze that drips with honey. “So cute,” you tell him, placing a chaste kiss against his lips, before disappearing back down to lavish his throat with filthier kisses. And with you laving your tongue across his skin, biting at every inch available, Jungkook is left to fuzzily stare over the crystal clear windshield. He’s struck with the faint realization that if someone were to look hard enough, they would see him through the tinted glass as he fell apart into the hands of a pretty girl.

The soft smack of your lips against his skin is sensual, makes every hair on his body stand stiff. Your lips trail down the column of his neck, placing a bruising kiss at the juncture where it meets the rest of his body. “Oh,” he sighs, eyelids fluttering when a hand squeezes at his chest, thumb against his nipple.

Another muffled giggle pressed against the base of his neck, and when Jungkook focuses his eyes again, he catches his own gaze in the rearview mirror.

The sight of him is… weird to say the least.

Even in the dark, his lips look thoroughly debauched, puffier and redder than usual, slick with saliva that isn’t entirely his. He doesn’t tell himself to, but his mirrored counterpart peeks his tongue out, runs it along his top lip sinfully. Startled by his own appearance, Jungkook jolts in place, feeling you shift in his lap with a soft little whine. “Bunny,” you frown, and Jungkook watches your side profile in the tiny mirror as you sit back up, press your lips against his ear. “Sit still for me,” you tell him, hand slithering up his chest, around his throat. Over his Adam’s apple, squeezing just the slightest. It’s not tight, but it knocks the air out of his lungs when he sees the action mirrored back at him on the reflective surface.

That familiar guilt sticks in his throat, evident when your hand slips away and he swallows harshly, the protrusion just beneath his skin bobbing up and down.

In the back of Jungkook’s mind, he can recall the religious story that surrounded this bodily feature; a sin and the consequence. A garden and a fruit, a beautiful woman by his side.

Your hand creeps down between your bodies, palming over his quickly fattening cock, and Jungkook swears he sees stars, a strained whimper escaping from his lips that you giggle at. “Oh my,” he huffs, clutching at the skirt of your dress. You nuzzle close again, pressing a tender kiss against the side of his neck.

Your hands are so soft and sweet, brushing over his cock like you’re simply caressing him out of adoration and not because you want him to cum, staining his seats and your dress. Either way, Jungkook can’t even begin to imagine what you must be thinking; before the date and his confession, he had been afraid that you would discard him. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t what you wanted, maybe he wasn’t what you needed. You were so confident in yourself and your actions, a stark contrast to Jungkook and his constant uncertainty, his fear of doing the wrong thing plaguing him at all hours of the day.

Even now, with your hands expertly tugging his zipper down, he finds himself going back to that story. That apple in the garden, the consequences it had hailed. Never mind the fact you’re on top of him, claiming to like him, with your hands touching every inch of his skin. He keeps looping back to that Biblical verse instead, thinks about it when your fingers meanly let the elastic band of his briefs snap against his skin. “Ouch,” he flinches, voice a soft whine. He turns too quickly and too suddenly, nose bumping against yours because you’re still so close.

You smile, puckering your lips for the lightest of kisses. It’s the little things like that that make Jungkook’s entire thought process stall, distantly aware of the fact that it’s, like always, you leading the majority of your encounters once again. Even during your picnic, it had been you who had practically held his hand as you navigated through basic information, asked for his favorite color and his favorite drink. Had it not been for your own proactive tendencies, Jungkook fears he would have never known your favorite color was pink or your favorite day of the week was Thursday.

It’s a fact that makes him pause, jaw tightening as he once again realizes how little effort he was putting into knowing you. For someone who claimed to like you a lot, he rarely did the work to prove it. Even now, he’s too unsure of who he is and who you are to indulge you properly, instead watching you lead the scene as usual. Before he can stop himself, a sigh is escaping his lips.

It must convey his emotions perfectly, because it’s enough to make your wandering hands pause by his waist. “Everything okay?” you ask, always knowing what he’s feeling. And it sucks that he couldn’t say the same for himself.

“N— Yes,” he rushes to say, looking up at you with round eyes, the moonlight painting half of your face a paler color than usual, the other side shrouded in darkness. It makes your eyes look darker, makes Jungkook gulp loudly when you turn those inquisitive eyes on him.

His answer doesn’t seem to convince you, and it’s with little to no hesitation that you sit back. It puts a distance between the two of you that Jungkook can’t say he’s a fan of. “Jungkook,” you say, voice stern yet warm, one hand reaching up to brush your knuckles against his cheek. “Tell me what’s bothering you?”

It makes Jungkook nervous. He knows he thinks too much. Part of him fears that oversharing with you will drive you away, put you even farther than you are now. Maybe next time it’ll be a room’s length away, a football field’s length away. And he doesn’t want that; he wants to hold you close, he really does. But there are traditions he carries and beliefs he holds dearly that make it hard for him to do so, as much as it pains him.

The only reason he knows he’s frowning is because you press your pointer finger against the corner of his mouth. You lean in close, nose bumping against his. It sends your scent billowing over him, makes him dizzy when he becomes aware of the hand he’s got on your bare thigh, the rumpled skirt of your dress pushed away. “Talk to me, bunny,” you murmur. You don’t make a move to kiss him, a fact that Jungkook feels both grateful and disheartened by. “Please?”

And he can’t deny you, not when you ask so nicely. You have this metaphorical grip on Jungkook, a tight hold around his throat that has made him act impulsively these past few weeks, desperate to be with you, to please you. Even now, despite how much he wants to withhold his thoughts, he finds himself quietly admitting them instead. “I want to know you,” he mumbles, unable to meet your eye. You don’t push him to. “I really, um. I like you, __. A lot.” It’s a repetition of his earlier confession. And still, it makes him nervous. A thumb brushes against his cheekbone, encouraging him to meet your solemn gaze even if it means being a blushing mess afterwards. “Before we, uh, do… things.”

His words may be choppy and incoherent, but you understand him all the same. “You want to go out some more,” you clarify, removing your hand from his cheek. The phantom trail of your fingertips on his skin remains, feels colder when you lean away to allow him some more space.

Jungkook nods quickly, hoping this rush of adrenaline might help him through this. He bites down on his lower lip, carefully analyzing your expression for any signs of disbelief or disgust. But all he sees is understanding, a cool expression that makes Jungkook’s heart thunder. “I…,” he says, glancing down at where he’s still got his hand on your naked skin. Something inside of him tells him to rub his thumb across it, an action he doesn’t think through until he hears a sharp inhale, watches goosebumps rise over the skin. “I’m sorry,” he rushes out, snatching his hand away before he can do something else of a similar sort. “I- I just—“ said hand now waves around wildly beside him “—I really like you, as a, um— uh. A person. And I—“ and this is where he becomes aware of his unbuttoned shirt and the way you’ve got your pretty pussy pressed against his thigh now “—I, um. I want to know me— I mean, you —better? More? Like—“

His embarrassing babbling is cut off with a gentle kiss to his lips. No tongue, no saliva. Just soft lips against his, a delicate hand against his shoulders. When you pull away, Jungkook unconsciously trails after the touch, eyes half-lidded and in a daze when you place a palm on his chest. “I got it,” you say, lips quirking into a tiny smile. “I want to know more about you too, bunny,” you admit, reaching for the front of his shirt. He watches on with flushed cheeks as you slowly button it up for him, finishing it off with a playful tap against the underside of his chin.

You glance out of the window thoughtfully. Jungkook is suddenly reminded of how pretty you are, your skin practically glimmering under the pale moonlight. It catches on your necklace, a thin chain with a cross on the end. If he focuses his eyes behind you, his own reflection stares back once more. Jungkook’s entire body threatens to lock up tightly, but a single kiss on the cheek from you interrupts the process. “Do you wanna date?” you ask, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Jungkook can’t agree fast enough. “I— yes,” he gasps, leaning forward too suddenly. It makes you flinch back in surprise, back pressing up against the driver’s seat behind you in surprise. You wouldn’t have fallen or anything, but Jungkook reacts like it was a serious possibility anyway, grasping at your waist and pulling you snug against him, soft thighs sandwiching his tiny waist. “Oh, God,” he frets, immediately moving to release you.

But you catch him with two arms thrown around his neck, pulling Jungkook close to you for another kiss. Deeper and… meaningful, your satiny lips carefully slotted against his. While it surprises him at first, Jungkook finds himself melting into it soon enough. This was okay, he tells himself, and for the first time in a few weeks, he finds himself believing it.

It was just kissing— intimate yet appropriate kissing —between two people who were seeing each other. Him, properly seeing you. His heart threatens to burst out of its cage for a second. It’s the first time since he’s met you that he can fully say he hadn’t felt nervous about his actions, hadn’t felt like he was committing some grave sin for chasing after your touch. It was just a kiss, simple and sweet, making both of you smile bashfully when you eventually pull away. There was no lying and no guilt, no tears and no stress.

It felt good.

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roscgcld · 3 years

Text

HEADCANON + VARIOUS || s/o turning into a child

request: Hi hi! How’s it goin? Just saw requests were open and wondering if we could get more of where s/o turns in to a child and is scared of her partner but later when they turn back normal the partner is all clingy. With Satouru, megumi and nanami?

note: first off, hello love! i’m doing well even with these circumstances, and i hope you’re doing well too! and secondly, i would not mind doing more of hcs for this prompt! it was really cute and fluffy, and i had a lot of fun with it honestly!

anime: jujutsu kaisen

characters: gojo satoru, fushiguro megumi, nanami kento

pronouns: them/they

GOJO SATORU

gojo did not think that the first thing he’d see when he wakes up the next morning is a child you curled up against his side, sleeping peacefully without a care in the world

at first he’s going to be so confused, since he was sure you two have no kids, one, and two, he was sure you two fell asleep together

whilst he’s trying to figure out what’s happening, you’d wake up and he’d watch you without making a comment; because his Six Eyes never lie. It’s you, but what looks to be in child form

“Uh…good morning?”

when you see a super tall man with weird eyes next to you, you’d definitely clam up and look like you were on the verge of crying since you have no idea who this weird man is

no doubt he’d be unsure of how to deal with you, because let’s be honest here - you’re usually the parent in the relationship and he’d be the child between the both of you

so he’d try to coax you to talk to him, but you refused to even get out of the comforts of the bed; curling the duvet around you to hide away from the scary man

he will find you so cute, but would call Ieiri to see if she can drop by to check on you since ‘my girlfriend became a toddler over night and apparently hates me’

“wouldn’t be the first woman to feel like that, Satoru.” Ieiri would sigh through the phone as she walked out of her office towards your shared room with Gojo.

“how mean!”

when Ieiri checks up on you, she kept making faces at you that made you giggle and smile the entire time, and that offended Gojo since you seem to enjoy her company over his

Ieiri would just pick you up after explaining to Gojo that you probably got hit by a Cursed Technique, and that it will naturally wear off over the day - for now, she just wanted to show you off to the rest of the faculty members

principal yaga might just adore you, since you were his favourite student before - even letting you cuddle up to one of his Cursed Dolls that he didn’t activate

gojo lowkey judging you when you’d huge it against your chest with a giggle because who on earth find those dolls cute?

even nanami got you to smile and giggle, letting you sit in his lap with your tiny hands messing with his printed tie whilst he read a book quietly

every time gojo tries though? you’d squirm away or hide into the nearest adult’s legs, clinging onto them whilst you tried to stop your tears

nanami had decided to bring you to visit the students, who all fell in love with you and entertained you for the entire day

especially yuji - he’s got the energy of the child, so you two definitely had fun. fushiguro let his devine dog out to let you pet it, whilst nobara definitely decorated you in a lot of cute hair accessories

maki would find you quite adorable, since you started to follow her about, you cuddling up into toge’s arms and playing with the zipper of his uniform, and even riding on panda’s shoulders

gojo would probably the most poutiest person the entire day, and would make his displeasure known to everyone - and i mean everyone, who passes by him

lowkey though think he isn’t that sad since he still gets to record a lot of blackmail, and that he knows that you’d probably return back to normal - even if you’re scared shitless of him right now

when you return the next day, I bet he’s going to cling onto your hip, whining about how you refused to give him any attention because you were scared at him

“baby~ you were scared of me! and refused to even look at me! do you know how sad I was?!”

you’d just give him an indulgent smile and gently run your fingers through his fluffy hair, chuckling when he would purr lightly and lean into his touch, knowing that he was looking up at you through his blindfold.

“you and i both know you definitely had a lot of fun recording all those videos.”

“…yeah, wanna see?” he’d give you a smirk before he pulled his phone out, pulling you into his lap so you two can watch the many videos he recorded

he’d take his opportunity to cuddle up into you, where you’d give him soft kisses and cuddle him close in your arms; because he’d never openly tell you just how worried he was about what happened yesterday

but you didn’t need words - you just know he needs some affection and cuddles to help reassure him that you’re fine, and that you still love him; even if he was a little offended that you found him ‘big and scary’

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

poor boy definitely got the shock of his life - you were sitting on his bed playing with his devine dog when he entered the bathroom, but when he came out, a child you was seated there giggling and tugging at the soft fur of his devine dog

he’d just stand there with the most confused look on his face, entirely frozen since he wasn’t sure what’s going on and how to go about this situation

you’d look over and see him standing there with a deadpan expression - and let’s be honest, fushiguro’s deadpan expression is probably really scary

you’d probably freeze up and your bottom lip start to wobble as you hide your face into his devine dog’s fur to try and hide away from him; the dog unsure to go to his owner or stay with you, who he was taught to take care of as well

fushiguro might just walk out and leave you without a word, which made you blink in confusion at how weird the man was; only to return with a confused yuji who had been dragged out from his room wordlessly

“oh my god - it’s a mini Y/N!” Yuji would say with a laugh before he walks towards you, squatting down beside the bed with a smile whilst you looked over at him with teary eyes. “hello there, my name is Yuji.”

to be honest, who will not be drawn to the sunshine that is Yuji? So you quickly warm up to him and even let him take your hand in his before he led you out the room so he can show you about

he would be so offended - why do you find him scary, but you’d so readily follow Yuji, who you just met as well?

but he wouldn’t show it on his face, since he’s good with hiding his emotions; lowkey really hurt though

“gojo-sensei! come look at Y/N-san!” Yuji would call out to their teacher, who might be walking past the dorms at that moment; the tall shaman laughing when he saw a mini you staring up at him in awe.

“oh my god - it’s a tiny Y/N!” he’d say with a laugh before he squatted down and grinned over at you, to which you tilted your head curiously at him. “hello there, student of mine - my name is gojo-sensei.”

the three of you are going to cause absolute mayhem for the rest of the day - to the point where fushiguro might feel a tiny ounce of regret for going to yuji for help

when nobara was introduced to you, she couldn’t stop pinching your cheeks, cooing at how you’d smile up at her even as she was gently pinching your cheeks between her fingers. “you are such a cute baby, it’s not fair!”

she would definitely dress you up, wanting to take his opportunity to take a bunch of cute pictures of you wearing things like different accessories; might even ask if she can put some makeup on you so you’d look like a little doll

whenever fushiguro tries to talk to you, you’d get scared because he isn’t one to be super soft like nobara can be, or super friendly and warm like gojo or yuji - so that in itself didn’t help

you’d probably try and hide in yuji’s jacket or refuse to let gojo set you down on the ground when you see megumi close, which irritates the poor teen even more

yuji might try to help him talk to you by giving him some advice on how to handle kids, but you’d still be hesitant around him since he is just too awkward to know exactly on how to approach you

now he was definitely certain he is not interested in having kids anymore

eventually though he might just give up and let you be, hoping that he’d get his lover back soon so he doesn’t have to deal with this entire situation

when you came back the next day, super confused to why yuji is asking you if you felt okay because you felt fine?

until he explains the situation, and the first thing you did is went to fushiguro’s room and quietly entered his room to see what he’s up to

“thank god.” was the first thing you heard before you felt a pair of heavy arms wrapped around you protectively and a warm face buried into your neck; fushiguro’s hair tickling your cheek. “i am never going to take you for granted again.”

“i think you’re being a bit overdramatic.” you said with a light chuckle as you wrapped your arms around him as well, letting him recharge after yesterday’s events and the from the lack of affection he got from you. “yuji told me you’re terrible with kids.”

at first he will not say anything, but he did let out a soft grunt as he nuzzles closer, his warm hands reaching under your shirt to splay them over the small of your back. “by the way, if we ever get married, we are never going to have kids.”

you’d just roll your eyes at his words, shaking your head softly before you reach up to start playing with his hair between your fingers. “whatever you say, gumi.”

NANAMI KENTO

to be honest, nanami might be the only one who knows what to do with you. i feel like under that entire business man image he shows, he’s lowkey really good with kids

so when he walked into your shared room in the morning after making breakfast for the both of you and sees a child that looks like you blinking back at him, he’d just sigh tiredly and rub the bridge of his nose

“i do not get paid enough to handle half of this.”

you might feel super intimidated by him; but i feel like nanami might still be able to talk to you; or make compromises for you so that you’d at least feel a little more accepting of him

“now Y/N, don’t pout.” nanami would say with a tired sigh as he bent down on the side of your shared bed, giving you a soft smile even if you were unsure of him still. “if you do, who is going to eat the chocolate chipped pancakes I made?”

yes, you make nanami make you chocolate chip pancakes from time to time, and luckily the night before you told him of your craving for them - so what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t make that dream happen for you?

he’d let you go and explore the house after breakfast whilst he gets ready, standing nearby to keep an eye on you but not stepping in when he sees you struggling - not because he wants to tease you, it’s more so he wants you to come up to him to ask for help yourself instead of forcing himself on you; which you did, with much reluctance

since he needs to go to the college today, he decided to bring you along, knowing that deep down that it was going to be the most hectic day he’s ever experienced

first person to see you was probably gojo, who might burst out laughing at the sight of you clinging onto the side of his pants after he made his way to work, bending down so he was your height. “oh my god, Y/N, you are so cute!”

“please do not scare them.” nanami would say with a tired sigh, watching you as you carefully walked out from behind nanami to give the white haired sorcerer a curious once over. “you are already a big enough of a pain as it is.”

much to his dismay though, you seem to warm up to gojo really well; even letting him pick you up and run about the campus to show you off to the rest of the staff and student body - confirming nanami’s belief that today was going to be a very long day

the students will love you - you are known as quite the formidable sorcerer who can take down special grade curses with ease; but right now you were curled up around fushiguro’s devine dog, playing with its fluffy tail in delight

you were dragged about to meet the second years as well, who were all so infatuated by their sometimes part time teacher being shrunk down into a child

nanami might go to ieiri for advice, and when he was told that it’d wear off naturally, he was more reassured, since this isn’t a permanent change

because you have other options to be with others, you did tend to avoid nanami in favour of more nicer people; and unfortunately to nanami, this fact did not go unnoticed by gojo

“is it just me, or is Y/N avoiding you more and more, kento-kun?”

“shut up, gojo.”

feel like he’d just leave you alone for the most part whilst he goes about his day, trying to return to his day as usual

but he does do things like make sure you’re not wandering about causing trouble for others, making sure you’re eating something healthy and not just get fed sweets by gojo, and making sure that you’re not getting into mischief

by the end of the day, nanami would be dead tired - since he had to deal with you whilst doing his normal thing at the college. so when his shift ended, he was more than willing to bring you home and hope for the best

when he woke up the next day, having slept on the couch so that you can have the bed, he sleepily went to go and check on you; taking a deep breath to prepare himself if you were still a child

much to his relief, you were back to normal; now curled up on his side of the bed. so he’d wordlessly just get under the covers and pull you into his chest, causing you to stir sleepily. “kento..?”

“go back to sleep, darling.” he’d mumble softly into your shoulder as he nuzzles close, causing you to blink back at him in confusion at how affectionate he was being this morning.

eventually though you found out from all the videos gojo took of you whilst you were a child, causing you to laugh as you wrapped your arms around your unamused boyfriend. “at least you know you’re going to be a good father.”

“i think that can wait for a little later, darling.”

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sariahsue · 3 years

Text

Jealousy

"If it weren't for that other guy, do you think you would have fallen for me?" "Please, chaton," Marinette said. "Don't do this to yourself." "I just want to know." Softly she said, "It would have been so easy."

***

Marinette leaned into Chat Noir's side as she stared at their abandoned Uno cards (she had won three rounds in a row). They were on the floor in her room, surrounded pink fabric and dim twilight.

"Hey, Bug?"

"Hm?" It was strange, how easily she'd gotten used to him knowing her identity. It had been an accident, but she wouldn't change anything now.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice rumbled through her.

"Aren't you asking something now?" She'd expected a laugh or at least a resigned sigh, but he said nothing. Marinette pushed a wild card with her toe. "Sure."

"If it weren't for that other guy, do you think you would have fallen for me?"

Every point of contact her body had with his seemed suddenly electrified, her head on his shoulder, her arm against his, where her knee brushed his leg, and she shifted away to give herself some breathing space.

Her walls were bare. He'd asked permission to visit her at home, and she'd taken down almost every picture of Adrien. Evidence of her crush on someone else was not something she wanted to push on him every time he came over. He didn't deserve that.

"Um... do you want to play another round of Uno, or should we do something else?"

"Marinette, I'm serious. Would you have?"

Chat Noir wasn't often serious. If he wanted to go down this path, the best she probably could do was make his pain quick.

She shrugged in response. "Maybe, I guess. Video games? I have UMS 4."

"Really, that's it? You guess? That's not a real answer."

"Please, chaton. Don't do this to yourself."

He slid closer, closing the tiny gap between them that she'd opened up. "I just want to know."

Twilight was slipping into full dark as they sat. The streetlamp outside her window blinked on. He wasn't going to back down on this, was he? Fine. As quickly as she could, then.

"You're kind and compassionate. You're reliable. You're funny." Again, she waited for some reaction, a laugh, a self-satisfied "I knew it!" but he only waited for her to finish. "We have such a strong connection, and I trust you with my life. You're brave. You're my best friend." Softly she added, "It would have been so easy. That's the real answer."

The room was quiet enough that she heard how fast his breathing was. They were so close together that she swore she could feel his pounding heart. Or maybe that was hers. Sitting side-by-side made her feel like a coward. It was too easy to avoid his eyes.

How badly had she hurt him?

"So why haven't you talked to him yet?" Chat Noir asked.

"What?"

"If you'd pick him over all that, then you must like him a lot, but you aren't together. And I can't imagine anyone rejecting you, so you must not have asked him out yet."

Maybe she should have added perceptive to the list, but to be fair he'd never been so devastatingly accurate before.

At least this was something they could laugh at together. "I'm... very awkward around him. I'm pretty sure I make him uncomfortable sometimes."

"I doubt it," he said. "So who is he?"

Marinette got up. She suddenly needed some movement. Time to think. More space. "We shouldn't be talking about this."

"Why not?"

"Because I hate this!" Marinette turned to face him for this first time that night. "I hate hurting you every time you bring it up."

He leaned back like he was unconcerned, but he didn't return her gaze. "I'm only curious," he said. "I just want to know what type of person attracts Ladybug. That's all."

"I'll tell you under two conditions."

He stopped studying her mannequin to peek at her from the corner of his eye.

"One, you stop asking about it. Two, you don't laugh at me."

He finally turned to her completely. "Laugh? Why would I laugh?"

Part of her wished that he would. His laugh would be a welcome sound right now.

"Because you're going to think it's a celebrity crush, and it's not."

He raised an eyebrow and gestured for her to continue.

Marinette groaned. Nothing to do about it now except get it over with. "Adrien Agreste."

Chat Noir was on his feet so fast Marinette almost didn't see him move. "Plagg, claws-"

She didn't hear the rest of his sentence over her shrieking "NO!" but did she see the flash of green light behind her eyelids. "What are you doing? Put your suit back on!"

"No."

"I'm not going to look at you."

Where were the kwamis? Why weren't they telling him this was a bad idea?

"You have to retransform." Marinette backed up until she hit her desk. What on earth was he doing?

"No, not until you look."

"You'll have to," she said. "You can't walk out my front door and let people see you. You'll have to leave the way you came in."

"You're just going to keep your eyes closed for the rest of the night?"

She nodded.

Soft footsteps walked toward her. It wasn't the normal tap of boots that she was used to. It sounded wrong. Another reminder that one mistake from her would put his identity in jeopardy. He stopped right in front of her, circled his arms around her loosely and waited. It wasn't until she let herself sink against his chest that he tightened his grip.

"I'm not opening my eyes," she said.

"Then please just listen to my voice," the boy who was Chat Noir said. "I won't tell you my name, but please just listen?"

She nodded, her face buried in his neck. Even if she did open her eyes, she wouldn't be able to see him.

"When I'm not transformed, I'm much quieter."

"A quiet Chat Noir?" Marinette asked. "What must that be like?"

"I don't show off either. I try to avoid attention, actually. I get too much of it."

As he spoke, his voice started to change, matching the quieter, more gentle picture of himself that he painted for her. It sounded like... like...

"Did you know that we know each other outside the masks? We go to the same school."

With each sentence, Marinette began to realize that his voice was achingly familiar. He still sounded like her partner, on days that they were just talking or when they'd share sad stories. But he also sounded like someone else, someone whose voice she'd thought she knew by heart.

He stopped talking, letting her figure out the truth in silence.

She couldn't open her eyes. She couldn't. But her fingers could wander. They found his ungloved hand first, then moved up to his wrists. His forearms were bare, and as she expected, his sleeve had been rolled up above his elbow. Her fingers skimmed his upper arm and across his shoulder to his neck. She found the buttons of an open overshirt with a soft cotton tee underneath. If she wanted to, she could have reached up to touch his hair or trace her fingers over his nose and cheeks and eyelids, everything his mask usually hid. He would have let her.

Instead she leaned into his neck and felt his head drop on top of hers. Marinette finally opened her eyes. The overshirt was white. The tee underneath was black with colored stripes. Exactly how she remembered.

"You're kind and compassionate," he said. "You're brave and creative and amazing."

A tear slipped across her cheek. She was crying. When had that started?

"It was so easy to fall in love with you, Marinette."

Her hands left his shoulders to wrap around him and pull him closer to her. "I love you too, Adrien."

***

A/N: Written for Marichat May 2021. Prompt: Jealousy. @marichatmay

#marichat #marichat may #ml #mlb #miraculous ladybug

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itsallyscorner · 3 years

Note

hey love ❤️ i hope you’re doing good and healthy but i was wondering if you could do a little mix!reader after she gave birth to tom and her’s child. maybe when the girls meet their niece or nephew

💌

The World’s Greatest Aunties

Pairing: Tom Holland x fem!reader, Little Mix x fem!reader

Summary: The girls finally get to meet Baby Holland for the first time.

Warnings: none, spelling errors?

A/n: Hey darling! Thank you so much for the request, I’m so sorry that it took so long. I took a small break from writing Tom fics and writing in general because I needed to recharge the author part of my brain😭😂 I was lacking motivation to write but I’m back now! Thank you again for the request and I hope you like it!💞

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

(Pinterest)

✧───── ･｡ﾟ★: *. ☽.* :★. ─────✧

Five pairs of eyes peered over the bassinet, a twinkle of admiration in each one. The house was quiet except for the low hums of the music that played softly in the living room. Occasionally, they would hear the light clicks and taps of Tessa’s nails against the floors. The five of them were quiet, letting out a little coo here and there when the tiny bundle in the bassinet fidgeted.

“I can’t believe you actually made a baby.” Leigh-Anne whispered, cautiously steadying her voice at a quieter tone. You all nodded, agreeing to her comment.

You glance at Tom, who was stood beside you, “We weren’t even planning on having a baby. Someone’s pull-out game was just very weak.”

Tom’s mouth gaped at your statement, a false offended look on his features. “Well, you weren’t complaining while it was happening.”

“Did you really think I’d be in the right headspace to realize how bad your pull-out game was after being railed to the bed?” You quizzed him, standing up straight and placing your hands on your hips.

Jesy’s eyes shifted between you and Tom, “Are you two really talking about how irresponsible you guys are at sex in front of the baby you both made—because of irresponsible sex?”

“But isn’t she the cutest outcome of irresponsible sex?” Perrie cooed, leaning closer to the opening of the bassinet. Tom smirks at you before slinging his arm around your shoulder, “We made a beautiful baby, didn’t we?”

“Don’t flatter yourself Thomas, I’m sure Amelia’s 90 percent (Y/n) and 10 percent you.” Jesy comments, earning her some chuckles from the rest of you except for Tom. Though they’ve know each other for years, and he’s proved himself worthy of you, that still didn’t stop Jesy from giving him a hard time. Of course, all the petty arguments were all in good fun. He’s been slowly growing on her anyway.

“Well she’s definitely got (y/n)’s lips.” Leigh-Anne observed, admiring the sweet baby from above. You leaned your head on Tom’s shoulder as you watched Amelia scrunch her tiny nose.

“But her nose, without a doubt, is Tom’s.” You point out, watching your baby snuggle into her blanket.

“Honestly, you know how some babies are just not cute when they’re first born?” Jade began, voice remaining in a whisper. A few sounds of agreement were heard amongst you all. “Amelia’s probably one of the most cutest newborns I’ve ever seen, and she’s only a few weeks old.”

Tom’s lips morph into a soft smile as he leans back down towards Amelia, “She’s gorgeous isn’t she?” His large hand creeping closer to his daughter to brush his fingers along her chubby cheeks. Though the contact of his cold digits made her jolt, causing a sob to bubble out her small body. Tom gasped, turning around to give you an apologetic look. Before the girls arrived, you had put Amelia down for a nap so she wouldn’t be fussy once the girls were over. You were planning on waiting till she woke up to properly introduce her to the girls, but things don’t always go as planned, do they?

“Oh no!” Perrie cried, moving out the way so Tom can gather Amelia into his arms. Tom held her against his chest, shushing her and slightly bouncing his body to ease her wailing.

“I’m so sorry, sunshine. Daddy didn’t mean to wake you.” He apologized, genuinely feeling bad for waking her up from her nap. He whispered comforting words into her ear, not phased by the fact that she couldn’t even understand him yet. He pressed kisses on the crown of Amelia’s head, trying to calm her down.

“Look at that, she even got your vocals too.” Jesy hummed, smiling at the crying baby against Tom’s chest. You laughed, stretching your hands out towards Tom. Just by the gesture, he knew what you meant. The two of you have only been parents for almost a month now and every single day it seemed like you were both picking up new habits—specifically parental ones. It was like the start of your relationship again, you were leaning new things about each other, but this time as parents.

“Aww, c’mere darling, momma’s got you.” You cooed as Tom helped you place her against your chest. Her tiny head was snuggled into the crook of your neck, the warmth coming from your skin soothing her. You had a hand under her bum while the other was rubbing circles onto her back. Slowly, her cries softened until they were replaced by her cute baby gurgles.

“Are you crying?” Perrie asked. You turned around to see who the question was directed to. Only to find Jesy wiping her eyes and fanning them with her hands. She shook her head trying to brush off Perrie’s question.

“Babe,” you called out to her, “Why are you crying?”

You body gently swayed side to side, trying to entertain Amelia. You all looked at Jesy, an amused yet concerned expression on all your faces. When she felt like her tears weren’t about to spill from her eyes, she tilted her head to look at you again.

“I’m just—you’re an actual mother. Like look at you, you’re so grown up.” She sniffed, eyes watering up again. Jesy and the rest of the girls were just a few years older than you. Being the youngest of the group, they’ve always been protective of you and viewed you as their younger sister. They watched you grow up into an amazing woman, watched you fall in love with Tom, and now here you were—as a mother. The sight was quite emotional.

“Aw Jess.” You walk closer to her, using one of your arms to embrace her. Jesy chokes on her laugh, “No! Don’t hug me, you’re gonna make me cry even more.”

You ignore her protests and continue to wrap your arm around her neck. Jesy allows the hug to happen, wrapping both her arms around your waist.

“It’s okay, I cried a few times too.” Tom tells her comfortingly, handing her a tissue from over your shoulder. She takes it, thanking him quietly, and dabbing her eyes. You hear some more sniffles around the room. Breaking your hug with Jesy, you look around to see Perrie, Jade, and Leigh-Anne with glossy eyes.

“Guys...” You sigh.

“It just sunk in that you’re a mum now. Like you need to take care of another human being and help them become a person and all that.” Jade summed up, blinking away tears. Tom took it upon himself to wordlessly pass around tissues to the four women in the room.

Leigh-Anne came up behind you to move your hair over your shoulders, “You’re gonna teach her so many lessons about life. You’re gonna be the first person she’ll always look up to and her first best friend—I’m so excited for you.”

“I have life lessons too, ya know.” Tom interjected, slightly raising his hand. Jesy glances at him and scoffs, “You have the body of a twelve year old and you cry in movies for a living. What could you possibly learn from that?”

“I don’t cry in all my movies.” He defended himself.

You move your head to look at Tom, “Darling, you’ve literally cried in four out of the five Marvel movies you’ve been in. That speaks volumes.”

Jade’s eyes shifted between Jesy and Tom, “I thought we were having a sentimental moment, how did we go from that to hating on Tom.”

“Because, he’s Tom.”

Tom crossed his arms, squinting at you all, “You know, I thought having Amelia would make you guys like me more—but no, I just can’t catch a break from you lot.”

A joyful sound emitted from Amelia, catching everyone’s attention. The girls cooed and awed at the new member of their little family.

“Oh hello precious!” Perrie squealed leaning down beside you so she can see Amelia’s face. Your baby’s eyes were wide as she stared at the faces crowding above her.

“D’you guys wanna hold her?” The girls eagerly nod, bodies filling with excitement. You handed Amelia to Jesy, showing her how to properly hold your newborn baby. With her new niece’s head resting against her shoulder, she feels her heart swell with joy.

“Oh my, she’s lovely.” She whispered softly, her hand cradling Amelia’s head. She ducks her head to get a closer look at her face, chuckling when she sees the combination of you and Tom on Amelia’s features. Jesy catches a whiff of the newborn baby smell radiating off of her—you know, that light weight baby powder-ish smell?

“And she smells so good!” Jesy announced enthusiastically. Perrie frowns, “I wanna smell the baby.”

“Too bad, you can’t.” Jade teases, poking fun at Perrie’s inability to smell. Jesy passes Amelia to Perrie, who makes grabby hands at her before wrapping her arms around Amelia’s tiny form.

“I’m so sorry for exposing you to the media.” She tells the baby, a chorus of laughter following her apology. Perrie gently pokes Amelia’s cheeks with her finger, “Your cheeks! I just want to squish ‘em and smother you with kisses!”

“I think you’ve had enough time with the baby, my turn!” Leigh-Anne jokes, holding her hands out for Amelia. Perrie carefully hands her to Leigh-Anne, who instantly melts once she holds Amelia against her.

“I want one now.” She whines.

“Ask Andre, I’m sure he’ll give you one in no time.” You wink at her, gesturing to the ring on her left hand. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if she became pregnant anytime soon. Leigh-Anne took her time holding Amelia, basking in the cloud of baby fever she was currently experiencing. Your daughter was then passed onto Jade, who was thrilled to show her niece all the gifts she had bought her.

You all watched as Jade ventured towards the couch, kindly asking Tom to fetch the large bag that was at your entrance alongside the piles of packages from your family and friends. Ever since you and Tom brought Amelia home, there has been a never ending amount of gifts being delivered to your home. The items ranged from clothes, toys, to diapers, and baby bottles. Your house was practically filled to the brim with baby supplies.

Jade settles on the couch; adjusting Amelia so she can cradle her with her arm and using her free hand to pull out gifts from the bag. You and the rest of the girls sit around her, while Tom looked over the couch behind you.

“You guys really didn’t have to get us anything, just being here and letting us share this moment with you is enough for me.” You expressed, Tom agreeing with you. Jade simply brushed you off, “Oh hush up, let us spoil Amelia. She’s going to be the sixth member of our band, so we need to make sure she’s got the best clothes to look like her mummy and aunties.”

Jade proceeds to pull out a bunch of Disney themed items out from the bag. “Oh you’re gonna love this, I found a bunch off onesies that were princess themed—look!” Jade held up the hanger of multiple Disney onesies for your daughter. “Look Amelia, there’s one for every princess!” You couldn’t help but let out a laugh when Jade began to show every item she bought for Amelia.

Your and Tom’s jaws dropped when she pulled out a Minnie Mouse headband made for babies.

“That is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, lemme see.” Tom held his hand out towards Jade who handed him the headband. You watched adoringly as Tom inspected the headband, looking at it with fascination. He caught your stare and proudly held up the head band, “Baby, we’ve gotta take her to Disney.”

“Oh, we definitely are, don’t worry.” You assure him, making him proudly fist the air. Without any of you noticing, Jesy slipped out the room to get the gift bag she left out at the entrance.

“I’ve got something too!” She sang entering the living room. She sat back on the couch, Jade passing Amelia to her once she was comfortable.

“Alright, ya ready precious?” Jesy asked Amelia, who grabbed at the bag with her hands. Jesy took her hands in hers and helped Amelia ‘take out’ the tissue paper from the bag.

“Since I know your parents are two of the biggest Harry Potter nerds, I decided to get you this because I know they’ll flip.” She explained before pulling out a baby Hogwarts costume.

“Jesy!” You gasped, leaning in to get a closer look at the clothes.

“They have Harry Potter merch for babies?” Tom exclaimed, rushing to stand behind Jesy’s part of the couch. He began to ramble, asking her where she bought the clothes and if there were more.

Jesy held her hand out to stop Tom from talking, “Wait, wait—WAIT, Jesus Thomas, you’re more excited for these clothes than your daughter.”

Tom shrugged, “Well she can’t express any feelings yet, so I’ll do it.”

“Here.” She passed the costume to him making him cheer. “The costume came with another thing actually.” Jesy took out a baby Hogwarts robe, making you gasp again.

“It comes with the robes too?” You asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, it was an entire set!” Jesy proudly answered. Tom ran his hand along the robe, touching the soft fabric. He let out a squeal, “I love it!”

“Tom darling, the clothes are for Amelia, not you.” Perrie teasingly reminded him. Tom brushes off her comment, “(Y/n), we could all dress up as Hogwarts students for Halloween! We could match costumes!” Tom was practically buzzing with excitement, not allowing you to give him a response.

“Thank you Jesy, it’s nice to know that you have a soft spot for me.” He bumped his fist against her shoulder, which she glared at.

“I don’t have a soft spot for you, twit.”

“Yes you do, you knew I liked Harry Potter.” He held up the Hogwarts costume, “And you got Amelia a baby Hogwarts costume. You went out of your way to give us this gift. It’s enough proof, Jes.”

“I got it for (Y/n).” Jesy argued.

Tom crossed his arms, “Just admit that you like me.”

“No, you’re a menace.” You all watched the exchange between the two. A goofy grin was on his face as he spread his arms out, “I’m gonna hug you now.” Before Jesy can respond, Tom had wrapped his arms around Jesy. She groaned, squirming in his grip.

“Thank you Jesy!” He sang, taking the piss out of annoying her. She smacked his arm, “I get it. Now get off, I’m holding your child!”

Tom lets go with a smile on his face.

“She likes me.” He mouthed to you, motioning to Jesy. You shook your head at him, chuckling.

The girls continued to give Amelia their gifts. Perrie got her a bunch of classic children’s books and some toys. Leigh-Anne had given you a diaper bag and a “mommy and me” set of clothes. You were instantly obsessed with the matching sets, now you and your baby girl can have matching outfits. The night was full of the girls passing Amelia around and playing with her. She hadn’t cried for a single second, happy with the attention she was getting and constantly being held. There was no doubt that she would sleep soundly tonight, much to your and Tom’s content.

You watched as the girls circled around Amelia in the living room. Perrie was currently holding her, talking about how she couldn’t wait to spoil her with all the cutest baby clothes and toys. You overheard them talking about all the things they wanted to teach her; like how to sing. A smile had crept its way onto your lips without you noticing. Suddenly a pair of arms wrap around your waist.

Tom presses a kiss onto your shoulder and rests his chin on it, “You know she’s the luckiest baby in the world? And I’m not just saying that because she’s our child, but she’s really lucky. We’re very lucky.”

“We are, aren’t we?” You hum, leaning your weight against his chest, something he happily welcomes.

“She’s got two amazing parents. That’s us.” He squeezes you and continues his list, “She has grandparents who already love her, a bunch of protective uncles, and the world’s greatest aunties in her corner.” He finished, gesturing to the women in the living room. Yeah, you guys were lucky.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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goldenkirstein · 3 years

Text

i'd be home with you

or alternatively, jean has a bad day at work, and you pamper him

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

zuzu requested: Modern AU Jean/fem reader where Jean comes home after a really long day at work (his shift ends later than yours does so you always come in a few hours before him) He's in a rly pissy mood but you think it's adorable so you give him a nice tight hug and he relaxes a bit 😭 then you coax him towards the bedroom so you can pamper him, asking him to place his head on your lap so you can rub his temples until he falls asleep...

pairing: jean x fem! reader

wc: 2.2k+

tags: fluff, some angst (?) modern! au, female reader, language, mentions of food.

a/n: this was so much fun to write, I love jean and always wanna take care of him bhsbhsbh, i changed up some things to make it fit, and it kinda got a teeeeensy but angsty but not too much. i hope you enjoy.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You outstretched your arms, eyes glancing over to the clock in the corner of the living room.

Jean should be home soon.

The sound of the ticking clock filled the room as you laid back down on the couch, the side of your face pressed against the cool leather of the armrest, fingers lazily grazing over the pale white stitches, the bumps and ridges comforting you while you waited for your husband to come home.

Not too long after, you heard the familiar noise of the keys jingle against the doorknob, prompting you to shift your body to watch Jean as he walked through the front door; your lips quirked into a gentle smile, and you got up to greet him.

However, you noticed that he wasn’t his usual cheery self today. Weariness was clear as day on his face. He raised his eyebrows at you, the only indication that he acknowledged your presence.

He struggled to slip off his shoes until eventually sighing and reaching down to untie them, hair falling in front of his face, he cursed under his breath. You let out a giggle, immediately slapping your hand over your mouth, suppressing the noise.

“What are you laughing about?” He furrowed his brows, following your eyes until he realized you were staring at the socks peeping out of his shoes.

Tiny fried eggs decorated the navy socks he was wearing. He looked back up at you, an amused expression on your face, still trying to suppress your laughter.

His shoulders drooped, and he scowled at you, “knew I shouldn’t have worn these dumb socks today.”

You frowned and made your way over to him, “aww, baby, I wasn’t laughing at you, and hey, you love those socks! You look so cute with them on! ”

Jean turned his face away from you, “I’m not cute,” your frown deepened, and you brought your hand up to his face, causing him to look at you. Your wedding band was cool contrast against his cheek.

“Sure you are, my love. Did you not have a good day today?” At that, his eyes fluttered shut. He brought his hand up to remove yours; however, his hand lingered, resting on top of yours.

“Gonna take that as a no then.”

He nodded in agreement before opening his eyes and dropping his hand. You traced your fingers on his cheek until moving your arm around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. Jean wrapped his arms around your torso, relaxing into your touch. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, breathing in his cologne, “missed you today, baby.”

You felt him release a deep breath, and you moved your hand to run your fingers through his hair. He hugged you tighter in response to your action, “missed you too.” His voice a low grumble.

Jean let go first, mumbling a quick thank you, and he gave you a slight smile, the first sign of happiness you could see on his face since he walked through the door minutes prior.

He began to bend down to finish taking off his shoes before you stopped him, “Nuh-uh, come with me.”

You gently tugged him up by elbow before clasping his hand in yours, leading the both of you into your bedroom. He opened his mouth in protest, “what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, hun? Someone requires some T.L.C.” Pronouncing every letter with a slight lilt in your voice, you turned your head to smile at your husband; his eyebrows were still furrowed, shoulders carrying the weight of the day on him. You knew that if you left Jean to his own devices, he would end up bottling his feelings and act like nothing was wrong.

Your feet padded gently into the room; Jean followed suit. He pulled at your hand to let him go, but you weren’t giving up that easy. He was a stubborn man, no doubt about it, but after years of being together, when it came to Jean, you were just as headstrong.

Smoothing your palm over the soft beige bedsheets, you sat down, tapping your clothed thigh, “come lay down; you’ll feel better if you do.” You watched the man in front of you clench his jaw, tired, hazel eyes gazing into yours.

“I haven’t even taken my shoes off yet.” He sighed; your only response was to tug him closer to your seated frame. Pouting your lips up at him, you watched him chew the inside of his cheek before finally obliging.

“See, that wasn’t so hard” You grinned as you saw Jean sit down next to you and lay his head in your lap, ash brown hair splaying across your thighs. He hummed in content when he felt you run your fingers through the hair near his temples. “You wanna talk about what happened?” Jean shook his head, furrowing his brows once again. You swiped your thumb over the creased skin, causing his expression to soften.

He blinked his eyes up at you, “you don’t have to do this; I’m fine.” He tried to get up, but you pressed your palm against his chest, eyes pleading. You tilted your head at him, gazing with tenderness before hunching over to lightly kiss his forehead.

“Let me take care of you, Jeanie? Please?”

He laid back down, allowing you to rub his temples, taking away the pain of the day. It was the least you could do; on days where you felt unloveable, Jean would be there for you, holding you, whispering reassurances in your ear, delicately reminding you of his love and lending his strength to you when you needed it. So, while it pained your heart to watch Jean feel less than, it was second nature to you; you would always be there for him when he needs it.

The repetitive movements of the pads of your fingers against his head were soothing him, Jean’s eyelids were heavy, the time he spent with his eyes shut getting longer and longer with each passing minute.

“Haven’t taken my socks off.” He whispered, sleep overtaking him; his speech was slightly slurred.

“Don’t worry, you just sleep.” You continued massaging his head until his breathing steadied, eyes no longer opening. You smiled at the sight; he looked so peaceful and beautiful when he slept. Pausing your movements, you bent down and gave him another kiss on his forehead, smoothing the hair on his head.

You lifted him off your lap, sliding out from underneath him, and softly placed his head down on a pillow, careful not to disturb him. He shifted, turning to face the window next to the bed. The sun was beginning to set, and the slivers of orange light peeking through the curtains dusted over Jean’s face.

“My beautiful boy.” Warmth spread over your chest as you watched your husband rest, content that at this moment, his worries were not plaguing him.

You slid off his shoes, chuckling at the sight of socks once more. Jean had called the socks dumb, but you knew that he loved them. When you got them for him for his birthday, you remembered how he laughed when he unwrapped the package; the sound rang through the air, causing you to giggle at his reaction, before he reached over to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek, murmuring a soft thank you through a wide-toothed smile.

After pulling off his socks, you quietly got him out of his dress shirt and pants and slipped a pair of sweatpants over his legs before drawing the comforter over his body and placing a kiss on his shoulder.

Jean awoke to the smell of spices wafting in from the kitchen; he rubbed his eyes. It was dark outside. He wondered how he got into bed; the last thing he remembered was him laying in your lap.

Oh.

The young man felt a wave of guilt wash over his body. He realized that he was wearing sweatpants, his office attire neatly hanging in the closet adjacent to him. Jean groaned and pulled the covers off his body; had he been sleeping all this time? You were working away in the kitchen, you even took off his shoes, and here he was, lazing away like a dog.

It was pathetic, he thought, making you take care of him just because he had a bad day at work. Jean stepped out of the bedroom; stretching out his limbs, he made his way over to the kitchen, the smell of food getting more robust with each step.

You turned when you heard the soft padding of his feet against the kitchen tile, “you’re awake! Did you sleep well?” You beamed at him before turning your attention back to the stovetop.

He padded over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “you seriously don’t have to do this; I’m alright.” His voice husky, vibrating against your back.

You shifted your body to look at him, quizzical expression painting your face, “why won’t you let me pamper you? Don’t you deserve that?”

Jean was silent.

“You don’t have to be perfect for me, Jean.” Your hand left the handle of the pan and held onto the hands around your middle. “Let me carry some of that burden. Let me.”

“It’s not fair.” Jean’s eyes between yours and the food on the stove.

“What’s not fair, baby? You take care of me when I’m sick when I can barely get out of bed. Isn’t that the vow we made to each other?” You paused, watching as Jean’s head fell into the crook of your neck. “I won’t love you any less, and I certainly will not let you act like everything is fine when it’s not. You don’t have to tell me what happened, but just allow me to look after you.”

“You tell me how much you love me every day, so let me show you how much I love you through this, okay?”

Jean wondered what stars aligned for him to find someone like you. He still felt guilty, but he knew that arguing would be futile, so he finally succumbed, “I love you.”

His mouth curled up into a slight smile; he meant it every time he said it, even when the both of you had been arguing or when you left for work, he meant it every single time.

You didn’t think it was possible, but your heart grew in fondness for Jean, “I know.” You gave his hand a gentle squeeze before returning yours to the handle.

Jean’s stomach grumbled, causing him to groan. You let out a laugh, “See, I knew you hadn’t eaten at work. Go sit; I’ll finish up this Omurice.”

He slipped his arms away from your waist before going to sit on the stool near the kitchen island, head resting on his propped-up palm, watching as you plate up the food.

His eyes twinkled with adoration, the guilt in his chest dissipating as he noticed how much care you’re putting into the meal. There was a time that Jean didn’t think he was worthy of being loved, but having you in his life pieced him back together again.

You made your way over to him, handing him a fork and setting down the plate. Your husband took it from your hands, giving you a questioning look, before taking a bite. His eyes widened, “this is really fucking good, here try some.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, glad that he liked the food; Jean brought the fork to your lips, which you opened, the warm rice and luscious egg filled your mouth, you shut your eyes, savouring the taste, "holy shit."

Jean laughed at your surprise, taking another bite of the food. You went over to a drawer to grab a fork before sitting next to him to eat.

When both of you finished your meal, you stood up to grab the plate to clean it. However, Jean halted you before you could pick it up, "let me."

His voice came out a gentle whisper, but it was sincere; you nodded your head, relaxing back in your seat, watching as the man went around the kitchen island to clean the utensils.

He worked swiftly in silence. After drying the plate and placing it in the cupboard, Jean looked up at you, "thank you for this."

"You don't have to thank me, my love."

He blushed at your words, "still, I'm so lucky to have you; I don't know if I tell you that enough."

You stood up and made your way over to Jean, his hands rested on your hips, and you moved your fingers to brush away the few strands of hair that fell in front of his eyes. He smiled tenderly at you before pulling you closer to him by your hips.

He pressed his lips against yours, and you reciprocated the kiss, soft lips melding against each other. His hands travelled up your sides, eventually cupping your face. You smiled against his lips before pulling away.

"I'll love you always, Jean." Your hands came up to hold his, and you turned your cheek to press a kiss into his palm.

"I know."

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this !! any feedback is appreciated !! i'm really not sure what is going on with tagging, but if anyone knows how to fix the issue of certain people not being able to get tagged that would be super helpful !!

taglist: @c0urtn3y, @depressedbisexual, @dai-tsukki-desu, @clean-soap

click here to join my taglist

As always, please leave a like/reblog if you enjoyed this, I appreciate it lots <33

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spenciebabie · 3 years

Note

Can you please write a blurb of Virgin!reader and professor Reid w an innocence kink 🤭 btw I love your writing sm💜

The vibes: here here and here

I’ve written this as more of a dom!Spencer vibe!

I accidentally wrote a fic instead of a blurb my bad!

I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

— —

You both knew what your were doing when you showed up to his office that day.

You may have been inexperienced but no one could miss the way he looked at you. The way his eyes lingered on your legs whenever you sat in the front row of his class. Or how he’d always need to talk to you about something or other after a lecture.

You noticed that he’d trip over his words on the days that you wore a little skirt. Crossing and uncrossing your legs whenever he looked towards you.

So that’s exactly what you wore to his office hours today. Knocking gently on his door. When he opens his door he can barely hide his shocked expression. Stifling it immediately and hardening his face, ushering you inside.

You were there under the guise of getting an assignment back, but you both had other plans. Neither of you speak once the door is closed, silently standing in front of one another. He’s the one that makes the first move, diving in and crashing his lips against yours, rough and hungry. His mouth is open almost instantly, his tongue moving against yours, tasting every inch of you. His hands are braced either side of your face, fisting in your hair and pulling ever so slightly.

When you break apart you’re both panting, chests heaving, lips swollen.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so fucking long” he breathes, lips turning up in a devious smile, “You’ve got no idea what you do to me” he finshes. His hands snaking down to your waist, lingering there before sliding down to your hips, resting just above your ass.

“I’ve got some idea” you look up at him, biting your bottom lip, fluttering your eyelashes.

“Oh yeah?” He teases, “Is that why you wore this tiny little skirt?” His hands move down now, palming at the curve of your ass over the fabric.

You nod, letting out a small gasp as he grabs you roughly.

“The things I’ve thought about doing to you in this little skirt” he groans against your ear as he leans in, and you can’t help but let out a low moan as his hands finally pull up the fabric and make contact with the skin of your bare ass over your panties. Digging his fingers in harshly and pulling you in closer with that grip.

As his lips meet your neck, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses you finally bring yourself to speak.

“I want you so bad Dr. Reid” you whimper, and his nails only dig in harsher.

“Fuck” he moans and lets go of you, “Sit on my desk now” he commands and you rush over, sitting yourself on the edge of the huge wooden desk.

He joins you a second later, nestling between your legs, his hands are on you right away, landing on the outside of your thighs where your skirt has ridden up. Sinking his nails in and pulling you closer to him.

When you let out a little whimper his hands trail down in between your thighs, grazing over the wet spot on your panties, pushing his fingertips against the fabric with the lightest pressure.

“Is somebody wet for me?” He growls against your ear and you nod, the feeling between your legs too overwhelming already

“Do you want my cock sweetheart?” He asks, and you’re not sure where you thought this was going to end up but you freeze just a little. And he can tell, pulling back when he can sense your hesitation.

“What’s wrong?” He rushes out, “We can stop if you want I just thought you wanted this?” he looks flustered and you want to put him at ease. This is what you wanted, more than anything but you felt like you should tell him.

“I do— it is! I just haven’t— I’m a virgin Dr. Reid” you don’t look at him as you speak. Just a little shy but mostly terrified that this will put him off, that he’d just want to someone more experienced and reject you.

“So you do want my cock?” He just says, in the same sultry tone as before, and it shocks you just a little.

“So you don’t mind? You— Did you hear me?” Your hands hold his shoulders for a second looking up into his eyes, and they’re soft, but there’s also a fire behind them.

“I heard you sweetheart, you’re a virgin?” He asks for reassurance and you nod, “No one else has been inside this pretty little pussy?” He asks again, this time his hands come back down between your legs. Pulling the crotch of your panties to the side and grazing between your folds.

“No one” you gasp out, and he nods.

“Good, no ones fingers? No ones tongue?” He’s just teasing you now, moaning the questions right into your ear and his fingers work against you.

“No!” You yelp, “just my— ah!— just my fingers”

He must like that answer because his fingers that had been trailing around find your entrance, two of them pushing in slowly, forcing a moan from deep in your throat. Your hands that are still firmly on his shoulders dig in, your nails would leave marks if it weren’t for his shirt.

“That’s a good girl, nice and wet. For such a tight little cunt you take my fingers so well.” He starts to pump them in and out, faster, deeper, until you’re squirming around them. Leaning your head forward you stifle your moans against your professors chest, muffling them with the fabric of his shirt as you cum.

“So responsive” he chuckles, “took me no time at all” he teases, pulling you off of him so he can look at your face, your red rimmed eyes and your swollen lips. Just a hint of your mascara was falling down already, no doubt some of it stained his shirt right now.

“Do you think you’re ready for me now sweetheart?” He asks, already unbuckling his pants.

“Please sir, I want it so bad.” You whine, and it sounds positively pathetic.

“What do you want?” He asks, pushing down his pants leaving him in his briefs. And you can see the outline of him through the thin fabric. And the little stain where he was leaking from the tip.

“I want you sir” you pout, but that doesn’t seem like the answer he was looking for.

“Nope, try again” he starts to palm himself over his briefs, letting out little groans.

“I want your cock sir?” You ask and he smirks, nodding just a little.

“And where do you want it sweetheart?” He moans.

“I want it inside me! I want it deep in my pussy” you were getting the hang of this. And watching the way the filthy words tumbled from your sweet innocent lips does something to him. So he lunges at you, gripping you by the back of the neck and pulling you in for rough kiss.

When he pulls back you’re both gasping.

“Get up and bend over the desk” he breathes, and you do right away. Hopping up to turn around and lay your chest and stomach against the wooden desk.

He grips you by your hips, positioning you exactly where he wants you and then his hands come to the hem of your skirt, flipping it up to expose your ass to him. He hooks his fingers in your panties, pulling them down and off your legs, placing sloppy kisses on the back of your thighs as he pulls them off.

When you hear him pull down his own briefs you can almost feel the rush between your legs. The excitement, the anticipation.

“Are you on any protection?” He asks, as you hear him rummaging in one of his desk drawers. But you’d wanted this for so long you’d thought ahead.

“I’m on the pill Dr. Reid. I wanted it to be you, wanted you inside me. Wanted all of you inside me”

“Fuck” he moans out, his hands coming back to rest on your hips. And then you feel it.

The tip of his cock running through your folds mixing both of your arousals together, gently nudging against your still sensitive clit.

He lines right up against your entrance and moves in so teasingly slow. The stretch is enough to make your hands fly out and grip the edges of the desk, digging your nails into the wood.

“Oh god! Dr. Reid! Feels so— big” you moan out, not caring who can hear from the hall.

“Your little virgin pussy is so tight” he groans, “Bet you’ve never felt this full before”

“No! My fingers— uh! They’re nothing like this” you’re whimpering as he starts to move. Pushing his way so deep inside of you before pulling out almost completely, then slamming his hips back into you. Forcing your own hips into the desk.

“And they’re never gonna be good enough again” he huffs as he thrusts in and out, “now that you’ve had me”

You think he might actually be right, the way he fills you up, hitting up against something inside of you that you hardly knew was there till now, you know you’d never be able to make yourself feel this good.

“Fuck! So— uh, so good sir” you’re almost crying now, the combination of both orgasms hitting you, overwhelming you.

“You gonna cum for me? You gonna come for me again sweetheart?” he’s moaning it out but his breaths are harsh and heavy, and he seems like he might be close too.

“Mmhmm” you whimper, feeling a small few tears as they finally escape down your cheeks, “please—fuck! Please cum inside me! I’m yours” you cry out before you’re shaking around him, your hands braced against the edges of the desk, tears flowing now from the overwhelming feeling.

“That’s my good girl” he mutters, panting as he’s about to break himself. And then he’s spilling inside you, it’s warm and so deep inside of you that you didn’t realize you could feel quite this full. This content.

He takes a few moments before he’s pulling out of you, his hands releasing from your hips where they felt like they’d been stuck there.

When he pulls out you the feel the sense of emptiness almost instantly. He takes some time to clean himself up, pulling his clothes back on, all the time whispering sweet words to you.

“Are you okay sweetheart?” He asks pulling you up off the desk and turning you around to face him. His eyes are soft and sweet, and maybe a little concerned even, “Did I go to hard on you?” He asks as his hand comes up to cup your jaw gently, holding your cheek in his hand.

“I’m good” you breath out, still a little shaky, “better than good” you smile up at him, reaching up to place a soft kiss on his lips.

“Would you want to do that again sometime?” He asks, his confidence returning quickly. And you can’t help but nod profusely.

“Yes!” You blurt out before reigning it in, “I mean, if you want to, I’d be, um, I’d be up for that”

His smiles wide at you before his thumbs come up to graze your cheeks, wiping away the tears and the mascara stains there.

“Better to have you all nice and clean, don’t want anyone knowing what happened in here” he says in a low voice, and it makes you a little eager to go again.

“I’ve got a meeting in 5 minutes, you should probably get going but here” he writes something on a piece of paper and hands it to you, “here’s my number, my personal number. Call me tonight?” He almost seems a little nervous, until you take it with a grin, stuffing it in the pocket of your shirt.

As you turn to leave you remember something.

“Dr. Reid? Could I get my panties back?” You ask with a little giggle but he shakes his head.

“I’m afraid I have to confiscate them” he says it like it’s a joke before leaning in next to your ear.

“We don’t want anyone knowing what happened in here except for you and me. I want you to feel me between your legs in your next class”

He pulls back then, letting you walk away as you can feel his cum slowly start to drip out, sliding down the inside of your thighs.

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