#how can i still feel like this inexplicable way | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

my-religion-greek-myth · 2 days ago

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Freedom far away - G

I'm rushing to finish so I can calm my obsession down and focus on my research...

Fem Reader X Agatha X Rio

You were brooding. Your eyes narrowed as you thought about the calming tea Agatha gave you last night. You were sure the tea had something in it—something that coaxed you into sleep far too quickly. The warmth it spread through your chest had been comforting, yes, but it had also dulled your thoughts and blurred the edges of your mind. You could still feel the faint echo of that haze, lingering like an uninvited guest.

The more you thought about it, the more unsettled you became. Why would they need to make you fall asleep? Was it simply to ease your nerves, as Agatha claimed? Or was it to silence your questions?

Your fingers tightened around the edges of your dress as a flicker of doubt wormed its way into your chest. Were you foolish to trust them? Agatha’s sharp words and Rio’s playful evasions swirled in your mind. They had given you partial answers, at least—but it felt like they were carefully dancing around the truth, revealing only what they wanted you to know.

And yet… your thoughts drifted back to how Agatha had looked at you, her sharp eyes softening for the briefest moment. And with her teasing smirks, Rio seemed genuinely intrigued by you in a way you had never experienced before. Could two women so dangerous truly be toying with you? Or was there something more to the pull you felt toward them—a pull they also seemed to feel?

You sighed heavily, running a hand through your hair as you leaned back against the chair. No matter how hard you tried to untangle your thoughts, they always seemed to circle back to the same question: Why did they care about you?

Your room felt stifling, the morning sunlight spilling through the windows doing little to ease the tension in your chest. You stood abruptly, pacing across the floor. If you couldn’t make sense of their actions, perhaps you could make sense of your own. Why had you sought them out last night, risking the darkness and whatever dangers lurked beyond the city’s walls? Why had you felt so drawn to them in the first place?

Your fingers brushed the edge of the window as you looked out over the courtyard, your siblings’ voices faint in the distance. The world outside seemed so simple, so ordinary, yet your thoughts were consumed by something—someone—far beyond the boundaries of this life.

The pull. That maddening, inexplicable pull. You pressed a hand to your chest as if you could quiet the racing of your heart. It was not just curiosity, was it? That would be easier to accept. Safer. But this—this was something deeper, something more dangerous.

Love.

The word flitted across your mind suddenly, and you immediately shook your head, your cheeks burning even in the privacy of your room. No. It could not be that. It was not that. You barely knew them. You refused to call it that.

The pull was not love. It was… fascination. Curiosity. Something you did not fully understand yet. Something that did not have a name.

And that thought unsettled you more than anything else.

Your reflection in the glass caught your eye, and for a moment, you barely recognised yourself. The woman staring back at you looked uncertain, conflicted. Vulnerable.

With a sharp inhale, you turned away from the window. No. You would not allow yourself to become tangled in whatever spell they had cast over you. If Agatha and Rio thought they could manipulate you, they were sorely mistaken.

But even as you tried to harden your resolve, a small voice whispered at the back of your mind, tugging at the edges of your thoughts: What if they are not manipulating you? What if THIS is real?

The thought left you both shaken and strangely exhilarated. For now, you resolved to keep your distance, to bury yourself in the familiar rhythms of your household. But deep down, you knew it would not last. They had already carved their way into your mind, and no amount of distraction could make you forget.

You stopped pacing as a voice called you from outside the door. It was your sister.

"Can I come in?" she asked, her tone hesitant but curious.

You hesitated, smoothing down your dress instinctively before replying, "Yes."

The door creaked open, and your sister stepped inside, her eyes immediately narrowing as she surveyed the room. Her gaze lingered on you, standing in the middle of the space with a distracted look, as if caught mid-motion.

"You’re acting strange," she said bluntly, tilting her head. "Were you… pacing?"

You quickly averted your eyes, brushing imaginary dust off your sleeve. "I was thinking," you said, hoping the curt reply would be enough to deter further questioning.

Your sister did not seem convinced. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, crossing her arms. Despite the contrasting nature of your personalities—her boldness clashing with your usual restraint—you had once been close. That closeness had frayed over time, especially after your parents began discussing potential marriage proposals. The expectations placed on you had created a chasm neither of you could bridge.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice softer now, a flicker of genuine concern breaking through her usual straightforward demeanour.

You hummed noncommittally, avoiding her gaze.

Her eyes narrowed further, and then, with her characteristic bluntness, she said, "This is about Lord Rio, isn’t it?"

You flinched, the reaction betraying you before you could stop it. Her words struck too close to the truth, though not in the way she intended.

"Ah! So it is about Lord Rio!" she exclaimed, her voice rising with sudden excitement. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she stepped closer. "Are you in love with him?"

"What?" you blurted, utterly dumbfounded. You stared at her as if she had suddenly sprouted wings. "How… how can you even think that?"

Her grin widened, clearly pleased with your flustered reaction. "Oh, come on. You’ve been acting so strange lately—daydreaming, wandering out alone, and now this pacing. And you flinched the moment I mentioned his name! It’s obvious."

You felt heat rush to your face and turned away, desperate to compose yourself. "That is ridiculous," you said sharply, though your voice lacked conviction. "How could I…? He’s…" You faltered, realising you could not explain without revealing more than you intended. Such as 'Lord Rio' being actually a woman.

"See?" she teased, poking your arm. "You can’t even deny it properly!"

"It's not like that," you snapped. "And besides, how could you even suggest something so—" You paused, struggling to find the words. Improper? Absurd? Dangerous? All of them seemed fitting.

Your sister raised an eyebrow, her teasing grin softening slightly. "You’re not denying it very convincingly, you know."

You exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of your nose. "It is not love," you said finally, though the words felt hollow even as you spoke them. "And I would appreciate it if you refrained from making such… assumptions."

She studied you for a moment, her expression unreadable, before sighing dramatically. "Fine, fine. But if you do fancy him, you should tell me first. I want to be the first to know when my perfect, prim sister finally falls in love."

You shot her a glare, but she only laughed, her teasing light and free. For a moment, you envied her simplicity, her ability to find humour even in situations like this.

She started toward the door but paused, glancing over her shoulder with a thoughtful look. "You know," she said, her tone more serious now, "Grandfather probably wouldn’t mind if it were Lord Rio."

Your head snapped up at her words. "What do you mean?"

"He seems to like Lord Rio. He practically rolled out the red carpet for him. I’ve never seen him treat anyone that way, not even some of the royal envoys. If you were serious about him…" She trailed off, suggesting lightly. "I think Grandfather would approve."

You stared at her, stunned into silence. The idea seemed absurd, and yet… the thought of your grandfather’s unusual hospitality toward Rio surfaced in your mind. Could it be true? Would he truly allow such a match, especially with someone so unconventional?

Your sister made to leave, her hand brushing the door handle.

"Wait," you said, your voice stopping her mid-motion. She turned, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Do you think…" You hesitated, biting your lip before continuing. "Do you think it is possible to love two people at the same time?"

Your sister blinked, clearly startled by the question. Her head tilted slightly as though she were trying to read your expression. "Love two people?" she echoed. "Well… royals do it all the time, don’t they?"

The implication hung in the air. She did not say it outright, but you knew she was referring to kings and their wives and concubines.

You frowned, her answer leaving you more unsettled than before. "But what if—" You faltered, your cheeks burning. "What if they were all… equal? Not one above the other?"

Your sister tilted her head, her expression perplexed now. "Equal? Like…" Her words trailed off as she tried to grasp the question. "I suppose it’s possible," she said finally, though her tone was uncertain. "But… why are you asking?"

You ignored her question, rushing into another before she could press further. "And… what if it was between women?"

This time, her eyes widened in surprise. "Women?" she repeated, her voice lowering as though she feared someone might overhear. She studied you for a long moment, her gaze sharp. Then, to your surprise, her expression softened. "Well, I suppose love is love, isn’t it? Who’s to say it matters who the person is? As long as it’s real."

Her words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you saw her in a new light. She was no longer the impulsive, sharp-tongued sibling you remembered but someone who had grown in ways you had not noticed. Her words, simple as they were, carried an earnestness that felt oddly comforting, as though she were trying to reach you in her own way.

"You’ve… grown," you murmured, the realisation slipping out before you could stop it.

She blinked at you, startled, before her lips curved into a grin. "Well, someone has to, with you being so busy pacing and brooding all the time."

You huffed, though her teasing felt gentler now, less cutting. "You are still insufferable," you muttered.

"And you’re still hopeless," she shot back, her grin widening. "But seriously… if you’re troubled about something, just remember—love isn’t something you choose. It just is."

She left before you could respond, leaving you alone in the room. Her words lingered, the truth in them cutting through your carefully built walls.

Confidence bloomed in your chest, tentative but unmistakable. The conversation with your sister, though brief and filled with more questions than answers, had left you with an unexpected sense of clarity. Her words, simple as they were, carried a strange comfort that eased some of the turmoil within you.

Still, a small voice in your head nagged at you. Am I so easily swayed? you wondered, your steps slowing as you left your room. Can a few words from her change my mind so quickly? The thought made you pause, your fingers brushing the doorframe. For a moment, doubt threatened to creep back in.

But then you shook your head firmly. No, you told yourself. She was right. Love is love. And if anyone has answers about what this pull means, it’s Agatha and Rio.

Your resolve strengthened, and you headed down the hallway with purpose. The sunlight streaming through the windows felt warmer than usual, almost encouraging. You made your way toward the courtyard and slipped out unnoticed. It was late morning, and the household was busy with its usual routines—no one paid you much attention as you exited the gates.

The path toward the outskirts of the city felt familiar now, though it still carried a certain unease. This time, however, you were not cloaked in darkness or fear. The daylight lent an air of normalcy to the journey, and as you approached the well, you felt certain that you could find their house. After all, you had been there before, even if the details of the path blurred in your memory.

Your steps quickened as the shaman tree came into view, its colourful ribbons fluttering gently in the breeze. The well stood in its usual place, unassuming and silent. You slowed, glancing around, half-expecting to see Agatha or Rio waiting for you.

But the well was empty.

Frowning, you moved closer, your hand brushing the cool stone. For a moment, doubt flickered again. What if they were not here? What if they did not want to see you?

No, you thought firmly. If they do not come, I will find the house myself.

You closed your eyes briefly, trying to recall the surreal path you had taken before. The hazy memory of walking on water flashed in your mind, the shimmering lake and the lotus flowers vivid but disjointed. You remembered the feel of Agatha’s hand guiding you, the weight of Rio’s presence beside you. You had been too distracted to notice the route properly, but you were determined to try.

Opening your eyes, you took a tentative step away from the well, scanning the trees and the underbrush for any sign of a path. The air here felt different, heavier somehow, though you could not say why. A breeze rustled the leaves above, and you thought you caught the faintest trace of lavender and smoke—Agatha’s scent.

Encouraged, you followed the sensation, your steps deliberate as you moved deeper into the wooded area. The sunlight filtered through the canopy of green leaves, dappling the ground in golden patches. The further you went, the quieter the world seemed to grow, as though the forest was holding its breath.

And then you saw the gate; it was shimmering with strange air. It was unmistakable, like a ripple across the surface of still water. You paused, your heart quickening. This was it—the entrance to their world.

Without hesitation, you stepped forward.

The shimmer enveloped you, and the world turned white for a moment. When the thick white fog passed, you stood before their house again. The lake stretched out to your left, its surface still and mirror-like, reflecting the soft, diffuse glow that illuminated everything. The light was bright and steady, yet it cast no shadows, with no sun or moon to be found in the sky above. The surreal stillness of the place sent a faint shiver through you, though you steadied yourself quickly.

"Persistent as ever," a familiar voice drawled behind you.

You turned sharply to find Agatha leaning against the gate frame, her arms crossed and her lips curled into a sly smile. Her blue eyes glinted with mischief, and you swore you caught the faintest trace of purple in their depths.

"Did you miss us, doll?" she teased, straightening and stepping closer. "Or are you here to demand more answers?"

Before you could reply, Rio appeared behind you, startling you a little. Her emerald robes gleaming under the soft light as she moved with her usual effortless grace. Her dark eyes sparkled with amusement, her lips curving into a grin.

"You certainly have a talent for showing up uninvited," Rio said lightly. "But I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised. You seem to have a knack for finding us."

You lifted your chin, refusing to let their teasing fluster you. "I came because I need to understand," you said firmly. "About… this." You gestured vaguely between the three of you, your voice faltering slightly. "This feeling. And the shaman."

Agatha’s smile did not waver, but something in her gaze sharpened. "The shaman again," she murmured, her tone unreadable. "You are nothing if not determined, doll."

Rio chuckled, stepping forward until she was only a pace away. "Well then," she said, her voice warm and inviting, "let’s not keep you waiting. Come inside."

Agatha stepped aside with a flourish, gesturing for you to enter. You did not hesitate and followed them through the door.

The air inside the house was cool and fragrant, the faint scent of herbs and something smoky lingering. The light within their home was the same as outside—bright, steady, and source-less. The room was bathed in a warm glow, the furniture arranged with a casual elegance that felt distinctly theirs. As you stepped further in, you could not shake the feeling that you were walking into the lion’s den—not because you felt unsafe, but because you knew, deep down, that nothing about this encounter would leave you unchanged.

Rio motioned toward a seat, her smile softening. "Sit, my lady. We’ll talk."

You sat carefully, your hands folded in your lap as you watched them move around the room. Agatha flicked her wrist with a graceful flourish, and a cup of tea appeared on the table before you, the purple haze of her magic dissipating like smoke.

"Drink," Agatha said, her tone firm but not unkind. "It’ll help you think."

You hesitated, remembering the tea from the previous night. But the way they watched you—expectant, curious—left you no choice. With a quiet exhale, you lifted the cup and took a sip. The warmth spread through you, soothing your nerves but leaving your mind sharp.

They sat across from you, their eyes expectant, waiting for you to speak.

"I…" You faltered, your hands gripping the cup tightly. The words felt heavy on your tongue, almost impossible to push out. But the moment hung in the air, their gazes steady and unwavering, and you knew you couldn’t keep it inside any longer.

"I’m in love with you two," you said suddenly, the confession tumbling out in a rush.

The reaction was immediate. Agatha nearly spat out her tea, her blue eyes widening in disbelief as she hastily set her cup down. Rio, ever poised, wasn’t much better—her hand, which had been resting casually near her lips, dropped abruptly to the table as her eyes widened as far as you’d ever seen.

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the faint ripple of the lake outside. Then Agatha leaned back in her chair, recovering first, though her expression was a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

"Well," she said, her voice still tinged with a surprise edge. "That’s… direct."

Rio blinked, still processing, before a slow grin spread across her face. "My, my," she murmured, her voice soft and almost reverent. "Our little noble lady has quite the bold streak."

Your face burned, but you refused to back down. "I know it sounds ridiculous," you said quickly, your voice trembling slightly. "I barely know you, and yet… I can’t deny what I feel. It’s not just the pull. It’s something deeper."

Agatha tilted her head, her gaze sharp but unreadable. "Deeper," she echoed, her tone softer now, almost contemplative. "Do you even understand what you’re saying, doll?"

"I don’t," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I know it’s real. And I know it’s not normal to feel this way toward two people at once. Especially…"

"Especially two women," Rio finished for you, her grin softening into something gentler though her dark eyes still glinted with mischief. "You’ve been taught to think it’s impossible, haven’t you? That it’s wrong."

You nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes. But now… I don’t know anymore."

Agatha exhaled, running a hand through her hair as she leaned forward. "You’re not wrong, doll," she said softly. "It isn’t normal in our society's standard. It isn’t easy. But…" She paused, her gaze locking with yours. "It doesn’t mean it isn’t real."

Rio chuckled softly, her grin widening. "Who would’ve thought," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "Our little lady, confessing so boldly. I’m impressed."

You frowned, her teasing making you feel exposed. "I—"

Before you could continue, Agatha held up a hand, her expression turning serious. "We’ll talk about this more later," she said firmly. "For now, let’s focus on the other matter. The shaman, wasn’t it?"

You nodded, grateful for the shift in topic but acutely aware that the conversation was far from over. Agatha and Rio exchanged a glance before settling back into their chairs, their attention returning to you.

"Very well," Agatha said smoothly. "Let’s talk."

Agatha leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing as she studied you. The faintest trace of a smirk tugged at her lips, but her gaze was calculating, sharp. Then, out of nowhere, she asked, "Would you run away if I killed the shaman?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded. Your breath caught, and the room seemed to grow colder for a fleeting moment. Despite the casual tone in which she posed the question, there was no mistaking the weight of her words. She wasn’t asking hypothetically but admitting it, challenging you with the truth.

You stared at her, stunned but refusing to flinch. Your hands gripped the edge of your seat, but you met her gaze directly, searching her eyes for answers. Agatha’s expression gave nothing away; her face was calm, her sharp features unreadable.

Despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you, you didn’t feel fear. Killing someone was not unheard of in your world. Whether it was for power, politics, or ambition, you had seen it firsthand, particularly through your grandfather's actions. Life and death were tools in the hands of those who held power. The thought was sobering but not shocking.

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to remain composed. "I'd want to know why," you said finally, your voice steadier than you expected. "Before I decide whether or not to… end things between us."

Agatha’s lips twitched, her smirk growing into something sharper. Her blue eyes glinted with approval, and for the briefest moment, you thought you saw a flicker of that purple glow again.

"Interesting," she murmured, leaning forward slightly. "You don’t run. You don’t scream. You want to understand first." Her voice was soft, almost teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper. Respect, perhaps. Or curiosity.

Rio, who had been uncharacteristically quiet until now, let out a low whistle. "Well," she said, her grin wide and wolfish as she leaned back against the table. "Our pretty lady is full of surprises."

"Why did you do it?" you asked, your voice quieter now. "The shaman… was it for power or something else?"

Agatha’s smirk faded, replaced by something colder, sharper. She tilted her head, her eyes never leaving yours. "Power," she said simply, her tone devoid of apology or regret. "She was a witch. And witches… are rare in this part of the region. I take what they have, make it mine."

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on you. There was no remorse in her voice, no hesitation in her admission. Yet, despite everything, you didn’t feel the urge to run. If anything, her honesty only deepened the strange love you felt toward her.

"But why her?" you pressed, your voice firmer now. "Why now?"

Agatha’s gaze flicked to Rio briefly before returning to you. "She was old, her power waning," she said matter-of-factly. "She wouldn’t have lasted much longer, and what she carried would have been lost. It was… practical."

You blinked, the cold logic of her words startling but not entirely unexpected. "And you thought that was reason enough to take her life?"

"Do you disagree?" Agatha countered smoothly, her sharp smile returning. "You've lived in a world where power rules, the strong survive, and the weak perish. Don't pretend you're naive to even this."

Your breath hitched, her words cutting deep into truths you had spent your life trying to ignore. She wasn’t wrong—your world was one where power ruled, where those at the top decided life and death. You had seen it in your grandfather’s dealings, in whispered court scandals, and in the quiet disappearances of those who fell out of favour.

But knowing didn’t make it easier to accept.

"I'm not naïve," you said finally, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling within you. "But that doesn't mean I agree. Taking a life, no matter the reason is not something I can just… accept. I'm not heartless."

Agatha tilted her head, her sharp gaze unwavering. "Not even when it’s for survival? For the greater good?"

You hesitated, the question hanging heavy in the air. "I suppose that depends on whose greater good we’re talking about," you said quietly.

Rio, who had been watching the exchange with a bemused expression, finally stepped in. "It's always about perspective, isn't it?" she said lightly, though her tone carried an edge. "One person's villain is another's saviour. Or haven't you learned that yet, my lady?"

Her words sent a chill down your spine, though you refused to let it show. "And which are you?" you asked, gazing at her. "Villain or saviour?"

Rio's grin widened, but her eyes darkened, the playful glint fading into something far more dangerous. "Both," she said simply, her voice soft but brimming with a quiet power that tightened your chest. "Depending on who's telling the story."

Your stomach twisted, her words pulling at something deep inside you—an instinct you couldn’t place but couldn’t ignore. You swallowed hard, the question tumbling from your lips before you could stop it. "Were you there?" Your gaze locked onto Rio, unwavering.

"When Agatha killed the shaman?" Rio asked, her tone almost amused. Her unapologetic demeanour only heightened your unease. "Yes," she admitted, her grin sharpening, "I was there."

Your breath hitched, the confirmation sending a wave of shock through you. It wasn't the admission itself—it was the way Rio said it, as though the question entertained her more than it concerned her.

Agatha leaned forward slightly, her sharp eyes locking onto yours. "And now you're wondering if that makes us monsters," she said smoothly, her voice carrying a dangerous undertone. "That's the real question, isn't it? Not whether we're villains or saviours, but what we are to you."

You stiffened, her words striking a chord you hadn't been ready to acknowledge. Despite the danger they represented, despite the shadows that seemed to follow them, you couldn't deny the truth of your feelings.

"I still love you both," you said, your voice steady enough to hold their attention. "Even after everything, I… can't stop loving you."

Rio's eyes widened momentarily, the surprise flashing across her face before her usual grin returned, though it softened into something more thoughtful. She leaned back against the table, her fingers tapping lightly against the wood. "Well," she said, her voice quieter than before, "that's not something I hear every day."

Agatha’s sharp gaze bore into you, her expression unreadable. "Even knowing what we’ve done?" she asked, her voice soft but laced with something dangerous. "Knowing who we are?"

You met her gaze head-on, refusing to falter. "Yes," you said simply. "I know it doesn’t make sense. And maybe I should run—maybe that would be the smart thing to do. But I can’t. I love you, and I won’t pretend I don’t."

The room fell silent, the weight of your words settling heavily between the three of you. Rio exchanged a glance with Agatha, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them.

"You're braver than I thought, my lady," Rio said finally, her grin softening into something almost reverent. "Most wouldn't dare admit such a thing. Especially… not to us."

Agatha’s lips curved into a slow, sharp smile, though her eyes softened slightly as they held yours. "You’re full of surprises," she murmured, her voice tinged with a quiet admiration. "And maybe… just maybe, you’re not as fragile as I thought."

You let out a shaky breath, the tension in your chest easing slightly as their reactions began to settle in. "I don’t expect you to change," you said, your voice steadier now. "But I won’t let what I feel be dictated by fear. Not anymore."

Rio’s laugh broke the tension, light and melodic as she tilted her head at you. "You’re a remarkable woman," she said, her tone filled with something almost akin to pride. "I can see why the Fates brought us to you."

Agatha's smirk widened, and there was no hint of mockery in it for the first time—only quiet approval. "You might be more dangerous than us, doll," she said softly, raising her tea in a silent toast. "And that… is very intriguing."

You allowed yourself a small, tentative smile for the first time in what felt like forever. Whatever came next, you knew one thing for certain—you weren’t alone in this. And despite everything, despite the risks and the unknowns, that knowledge was enough to keep you standing.

Not everything was solved, but you had two answers—one that settled warmly in your chest and another that sat like a cold stone in the pit of your stomach. You loved them both. That much was clear, undeniable, and inescapable. And yes, Agatha had killed the shaman, her motives rooted in power. You didn’t want to think about the latter too deeply—not now. For now, you wanted to focus on them, to learn more about the two enigmatic women who had turned your world upside down.

"Are you going home?" Agatha’s voice broke through your wandering thoughts, drawing your attention. Her sharp blue eyes tinged faintly with purple in the surreal daylight of their realm, studied you intently.

You blinked, startled. "I… I suppose I should," you replied, though the thought of leaving this place, with its bright, shadowless light and strange warmth, felt almost painful. The atmosphere, their company—it was far more inviting than your empty chambers back home.

Agatha tilted her head slightly, her smirk softening into something more thoughtful. "Or you could stay a little longer," she suggested, her tone deceptively casual.

Rio grinned as she leaned lazily against a nearby table, the golden ornaments on her bracelet catching the light as she moved. "Oh, I like that idea," she said, her voice warm and teasing. "It’s not often we have such delightful company. Besides," she added, leaning closer, "you’ve come all this way. It’d be rude not to enjoy yourself a little, wouldn’t it?"

You hesitated, caught between your own longing to stay and the ever-present voice of propriety whispering in the back of your mind. "I suppose… a little longer wouldn’t hurt," you murmured finally.

"That’s the spirit," Rio said brightly, straightening with a grin. She gestured toward a set of low cushions near an intricately carved wooden table. "Come, let’s make you comfy from that un-comfy chair."

Before you could respond, Agatha rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh, flicking her wrist in that graceful, practised manner. The now-familiar swirl of purple haze enveloped her hand and with a faint shimmer, a soft, luxurious chair materialised behind you. The cushions looked impossibly plush and inviting, far more so than the stiff-backed chair you’d been sitting on.

"There’s no such word as 'un-comfy,' Rio," Agatha said smoothly, her tone carrying just the right amount of mock chastisement. Still, the teasing curve of her lips betrayed her amusement.

Rio shrugged dramatically, flopping onto one of the cushions on the floor with an air of exaggerated nonchalance. "What can I say?" she quipped, her grin as sharp as ever. "I’m a trendsetter. Who needs proper words when you’ve got charm?" She threw a wink your way, earning an eye-roll from Agatha.

"Charm and nonsense seem to be your specialties," Agatha retorted lightly, her sharp blue eyes briefly meeting yours as she gestured toward the chair she had conjured. "Sit, doll. It’s been a long day for you."

You hesitated momentarily, the weight of their gazes making your chest tighten in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. But the plush chair was too tempting to resist. You sank into it, the cushions enveloping you in an almost indulgent way.

Rio leaned back, propping herself up on her elbows as she watched you settle in. "See? Much better than a stuffy old chair, isn’t it?" she said, her voice warm and playful.

You allowed yourself a small smile, nodding slightly as you let the comfort of the chair ease some of the tension in your body. "It is," you admitted softly, glancing between the two of them. Despite their contrasting personalities, the way they both looked at you—with a mix of amusement, curiosity, and something deeper—made your heart flutter in a way you still weren’t sure how to process.

Agatha’s expression softened just a fraction, though her sharp eyes never lost their intensity. "Good," she said simply, her voice low and soothing. "Because you deserve to be comfortable here, with us."

Rio smirked, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief. "Just don’t get too comfy, pretty lady. We wouldn’t want you falling asleep again before the fun begins."

Agatha shot her a warning look, but the corner of her mouth quirked up in a reluctant smile. "Rio," she said dryly, "behave."

Rio merely laughed, her gaze never leaving yours. "What? I’m just saying—our little lady deserves a proper welcome, don’t you think?"

Rio leaned back casually, crossing her arms behind her head and propping her legs on the table with a nonchalance that made your breath catch. Your eyes darted to her with barely concealed shock. It was, without a doubt, one of the most scandalous things you had ever seen. You couldn’t imagine anyone in your household—even your younger brother—behaving with such flagrant disregard for decorum. A noblewoman, no less, sitting like that! Your upbringing screamed against it, yet there was something disarmingly magnetic about Rio’s confidence.

Rio tilted her head, her grin widening as her dark eyes twinkled with amusement. "Something wrong, my lady?" she asked lightly, clearly sensing your culture shock. Her grin turned mischievous. "I’d think someone bold enough to confess her love to two women at once wouldn’t get flustered over a little thing like this." She laughed, low and teasing.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. She was right—after everything you had experienced and admitted, why was this display of impropriety still throwing you off? It was absurd, really. You bit your lip, trying to suppress your own embarrassment, and forced yourself to look away from Rio’s knowing smirk.

"You’re a curious one," Rio remarked again, her tone softening into something more playful. "Still showing this kind of reaction after chasing us down and asking all these questions. I like that about you."

Agatha chuckled softly, her smile sharpening with a touch of dry humour. "She does have a habit of demanding answers," she said, her tone teetering between teasing and serious. "It’s almost endearing. Almost."

Your cheeks burned as you struggled to reconcile their relaxed behaviour with the rigid expectations you had grown up with. Scandalous or not, there was no denying their allure—or the strange love you’d been falling into. The pull you felt toward them, the way your heart raced in their presence, was undeniable.

You flushed slightly but refused to let their teasing throw you off. "I just… want to understand you both better," you admitted, your voice softer now. "I feel like there’s so much I don’t know, and I—"

"Have time," Rio interrupted, her voice unexpectedly gentle. She leaned backward, her dark eyes softening as she met your gaze. "You’ll figure it all out eventually. We’re not going anywhere."

Agatha raised a brow, her smirk softening as her gaze fixed on you. "And in the meantime, perhaps we’ll learn a thing or two about you, doll."

The warmth in their words and the easy way they surrounded you made your chest ache in the best way. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to relax, sinking into the comfort of the chair as their presence wrapped around you like a protective cloak.

The surreal light of their realm filtered through the open space, bathing everything in a gentle glow. The afternoon was filled with quiet conversation and the occasional teasing remark. It wasn’t the answers you had come for, not entirely. But it was enough. For now, it was enough.

#agatha x rio #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x rio vidal #agatha harkness x reader #rio vidal x reader #rio vidal #rio vidal x agatha harkness

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 1 day ago

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Wip Wednesday Thursday

Thank you so much for the tag @milla-frenchy, everyone go read her first Acacius Wip, it sounds so good 🥰

I don't know when they'll be ready but I'm working on two things right now.

I started my first Dave York fic yesterday, here’s a little sneak peek but I need to write so much more:

You see him walk out every morning, perfectly shaved, combed, shirt and pants perfectly pressed, tie understated and elegant, shiny shoes on which not a speck of dust ever seems to have settled. Dave is composed, precise, neat almost in a manic way in his appearance. You've always wondered what's underneath, watching him from your window, sipping coffee and getting ready for another day's work. It has become something of a ritual, watching him walk out of his perfect house, with a perfect garden, get into his perfect car with a thermos of coffee prepared by Carol, his briefcase, as he arranges everything neatly in the car, the coffee in the glove compartment, the briefcase on the passenger seat, it's always the same, never a spot, a snag. Interacting with him in the past has always confirmed to you how cold and calculated everything is about him, he seems to be in control of even his micro expressions, and nothing has ever passed on his face that could make you understand anything more about him.

You see him out early Sunday morning for a run, black sweatpants and white T-shirt, then mowing the lawn, at lunchtime you catch a glimpse of him sitting at the table with his family as Carol serves another meal that looks like it came out of a starred restaurant kitchen. She, too, is similar in some ways. And his daughters? Polite, respectful, always adorably dressed, little princesses of manners. But it is he, above all, who arouses your interest. There is something about him that draws you inexplicably, curiosity to find out if he has some flaw, if there is something that stirs him inside.

Second one is a dead dove with Joel, extremely hard to write but I still want to try my best:

Tall, dark hair, eyes as black as night, a slight beard on his perfectly chiseled face, prominent nose, a dimple that opens on his cheek when he smiles. He checks all the boxes on your list.

His deep, mellifluous voice convinces your altered mind that there is nothing wrong with secluding yourself with him-when does it happen again that someone so perfect talks to you?

The awkward, insecure, never enough you. The girl who was bullied all her teenage years, called ugly and fat, the girl who was told no one would ever fuck her.

Not true, you want to scream.

It's not true, I can be seen too.

Me too, even if you see your ungainly and unattractive body.

Me too, even if you are convinced that there is something deeply wrong with the way you look. Me too, even if I don't believe it either.

So you go out with this guy, who takes you to an alley near the disco.

He chose you. And he is beautiful in an impossible way. And you feel like the universe has finally provided something for you, something enticing, something that makes you feel alive.

Sure, this alley is dark and dirty and inhospitable, but so what.

Happy Thursday everyone!

npt: @almostempty @baronessvonglitter @cas-readsandwrites @aurorawritestoescape @mountainsandmayhem @thundermartini @whocaresstillthelouvre @syd-djarin

#wip thursday #wip whenever

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depressedromanticism · 2 years ago

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Regret is all that stays at the end. Being haunted by the memories of you is not something that I asked for .

What a waste of us. What a waste of love .

#heart and soul #heartburn #heartbrokcnn #heartbroken #sadness is all over me #sadness is rebellion #i truly wonder #how can i still feel like this inexplicable way #its been 3 years #what was it all for #this ?#heartbreak #sadness #and being broken

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bmpmp3 · 1 year ago

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lemme tell you im starting to get a little sick of when im complaining about when a show or movie is writing a major female character with not as much depth as her male cohorts or she's written oddly plot device-like for a main character and people always tell me "oh but it's intentional, we're seeing her through the eyes of the male main character and he has a crush on her so he doesnt see her flaws" because like

FIRST of all yeah i get it but its hard to write that trope interestingly to me at this point without a lot of work put into subversion so intentionality doesnt make it any less boring

SECONDLY half the time people say this about ensemble cast stuff and like why is the random dude suddenly designated as the most perspective of all perspective characters when it comes to this specific woman. why dont we get to see the other characters perspectives on her too?

AND THIRDLY do people view women they have crushes on as bland plot devices without lives of their own enough irl that this is so universal in writing? isnt the point of having a crush wanting to hang out and know more about your crush, know about their likes and dislikes and all that. am i missing something here

#im gonna sound insane for what im about to say. but i grew up watching way to much harem anime for a 10 year old #and im gonna be honest. maybe that spoiled me? those things were not without their flaws but at least the 5 different magical giant #goddess demon vampire women with multicoloured hair inexplicably in love with random normal guy at least had like. inner lives #like thats why the guy is so normal and bland. because the focus is on the magical women and their pink hair and their complicated #backstories and familial lives and whatever outside of the main character #like theyre still big boobied colourful haired fantasies but at least they showed me something about em #when it comes to these other stories where a woman is treated like a plot device love interest and written like a dead wife in an #action movie but like. alive. i cant help but feel like. are you holding out on me? i want to know her. show me her LIFE i want to SEE IT #grabs writers by the collar ARE YOU HOLDING OUT ON ME???#its nuts because sometimes you see the bones of a really cool character but the writers are more interested in what she can do for the main #male character and how he sees her than whats going on in her head. i dunno im just getting annoyed. i think u can do this trope well #like how i think you can write basically any trope well. but i see intentionality used an excuse so often so i wanna see you do #SOMETHING interesting with this trope if ur gonna do it at least. subvert it in cool ways i dunno just do ANYTHING hfjdkjfkd

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everythingsinred · 2 years ago

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Sorry if you've already brought this up somewhere at some point, but I have two NatsuMikan questions about,,, gregnancy 😬

1) Do you think they'd even want kids? I can imagine that they'd both be hesitant on the idea of having a kid that undoubtedly would have an Alice, even if the academy wasn't chasing families down anymore (which like, that is a thing that was stopped, right? I hope it was because that's literally so traumatic, why is this school so fucking traumatizing)

2) There would be a chance that the kid could get an Alice shape like Natsume's, so like,, that could be rough on his end, like would they even want to do that without knowing how long Natsume has?

I realize that kinda seeps into an idea that people with chronic and/or terminal illnesses can't have families or be happy or something, but I'm just thinking about Natsume's mom, and how young he was when she died. I *heavily* doubt he would remember her death, but I'm certain that he would feel her loss, and I'm just wondering if you think he would go through with it despite that.

Personally, I have a hard time imagining them having a family, but that may be because for the majority of the series, they are children. Whenever I do try to imagine it, my brain just goes into Punnett Square Mode(tm) and tries to figure out what could be dominant traits from what is known, so not much is done there lmao

these are really great questions. to be honest because they never actually talk about it, the answer would be entirely up to headcanon, so there is no right or wrong answer.

also this ended up being rly long and rambly sorry

funnily enough i did mention this topic a lil when i'd reblogged a character question meme thing and someone requested i do all of them (i'd established myself as a natsume aficionado at this point i guess lmao). the relevant part of my answer to question #13 (about what he'd be like as a parent) was:

i feel like natsume would be hesitant at first to be a dad. like he’d be super happy to find out mikan is pregnant ofc but he’d be hesitant. maybe he wouldn’t voice it. he’d be uncomfortable on several counts: 1) life shortening alices are genetic and he would never want his child to suffer as he has. 2) he’d be scared that he wouldn’t have as much time to spend with his kid as he’d like and would be sad to miss out on important milestones in the case that he dies too young. in my mind the life-shortening alice gets cured after a few years so these become non-issues and thus he gets very happy about having a kid.

something you must know about me is that i HATE the thought of natsume dying like it fully disgusts me--i hate to imagine he dies young. it feels really wrong to me. my brain cannot allow me to view the last little bit of the manga as canon tbh, so it's constructed another canon ending for me that includes the discovery of a cure for the fourth shape. (is it even possible to cure it? i dont CARE.) because of this (delusional) state of mind, i dont rly think of most of the things you mentioned. the cool thing about post-canon is that nobody can really stop you from thinking whatever you want. but i will address all of your points anyway bc theyre valid and then ill give my thoughts on them having kids, though im not an expert and certainly not the deciding opinion on what headcanons other ppl should adopt.

its a good point to bring up, discussing what happy endings exist for ppl with chronic or terminal diseases in media, even if he still has the same alice shape. my sister zoe has type 1 diabetes and we've had conversations about this exact thing (not about natsume; about her). it's a complicated issue for her, because even if type 1 diabetes isn't terminal (anymore), it is a huge source of grief and upset for her AND it's genetic. it ultimately comes down to each individual person, i think. some disabled or sick people want cures, others don't. some want children, some don't. because each person is different, what each person wants for their future or even in the media they consume is different as well.

your first question reminds me of yuka, actually, whose dream was to start a family and live a happy life. when she finds out her baby has an alice, she tries to steal it because she wants mikan to have a good life, and not suffer as she had, until kaoru stops her. it's definitely a valid concern, but i don't know how natsume or mikan feel about it in terms of having their own kid. personally im still not sure how the academy has actually changed since mikan left. we don't really get much of a breakdown. that being said, even though mikan said "i trust narumi-sensei" and that she didnt regret coming to the academy in kageki, im pretty certain that if they did become parents, they definitely wouldnt want their kid taken away from them.

which would mean the academy would have to change fundamentally to allow BOTH 1. parents to decline sending their kids to alice academy without being ceaselessly harassed and scouted AND 2. parents who do choose to send their kids to alice academy to get full visiting and contacting privileges WHICH SHOULD GO WITHOUT SAYING?? if a mom hears her son is crying himself to sleep bc he misses her, she should be allowed to call him or visit or send him a care package. (you know. how normal boarding schools work.)

maybe if the school changed in this way (and hey, maybe it did), then i could see natsume and mikan feeling a bit better about having a kid.

the next point, about natsume's alice shape being genetic... yeah its pretty rough. natsume the martyr, who always thinks of others, would never EVER have kids if he thought there was even a chance his child might suffer like he did.

so i guess my answer is... depending on what you want to believe happens after the ending, natsume and mikan MIGHT have kids and they MIGHT not. it entirely depends on what developments take place. ppl have been coming up w headcanons for their future even before the manga ended, anything from completely ignoring natsumes alice shape to having mikan and their potential kids visit his grave (not my favorite premise tbh).

ig my idea of natsume having his alice shape "cured" or undone or whatever comes from wanting one of my favorite characters to live a long happy life. its not specifically for the outcome of children or anything like that. its just worth noting that the academy is also a research institute, that there's healing alices in this world, and that you can make up whatever you want bc its a fantasy setting where ppl have magical powers and are able to undo death. (yes this is me justifying my staunch belief that natsume doesnt die in his early twenties.)

personally, i dont mind them having kids. its not rly something focal to me bc theres so much else going on in the story and with their characters for me to think about that the idea of kids is so far away. still, sometimes i like reading a lil fic about them having a kid, canon or au. its kinda cute. i also kinda like it in that if i believe they could have kids, that means that natsume MUST live and his alice must no longer be an issue (bc like we both agree on, natsume simply would not have kids if he thought the child could inherit his alice shape). in my head, i kinda always assumed they would? its made possible by my delusions. if you read the questions post i linked up there, i said "it's non-negotiable" but that was mainly in regards to higuchi maintaining in the memorial book that natsume wouldnt live a very long life. again, natsume WOULDN'T have kids if he knew they had a chance of suffering like he did, so that means if he ever DID have kids, then that chance must no longer exist. idk if that makes sense.

again, im really actually not an expert. i would even say "i didnt create these characters" except that that would mean higuchi's say should be final and i dont want her say to be final. really, its a fictional world w fictional characters. so if u wanna be delusional like me and find it difficult to see higuchi's ending without saying "but thats not what it looks like to ME," then go for it! we can be happy together. but also if these aspects of natsume and mikan and the academy feel inseparable from your own beliefs of the story, then thats fine too. honestly theres rly no right or wrong answer when it comes to post-ending headcanon. ppl can disagree. dont take me saying "i want natsume to have kids so he can spite higuchi" or whatever as a way of judging or disapproving of the headcanon that he wouldnt have kids. its a plausible outcome that he wouldn't. i just feel like i need to say that bc my opinion doesnt rly weigh more than anybody else's

i must say though: thank you for sending this ask. i have been having a rough day and coming home to answer this took my mind off the whole situation and made me feel so much better <3 thank you

#i did doodle natsumikan children once when i was 14 or 15. i can admit that now #also theres the very real possibility that they could um. get pregnant on accident.#which is a WHOLE OTHER CAN OF WORMS. i dont know if i can comment on that #im sorry for being so unhelpful abt post-ending topics. i HATE the ga ending but i love ga so the ending isnt real to me #in order to cope my brain became incapable of viewing the ending as legitimate. it feels instead like a POTENTIAL ending #rather than The Ending #the real ending (to me) never sent hotaru to another dimension and natsume gets to live bc of an inexplicable but very story-prominent cure #the academy goes through a lot of institutional change bc its built on the exploitation of children as its very premise #in order to become a good place #it must change its base premise as well as most of the ways it works.#i like shiki. i just legit cant believe that a man who used to be in anti academy terrorist group just let it continue on as is #like. hed do something about it. create change. hes a good guy and he still loves yuka theres just no way he wouldnt actually change it #answered #tardytothepardy #ga #god im rly sorry this is so long #tbh i dont actually know how to answer ur question in a satisfying way. the real answer is maybe? who knows? all up to u really

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hamsternella · 4 months ago

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PLEEEEASE a nsfw alphabet for Stanford??🥺

SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG

Stanford Pines NSFW Alphabet

A= Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Despite the tiredness and embarrassment once the heat of the moment wears off, Ford goes to great lengths to wrap you in his arms and hold you tight against his chest, where you can hear his heartbeat. He likes to let you know how well you did, and how much he loves you. Caresses and kisses, as well as laughter and sweet whispers until falling asleep are never lacking.

B= Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ford would always say his brain. He is a cool, methodical person who almost always finds a way to achieve great results. Thinking and ingenuity are like breathing to him. But of course in this case that's not the answer; considering that the last thing he can use is his brain when he has you in front of him. It is as if only his heart exists, beating wildly at the sight of the most beautiful and inexplicable thing he has been able to witness in his entire existence: you.

That being the case, he can't find any other part of himself that he likes enough. Maybe his hands, because he knows how much you love it when he touches you. And if it's you, it would be everything—Ford is unable to pick just one part of your body. If he had to, maybe it would be your waist; because he loves to grab you with both hands from that spot to keep you still, under or on top of him, and at whatever pace he can best get those sweet sounds out of you that fascinate him so much.

C= Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He cums a lot and hard. Preferably inside you or on your face; sometimes pushing a little with his fingers to fill your mouth with his cum. He loves it when you clean his hand with your tongue.

D= Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Ford would never tell you—there's a reason it's a secret. But do you still remember those times when you couldn't find your underwear, and suspiciously it was during the weekdays when Ford took care of the laundry, and oddly enough he took all the time in the world to iron and put the laundry away...? Yeah, well. I think you know what I mean. Don't mention to him how obvious it is that he's been stealing your underwear to masturbate with it. Don't tell him, really.

Also don't mention that you've actually felt him cling to you when you sleep; looking for more than just warmth at night. Don't tell him that you clearly feel him down there—hard and warm.

Or do. Who knows what might happen.

E= Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Technically no experience at all. Of course he had gotten to kiss other women, maybe a little touch with one or two, but that was many, many years ago; by now he hardly remembers anything at all. Besides he was very young; he used to think differently and be busier with his research. Now that the world is at peace and he can enjoy the calm and family life, it is more than obvious that the only thing he has to defend himself at the beginning of the relationship is all theoretical. It's not a terrible thing, of course. Ford is willing to experiment and learn with you.

F= Favorite position

There are still many positions to try and discover, but the most used —for comfort and practicality— are three par excellence.

Doggy, because nothing is nicer than being able to see you under him, with your ass and waist at his disposal to play to his heart's content.

Cowgirl/Cowboy, because even though he loves making love to you, Ford has to accept that at his age it's hard to stay steady all the time. Sometimes he needs a little help from you to avoid looking pathetic for getting tired after so much action—even if you tell him there's nothing pathetic about it. Besides, don't you look lovely on top of him, with your body shaking and your eyes glazed over? Best view of all.

Spooning, because Ford goes crazy holding you from behind, pushing his hips against your ass; with one of his hands working over your body and his lips on your neck, waking you up from a long night of deep sleep. This man is desperate to touch you.

G= Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Ford is quite serious during the moment, but this is because he is a very shy person about approaching you to begin with. Even if it comes to playing along with you he is the first and last to get embarrassed. An occasional nervous laugh; sometimes little choked sentences if he notices you looking at him too much, and that makes him lose his concentration. But in general he is someone very focused, who seeks not to lose the thread of the moment. His biggest fear is disappointing you.

H= Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

A lot of things happened and he hasn't had the time, nor the desire, to get down to work there. That being the case, I'd say hairy; but at least he's started to take the time to trim it down a bit and make it halfway nice for you. If it's something that would bother you, Ford is willing to trim it further—even all of it.

But yeah. Super hairy.

I= Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Ford takes care to be careful with everything he does or says, always seeking to satisfy the needs of your body and mind; every fantasy you have closely tied to everything he does to make you feel fulfilled. He is a dedicated man, with nimble hands and a sensitive heart. Sweet and witty words are never lacking, always driving you crazy in his arms and against his lips. Sensuality is never in short supply.

J= Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He's been starting to do it more often since he's been with you. Not a lot, because he prefers to do it with you; but once in a while never hurts if he can't get you out of his head. He needs at least something of yours to make him cum—your underwear or the warmth of your body. He needs you.

He cums fast and hard, with the piece of clothing against his face, inhaling intensely; or with a free hand on your body, against your skin.

K= Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Definitely role-playing and cockwarming.

L= Location (favorite places to do the do)

Private places, if possible. Ford doesn't want to risk the possibility of being seen by someone else. He loves to have you in the bedroom, or even in his study room. Any place where no one and nothing will interrupt you.

M= Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

To see you in his clothes, to hear your voice, to come on to him... to suddenly appear dressed for some sensual and perverse role-playing... My goodness, how you drive him crazy.

Ford is a simple guy: he sees his partner existing and making eyes at him, and suddenly he feels his body warm and ready to go.

N= No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Threesomes, because he can't accept the idea of seeing you with someone else, let alone seeing himself with someone other than you. Ford is also unwilling to degrade you or physically harm you; just as he does not find it attractive to allow the same to be done to him.

O= Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Ford loves to receive oral, but he prefers to give it. He loves to put his mouth down there, tasting you and pulling out sounds that haunt him in his best dreams. You are a delight. Even if he's inexperienced, he's so desperate to have you in his mouth that the guy learns in no time to meet your expectations. There's no way not to lose your mind when Ford is taking care of everything between your legs; with his hands holding you by the flesh of your thighs, with his fingers caressing your skin.

Imagine his face if you proposed sitting on it. Imagine that, I insist. It's the best.

P= Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual; deep and hard. Getting all the way in, Ford always gives a little push to press himself against you, hiding his face in the space of your neck. He will talk to you through this—be prepared for a couple of whimpers and muffled moans.

Q= Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn't like them at all. He prefers to take his time with you. Although if you are very needy, then maybe he can find a way.

R= Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Ford loves to experiment! And with that always comes risk. But when it comes to sex, this all takes a different turn; and while he's willing to try new things and experiment with you, he'll always be against anything that might hurt you or make you both uncomfortable.

S= Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The years and the various experiences out in the open have weathered Ford, and have made him a man with a lot of physical capacity to endure long hours without sleep and with a lot of work. Research work, of course; the physical stuff has always been for fighting or survival.

With this in mind, Ford is able to handle quite a bit of foreplay and sex itself, but he tires quickly after a second round—if the first one wasn't strong enough. Even if he feels he can't go on, he has no problem helping you by using his hands or mouth; as well as any other part of his body that comes in handy. Hopefully and maybe there will be another round if you manage to turn him on one more time.

T= Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Ford doesn't need toys. He only needs you. Now, if in a hypothetical case you would like to use one, he has no problem even designing his own to use with you. At first you tell him no, because it's easier to buy them; but after seeing some plans and listening to him talk so excitedly, seeing that he even starts to consider the idea of implementing other things when it comes to sex, you come to the conclusion that maybe it's not so bad.

Ford opts to use toys on you, not him. They don't get his attention that way.

U= Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not so much, really. He thinks it's cute to see you being so desperate for him. But at the end of the day it's something that makes him desperate too. Ford couldn't stand to play with you like this for long; he needs to accede to your needs in order to satisfy his own.

V= Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Whimpers A LOT, and likes to moan loudly—but tries to drown them out, fearful that someone might hear them.

If the two of you are in a place where you can be sure not to be overheard, Ford sets out to talk to you during the act.

W= Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He's unexpected and always manages to sweep you off your feet, but Ford is capable of the hottest dirty talk you can imagine. When you least expect it you have him with his lips on your ear, his hot breath on your skin, and his husky, deep voice of desire spitting out dirty, kinky phrases that keep you with your hands pushing against his chest; his fingers pressing against the skin of your neck, surprising you with how much this man can separate himself from the real world and let you drown in his darkest fantasies.

Ford prefers not to talk about it after everything calms down. It will take some time.

X= X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Not as long, but definitely fat. The tip is quite sensitive. Slightly curved downward.

Y= Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Since he discovered how fascinating your touch is, quite high. Although it's more what he desires than what he can get to do. If he gets careless, he comes quickly. It's fun to play on his desperation and make him wait; that might help him endure his neediness with you a little longer.

Z= Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pretty fast; but he strives to see that you're okay after all, and that you're resting with him. His priority is you, after all.

#fanfic #reader insert #reader #ns//fw #gravity falls stanford #gravity falls #stanford pines x reader #stanford pines #ford pines #ford

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caramelkoo · 1 month ago

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before we shatter — jjk [one]

genre : established relationship, idol!jungkook

word count : 6k

summary : dating an idol is fun, they said. having a family with one is fun, they said. Until you're falling face forward because of your reality. A reality where Jungkook dreams of a future and a reality where your own future is collapsed.

chapter warnings : nsfw, strong language, mature content, fluff, so much angst, smut, talks of infertility, clit sucking, fingering, Jungkook worships her, dirty talk, doggy style, reader is in so much pain i love her sm, fall vibes <33, gift giving as a love language, pussy slapping with his d, big dick energy, jungkook is desperate. that's about it please mention if i missed anything.

read part two here

a/n : based on this ask so thank you anon for coming forward and giving me a chance to write this. i also wanna mention that im no doctor so please forgive me if i didn't do the topic of infertility justice. the second part gives more clarity in their case so please be kind to wait. enjoy and im v v grateful for you. you're so loved.

When you were a child, barely five, an orange butterfly came flying outside your front door. Your mom told you about it since she saw it first causing your entire face to instantly light up like the fourth of july.

An inexplicable joy filled your whole body making your day ten times better, not that you were having a bad one. A five year old can’t have a bad day whatsoever.

After you were done chasing it around, secretly hoping that it would land on your nose just the way they show on television, you had to let it go and head back inside.

Oddly enough the next morning you saw it again, this time it was not flapping its wings like it had last night, instead it was sitting on the window beside the door. Quiet and still.

You, ever so curious, had to ask your mom about it. “It might find comfort there,” she said.

Up until you met your boyfriend you had spent the majority of your time wondering where your comfort place is, what is that one place where you can just be yourself and not pretend to be some stoic woman. A place which lets you cry whenever you want but also replaces those tears with wide smiles and loud giggles.

Turns out, it’s your boyfriend’s arms.

It’s true. Jungkook with his kind, sparkly bambi eyes and bunny smile stole your damn heart a few years ago and is not willing to give it back. Although you can’t complain, in a world where people can’t seem to find the one for themselves, the angels up there granted you a guy every inch a gentleman. Safe to say it’s not one like one of those titular relationships you've come across.

He’s your solace, a roof where you can safely just about exist.

He heals you.

Dating an Idol comes with several perks, the biggest one of those being dealing with the huge amount of selective criticism. You feel hurt, of course, but when you’re with Jungkook, they are nothing but words behind a pixel. A pain that only lasts momentarily.

This pain though, is not as mundane. This one is making your stomach twist in apprehension. You’ve lost the count of how many deep breaths you’ve taken.

“I’m afraid this is a case of infertility miss _____” the doctor says, earning your attention.

You’re not able to form a word, however that does nothing to stop your subconscious mind from screaming, I knew it.

Being stupid enough to think you were well prepared to hear her say this, you mustered up the courage to enter the four walled white space which, at that time, didn’t feel as narrow as it does now. It’s almost as if it’s closing up on you.

Only after you sat before the woman in white coat and bad news, did you realize how gut wrenching this actually feels.

You face her with a weak smile, one that doesn’t actually reach your eyes, “Are- are you sure you’re not mistaken?”

Dr. Ana leans forward, resting her forearms on the table. The move itself tells you more than you need to. “Miss _____, I know it’ll be hard for you to come to terms with this but I suggest you try. I would also like to tell you, and I hope I’m not overstepping, but you can always go with adoption. The options are endless.”

Your throat feels awfully dry and you gulp. “Thank you uh, can I ask you for a favor?”

“Anything”

“If you happen to cross paths with Jungkook, please don’t mention anything about this to him.”

Dr. Ana flashes you a kind smile, “Of course not ____. It’s your personal matter. I wouldn’t dare.”

“Thanks a lot.”

With one last nod you excuse yourself from her office. Your phone buzzes inside your pocket and you take it out, seeing Jungkook’s number stare up at you.

“Hey”

“Hey, my love. Are you busy?” His voice nearly brings tears to your eyes. It also brings up a question. Will he act the same towards you after you tell him where you are and what you just heard? Will his voice be filled with the same amount of excitement and affection for you?

“No, honey. I’m actually at my sister’s place. She was craving some alone time with her husband and asked me to babysit Coco”

You can visualise him awing already. Jungkook has grown attached to your sister’s daughter a little too much. His bond with Coco is just so bright it makes you wonder if they happened to be an actual father and daughter duo in the past life. They’re both full of beans and it’s a delight to see them both together.

He chimes, “Ah my little Coco bean. Is she near? Let me hear my angel.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try to come up with any transitory excuse that doesn’t make you run for the hills. “She’s sleeping right now. Made me work for it but I managed to settle her down”

Jungkook moans from the other side of the line and you mentally curse yourself. Not only are you lying through your teeth but also using your innocent niece as a pawn. From the day you began dating Jungkook, you’ve not looked at any other man. For the first time now, you have this nagging feeling as though you’re cheating on him.

“Well, alright next time then. When are you coming back home?”

“As soon as they do. Do you miss me already?” I tease.

“Pfft me and miss you? Impossible”

You gasp, the audacity of this boy. “How rude!!”

Your goofy boyfriend dares to chuckle, “I carry you with me everywhere I go, love. It’s hard to miss someone who’s this close to you every time of the day.”

It doesn’t take you long to grasp what he is referring to. The heart shaped bracelet rests proudly on his wrists and the man had refused to take it off ever since you gifted it to him. A sense of longing already creeps up in your heart, twisting it until you run out of breath.

Your chest expands as you fill it with much needed air, “Listen, honey I’ll give you a call soon yeah? I think Coco has woken up and I must go check if she needs something,” you fake a chuckle, “You know how she gets when she’s irritated”

“Oh yes of course. Promise to give me a call soon?”

This time the smile on your face is genuine, “I promise”

“Give Coco a kiss for me. I love you.”

“I love you.”

There’s a heavy weight on your chest as soon as you hang up the call. Maybe it has always been there. So, for a couple of minutes you just stand there in the hallway of the hospital taking in the sterile smell and worrisome patients, praying that the highest power up there gives you one last chance so you could try and fix what’s been ruined.

The commotion around you does nothing to overtake the voices in your head and sadness fires through you as you feel like you’re burning your boats. Despite all of that, you pray for one last time, this time for again being strong enough to let go.

Let go of your happiness.

Let go of your salvation.

Let go of your comfort.

Let go of Jungkook.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

You click the door shut behind you, hanging the coat on the rack. You’re not even done turning around when a muscular arm wraps around your abdomen and you’re pulled back against a taut chest.

“I missed you” his voice is muffled against your jumper.

You run your palms over Jungkook’s forearm, stopping to interlace your fingers with his.The way his hands fit with yours is adorable to you as if they were made to do so. The bracelet on his wrist is cool against your skin and you smile. “You know what’s funny? This guy I talked to earlier said it’s impossible for him to miss me”

He rests his chin on top of your shoulders, cheeks warm against yours. He has grown out a stubble which makes him look manlier for some reason and you can’t stop caressing it with your fingers whenever you cup his face.

“You’re talking to other guys?” If you hadn’t known Jungkook better than himself, you would have missed the pout of his lips when he said that.

You turn your face and place a sloppy kiss on his cheekbones, “Only my favourite guy in the whole world.”

He breaks out in a toothy grin and holds your gaze. “You’re my favourite girl too but I think you already know that.”

You nod but the pang of guilt is still lingering in your heart. “Still love hearing it.”

Jungkook releases you from his embrace and walks back, rounding the kitchen counter until he’s holding up a large bowl. “Ready for our fall ritual?”

Jungkook and you have been using your mum’s recipe to bake chocolate chip cookies every fall and while you enjoy baking with him, the thing that you take the most pleasure from is his face when he munches on the first cookie.

It’s one of your favorite sights ever. It takes quite a bit of effort to bake them but hell if you wouldn’t do it all over again just to see him close his eyes and moan like it is the best thing since sliced bread.

You join him behind the counter and look around. From the way the batter has already been prepared you suppose he’s been at it for a while. There are some chocochips in a small bowl across from you with some cranberries next to them because he knows you like them in your cookies.

“You don’t ever forget about the cranberries, do you?”

“Nope. They’re your favourite plus if you eat well, I can eat you well– ouch,” he jumps, “What was that for?”

You offer him a glare which does nothing to stop the smile threatening to break out of your lips, “Behave”

His face inches closer to yours, “Now honey don’t be acting like I didn’t give you the best orgasm this morning”

Oh well, how can you forget about that? Ninety nine percent of the time you love waking up in his arms while he’s the big spoon but there’s that one percent where he wakes you up with his head between your legs, sometimes with his face under your shirt sucking on your nipples. Indissoluble passion within him. His ability to satisfy you with his mouth alone needs to be studied because god if you don’t crave more and more.

You blink, once twice thrice, “You’re incorrigible”

He lets out a cackle at your flustered face as you wonder when you will stop blushing like a fool around him. It’s been years and he still makes you feel like you’re wrapped up in a ball of jitters. Jungkook leans back and straightens up. He plucks the apron from the counter before coming up behind you. “Hold your hair up for me” He demands.

You grab a fistful of your hair and lift them up as he settles it on your neck before tying the knot at your back. With one last kiss on the back of your neck he joins you.

“How long has it been since you began making this?”

“Not long ago. Thought I’d wait for you to come back home and then continue”

You watch him add the chocochips into the dough. His tattoos are barely visible behind the cozy sweater he’s wearing. At the risk of sounding like a hypocrite, Jungkook with his perfect physique and gorgeous face looks good in everything, more so naked, but nothing triggers your cuteness aggression more than him wearing a fluffy knitted sweater, believe it or not. One which you knitted at that.

He pulls your attention away pausing your little drooling session, “How’s Coco bean doing?”

A sudden urge of getting close to him creeps up and you sneak between the counter and him, hugging him as you nuzzle your face in his chest. He smells like cinnamon. He places a gentle kiss on the crown of your head before resting his chin there.

“You smell so good”

“Thanks and she’s as chaotic as ever. Nailea bought the cutest pair of pyjamas for her,” you look up at him, “She looked like a loaf of bread when they made her wear it.”

“No way. Should we buy her another one of those?” he pulls back, barely able to hide the excitement on his face.

“You’re gonna spoil her”

“Damn right I will and if you call this spoiling, wait till I get one of those made by me.”

There it is.

If Jungkook wasn’t so fond of children, would it have been easier for you to cope? You do realize that you’re a stone’s throw away from losing him for once and for all. In the old days you heard somewhere that it takes a strong man to save to save himself and a great man to save another.

You want to be that brave person who saves him from lifelong loathing and regret towards you.

This turning point in your life gives you two options, one where you can hang by a thread and bite your tongue while you continue your life with him, another where you set him free. The latter one wins and you, however, lose.

“Hey you went silent there. You okay?” He cups your cheek with one hand, his thumb grazing your cheekbones so gently you try not to cry.

You nod and flash him a smile. Or at least you try to smile and detach yourself from him. “Perfect. Let’s get those cookies baking shall we?”

Jungkook keeps looking at you with an expression which tells you he’s trying to search for something, but you try not to give anything away. Yet.

He gives you a look, his eyes sparkling under the low light in the room,

“Wait here for a second i’ll be right back”

“Where are you goi-”

“Just a second. Don’t move” His voice trails off as he goes further into the bedroom. A minute later when he comes back, there’s nothing different about him except the sneaky smile on his face. He walks towards you and grabs you by the waist as he sits you on the counter. Your hands instantly clutch his shoulders for support.

“What is happening, baby?” You mumble, clearly in a fog.

He says nothing as he gets down on his knees. Taking a hold of your right leg, he places it on his thigh. You swallow.

He looks up, clashing his eyes with yours, “You ask too many questions, do you know that?”

Seconds later he’s taking something out of his jogger pocket and a cool sensation brushes your skin. You peek down, curiosity finally killing the cat as you see a silver anklet adorned by a pink stone in the middle of it embraced around your ankles.

His name is a whisper on your lips, “Jungkook”

He gets up, facing you as he stands. But not before pecking the anklet as well as your skin. His face which earlier was eerie, now entirely soft.

“Mom sent this for you.”

You don’t hold back tears this time, letting them run free. You glance at the jewellery again as it shines under the light of the kitchen lamp. The pink stone glares at you as if it knows you’re not worthy of such a valuable item.

“It’s beautiful”

He gently wipes the tears away,

“It’s just the beginning, love. I’m not gonna stop until I see a band wrapped around your finger. I feel too lonely being the only one there.”

You playfully smack him on the chest, a giggle slipping free. With a tired shake of your head you admit, “This is overwhelming”

“What is?” he asks,

“All of this,” you keep your gaze on him, sniffing as you continue,“Your little acts of service, your love, your presence and now this gift. I feel like I’m taking too much not giving enough”

Your throat feels too tight, as if someone is just cutting off your air supply when you should be feeling free in his arms.

Jungkook’s eyebrows tense as he reaches for you. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear he tries to reassure you, “Don’t say that. I hate when you question your worth,” he pecks the back of your hands, “These hands feed me, hold me when I need them to, give me warmth, gentle touches”,

His lips find both of your eyes next as you close them, feeling his soft lips on them,

“These eyes tear up with happiness every time you listen to me in the studio”,

Your ears follow next, “These ears tolerate my snoring”,

Then your lips, “And this mouth, my favourite, whispers ‘i love you’ to me every morning, leaves kisses on my skin, screams my name and most importantly, forms the loveliest smile when I make you happy.” His eyes are oh so gentle as he says this.

You’re about to respond when his phone buzzes on the counter next to you. Your heart stops. Fuck is it Dr. Ana?

To your surprise, it’s Jimin’s number on the screen.

“Pick it up, honey. It might be important.”

His thumb presses on the red button as he declines the call, “I’ll talk to him later. My girlfriend comes first.”

Neither of you say a word as the room gets filled with a comfortable silence. The cookies are long forgotten, your eyes doing all the talking. Even if you try your hardest you’re not sure you can say anything which is remotely justifiable of what he just said to you.

Jungkook is so much more than meets the eye, he’s vulnerable, he’s empathetic, he’s loving. His eyes shine the brightest when he’s happy about something and you’re so full of contempt about the fact that eventually you will be the one to snatch away that shine. This hornet’s nest is going to ruin me, ruin him.

“I wanna kiss you so bad” He whispers, leaning closer but you stop him with your palms on his chest.

“Wait, I-I want to talk about something”

His voice is downright pleading when he says, “Later baby. I’m fucking gonna die if I don’t take that mouth right now. Please?” his breath touches your bare lips.

Feeling a flutter in your chest you nod and he leans towards you, hand cupping your lower jaw as he touches his lips to yours. Softly at first, then his pace quickens. Your hands grab his sweater as you pull him even closer, deepening the kiss. His moan echoes followed by your own as you both lose yourselves in each other. You let go of every menacing thought and just focus on the taste of his lips.

He pulls back slightly, taking a deep breath as he fills his chest with air. Those beautiful lips are pink and swollen from the heated kiss you just shared with him. Getting rid of the sweater, he tosses it aside as his eyes sparkle with amusement.

Without wasting any time he begins nibbling at your neck, slightly biting onto it as your hands run over his back. He’s so beautiful it takes your breath away. Not to toot your own horn but you have the most gorgeous boyfriend and you’re not ashamed to show him off.

His lips ghost over your nipples from over your high neck top and you groan.

“Jungkook, please”

He pulls back with a smug look on his face, “Please what ____?”

“Please fuck me. I need your cock so bad.”

“Yeah? Is that what my girl wants?”

At this point your body is thrumming with anticipation and desire as you watch him move his hands closer to the waistband of your pants. His hands pause when they meet the lace material, his pupils dilate.

He smiles, “It’s the one I gifted you. Were you hoping for this huh?”

Your lips stretch into a smile. You hadn’t particularly hoped for this, no, because your relationship with him is not just based on physical pleasures. You guys have sex of course, but it’s not the prominent part of the bond you share. It’s more than that. The lace lingerie set was gifted to you by Jungkook on a random day. It was one of those quote unquote just because gifts.

“What do you think?” you ask, giving him a quick kiss.

He grabs you by the back of your neck and holds you there for a moment before leaning back and looking straight into your eyes. “I think you should lose it or else I’ll ruin it”

You gasp, swatting him on the bicep. “Don’t you dare. It’s my favourite pair”

Without preamble he picks you off the counter making you wrap your legs around his waist. You both are so close it takes your breath away. Chest to chest, groin to groin, face to face with lips inches away from each other’s as you share a breath.

He walks into your shared bedroom as you clash your lips against his, pulling his lower one between yours, earning a groan out of him. You both are downright feral, letting your hands run over every area of each other’s body. Jungkook’s hands grabbing your ass, yours pulling on his hair lightly before trailing down his chest, pausing on his pecs.

When you reach your bedroom, he sits himself down with you on top of his lap. Your hips move forward and you hiss as your still jean clad pussy brushes his cock. He’s so hard you wonder if he’s close to coming already.

Rough hands scrape over your back, hips, down your thigh before they finally settle on either side of your waist, gipping them tightly but also with a hint of gentleness. One thing you admire about your man is that he doesn’t treat you like a fragile woman, he knows you’re strong and you’ll not break if he’s rough with you.

Jungkook pulls back from your lips.“Fuck honey, you’re such a goddess. Look at this body. I still can’t believe I get to call you mine”

You shake your head, totally under his spell. “I’m the lucky one here, baby. You have no idea how lucky I am.”

His hand brushes over your ass before he dips it inside your pants, reaching your already soaked pussy as he pushes a finger inside you. This earns a whimper from you as you tip your head back.

“That’s where you’re wrong, ____. Want me to show you how lucky I am?” He takes the finger out before pumping it back again. You moan as his other hand gips the nape of your neck and he brings his mouth to your neck, biting on it.

“Oh my god” you cry, seeing him suck the finger clean and face forming an expression filled with the deepest level of satisfaction as he closes his eyes.

Setting his eyes back on you, he sighs, “This isn’t my first time tasting you, honey. But it gets better every fucking time and I find myself craving you an unhealthy amount, you know that? Do you know how crazy I am for you? Could eat you out everyday and wouldn’t need anything else to feel full.” His words send a shiver down your spine. “You’re my favorite meal.”

He pushes three fingers back inside with a slight force and you let out a scream, arching your back. He takes one nipple into his mouth and gives it a long suck, letting it go with a loud pop.

“Oh yes, just like that. Suck it again, baby” You beg and he does exactly that as he takes the other sensitive bud into his mouth.

You’re not sure if you have been this vocal about your needs with anyone before him. Not that you dated a lot, for a person who’s a hopeless romantic to the core you’ve always found yourself waiting for the right one. Additionally, you believed your body to be as sacred as a temple. Surely there had to be a guy somewhere who would treat it as such.

Then, enters Jungkook who not only was out of your league metaphorically but literally. He lived miles away from your place so there was not a chance you could have let anything take place between the both of you. But as they always say, the heart wants what it wants. To put it briefly, there was chemistry, a connection you didn’t want to lose.

Strong fingers pump into you. In and out, in and out. “You’re so wet. What do you say? Should I lick you clean?”

“Yes, ah oh my goodness that’s sooo good” you toss your head back, slowly grinding against his hands.

He wraps an arm around your waist, lifts you off his lap and tosses you back on the bed. Keeping his eyes still locked with yours he gets rid of his jogger, letting his cock spring free.

It bobs and you lick your lips, already wanting to take it into your mouth but you know for a fact that he wouldn’t let you do that, not because he doesn’t want you to but because he wants to give you the highest amount of pleasure first. As he always does.

Jungkook lets out a shaky sigh as gives his cock a pull, his eyes running over your whole body. Up and down then back at your face again. You’re still not fully bare in front of him while he’s standing there, all in his glory.

“Lose the pants” he commands.

You immediately slide out of them and toss them on the floor somewhere. He grabs you by the hips, jerking you to the edge of the bed as he sinks down on his knees. Spreading your legs wider he releases a breath. Warmth touches your wet pussy and you prop yourself up by the elbows to look at him.

You need to look at him if you want to stay sane, have to feel him with you here. Shivers run through you even by the thought of not being able to feel him and this ever again. This might as well be your last day on this god awful planet from the way the ache in your chest keeps on increasing. It makes a home there, not letting you entirely forget about the eventualities.

“God you’re dripping, honey”

“For you” you admit.

Hot and wet kisses are left to the inside of your thigh and your hands find the back of his head as you grip it lightly.

His head lifts up, his eyes finding yours, “Don’t hold back,____. Grip it as tightly as you want to. I don’t want any hesitations because when I fuck you, I’m not going to be holding back. You hear me?”

A desperate moan leaves you, and he rewards you by kissing your pussy. Keeping his eyes on you, he doesn’t give you a chance to whine out your needs before his tongue is licking a single line up your clit.

He moans and gently tugs on your clit. “Such a perfect cunt”

You push his head against your pussy and rock forward, chasing your orgasm.

“Feels so good, feels so perfect, baby” you murmur.

Just when you’re starting to feel the climax incoming, when Jungkook suddenly grabs you by the waist and flips you, so he’s lying down and you’re on top. Then, he grabs you by the back of your neck, pulling you for a heated kiss.

He pulls back, “Sit on my face, my queen”

Your eyes widen and you hesitate, but you don’t want to. You wanna let go, knowing you’re lucky enough to get something like this in this lifetime, so you give in. He hoists you up by the hips, positions you over his face and pulls you down. His warm breath feels like a soft whisper against your pussy.

You cry out in pleasure as soon as his tongue dives deep inside you, squeezing your tits in your hands. Grinding against his face, you close your eyes and just… feel. Feel the heat, feel the emotions, feel the intimacy, feel the ache in your chest.

A thought crosses your head and you wonder if you’re doing something wrong, something selfish. Touching him like this and getting consumed by him feels like you’re doing nothing but ruining him.

He sucks on your clit with sheer eagerness and desire, pulling you further down so you’re putting your weight on his face. Concern perks up and you look down, trying not to crush him but it seems like he couldn’t care less.

“Let go, honey. Just focus on my mouth.”

Let go. God, how bad you hate those words. They feel like acid in your ears.

“Keep going, Jungkook. Don’t you dare stop” you cry out.

Soon enough you’re aching your back, cunt pulsing against his lips as you come. He swallows every single drop as if he’d die if he doesn’t and leaves you in awe. You slump, letting your body relax.

Much to your amusement, he doesn’t give you enough time to relax before he’s turning you over until you’re on your knees. Hot passionate kisses are placed on your sweaty back, pulling a gasp from you.

“What a fucking sight. I wish you could see how stunning you look right now and it’s all because of me, isn’t it? This glistening back, this wet cunt,” he strokes a finger down your pussy, “It’s all because of me and you dare to call yourself lucky?”

You catch a sight of him stroking himself over your shoulders and your breath quickens.

His abs are glistening with sweat and his chin still has your cum on it.

He smirks, “Like what you see, honey”

“You’re beautiful”

His eyes soften, letting his hands drop from his angry and already leaking with precum cock, he grabs either side of your hips and lines himself against your needy pussy. You let your head drop on the mattress and clench your fist, preparing yourself for him. He gives your cunt a slight slap with his cock before filling you in, groaning as he goes deeper.

You moan, “Fuck baby. That’s so deep.”

“You’re so warm, honey. You feel like home” he thrusts again.

His hands grip yours, and he covers your body with his own, still thrusting inside with rough movements. His chest feels warm and safe against your back as it fills you with a deep sense of safety, protection and love.

You match every thrust of his with your own, moving your hips backwards. Your tits are getting equal attention from him as he pinches the two sensitive buds between his fingers.

You both chase your high with you screaming out his name and him whispering yours like a prayer. He gives in one last thrust before he’s coming inside you, his teeth biting on your shoulder. You’re following him soon as you grip the bed sheet tighter in your fist, moaning as you come.

Before you collapse, he pulls you upright and lets his cock slide out of you. His fingers push his cum inside your throbbing cunt, making your stomach twist in pain.

You murmur. “I love you”

His lips stretch into one of those lazy smiles you love so much. “I love you too, my precious girl. Now, do you wanna sleep or go make those cookies?” a sloppy kiss is pressed on your forehead.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you pull him on top of you, “Should we save those for later? I really wanna cuddle”

He presses a soft kiss on the tip of your button nose, “Sure. Let me clean you up first. You don’t have to move an inch, just relax.”

Minutes later he’s coming back with a bottle of water and a bowl of marshmallows. You bite back a chuckle when you look at his face. There’s such a deep crease between his eyebrows you’d think he’s trying to win a game of uno or something.

But it’s short lived when he places the items on the nightstand and gazes at you, his eyes having the same funny look they had earlier in the kitchen.You try to summon your most unbothered and good natured grin but it doesn’t do shit to stop the electricity from running through your blood.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, biting your lip.

An uncertain laugh slips out of him, “I don’t know. I’m- God, I really don’t know but I have this weird feeling that something is not right.” He begins cleaning you up but you can’t shake the feeling of nervousness and anxiety away.

You know for a fact that he’s right. Something is not right, in fact nothing is right.

He peeks at you from between your legs, “Hey, what is it that you wanted to talk about?”

The air whooshes out of your lungs. Should you come clean? Is it the right time?

You huff a tight laugh. “It’s nothing actually. Can we talk about it later?”

When he’s done cleaning you up he places a small kiss on both your knees and stands up. Offering you a nod, he says, “Whenever you feel like it. I’m not going anywhere”

Yet. He’s not going anywhere yet.

You grin, “I wouldn’t let you”

He lets a laugh slip out as he walks inside the bathroom. Then, he comes back, settles himself beside you and brings you closer by wrapping his arm around your waist. His feet find yours as he touches the anklet with them.

“Let’s sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up” he promises.

Morning comes quickly as the sun casts its glow on your sleepy yet excited eyes. Holding out a hand, you try searching for your boyfriend next to you, but a slight sting arises in your heart when he’s not there. You open your eyes, adjusting to the sunlight.

Although, you hoped you did not wake up, you hoped death consumed you in your sleep because the person across from you is a total stranger. A stranger whose eyes are misty and mouth is pulled down in deep frown, a sunflower bouquet in one hand and the other one holding a blue file so tightly you can see his knuckles turning white.

Jungkook holds out the file to you, “How long were you planning to hide this from me,____?”

For the first time in your life, you hate your name. You hate how bitter it sounds coming from his mouth like this.It has always been “____, you’re my everything,” “I love you,____”, “_____, you mean the world to me”.

Acid bubbles in your stomach at his words, and you can’t help but sob. You wonder if the butterfly was preparing you for this day. If she could talk, what would she have said to you?

The words that leave him next might as well be daggers in your chest, "Tell me, honey. Is it the important thing you wanted to talk about but held back just to get a good fuck out of me?"

@fluttershy-vanilla @theyysam37 love you pookies. enjoy <3

2K notes · View notes

p0orbaby · 20 hours ago

Text

I’d Rather Go Blind Than Let You Down

summary: the baby is here, that should calm leah down, right? right?

warnings: hospital setting

a/n: someone asked for some more panicky leah so here it is. first part here but you don’t need to read it if you don’t want to

word count: 1.3k

It’s a boy. A boy. Your boy. You can hardly wrap your head around it, the reality of him. He’s only been in the world for forty minutes, and already it feels like he’s upended every law of physics. Six pounds and change, but impossibly heavy in the way he roots you to the earth, demanding you stay present, stay still, stay here. His hair is a downy mess of dark brown fluff, sticking up in little uneven tufts that remind you of how Leah’s fringe used to look after her under-12s matches: matted and wild, all effort and energy. His hands—God, his hands—are the size of fifty-pence pieces, delicate and wrinkled, each finger curled tightly into its own little fist. He’s perfect. Absolutely, inexplicably perfect. And you’re completely terrified.

The hospital room smells like cheap soap and distant disinfectant, undercut by the faint, sticky sweetness of some long-spilled juice no one bothered to properly clean. It’s a symphony of beige: beige walls, beige curtains, beige linoleum. Even the bed looks beige, although it’s probably just worn white, like an old t-shirt washed too many times. Somewhere in the hallway, someone’s shoes squeak with rhythmic persistence, and you vaguely wonder if they’re pacing, as you had earlier, wearing an accidental track into the polished floor.

Leah is sitting in the uncomfortable armchair by the bed, which is upholstered in that scratchy material designed to withstand decades of spills and bad decisions. Her elbows rest on her knees, her fingers steepled against her lips in a half-prayer, half-facepalm, as if she’s mid-negotiation with some higher power. She hasn’t spoken much since the baby was born. Not because she doesn’t want to, you think, but because the enormity of it all has rendered her mute. She looks pale, unsteady, as if someone has shaken her up like a bottle of fizzy water and forgotten to twist the cap back on properly.

The baby makes a soft, snuffling noise against your chest, pulling her attention like a magnet. Her gaze darts to him and then flicks away just as quickly, as if looking directly at him for too long might somehow blind her. She hasn’t held him yet. She hasn’t even really touched him, save for one trembling fingertip brushed against his impossibly tiny foot when the midwife first handed him to you. It wasn’t avoidance, not exactly. More like reverence. Or fear. Maybe both.

You’re exhausted in a way that doesn’t feel real, like your body’s moving on autopilot while your brain drifts somewhere between sleep and shock. Your limbs are heavy, molten, but there’s also an odd lightness to you, a weightless, dizzying awe at what you’ve just done. You gave birth. You. You. Somehow, you survived it—hours of pain, pushing, panting, the raw animalistic chaos of it—and now you’re here, holding this impossibly small, impossibly fragile life in your arms. You’re not sure how you’re even still upright, let alone conscious.

“Do you want to hold him?” you ask, your voice soft, careful, as if you’re coaxing a wild animal out of the brush.

Leah’s head snaps up, her eyes wide and glassy, like a deer caught in headlights. “Hold him?” she echoes, her voice shaky and high-pitched. “Me?

“Yes, you. Who else?”

She blinks, her hands flexing and unflexing against her knees like they’re warming up for a solo on Britain’s Got Talent. “I… I don’t know if that’s a good idea”

“Leah, he’s your son”

“I know,” she says quickly, her voice climbing into that higher, defensive register that comes out when she’s trying to convince herself more than you. “I know he’s my son. But he’s just so… small. And… fragile. What if I—”

“You’re not going to drop him”

“I might!” she says, alarmed by her own hypothetical. “I might drop him. Or…or hold him wrong. What if I hold him wrong and, like, dislocate something? Babies are delicate! Like…like soufflés”

You blink at her. “Did you just compare our child to a soufflé?”

She shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know! I’m just saying, I’m not exactly… maternal, am I? I’m not one of those people who looks at a baby and just… knows what to do. I’m more of a… ‘panic and Google it’ kind of person”

“That’s fine,” you say, adjusting the baby slightly in your arms as he makes a soft, snuffling noise. “Most parents are ‘panic and Google it’ people. It’s basically the default”

Leah doesn’t look convinced. She’s rubbing her hands together now, the way she does before a big match, but this isn’t a match. There’s no referee, no whistle, no rules, no second leg if she screws this up. Her gaze darts back to the baby, then to you, then back to the baby, like she’s trying to memorise the mechanics of holding him without actually doing it.

“What if I’m terrible at this?” she blurts out suddenly, the words spilling out of her in a rush. “What if I’m a terrible mum and he grows up hating me and we end up one of those families where no one talks and we all just sit around at Christmas in complete silence, eating dry turkey and resenting each other?”

You stare at her. “That’s… a very specific fear”

She shrugs, her leg bouncing up and down anxiously. “I’ve seen it happen”

“Leah, you’re not going to be a terrible mum”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you. And you love him. That’s pretty much the most important part”

She frowns, her brow furrowed like she’s still not quite buying it. “Love’s not enough. Love doesn’t teach you how to… to… change nappies or… or know what all the different cries mean”

“Love doesn’t teach you that,” you agree, “but practice does. And you’ll get there. We both will”

Leah’s eyes flick back to the baby, who has now fallen into a soft, twitchy sleep against your chest. Her expression softens slightly, but the fear is still there, a tightness around her mouth, a tension in her shoulders.

“What if he doesn’t like me?” she asks quietly.

You laugh, soft and disbelieving. “He’s a newborn, Leah. His likes and dislikes are limited to ‘milk’ and ‘not-milk.’ He’s not going to sit there judging your personality”

She doesn’t laugh. If anything, she looks even more stricken, like she’s just realised she might have to win over this tiny person who doesn’t even have fully developed motor skills yet.

You sigh, reaching out to take her hand. “Leah, listen to me. You’re not going to drop him. You’re not going to dislocate anything. And you’re definitely not going to ruin Christmas twenty years from now. You’re going to be great. I promise”

She hesitates, her fingers curling slightly around yours. “What if I mess up?”

“You will,” you say simply. “We both will. That’s part of it. But messing up doesn’t mean failing. It just means you’re trying”

For a moment, she just looks at you, her eyes searching yours for something—reassurance, absolution, a manual for parenthood that doesn’t exist. Then, slowly, she nods. It’s not a confident nod, not by any stretch, but it’s a start.

“Okay,” she says quietly. “I’ll try.”

You smile, holding out the baby toward her. “Then take him”

She hesitates for one last second before leaning forward, her hands trembling slightly as she takes the baby from you. She holds him like he’s made of glass, her arms stiff and awkward, but she’s holding him. She’s doing it.

And then the baby lets out a tiny, contented sigh, and Leah freezes, staring down at him like she’s just witnessed a miracle.

“He…he’s so… little,” she whispers, her voice filled with something like awe. “And warm. Why’s he so warm?”

“Because he’s a baby, not a lizard”

Leah lets out a soft, breathless laugh, her eyes never leaving the baby’s face. For the first time all night, she looks calm. Not completely, but enough. Enough to believe, maybe just for a moment, that she can do this.

That you can do this. Together.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #awfc #awfc x reader #engwnt #engwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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ceilidho · 2 months ago

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I’ve been watching Spartacus with my dad and I must share with you the vision I had.

Gladiator 141 and the sweet little thing they got as a reward after a fight well fought.

this is very old:

Sometimes he spends as much as an hour staring at you through the bars of your cell.

You haven’t yet worked up the nerve to say something to him. Not while he still wears the silver-plated galea that obscures most of his face. You can still see thin lips through the middle slit of his helmet, where the cheek plates don’t meet and the thin strip running down the bridge of his nose gives way to his philtrum, and the barest slivers of dark eyes.

Apart from his helmet, he wears little else—sometimes the customary leather pteruge around his waist or a simple tunic belted at the waist. Nothing that would hinder his movements. It keeps the bulk of him on display. A prized fighter then, you surmise, as if the helmet weren’t enough to make that known.

He still gleams bronze from his fights under the sun. Perhaps he’s counted at least a full hand’s worth this week alone. He comes to you sometimes after those very fights, still dripping sweat and prowling the length of your cell like one of the lions kept beneath the arena. You never know what to say to him then. There’s little you can do apart from curl up into yourself in the far corner of this cell you’ve come to know as a temporary home and eye him warily.

It’s hard to reckon with the size of him. That’s what keeps you wary, watchful of him when he comes to keep you company for reasons unbeknownst to you. He hasn’t made them known yet, in any case.

There isn’t an augur to warn you the day he chooses to speak.

“Where'd they take you from, pretty bird?”

You flinch at the sound of his voice. It comes from the pure depths of him, Tartarus deep. You think it would take nine days for it to reach you, like a bronze anvil falling alongside it. In the days that he’s spent at your side, haunting the length of your cell like a sentry bound to his post, you’ve never once heard so much as a whisper.

His words take a moment to register. Across from you, he sits back on his haunches, thick thighs bunched up under the fan of his pteruge. It’s hard to tell how long he’s been there—the hallway outside your cell is relatively dark, the only windows being on the leftmost side of the building, near the door where he must have quietly slipped in.

“East of here,” you answer hesitantly.

He hums, nods his head. Ruminates on your words.

In truth, you can only guess—the village where you grew up, where you suckled at your mother’s teat and played with the other children in the glen surrounded by mountains jutting up from the earth and ochre yellow and green wildgrass, the fog sometimes sitting so low in the valley that you could lose yourself in it, is far from here. At least a month’s walk, perhaps more (you lost time along the way). Your feet are still blistered from the march back to Rome, legs still covered in sores and bruises; even now your cell is a poor comfort, the dirt floors harsh on your knees and shins, abrasive to the partially healed skin of your feet.

You’ve never been very worldly though, never known more than the four walls around your bed. Perhaps the walk wasn’t nearly as long, as treacherous; maybe you came from the west instead, or the south. You can only guess.

“I came from the north,” he says, breaking the silence again. That startles you somehow. The thought of him under the thumb of another feels inexplicably gut-wrenching; if a man with a virile, sweat-laden chest like his, arms corded with muscle that yours will never see in a thousand years, has been yoked to Rome’s chariot, what hope do you have?

You wonder for a moment if he’ll tell you more, but he falls silent after that simple revelation. The weight of his gaze still pins you in place.

“…You’re a prisoner then?” you ask, considering briefly whether to say like I, before discarding the thought. Like I, like me. Are you too in a cage, like me?

It’s difficult to suppress the urge to ask him more, but you do. It does you no good to endear yourself to men that move and stare like beasts. There’s something malignant in him, you think, a rot burrowed in deep. You can feel it stir in you too when your eyes dip too low, halted by the muscles of his thighs and the thick slabs packing his arms. You’ve seen beasts copulate; you imagine he’d be much the same.

He tilts his head, considering your words. Wolf-like, and you’ve seen wolves before. Though the ever-present helmet obstructs most of his face, the sharpness of his eyes pierces through. “They don’t put me in a cage anymore. What would you call that?”

Your chest collapses under his words. Hopes dashed. Does he go in the cage of his own accord then? Does he lock the door himself, deliver the key to the guard standing watch? You think people taken from their homes should see their plight in each other, but the gladiator before you doesn’t look at you like the two of you share a fate.

“A slave?” you postulate, perhaps too boldly. Worry crawls inside the walls of your belly when his lips flatten, almost imperceptibly.

“Do I look like a slave to you?” he asks, and you can hear it this time. A gentle warning. A rebuke. A question that tells you all that you need to know about this man and how he sees the two of you.

You remain silent, cowed under his stare and the tone of his voice. Perhaps he’s right, in a way; he’s not the one in the cage. He seems free to come and go as he pleases, his movements unrestricted. Unlike your own. You’ve hardly left this cell once since a faction of the legionaries left you at the gates of the city to be handled by those in charge, watching slave after slave made empticii, helpless, until finally you were dragged to the stand for viewing.

You flinch when he grabs one of the bars of your cell, thick fingers coiling around the metal and overlapping easily.

“What did they take you for, pretty bird?” His fingers tighten around the bar, knuckles whitening. “Every day I fight and yet they never offer you as a prize.”

The new scars on his body make sense then, fresh lacerations across his arms and legs that have multiplied by the days since he started visiting you. Why he gleams with fresh sweat every day, correlating with the fights you hear in the arena above you, the cacophonous chants and stamping feet. You can imagine him in front of a crowd frothing at the mouth for blood and gore.

He comes stained in it sometimes. You hold your breath until he leaves on those days, reminded too much of your village in the aftermath of the plundering.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, tucking your legs into your chest and trying to get as close to the wall behind you as possible.

It’s the truth. No one tells you anything. No one told you what would happen when they ransacked your village and burnt it to ash, the bodies of everyone you’ve ever loved still burning char black in the tall grass, whittled down by the flames. No one told you what would happen after they dragged you back a thousand passus to a city scorched in white marble and stone and immaculate gold. They dragged you here and shut the door.

He seems frustrated at your words, lips thinning like he has to hold back his rage.

“I’ll slaughter a hundred more if that’s your price,” he says, his helmet knocking into the bars with a rough clang and making you jump when he leans in. His chest lifts with his quickened breaths, working himself up at the thought of more bloodshed. “Then give you their hearts. No other man will take you. I’ll rend their limbs if another man tries. Make you taste their blood on my fingers and lap it up when I split you on my—”

Your heel skitters across the ground, digging a small groove into the dirt and scattering small rocks across the cell. “I don’t k-know what they intend—”

You stare at him when he rises back up to his feet, words dying on your tongue. Standing, he towers over you, shoulders rolling back to puff out his chest.

“You wait, little bird. Flutter your wings. Soon you’ll see the sun.”

You can only imagine what he means. The thought of sunlight on your face fills you with dread for the first time in your life.

He leaves without another word, heavy footsteps carrying him to the door until you hear him pry it open, sunlight streaming in for a second before it slams shut. The silence in the absence of him feels monstrous, gargantuan.

All you can do is let out a shuddering breath.

#idk if i posted this before?? maybe i did idk #ghost x reader #ghost/reader

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syllikins · 3 months ago

Text

"𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐑?"

❀ genre: fluff

❀ pairing: sylus x reader

❀ contains: mutual pining, sylus down bad, yucky vulnerable feelings (jk i love him so much for this reason), reader in denial (sorry guys), poorly proofread

❀ word count: 1.03k

❀ authors note: i'm taking a crack at this. but omg that scene where he tells mc there is no love purer than his after he asks if she finally realizes how he feels about her? COME ON. HOW CAN I NOT LOVE HIM?? had to write something inspired by that dialogue because it was so????? i'm definitely going to reference to some other stuff he has said in the game that made my heart flutter because?????

"there is no love purer than mine."

is a statement that has been replaying in your mind over and over again since that day.

you couldn't help but wonder if sylus lacks self awareness because how can you actually pinpoint his feelings when every conversation the two of you engage in seems like a ploy for his own entertainment.

every pointless banter. every teasing remark. every sickeningly corny nickname that unfortunately sounds like honey whenever it left his lips. maybe you ignored his childish attempts at flirting because you were too busy ignoring the ticklish feeling it gave you in your heart down to your toes.

sylus may make your eye twitch or send a small twinge in your brain with every smartass comment he feels he has to belch out: but maybe that's part of his charm. he mainly gets away with it with a face like that.

but your developing feelings for sylus was far more emotional than it was physical.

maybe it was the way he was always ready to lock in when it really came down to it.

the two of you being around each other always ended up with you or him being hurt. sometimes both. and if not either of you, chaos ensued. maybe a building was blown up instead. it was fun but it was times like those when you learned about sylus in a slightly more intimate way. it took a few deep gashes and heavy panting, near death experiences and stitches. but he needed your help. you liked that he could at least admit that. he saw you reliable enough to call on you when he was most vulnerable. and he helped you in the same way, despite protest.

he likes to hold hands. but it's not just his fingers intertwined but more like your hearts tangle more than your fingers. it was nice...he may mean it to be authoritative but there is always an underlying sense of comfort in his fingertips.

maybe he was a vampire. as you had previously joked. silver hair. red eyes. that inexplicably gorgeous face. pale skin that would automatically show any trace of lip gloss or lipstick that he would have obtained by getting a bit too close while attempting to tease you. that allure that often times makes your head go numb before you're brought back to reality by another witty comment.

you were more than enthralled by him; you realised as you laid in bed a few nights ago.

now he just makes you nervous. why would he say that?

there is no love purer than his?

and it's all for you?

it all feels like too much.

he calls and you stare at the caller ID before choosing to nervously accept the call. not before you start a petty argument.

but even among his arrogance, and the chirp in his voice when he engages with you, he's still sickening sweet. slipping in how strongly he feels about you in between every other colourful retort of yours or so. gosh. could he not?

after you pathetically stutter through a smartass comment of yours, his amused chuckle has you fighting the urge to chuck your phone. so you just hang up instead. maybe you just need to go outside. that should calm you down.

the warm yet slightly humid summer night air hugs itself against your slightly trembling form, a small fire lit in your heart as you walk down the empty sidewalk in pyjamas.

no one is around. all the stores are closed. it's just you and the street lights as you murmur about all the things you don't like about him in an attempt to kill the light in your heart, this light giving you an odd sense of pleasure. to no avail, your rambling on seems to make the light grow. and a small buzz on your leg.

in your pocket.

he's calling again.

you stare at it this time. its like you think the loving feelings pouring from your pores will tap the accept button for you. this doesn't last long before you shake your head and put the phone back in your pocket. you continue walking, eyes kept on the sidewalk as you weigh the pro's and con's of accepting such feelings.

*thud* you've hit your head on something.

the familiar scent in your nostril already tells you what- more like who it is.

it's obvious he used his evol to just appear in front of you. or else you would have seen his shadow underneath the streetlight you're under before your forehead met his chest.

the mere thought of it being him before even seeing his face is enough to get your stomach to flip, so you flip yourself in the other direction. then he wraps his hand around your wrist but he never seems to forget to add the electrifying part.

your free hand twitches as he intertwined his beautiful fingers with yours, the linking of both your pointer fingers keeping you together.

the silence among the song of cicadas makes you bite your tongue, anticipating a smart, playful retort. and yet amidst your baited breath nothing.

your heart beats in your ears as his warmth lingers on your fingertips. the two linked fingers generating the most heat.

"gosh, would you stop tormenting me already?" you whisper.

"is that what you think this is?" his voice echoing in the street.

you're both silent for a moment. yet neither of you make a motion to separate the linked fingers.

"your love...in it's purest form..."

another silence.

"it belongs to you." he finishes

you turn to him, still staring at the pavement.

"my love....." you began.

he seems to be holding his breath as you fidget in front of him. you attempt to make your slippers overlap or something to that effect as your palms get sweaty.

"is just as pure as yours." you breathe out in something like a scoff.

even now you're trying to challenge him

"and i want you to have it."

when you utter that last bit, you look him straight in the eyes.

he exhales and accepts it with no hesitation.

in his arms, where both your hearts tangle.

#love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #sylus #sylus x reader #fanfiction #syllikins #down bad

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pearlymel · 14 days ago

Text

✩ CW: SUGARDADDY!NANAMI, fem!reader, fluff, MDNI unprotected soft sēx, lowkey breeding kink. basically he pays you to spend time with him. overall felt soft writing this.

Nanami watches you tilt your head up, your smile full of childlike wonder as you observe the snowfall. The snowflakes that are as white as your coat.

"You wanted to see me because of the snow?" You ask, your eyes meeting his.

A rare smile graces his lips, and the sight makes his heart feel inexplicably lighter. "Mhmm," he replies, his voice deep yet somewhat soft. "You like the snow, don't you?" He brings the wine glass to his lips and takes a small sip, his gaze flickering over you, from head to toe. The way the snowflakes dance in your hair, your bright eyes, the way you were smiling as if enjoying this time with him… All of it adding to your beauty.

He looks unbothered by the chill in the air, and the snow that gently falls on his shoulders melts on contact. He sets down his glass, his eyes still fixed on you.

His gaze drops to the cup in your hands, his eyes lingering on the steam rising from the hot liquid. "Hot cocoa?"

Wine and hot cocoa, what a match.

“Better than wine in this weather, don't you think?”

Nanami's lips curve into a half-smile at your response, finding your practicality endearing, "I suppose you're right," he nods slightly, the sound of the falling snow blending with the soft hum of the city. "Sometimes it's not about alcohol—it's about what feels nice." He watches you with a slightly fond look, continuing to enjoy the way the snow dances around you like tiny, frozen stars.

The quiet settles between you two like the snow falling around you. He’s not one to fill silences—he’s much more comfortable listening. But still, he can’t ignore the nagging feeling that this time should be different.

“Kento,” the call of his name immediately grabs his attention, “why.. do you always have to buy something expensive for me whenever we meet? I'm perfectly content with you paying me in exchange of my time.” your question is something he didn't expect you to bring up, but he can understand anyway, you're always grateful for the little things, even when you always deny his gifts because they're too ‘expensive’.

His fingers tighten around the stem of his wine glass, and you notice. He’s silent for a beat before he responds in a murmur, "Because I want to."

He doesn’t elaborate right away, his eyes flickering over you, and away, as if he’s considering his words. He seems lost in thought, though he’s struggling to articulate something.

Your fingers glide along the cup holder of your hot cocoa, relishing in the warm in provides for your palms, “you should find a wife for yourself,” you tell him, honestly. “It's better than wasting your money on this…”

But Nanami nearly scoffs at your suggestion. As if it's that simple.

"And who'd want to marry a sorcerer?" He retorts dryly. "One day, you will wake up in the middle of the night to find me gone. Off hunting a cursed spirit, or fighting. Maybe not coming back." His jaw tightens "It’s not that simple." He continues, taking a larger sip of his drink to buy himself some time.

"I..."

He doesn't finish his thought, his tongue suddenly feeling like lead in his mouth.

And you understand, so you don't press on further.

"Maybe I'm just not the type." He finally speaks before he looks away from you, staring at how the snow has taken over the city.

You want to almost apologize for killing the mood but another question pops in your head that you just can't resist but ask.

“Kento,” your sweet voice that calls his name, again.

“Why did you decide—I mean, why are you doing this with me?”

The arrangement between you.

The answer was simple, "You’re the only good thing in my life... right now.”

You chuckle, "I find that hard to believe. Are there not any good people where you work at?”

"Most of them are idiots or brats. Or both."

“Mm,” you take another sip of your hot drink that started to cool down, “does anyone know…”

“No.” Quick to answer, again. “Embarrassed?” You ask jokingly.

And Nanami's brow furrows at the question, "Embarrassed?” he repeats, "More like protective." he mutters under his breath.

His lips purse in thought, before he continues, "I don’t like sharing.”

“… protective?”

“Of course I’m protective," he mutters, his voice low. "What we have..." He trails off, his words suddenly failing to find the right way to describe this thing between you two. Instead, he lets out a frustrated sigh. "You’re special. I don’t like the idea of sharing that.”

You feel like you should close this topic for now, and you push your sleeve up to take the time from your wrist watch.

He doesn't have to ask, it cue to leave. And Nanami always walks you home whenever you meet somewhere close to your place.

You both walk along the snow trail on the side walk, leaving your footprints behind, Nanami follows beside you, his hands also shoved in the pockets of his coat as well as yours.

His gaze flicks from the children playing in the snow, the old friends chattering and laughing as they catch up on life, to the couples walking by hand-in-hand.

“You like kids?” Nanami blinks at your question, his focus shifting back to you. For a moment, he almost looks embarrassed to be caught staring too long at a few children singing and laughing as they drown in the snow.

“Yeah,” he replies gruffly, his eyes flickering to the group of kids before looking back at you. He’s silent for a few moments before speaking again. “I like kids...” he says slowly, as if he’s testing the words on his tongue. “Not a lot, but I like them.”

You giggle, the sound warm and light, and his expression softens. He can’t help but be taken in by your carefree attitude. It's a side of you that makes him even more drawn.

He keeps walking as he glances at you, watching as you rub your chin against the scarf wrapped around your neck. He almost wants to reach out and touch you, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he clears his throat before asking, "are you warm enough?”

You stop walking, “wanna hold my hand?”

“… do you want me to?” he asks slowly.

………..

It doesn't take long until your hand is interlock tightly with yours, his hand enveloping your own in his pocket.

He really doesn't want to let go.

The journey passes in relative silence, the only sound is the crunching of snow under your feet. Nanami doesn’t say anything, his mind seemingly preoccupied.

Finally, he speaks, “Are you really gonna go home, once we get there?”

You raise your eyebrows, “what does that mean, Ken?”

He gives your hand a squeeze like he doesn’t want to acknowledge this moment is going to end.

“You know exactly what I mean,” he says in a low tone, “Are you just going into your apartment and go to sleep, like usual? Or are you... gonna let me invite myself in?”

It always leads back to this after the cute meet ups.

Nanami's hands are all over you as soon as you’re inside. He backs you up against the wall without a word, his body pinning you against it as his lips find yours.

His kisses are slow but hungry, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his hands roam around your curves while slowly letting your coat drop on to the ground, and you huff out.

“You're getting my white coat dirty—”

"I'll buy you a new one,” he instantly responds his breath hot against your skin. “But right now, all I care about is you, and getting you out of these clothes.”

He groans as your fingers run through his hair, his body pressing against you further, desperate to close the tiny distance that’s between you.

“Stressed?” You pant softly, and his only response is a low growl, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he kisses you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth and making your head spin.

“You know I am,” he mutters gruffly in-between kisses.

It doesn't take long until your beneath him on your bed, taking his time worshipping your body—this time he notices how your arms cover your face just when his hands were sliding up and down your sides down to your stomach.

“I know what you're thinking,” he whispers, and the gentle tug at your arm makes you want to peek at him, “don't. Let me see you.” He gives your forehead a peck and you frown, he's being too loving.

“You don't have to take your time doing this, i can take it.”

“but i want to take my time with you.” He says bluntly, “do you not want me to?”

You shake your head, and a half smirk curls up his lips, “good.”

He noses right between your tits, giving them soft kisses which makes your teeth catch at your lower lip.

The minute the tip of his flushed cock nudges right into your cunt, pushing in, you both groan in relief.

Fuck was it a stretch even when you were just taking in his tip.

“Tell me if you don't want it anymore,” he reminds you, every single time.

Only when you nodded and wrapped your legs around his waist did he start to move, pulling out slowly before pushing back in while rolling one of your nipples to distract your fluttering walls from tightening too much around him.

He sets a gentle rhythm, each thrust deep and deliberate, taking his time, groaning as he watches his cock disappears into you before leaving you again and again.

Meanwhile you—you looked drunk on him, your worries pushed away as your head is rolling back and your ruined glossy lips part when he thrusts deeper into you.

“Nanam—” he squeezes your hip before kissing a mole from your body, “did you forget my name already?”

You pout, your fingers reaching to stroke his blond strands, “Kento,” you sigh breathlessly and his lips envelope yours—you’re even more breathless now.

“Ken—” you try speaking, only to be muffled by his passionate soft kisses that honestly just makes you feel a little bit loved.

He lifts your body a bit, his hands sliding down to take a feeling of your ass, giving them a squeeze before sliding up to the back of your thighs as he increases the pace of his rolling hips.

Was he fucking you or making love to you? There was definitely a difference between the two.

“Sweetheart,” the petname he only ever calls you in bed, it rings in your head, and it makes you clench tighter around him which makes him huff.

The rare raw feeling of his girth inside you makes you even warmer, you can almost feel every nerve throbbing and twitching. “i will pull out, don't worry—”

“No,” you stop him, and he seems confused.

“Cum inside.”

Bold.

“Oh, fuck me—” he pants before pressing your thighs down until your knees reach to your ears and you gasp when starts pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, you would stop him anyway if you felt uncomfortable, he trusted you on that.

But with you moaning and whining for release, he can only almost roll his eyes back as he holds it in for a minute just to get a more feeling of you.

“Kento, I'm not going to run—”

You don't know that, he doesn't know that. This is temporary, what if this was the last time you both get intimate together?

Oh, Kento would rather work overtime than end this.

“B-be my wife—” He almost whines when he comes right on the spot, the prettiest moans elicits from your throat as you cum with him, quite literally milking and squeezing every drop of his seed right inside you, making sure not to waste any.

And he's panting heavily into your neck, he's done for.

You stare down at his buried face onto your skin, noticing how his ears have gotten redder, “Ken, did i hear you right?”

He doesn't respond, and only rubs at your stomach slowly. Maybe… it's only a matter of time until it sticks, then this ’arrangement’ doesn't have to end.

#nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #kento x reader #kento nanami smut #jjk smut #jjk #nanami smut #jjk kento #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu nanami

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moonstruckme · 7 months ago

Note

can i request a reader who can’t admit she’s upset with one the marauders (or all)? like refuses to cry…only if you’re comfortable of course. thank you :)

Thank you for requesting gorgeous!

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

The smell of smoke coming from the kitchen is the first sign that Sirius has tipped over from resentment into remorse.

“Jesus,” you open the front door on your way into the kitchen, eyes watering, “what are you doing?”

“I was trying to make rice,” he says, fanning desperately over your pressure cooker, “but I think I’ve fucked it.”

“Do you think so?” Any other day you’d both grin at the harmless snark, but now Sirius’ expression pinches and you think your own must look the same, your tone more biting than you meant for it to be. “It’s fine, it’ll be fine once it airs out. Help me with the windows?”

Sirius acts like it’s a competition, opening three windows before you’ve finished two and looking at you like he’s expecting a pat on the head for it. You try to give him a smile, and his expression clouds over.

“Sorry,” he says, voice not quite cool but oddly remote, “the idea was to surprise you with dinner, and I’ve broken your rice thingy instead.”

“It’s not broken,” you reassure him. “I’m sure it’ll be fine once I clean it out. Why were you trying to make dinner?”

Sirius grimaces. It’s a full body motion, his eyebrows hooking in the middle while the muscles in his forearms shift uncomfortably and his shoulders migrate upward. “Sort of a shitty attempt at an olive branch, I guess.”

Some of the smoke has cleared, and you brave the kitchen. “I don’t need an olive branch,” you say. “If you say we’re good, we’re good.”

“Don’t do that.” He follows you into the kitchen. “I can tell you’re upset, just because—” Sirius hisses when you take the bowl out of the pressure cooker, transferring it swiftly to the sink “—fuck, baby, don’t burn yourself. Let me take care of that later.”

“I’d rather handle it now,” you say, turning on the faucet. “I’m just letting it soak anyway.”

“I’m trying to handle this.” Sturdy hands wrap around your shoulders, turning you to face your boyfriend. He looks at you steadily. “Don’t pretend you’re not angry with me, because I know that you are.”

A spark of annoyance tingles up your spine as you shrug, reaching behind you to turn off the faucet. “I’m not.”

“Can you stop trying to make me feel like an idiot? I know you. You’ve been all stiff since last night.”

“You were angry last night. Not me.”

“Yeah, well it seems to have caught on.”

You turn away from him and back towards the sink, swishing your hand in the cold water of the bowl to dislodge the charred rice sticking to the bottom. You don’t know where Sirius gets off, acting like you’re holding a grudge when he’s the one who shouted at you last night. Your phone had died while you were out with friends. That was all that had happened. You didn’t think anything of it, because Sirius, the only person who would really worry about not being able to reach you, knew you were out and that you’d be home late.

But when you had gotten home, he’d been furious. Gone on and on about how he’d been trying to get a response from you all night, and how dangerous it was to get drunk when you couldn’t call anyone (nevermind that you’d been with your friends), and how freaked out he’d been. He wouldn’t listen to you. He’d only wanted to yell and rage, and make you sit in your heels on the couch while he did it. He’d even seemed like he might be tearing up a couple of times. And you hated to think of him being scared for you, but since when was it your responsibility to answer every time he called? He knew you were with your friends. You hadn’t asked him to check in on you.

He’d gone to bed still fuming and you’d stayed on the couch rather than try to sleep in a hostile bed. Now, inexplicably, his tune seems to have changed.

“So,” Sirius sighs, “this is you not mad, huh?”

“Yup.” You scrub at the bowl with your fingernails.

“I just want a chance to apologize.”

“You can if it’ll make you feel better, but I don’t need it.”

“Why can’t you just admit it?”

“Because I’m not the one who gets pissy about stupid things.” You dislodge a chunk of rice and your hand slips across the bowl, splashing water onto your shirt. “That’s you.”

There’s a second of dense, oppressive silence. When Sirius breaches it, you can hear the smirk in his voice. “There’s my girl. Tell me about the stupid things I got pissy about, would you?”

“It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not. It wasn’t nothing to me, and clearly it wasn’t to you either. Go on, doll.”

“I don’t want to argue with you.”

“Sure you do.”

“Why do you want to fight so bad?”

“Because,” Sirius says, and you can hear him moving behind you, can all but see him leaning against the counter, the picture of insouciance, “I think you need to get it out of your system.”

You scrub harder at the bowl. Blackened bits of rice float to the top of the water. “Like you do?”

A pause. His voice softens. “It’s not always a good thing. I shouldn’t have shouted at you, last night.” Something in your chest tightens painfully at this new gentle tone. “I’m sorry. I let my temper get the better of me. I was just worried about you.”

“I don’t think that’s my fault,” you say, managing to sound mostly normal. You dump out the contents of the bowl, filling it again with warmer water. “My phone was dead, and I was with my friends. I didn’t need you to worry about me.”

“I just do, when I know you’ve all been drinking, and I can’t talk to you to know you’re okay…” Sirius takes in a breath, breaking your heart with how it sounds like he’s trying to steady himself. “But you’re right, okay? It wasn’t fair.”

“I didn’t know I was coming home to be shouted at.” This time, your voice betrays you, a pitchiness that makes you go quiet fast. You hear Sirius move.

“Sweetheart?” he asks softly. There’s a touch at your elbow. “I’m sorry, baby, please look at me.”

You don’t want to, but you don’t want your embarrassment interpreted as ire. You take a quiet breath before pivoting from the sink. Sirius’ eyes are waiting, sad and fretful as they probe at yours.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, impossibly quieter, and runs his fingers from your elbow up the back of your arm. “It wasn’t your fault, I wasn’t being fair. I shouldn’t have shouted at you.”

You press your lips together, hard. His eyebrows hook up in the middle.

“You can cry, sweet thing. It’s okay.” You shake your head mutely, blinking, and Sirius makes a terribly lovely cooing sound, snaking an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. You hug him back as the first hot tear rolls down your cheek. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Your shoulders jump with a stilted, poorly repressed sob, his grip on you tightening. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby. My temper tantrum really did a number on you, huh?”

You laugh wetly. “Guess so,” you squeak. “Sorry.”

“If you apologize for this, I may shout at you again,” he warns fondly. “You haven’t done anything wrong, lovely girl. Just let it out, if you need to.”

You know that’s not easy for Sirius to say. Know he’s likely close to tears himself, from how agitated seeing other people cry makes him. You appreciate the offer.

You fall into a silence less heavy than any that’s suffocated your home since last night, broken up only by the steady, quiet thumping of Sirius patting your back and the intermittent smooching sounds as he kisses your shoulder or your cheek or the side of your neck. You stand still in your smoky kitchen, wetting your boyfriend’s shoulder with tears and snot, and he lets you.

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arminsumi · 27 days ago

Text

. . . 𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Suguru Geto

From your perspective, you're just two strangers. But you have no idea just how insane it all looks from his side. He's smitten — and a total hypocrite on your lips.

► '... you're my religion, you're how I'm living.'

+ Content: cult leader Geto, dad Geto, non-sorcerer reader

+ Requested by @betonlosingfrogs

+ Author's note: cult leader Geto Suguru may be serious but I like to think he'd just look like a goth dad in the supermarket, buying cereal for his girls

+ wc: 2k

Looking closely at the back of a bright-pink cereal box that his little ones nagged him to buy, Suguru stood slightly hunched over with his dark hair in a sloppy bun.

The stress of his newfound life as a dad showed on his deeply indented eyebags — he looked so severe, so unapproachable, like he would bite you if you stared at him. And yet, many stared. Because underneath the eerie was calm, and in his black eyes there was a hidden tranquility.

"Stay in sight, girls." Suguru warned softly to Mimiko and Nanako, who he saw through his peripherals were bounding about the aisle, "I don't want to lose you two."

Not heeding his warning at all, they went off on their own little ways, drawn to the aisle that you happened to be shopping down. And so within a few minutes, Suguru's usual composure disappeared as he burst into panic.

With quick-paced, long strides of his spider-like legs, he went looking for Mimiko and Nanako, furrowing his brows until two lines formed between them, briefly checking each aisle, pacing back his steps.

He turned abruptly into people, looking down on them in disgust, knocking a few products off shelves with his haphazard path. All the while, his heart thumped in his chest.

And you, leading two little ones by the hand to the cereal aisle, immediately had this feeling that he was their dad.

Still, you asked. "Which one's your dad?"

"That one."

They pointed at a gothic-looking, terrifyingly tall man with a severe expression on his face. He looked so unapproachable that you almost didn't want to walk up to him.

With not much courage, you sheepishly approached Suguru. He turned, his sight landing on his girls, then he darted his black eyes up at you.

"... Sorry, I told them not to wander." he apologized.

Why am I apologizing? Suguru thought to himself.

"No worries." you smiled gently at him. "This is a small store, I'm sure they would have found you by themselves eventually — but they approached me for help."

"Oh." Suguru said with a subtle tone of surprise.

Suguru looked down at his girls and saw how calmly they were holding onto you; like you were their mom. His heart throbbed and he felt inexplicably freaked out.

"Well, I'm glad." he said, surprising himself in every new moment that passed, "Thanks. Girls, let's go."

With that, he abruptly left. Judging by the curl of his lips and the feeling shrouding him, you assumed that he must have not liked talking to people.

. . . 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞,

"Why are you going out?" his girls asked as he put on his cologne.

"... I have a meeting with some very important people." he replied calmly, readying himself to leave.

The girls hurried after him with little steps, "Can we come with?"

"No, no. I want you two to stay here." he said, patting their heads, "And be good; don't eat the cereal, it's meant for breakfast, okay?"

They were clingy as he left. As he descended the gaudy turquoise stairwell of his apartment complex, he thought about you.

You. He had the memory of your face nearly crisp in his mind, the echo of your voice on repeat somewhere in his subconscious.

Trying to blur you out of his mind proved impossible until he was finally behind the closed doors of a meeting.

The meeting of which, had only one purpose; to preach words against non-sorcerers.

Suguru narrowed his eyes and spoke in a deep, reverberating voice to his followers as they all faced him, sat on their knees.

Ego swollen, he left his 'meeting' feeling refreshed, self-assured; until he got three-quarters of the way home, and coincidentally happened upon you; completely helpless and cornered by a slim, toothy curse that you had no hope of escaping without needing to rush to the hospital afterwards. It had already drawn blood from you, Suguru observed.

And the smell of your blood met his nose as he just lingered out of sight, watching you struggle.

Am I really this cruel? He thought to himself. Is it necessary? If I make one exception, doesn't that just make me a hypocrite?

Suguru thought all this, knowing that his mind was already made up.

He hummed to himself, rolled his eyes, stared up at the sky and then walked calmly over to you.

With utter silence in his mind, Suguru lazily exorcised the curse, and ignored your wide-blown, horrified eyes that were now directed at him — who was just a normal stranger to you until now.

He looked down at you for a while, then after a bout of silence, he hesitantly asked, "Are you okay?"

And those words were a bigger deal for him to say than for you to hear; you had no idea how hypocritical he was being, how merciful he was being, or how insane the context was.

You gave him an unsure nod, "I think so?"

"Can you stand by yourself?" he asked.

"... it was biting my ankle... " you sounded more and more weary, Suguru noticed every beat change in your voice, every movement of your lips as they spoke each syllable.

In your small and vulnerable state, you kept an apprehensive expression on your face as Suguru leaned down and helped you up, offering his arm; you saw the hint of a tattoo underneath his sleeve, something like a dragon's tail.

"Which ankle?"

"Huh?"

"Where did it bite you?"

His voice had hardened. You showed him where, and he looked at it, the trickle of blood and the bite marks.

I hate you so much, but I'm not that cruel. He thought, his heart thumping harder.

. . . 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞,

"The teeth marks look so cool!" Mimiko commented.

Nanako nudged her sister out of the way, eager to see, but then she frowned, "Can I help you wrap the bandages?" she asked you.

"No, let her be, girls, please." Suguru said, giving you a quick glance.

As soon as they left, he found himself apologizing once more, "Sorry, they haven't been this hyper in a while."

"They're so sweet. So you're a single dad? Where's the missus?" you asked, feeling more at ease.

"There is no missus." he replied stiffly, "It's just me."

"Oh. Now I understand why your eyes look so tired." you said.

He smiled a little, "Yeah, they're a bit of a handful, but I love them."

Confused and somewhat embarrassed, Suguru quickly ironed the smile out of his lips.

"... so there's no missus..." you continued the conversation, "Are you seeing anybody?"

Suguru looked at you, eyes widened, completely taken aback by not only your forwardness but the question itself; why did you want to know? Were you attracted to him? Why were you attracted to him?

"Uh, I'm not in the dating scene." he replied curtly. "It's beneath me."

"Aw, what a terrible attitude you've got..." you teased. "Sorry, sorry."

His heart throbbed, this time not because he was freaked out, or self-loathing, or anything such; he knew exactly what he was starting to feel, so he washed out his feelings quickly.

"Sorry, I wasn't aware that I had an attitude."

You smiled flirtatiously at him — now that really threw him off.

Slightly disoriented, he snapped-to when the girls' voices came through the door.

"... Nanako spilled cereal all over the kitchen floor!"

He sighed, held back the smallest of smiles, and straightened out his back like he was suddenly aware of how he could seem more attractive to a woman.

"Excuse me." he said, then left you to help yourself with the bandages.

. . . 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮,

And Suguru's black eyes lit up brightly when he saw you again at the same grocery store, this time alone.

He told himself that he would only say hi and leave. Yes, just a little hello — that was all that he deemed necessary.

I don't have time to waste. That's what he thought.

His time was money. And he spent it all on you, right there, in the aisle of a grocery store, indulging in fifteen minutes with you.

Fifteen minutes turned into twenty, into twenty-five, and after thirty minutes he finally snapped-to, as if out of a trance — but only because you abruptly said;

"Oh, I've got to go."

"Oh... sorry to take so much of your time." he apologized.

"Not at all, Suguru, I would give you more if I could. Ah... actually," you spoke and he listened, intently, to your tone shift into something more flirty, more sensual;

"Would you like to meet again, tonight? I know a great restaurant — "

" — Yes, absolutely." he agreed without thinking.

All his ideals and beliefs? What are you talking about? He's just a smitten boy.

. . . 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮,

How rigidly he waited for you, looking around in search of your face with an eagerness that he could no longer effortlessly conceal.

She's late. He thought, lowering his gaze.

But a few minutes after thinking this, he saw your face. In the small seconds before you saw him and approached his table, he fussed over himself; he rubbed his lips together to make sure they looked soft and red, he neatened his hair, he cleared his throat, he straightened his posture.

"Sorry I'm late, the traffic was terrible." you apologized.

Suguru's body language was alive with attraction, "It's okay, I didn't mind waiting." he said.

"I hardly believe that. You look hungry." you teased.

He felt caught, and blinked at you. Did he make it obvious? He was so sure that he controlled his emotions.

"... I'm sure you'll like the food here."

He relaxed, realizing he misunderstood.

. . . 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝-𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐧,

I could be your cult leader. He mused to himself. And you could be my sacrificial virgin.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Sorry. I was just thinking of a joke."

"Hm, well I love jokes. Why don't you indulge me?"

"I don't know if I should; I've got a bit of a twisted sense of humor." he feathered.

Your sultry lash-fluttering had his body heating up, feeling restless, feeling on the verge of a small insanity.

This tiny, indescribable insanity that was buried so deep inside him that he could easily ignore it, but he chose not to, and just gave in.

This feeling shadowed his wake as he walked you home, listening to you flirt and giggle next to him was overwhelming him.

All you noticed was that he almost smiled, that he kept taking big sighing breaths like he was steadying himself — his mysteriousness almost annoyed you, which in turn made you feel even more interested in him.

Just as you were wondering to yourself if you got through to him, he gave you a goodbye kiss on the cheek. Too eager to wait for the unpredictable future, you decided to kiss his lips.

He let out a low hum of surprise, but quickly melted, quickly reciprocated and pressed his warm lips on yours. More than that; he leaned into you, let you stroke his cheek, enjoyed every little second.

But Suguru had to exercise extreme control over himself; if he didn't have the discipline of a martial artist, he might have kissed you harder, might have kissed you breathlessly, like a starved, insane romantic.

And maybe he liked seeing the begging look on your face. It made his ego swell, it made him think of things he could never tell you, lest you think something's wrong with him.

"Can I see you again?" he asked.

"Do you want to?" you flirted.

He refrained, cutting out a lot from his response, "Of course I want to..." he almost whispered, looking at your lips.

You smiled and it got him all twisted up inside. "Well, then ask me out on another date, silly."

He hummed, eyeing your lips exclusively now.

"... are you free next Saturday?" he asked slowly.

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

#geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x you #suguru x you #geto suguru x you #geto x y/n #suguru geto x reader #x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk #suguru #getou suguru x reader

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