#she despises herself so much but wants to be loved in truth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kneelingshadowsalome · 6 months

Note

What about princess reader who falls for Konig? He's a retired royal soldier (Bit of an age gap but I was thinking more like he was so good he was able to retire early) that she saw every once and a while and she does the typical "disguise myself as a commoner so i can sneak into town" routine and he pretends he doesn't know but he used to serve her family so ofc he fucking recognizes her

He tries to be gentle with her but honestly she should just be happy he isn't ratting her out to her family 🙄🙄🙄 (not that she minds)

CW: 18+ MDNI. Medieval AU, forbidden love, mutual pining, virgin!princess!reader x veteran!knight!König. Undefined age gap (reader is of legal age which means she’s "old" for an unmarried woman of this period). Reader is kinda coercive, König is implied to be a virgin too. Bittersweet romance vibes, brooding guy/gentle girl trope, ambiguous ending.

Word count: 6.4 k

You never thought you’d have the guts to slap a knight.

Violence is unladylike, and even if you’re a princess, it doesn’t mean you should force your status down someone’s throat like that. Far less his, the man you were taught to respect and listen to because he’s a man, and older than you.

The fact that he was also an anointed knight didn’t seem as important as the simple truth that he possessed a cock between his legs, and it always annoyed you to no end that this was the reason why men ruled the world. As a lady still unwed, you’re supposed to be afraid of cocks, especially if they’re old and gruff.

But you never were afraid in the presence of your father’s most loyal knight. He was your sworn shield too, and the only time he had been away from your side was when he asked to go on a pilgrimage to some chapel nearby. Said he wanted to seek forgiveness for his sins.

A man like him must have a lot to pray forgiveness for, but knowing that he could split a man in half with that greatsword of his doesn’t stop you from sneaking out one night as you follow him outside the castle walls and into the local inn.

Dressed as a stable boy, you watch with wide eyes how he gulps down three pints of beer and doesn’t turn any dumber from it. His speech never slurs, his shoulders never slump, but when some kitchen wench sits down beside him, your breath gets caught in your throat.

You look at the odd couple for a moment or two, watch how your father’s knight, the secret object of your silly daydreams, finally loosens the strings of his purse and offers the girl a copper coin.

It’s more than you can take, so you shoot up from your bench and march to him. The woman looks up at you with lousy disinterest as you ask the man of your dreams if he’d like to have another pint of ale. Your knight recognizes you immediately, even in your too-big tunic and your uncomely hose, even with that dirty felt hat covering your hair.

And he’s mortified, from what you can tell.

Both your eyes are wide now, and the woman beside him is smart enough to leave. She slides herself off the bench and sneaks past your side, and your valiant knight just looks at you, looks at you, looks at you.

You should be worried that he’ll snitch about your adventures to your father, but right now, all you can do is stare at him like he’s the thief, caught fresh and red-handed. Because he is a thief, and a devil, the worst man on earth when he was supposed to be the best. You snort to let him know how much you despise him—for coming here and bedding women for money when he’s supposed to be a sworn, celibate knight—but what truly hurts here is that he’s bedding someone else than you.

When you march out of the inn, he follows you, even dares to lay his hand on you by grabbing your arm outside. That’s when you turn on your heels and deliver a fat slap on his cheek, lightly stubbled and sweet, something you had hoped to plant a kiss on for many, many years.

“Your grace,” He grunts and rubs his chin, slightly amused. “Have I offended you?”

The slap couldn’t hurt that much, and this man never does amused. Even now, the mirth extends only to his eyes, never to his lips.

“You know perfectly well that you have, sir,” you clasp your hands in front of you, now entirely his princess even though you’re dressed like a peasant.

“My lady,” he bows both in body and in voice. “I truly don’t know what crime I have committed.”

You’ve never seen him so… jovial.

Usually this knight looks like there’s a stick up his ass, that someone pissed in his porridge and shat in his stew, that there’s nothing but hailstorms and calamity in his life.

Were you any more clever, you’d leave him be, but God has made it so that you’re drawn to battered and beaten animals. Of course you’re drawn to him too, lonely and spiteful as he is. This man broods so much you sometimes wonder if he’s the reason why it rains so violently up here in the hills. He probably summons dark clouds above the castle with those ponderous frowns alone – but now he’s looking at you as if he just woke up from the dead and walked into the shy sunshine after a long, harsh winter.

“You… You shouldn’t bed women,” you tell him, and he looks at you even more curiously.

“You shouldn’t pay for it,” you mumble next – unladylike, again, especially when your eyes turn to your shoes and away from that hawk-like, calm stare.

There’s a short silence after that, and you almost turn heel and walk back to the castle from the desire to escape the weight of his eyes. Eventually, he shifts his weight to the other leg and clears his throat.

“I sometimes pay for women to hold me. There’s nothing more to it.”

You raise your eyes to meet his, but the mirth is all gone now. It’s replaced by solemn acceptance, some sorrow you never even knew he had. Yes, he’s always silent and looks a bit pissed, but he’s not heartbroken, no, not your brave knight…

“To “hold you”, sir?”

The sorrow is covered with white lashes before you get to the bottom of it. Something tugs at the corner of his mouth—shame and frustration, probably.

“To hold me. Like a mother would. Is that a sin?”

His eyes search for yours from under dark brows, they beg for your consent as if it mattered to him. They’re quite catching, his eyes; enchanting in their intangibility. You know he doesn’t need your acceptance, nor is he threatened by your disgust. He’s unreachable, untouchable, forbidden—a mountain you can never climb because you wouldn't even find it among the mist. And those eyes see everything but feel nothing: they haven’t taken part in the troubles of this world in years.

…

He evades you for the whole of next week.

Leaves the hall if you choose to dine there, walks away when he sees you at the stables, looks through you if you have the courage to address him. You stand watch by the window every night to see if he slips out of the castle, but it seems your knight has lost his interest in kitchen wenches and copper hugs.

It burns like hot broth in your stomach, the thought of him in some other woman’s embrace. This mighty giant of a knight, kneeling in front of a girl, paying for her to simply put her arms around him.

You’re not sure if you’re childish to believe him and his words. To trust that he truly goes to them just to be held. You’re not sure if you’re the worst lover of poor, crippled creatures for not wanting to let him have even that...

Because you wish to hold him yourself, here, in the softest of all beds. Just wrap your arms around him after you’ve unburdened him of that heavy mail and thick gambeson; you’d help him with anything he needs. Let him sigh against you and have those lines of worry on his brooding face smooth somewhat. Maybe sing a soft song for him to help him sleep...

The thought of him being so lonely that he spends his wage on girls just to have a hug is driving you to madness.

It’s tearing you to pieces because he would never, ever have to pay you to hold him.

It’s forbidden, you know: this love you’ve harboured for years. He’s far below your rank, even as a bannerman, he’s far below you even if he’s taller than the tallest war horse in your father’s stables. He’s older than you too, but that’s hardly the biggest problem: your father took his second wife when he was five and thirty and the maid was seventeen. The match was considered perfectly normal, even healthy, but this would not. This would cause an outrage.

Oh yes, you’re to be wed far away to some sadistic young lord if your father has his way. You’re sure they’re already gossiping about it in the streets: how you should’ve been sold like a horse years ago. How is it that you’re still here, burdening the kingdom with your presence and swallowing up coin?

If they only knew that you’ve fought against every match with tooth and nail, the townsfolk would work themselves into a small uprising. And you’re not against marriage because you like it here so much... You’re against it because the knight who dresses himself in black mail and makes the servants piss themselves with his heavy footsteps alone makes your heart flutter like never before.

Your father would kill both of you if he knew.

And you wonder… What would he do? Your pale, brooding knight?

Would he scoff and turn his head away if he knew you dreamed of him before sleep, would he be appalled to hear that you’ve touched yourself to the thoughts of him? Would he think you a whore…?

You dress differently that night, the night you catch him escape the dull horrors of the castle once more. Boredom oozes out of the walls here, a poison of nothingness and despair. The stones won’t offer warmth, not even during the height of spring, so it’s no wonder that your knight is headed elsewhere for warmth and a mug of ale.

You dress accordingly to see what this toughest of knights is made of: with a brown woolen skirt and a white cotton blouse, you look the part of a kitchen maid who forgot half her garments at home.

People look at you in the streets, but without your usual attire and with your hair styled differently, they wouldn’t know who they’re looking at even if they saw you frolic around like this in court. You know they’re looking at you because you're a half naked woman ripe for taking, stubbornly out at night and dressed so suggestively it’s a miracle no guard rapes you before you reach the inn.

Maybe it’s the royal pride that keeps them away: you certainly look like you haven’t toiled in the fields or shoveled horse dung in your poor miserable life. There’s an air about you, and he notices it too, far before you’ve sat your pretty bum on the bench next to him.

“What are you doing,” he asks with a slightly alarmed voice.

He has that stick up his arse again, sits so straight that you’ve never seen such a ramrod back on anyone. When you set your hand over his, he only blinks.

“One silver to hold you, sir,” you lean to whisper on his skin, the shaved cheek you’ve wanted to kiss for so, so long. “What do you say...?”

He’s still breathing, even if there’s no sound to prove that he is. You can only see it from the rise and fall of his chest, covered by a stained, cream-white gambeson, that he’s breathing. He’s big, even without his armor, big and strong and intimidating, a tower of strength in one man.

“I cannot bed women,” he talks to the stout logs that make the walls of the inn, refusing to even look at you after one quick horrified glimpse.

“Who said anything about bedding?”

“This is a dangerous game, your grace,” he warns with a low purr when you won’t relent.

His voice is parched but smooth, and you smell smoke; delicious smoke from the fire that sticks to the clothes of a person who spends too many hours staring into a fire. You smell ham and earth and leather and sweat, horses and metal, the rusty stench of mail gone bad.

You wonder how you smell to his nostrils – is it something sweet? Fresh herbs and lavender oil maybe, or soft, spun wool, some tangerines and summer wine?

“I’m not your grace,” you tell him, nose now touching the bridge of his ear. “Not in here.”

You see from the turned sleeve of his padded tunic that the hairs on his arm are standing on end. His eyes are closed, and you can finally hear his ragged breaths. Desire speaks in them, or then you’re in over your head... Why else would he sound like that, like he’s already making love?

“One silver, sir, and I’ll hold you all night,” you repeat softly, and he swallows with a dry, open mouth.

“I don’t have such money on me,” he rasps, voice drenched in slow, drowsy want.

He wants this; wants, wants, wants….

“Really? Is my price too high?”

“Far too high for a man like me.”

You breathe a smile upon his skin, the place where his neck meets his jaw. Running your fingers across his wrist, you leave little to the imagination and you both know it.

“You can pay for the room and we’ll see how much you have left after that.”

“Princess, this is–”

“Hush.”

He’s in pain now, you can see it: the sharpness, the distant eagle gaze from his eyes is gone. He can barely keep his lids open, and when you peel the sleeve back with your hand, pet him like he’s one of your cats, press your lips on the spot you know is the most sensitive, he groans.

“You’re going too far,” he whispers, but won’t move. Breathless now, he can’t even speak with dignity. Gone are the distanced grunts and the composure, even the stick in his arse has melted away.

If a touch of your lips and the softest caress can do this to him, what would happen if you straddled his lap? How would it feel to be pressed against him, naked and entwined in a mutual embrace?

“You didn’t say no to that other girl,” you breathe more kisses on his skin. “Am I so horrendous…?”

“You–” he starts, opens his eyes somewhat. “You are teasing me on purpose.”

“You never were the brightest of my father’s knights,” you smile a little laugh in his ear.

He grabs his pint as if that could save him; out of fury or lust, you don’t know. And that’s when your little adventure gets interrupted: someone must’ve had enough of this disgusting display of seduction and whoring.

“Pardon me, lovebirds. The room’s a copper, if it please you,” a tired voice says from somewhere above. “And the ale is–”

“Ja, ja. I’ll pay,” your knight grunts with such annoyance that you’re not sure if he’s mad at you or the poor soul who interrupted you two.

Everyone here must think that you’re here to make some coin on a lonesome, desperate man. And he’s desperate, by God, he’s desperate… But when you walk upstairs and into your room, he takes a dip in cold waters without you knowing anything about it. When the door shuts behind you, your knight is back to the unbroken effigy he was last week, as he has always been.

“You sleep there,” he points at the bed. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“There’s plenty of room on the–”

“One more word from that pretty mouth and I’ll tell your father what you’ve been up to.”

You’re sent to your bed without supper, in your silly clothes, and get to watch how he barely takes his boots off before setting himself down on the floor, back turned to you. The innocent question “You think my mouth is pretty?” only gets an irritated scoff for an answer.

From under the linens, you watch him sigh and slowly turn to stone on the cold floor. There’s a big rug there but it’s barely enough to keep the chill out, and the hearth is cold during late days of spring. You’re warm enough here under your sheet, but you would be warmer if your knight was here with you… Warm body against yours as you both hold each other through the night.

If only he could be enticed here by lying that you’re freezing... His honor would force him to share the bed with you, and your poor knight wouldn’t have to wake up with sore joints. The more you listen to him let out those occasional sighs, the more you want to shake this man. This silly act of martyrdom has to come to an end, now.

Slipping out from the warmth of your bed, you tiptoe to him. You know he can hear you, probably cursing in his mind with that crude foreign tongue of his. Laying yourself down behind him, you snuggle close until your front is glued to his back.

It must pain him to have a maiden leave the comfort of her bed and trade it for the dirty floor, but you wonder if there’s pleasure in the pain when your touch finds him once more. And it’s not just want and lust you feel when you place your arm around him. It’s not motherly love either, although you do feel like you’re embracing a giant child who doesn’t want to be comforted. You know nothing about how lovers touch or hold each other, you’ve never touched a man other than your father, and those touches were never affectionate and warm, those touches were barely there at all.

You wonder if you should be scared: you were taught that men will fuck everything that moves when given the chance. If a man of his size chose to take you here on this floor, there would be nothing left of you. Such an outcome seems dubious, however, when your sworn shield acts like he would rather be anywhere but here.

“Let me hold you,” you whisper when he continues to be stiff as a rock in your embrace. “You don’t have to pay me. Surely you know that you don’t have to–”

He moves, and at first you fear he’s about to rise and dart to the door. Make a run for it and slam it shut because you pushed it too far, his dumb, danger seeking maiden.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he turns around and buries his face somewhere in your neck. He does it so forcefully that you’re almost sent to lie on your back, and you barely catch the naked pain in his eyes before a rough arm snakes itself around your waist and pulls you close.

Warm breaths hit your skin, sending all the little hairs in your body shooting up – were he to move an inch further down, his face would be buried in your tits…

And then come the tears.

You’ve never heard a man cry like that – well, you’ve never heard a man cry at all. You didn’t even know they knew how to weep. It’s like all the tears in the world are reserved for women and children because there’s no wetness even now: your knight cries in thick, dry sobs, shudders that shake the both of you, years and years of suffering sighed through gritted teeth and into your hair.

Slowly, so slowly, you place your arm around him once more. Your hand barely reaches the middle of his back, so vast is this man, now only a crumbling mountain in your embrace. But when you won’t waver, when you refuse to turn your tail and run, he slowly melts in your arms like spring snow.

He still breathes as if in pain, the sounds that come out of his mouth heartbroken and strained. You’re not surprised to see that even his crying is an act of violence; he’s a man inconsolable.

And yet, you console him. Comfort him. Like a mother, you stay and let him cry his fill in your ear as he clutches you, threatening to tear the back of your poor cotton blouse while doing it.

When he’s done, the shakes recede and his body is warm and calm, soft, almost. He pants and swallows, comes down from it with so much shame that you’re sure he has never done this with anyone, not ever before.

And then…

“I beg for your forgiveness, my lady,” he gruffs on your skin. “That was–”

“Shh... It’s alright.”

You caress the back of his neck, sweaty from the toil. He releases the fabric of your blouse only to grab it again in an even tighter fist. The face in your neck is buried deeper, his lips now pressed right over your throat.

“It has always been you, Geliebte... God knows it has always been you.”

You freeze in the middle of his confession, the panting on your skin intolerably thick now. When you swallow against his mouth, he pulls you against him, the body that used to be rigid and cold now like a hot, thick furnace, threatening to devour yours.

“You must know it too,” he whispers. “You must. You’ve seen my torment. Tell me you’ve seen it…”

He’s not demanding more than he is desperate, some dam suddenly being breached by a long-held flood.

If anything, you thought he hated you... You thought you were alone in your anguish, but it turns out he has carried the same soft secret all these years.

And it drowns you for a moment, his want and yours. Hands trying to touch whatever they can, mouth searching yours like he’s about to die if he can’t have a sip. You’ve heard what happens to women who allow themselves to get groped in dark hallways and winding steps; they hardly ever escape a man’s touch with their maidenhood still intact. And yet, this is what you’ve always dreamed of; a hot, blunt, forbidden encounter with this man.

Now that he’s finally on fire for you, you’re not so sure though. What if you’re about to mate with a beast?

“Sir…” you whisper when he plants trembling kisses down your throat. He thinks you’re only moaning his title in the throes of pleasure, and squeezes you against him so hard that a tight little whimper is squished out of your mouth.

“I’m–I’m untouched,” you tell him before he sends his face between your tits, and it finally has the effect you feared and hoped for.

He freezes too, in the middle of tearing down your blouse. A shivering hand releases the fabric slowly, reverently; it rises to cup your face as your flushed knight meets your stare with shame.

“Of course you are,” he hushes upon your lips, strokes your cheek softly. “I cannot bed you. I know. But let me…”

He blushes while searching for the right words. That’s the moment when you start to suspect if he’s ever even been with a woman. What kind of a womanizer would blush when they’re about to make love to a lady?

“Let me make you feel good,” he finally suggests. “I’ve heard… of a way.”

He almost stutters when he says it, and you wonder if this is what he’s prayed forgiveness for. If he’s been thinking about different ways of wrecking you so much that it’s enough to send him to hell…

“And then,” he continues, “we’ll never speak of this again. You’ll become my lady, and I’ll become your sworn shield once more. We’ll be as we always were. As it always was...”

You’re not sure if you like that – returning to your status quo, becoming who you were before clutching each other on the floor like mad animals about to mate. But you nod.

Whatever he wishes to do to you, it must be something good, and you trust him. Even after he showed you a side of him you’ve never seen before, you’d trust this man with your life.

Your valiant knight carries you back to bed, and delivers on his promise. He never undresses you, he never defiles you. He just lifts your ankle to his lips and gives it a soft, reverent kiss, grazes your shin with his mouth before starting to worship you like a pagan idol of old.

You don’t know where he heard about it–at the stables, or the kitchen, at the barracks or the taverns–but the way with which he makes you squirm doesn’t require a cock, not even a hand. His lips are gentle, but his mouth is hungry, and you don’t know how to feel shame when he’s buried under your dress like that. You can’t even see his face when he makes you his, claims you with his mouth alone.

It must be a sin to not take you like a man takes a woman on a wedding night; it must be a sin that it does not hurt at all, what he wants to do to you. But you don’t care. Love is much better and far messier than how they depict it in the songs, and no one ever talks about the noises a man can make when they pleasure a woman.

He groans like a beast, but moans like a whore – it sends a flush of hot blood up your cheeks to hear him so utterly needy and vile. Your knight who barely gave you a grunt as a greeting in your father’s hall now whines with a broken pitch between your legs. His hot sighs drown your own, and you thank Saint Mary and all the angels that there’s loud music and booming laughter downstairs. It’s still there, the dirty tavern, even if you’re being sent to heaven on this bed...

He gives you mercy only after you break upon his mouth with a series of tight cries. Spends a lengthy amount of time under your dress too, licking and kissing you clean.

He doesn’t appear to be in any hurry to get out of there, but when he emerges, he looks like a drowned, happy puppy, this giant, brooding knight… The sight seizes your heart in a flaming hand that you know will never let go: it’s forever engraved in your heart, that drunken, devoted stare. You thought that men had the needs of an animal and that women were put on this earth just for them to have their fill, but when you look at your knight, it appears it’s the other way around... This man has finally found what he was looking for. Between your legs, he just found his Heaven on earth, his Holy Grail.

And so he returns from his quest with a devotion that leaves you breathless. Takes you in his arms like an injured bird, making you feel like it’s summer already, and the world is nothing but songs and tales and long nights of bliss.

“Know that I am yours,” he says. “Until my dying breath and even beyond, I’m yours.”

It’s a pledge, not a statement, and it’s said with so much weight that the vow he swore to your father pales in comparison.

“Sir... You always say such silly things,” you whisper back while lying in a pool of shimmering love, a heaven on earth indeed. Not even anointed, true to their faith knights talk like this… And he just smiles languidly when you raise a hand to brush his cheek.

He looks like another hug could save him, like a simple adoring stare from you is all that is needed to keep him going for another year. It irks you that he’s ready to settle for so little when you’re ready to give him everything he’s ever wanted and more. With what just happened, he’ll live on for a thousand, thousand years, he’ll survive even the coldest of nights – but you won’t.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you tell him, and a flash of fresh panic crosses his eyes.

“Süssling…”

He says it with worry, but does nothing when you send an exploring hand to his bulge. Drawing a sharp breath when you sweep your hand over it, he goes rigid again, this time for reasons other than just nervousness.

You’re younger and therefore more impatient, which means you’re at the strings of his pants in no time. He looks at your greed with a slack jaw and a set of furrowed brows, but never tries to prevent you. It only spurs you on that he’s acting so shy in front of an eager maiden when other men would already be bullying their cocks in your unexplored heat.

“This is madness,” he whispers when you pull out the heavy, hard cock that reminds you of the members you’ve seen on horses and bulls.

Of course the man’s big down there when he’s practically a myth walking… And there must be a way to pleasure him too, some lovely devilry that will leave you a maiden. A virgin for him to take on your wedding night – because you will marry this man, no matter what anyone says. You’ll burn the whole kingdom down before giving yourself to any other man.

You wrap your fingers around him to punctuate it that he’s yours. If he feared you might mirror what he just did to you, he makes no comment about it when you don’t, only whines when his cock is snared by a frail but eager hand.

“Princess,” he warns, slightly out of breath. “I will stain your dress…”

“Shh. Show me how to please you.”

The worry in his eyes is wild and bright, but the way your fingers mold around him leaves no space for arguments. A broken, stiff sigh is punched out of him when you begin to move: if he won’t show you how, it’s no trouble at all to try and find out yourself.

But when your thumb sweeps over the weeping tip of him, he finally brings a trembling hand upon yours. He starts to guide you, adjusts your grip, huffs when you both apply pressure on it. The curious creature that you are, you look down to witness the ugly beauty of it all.

It’s intimidating and rough, the cock in your hand... It looks like a weapon, honestly, a battering ram that leaks heady liquid from the head. Smooth and heavy and ripped with veins, it’s like a too hard muscle about to bludgeon something, and your hand is making it drool profusely. Would that it were inside you, you would be in grave danger, and why is it that you find the prospect so seductive?

His hand is far bigger than yours, and it makes your heart run wild, the way he tries to be gentle while using your grip to get himself off. He can’t even keep his eyes open from the shame, just takes a quick glance at your enthralled face before squeezing his eyes shut once more.

“Look at me,” you command softly, and he obeys – what else can a sworn knight do? – but you can see that the poor man is on the verge of tears. Shaking and panting, he stares at you while fucking himself with your hand, and when you close the small breath of air between you and kiss him, he melts.

The first thick spurt surprises you completely, you even mewl into his mouth when it shoots to stain your dress. You didn’t expect that to happen, at least not so fast… And because this is the first time you’ve seen a man come undone, you quickly leave the panting, moaning mouth and look down.

There’s so much of it, and the release is so violent; it looks and sounds like it hurts because the man is shuddering and groaning as if stabbed. Thick, white pulses of seed coat the brown wool of your dress, but it soaks the semen gladly: there’s nothing left of his cum other than dark, damp stains after he’s done.

And there’s no end to his shame. He pries your hand away from his cock as soon as he’s somewhat composed. Does it with a shaky hand, wipes what little stains of hot, wet seed you have on your palm to his pants, and all you’re thinking about is what it would feel like to have this giant trembling and groaning like that above you, inside you… If you could even take all of that thick, brutal length. If he would be able to move away when inside your heat, if he’d let you hug him again, just hold him close so that he’d never ever leave anymore…

“I have soiled you,” he mutters while looking at your skirt.

“Nonsense. You have only claimed me... I’m yours now.”

“Princess… No amount of silver–”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare.”

You actually manage to kiss him silent. Tears begin to run down his face when you show him where he belongs. It’s the final surrender as he pulls you into his arms and finally drowns you in love – at last, you find yourself under him as he takes what's his. What seems like hours later, he breaks the kiss, only to look into your eyes with full-blown adoration.

“How am I to live without you after this?”

“You don’t have to. Not ever,” you say.

“Princess. If there was any hope for me to have your hand, if there was any hope that your father would give it, I would have carried you away from this place years ago.”

For a while, you fear it’s the fear of sin that burns him. But then you realize it was always only just you.

He looks so anguished now, even more in pain, when all you wanted to do was relieve his agonies. This was only a taste of what he can’t have. You both took a bite of the forbidden fruit but can’t eat the entire thing – no wonder he looks like he’s cast out of heaven he didn’t know even existed.

“Sir, I cannot do this,” you grab his face with both hands now. “Please don’t make me do this...”

He sighs and looks at the mess you just made. He’s broken every oath he’s ever taken, and the evidence is scattered right there between you. The only thing deadlier than this would’ve been if he pumped all of that hot, fluid sin inside you.

“Sweetling,” he laments. “Look at us. You’ve already ruined me. Ruined us both…”

“It’s called love, silly.”

He breathes a short, shy smile, the first you’ve ever seen on him. It’s cute and makes him look young, the quick flash of teeth between unruly lips, the almost bashful, downcast eyes that are not quite ready to meet the full brunt of your devotion.

“Ja,” he breathes. “Ich weiss.”

Then he brings his eyes back to yours, his smile slowly making way for a more serious expression. He lifts a hand to touch your cheek, and you find yourself soaring in the sky like a bird, a phoenix that has risen from the dead. It’s heavenly, the way you both caress each other, here on the lowly tavern’s bed, covered in salt, sweetness and sin.

“Your father will have both our heads if he finds out,” he tells you as if you needed the reminder.

“I pray our heads will never be separated then.”

He snorts a quick smile again. It makes you heady, that you’re apparently the only one who can make this gruesome giant laugh.

“You’re dangerous, princess,” he gruffs. “I knew you were trouble… And yet I curse all the years I left you in peace.”

“I know,” you smile. “Never the brightest one, my love...”

When you lie in his arms that night and tell him about your silly little fantasies, he grows hard again. When you tell him you now have new ones—ones where you’d want to feel him inside you—he looks like a man condemned to death.

The stares he shoots your way make it clear that he’s lost – no matter what he says, he can’t be kept away from you, not anymore. You suppose he’ll forsake even more secret promises and vows before forsaking the pledge he swore to you. Even at the cost of your lives, he’ll come scratching at your door, howling for some quick, hot love in the night, begging for you to give him everything he has denied himself.

And eventually, you grow more serious too. While lying in his arms, safe and tucked away from all the horrors of this world, you play with the leather strings of his gambeson, tugging them and twisting them around your finger like a child.

“There will come a day when they promise me to another,” you whisper, wondering if he’s already asleep.

He promised to never leave your side again, he promised. And still… What will happen when the carriage and horses take you to some distant, hostile kingdom, far away from him? What if you only get this summer together, and then nothing no more?

“They’ll take me away,” you tell him, almost without a voice.

A soft, hearty grumble answers, a man who finally knows what he’s fighting for.

“No one will take you away, sweetling. Not as long as I live.”

#könig x reader #könig x you #medieval au #konig x reader #könig fanfiction #cheesy romance warning

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shaevilux · 1 year

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People knock on Rhoam for being a bad dad cuz he's distant and stern to little Zelda and say how Rauru is the goat (heh) for taking her in like his own daughter. Like Zelda had her real parental connection with Sonia and Rauru. But frankly that's a little reductive.

Rauru literally descended from the heavens, married a priest, started a kingdom. Man didn't really know much strife yet. There's no looming threat of calamity or prophecy yet. Things are peaceful. Things are fine. Things are great. Zelda dropped in during this time, talking about a doom that's going to happen tens of thousands of years in the future.

This sad, lost princess.

Of course any reasonable person would take her in and calm her and tell her she is fine and listen and support her.

Rhoam not being able to be this kind of figure for Zelda is tragic. Just read this poor man's journal entries:

"It has been a year and three months since her mother passed. Perhaps she is held back by heartache too deep to heal. If the Ganon prophecy wasn't looming over our heads, I would tell her to take her time... To wait until she is ready. But our situation is dire and leaves no room for weakness—even on behalf of my beloved daughter. My heart breaks for Zelda, but I must act as a king, not a father. I must order her to train relentlessly at the fountain." Pg 4.

"In truth, I understand Zelda's feelings. Painfully so. She lost her mother, her teacher, before she could learn from her. Ten pointless years of self-training, without so much as a book or note to help her find her way... Those in the castle talk behind her back. And I, her only family, scold her for her shortcomings. No wonder she wishes to hide away in her beloved relic research. I'd love nothing more than to console her... But I must stay strong. She MUST fulfill her duty, just as we all must. Even if she comes to despise me." Pg 6.

"I have been told my Zelda went to the Spring of Wisdom... This will likely be her last chance. If she is unable to awaken her power at Lanayru, all hope is truly lost. If she comes back without success, then I shall speak kindly with her. Scolding is pointless now. I forced 10 years of training on her... and after all that, it seems her power will stubbornly awaken some other way. Perhaps I should encourage her to keep researching her beloved relics. They may just lead her to answers I can't provide. For now, I sit anxiously, more a father than a king in this moment. I sit and await my daughter's return." Pg 7. (He fucking dies and never gives Zelda this bit of closure uuuugggghhhhhhh Zelda I'm so sorry Rhoam I'm so sorry)

It sucks because most people remember the cutscenes (duh it's more immersive and important) and in the cutscenes of the first game Rhoam was mostly shown as being stern and mean to babygirl Zelda, who is closed fists explaining herself to him at the verge of tears. And in contrast everyone in the first royal family of hyrule in the second game treated her with such kindness and we can see how happy she was being there with them.

Rhoam was shackled by duty. By prophecy. By the looming calamity. And from the day he named his daughter 'Zelda' he shackled her as well.

And what does Zelda do with these shackles? She accepts them. She tolerates them. Because she loves her father and her kingdom and knows there's a power dormant in her that can stop the calamity that she must do her best to unlock. She does this dutifully. She does all the training, she does everything that is required.

But it still doesn't unlock. So she tries other ways. She isn't just going after the 'relics' because she's scholarly and nerdy and wants to learn about them. She does it because she's pragmatic. She knows her sacred sealing power isn't present in her. She knows she might not be able to control it or even unlock it in time.

So she tries this alternative approach. The Divine Beasts, the guardians. Ancient tech that was used to prevent the calamity of their time. And she awakened the tech. And her father chose the champions for each divine beast. And they were all prepared. And it's all thanks to Zelda.

And then... Fucking tragedy again. Ganon probably learned his lesson from the last time he was thwarted and immediately went for the tech, corrupting it and turning it against the new users. Against Zelda.

It's never really stated how fast it all turned to shit when the tech betrayed them (or maybe I don't remember) but every account points to it being almost overnight. The champions died. Rhoam died. And suddenly, suddenly Zelda unlocks her sealing magic.

I always always hate the literary trope of using tragedy to unlock a great power that could've actually stopped the tragedy from happening in the first place.

And it's no different in BOTW. I hate that Zelda had to go through all this to unlock her powers.

And then what happens next?

She's stuck in limbo (in an almost mocking parallel to Rauru in the next game with his imprisoning arm) holding Ganon back. For a hundred years.

This young woman had gone through so much only to be trapped with a calamity seeking to destroy Hyrule for a century.

Does she know her father died in the war? Does she know the champions died in battle? Would she know Link would survive in the Shrine of Resurrection? Would she know how long it would all take? The century she would have to wait?

I think she didn't. I think it all happened too fast. I think ultimately, she decided a stalemate with ganon was an agreeable outcome. I think in her mind she probably thought she failed Hyrule. When the divine beasts turned she must have been distraught. Distraught might not even cover it tbh. But at least... At least when the kingdom was brought to it's knees by the corrupted tech and was waiting for the final blow, she had the ability to ensure the final blow never came.

And oh boy I have a looot more to talk about regarding Tears of the Kingdom. But I do want to have a couple of more playthroughs of it to really formulate what I want to say.

#zelda #zelink #totk thoughts #loz spoilers #totk spoilers #the legend of zelda #legend of zelda #tloz botw #tloz totk #loz totk #loz botw #loz tears of the kingdom #tears of the kindom spoilers #breath

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rose-tinted-kalopsia · 7 months

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≡;-꒰ 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍

╰┈➤ ❝ zayne x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : softdom!zayne, husband!zayne x wife!reader, reader has body insecurities and negative thoughts, kissing, heavy petting, body worship, praise and reassurance, nipple play, clit play, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, soft sex, slight dirty talk, slight cursing, use of pet names "sweetheart" "snowflake", lmk if i missed any tags !! ((unedited))

wc : 5.4k

youtiful masterlist

You couldn't sleep.

It was late; later than late—you knew that once Zayne got home, you would definitely be reprimanded for your sleeping habits again.

But how could you sleep like this?

The day had kept you restless.

Tara had proposed another one of her gala nights this afternoon, having practically spammed your texts with an invite for next week. She was quite adamant in this one, considering it was the only time that everyone seemed to be free enough at the same time, and of course, it went without saying that you were invited. But Tara wanted it to be extra special—to make up for all the lost time, and to make the most of the moment, because who knew when you all could get together like that again?

And you couldn't really argue with her on the matter; she had a good point. Though Tara and you saw each other often enough, both being the senior hunters that you were, schedule clashes were becoming more and more common. Suffice to say, it was even harder for the two of you to get ahold of the other girls you'd become close friends with over the years. Adulting was hard, sometimes.

So naturally, this was, as she put it, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, one worthy of a little extra—and while exaggerated, in typical Tara fashion, you could definitely see where she was coming from.

You wanted to meet with the girls, just as much as she did.

But formal events had never been your favorite.

Earlier in the afternoon, you had spent your lunch break with Tara in favor of scouring for the perfect new outfit for that night out. "Window shopping only, for now, of course!" she had said, none too keen on spending right from the get go, but excited to scan all the options nonetheless. And perhaps, you, too, had been excited along with her—Tara's energy was always contagious, and she knew exactly how to string people along with her in all of her happy-go-lucky skip-throughs. But soon enough, you were quickly reminded as to why you disliked formal events so ardently.

It was the clothes.

While many girls you knew jumped at the prospect of dressing up a little fancier, it was hard for you to love—you never saw yourself as someone with a body shape that could easily fit into these fancy clothing, and you had always been jealous of the girls around you that did. You weren't exempt from the same desire to dress up, of course, but—it was simply harder to enjoy when it has only ever caused your confidence to dwindle.

You, yourself, had never really voiced out your insecurities.

You didn't know if the girls knew, nor if Tara had figured out why you were so hesitant to try things on with her.

But whether or not you spoke about it or showed it at all, it did nothing to change the reality that those thoughts were there.

In truth, you hated it.

Despised it.

You never thought yourself to look good in those form-fitting clothing; never thought yourself to look good in a dressed up skirt. If anything, it was hard for you to feel comfortable in such clothing at all—and shopping for them was always a pain.

You wanted to meet with the girls.

You did, you really did.

But suddenly Tara's little cocktail dinner party was more daunting to you than you'd have liked it to be.

Naturally, by the end of your little mall adventure, Tara had found herself a few options to go back, revisit and, perhaps, buy for that very night... While you remained blank on your choices.

The mere thought had you sinking even deeper into the duvets, never more grateful for the fact that you were covered and unseen under the thickness of them.

Your mind was simply racing too much.

You, too, wished you could just sleep all of your thoughts away, and maybe, maybe, the morning will be more bearable.

...If only.

You haphazardly brought the duvet over your head, burying yourself completely hidden under them, and let out a whine.

Zayne would probably be home in a few moments.

He would see you like this, very much wide awake despite all his texts having insisted you not to wait up for him, already on the verge of crying from the sheer intensity of your less-than-welcome thoughts.

You didn't know how much he knew of all this, either.

Though you had been together for a couple years, married for roughly one—the topic had simply never come up. You hadn't explicitly told him anything about it; you'd simply managed enough through all the other formal events you'd had to attend.

You didn't want to be a baby.

In the end, you knew that this would pass, and you would get through it just fine like you always did—

Only that, somehow, today, it was worse than all the other days.

The thought of trying to get through this like you normally would only made your heart churn with discomfort, tears welling up in your eyes unwarranted.

Fuck.

Your lips quivered.

You didn't want to cry.

Zayne would be getting home from a long day.

He would be tired.

He would want to sleep.

He had an equally early start to the next day, and you couldn't—

You couldn't possibly bother him with petty problems you could solve on your own.

You always have, anyway, right?

Why should now be any different?

You heard the door click gently, followed soft, careful footsteps padding the floor to the room—

The minute the doorknob turned and you could vaguely make out the brief flicker of light, you shut your eyes tightly and turned to the side.

You had to sleep.

You swallowed thickly as you heard the faint rustle of fabric, the lightest clink of a hanger meeting its clothesrail, and the shifting of weight on the mattress.

Though you were under the blankets, you could feel the telltale warmth of your husband beside you, enough for it to have some form of comcort wash over you in an instant.

Perhaps, too much comfort.

You felt a tear roll down your cheek, and you drew in a careful, shaky breath.

Of course, Zayne, of all people, would never miss the slightest of cues from you.

"Sweetheart?"

There was a soft murmur of his voice over the top of your head, and you felt the duvet being slowly peeled off of.

There was a rush of cooler air over your face, and Zayne's arms wrapped around you, pulling your body closer to his.

...Ah, shit, you instantly surrendered, knowing there would be no way to play it off, only willing for those stupid tears in your eyes to magically disappear.

"You're awake, aren't you? It's not healthy to sleep under the blankets like that."

His voice was soft, and gentle, and he placed a light kiss into your hair.

You swallowed thickly.

"H-how was your shift...?"

You winced internally, thinking the waver in your voice was already a very telltale sign.

And as you were met with momentary silence, you figured you had been right.

Zayne shifted around, gently pulling you backwards against him, just enough for him to see your face.

And the moment your eyes locked, it was almost as if you couldn't take it anymore.

His lime-green eyes regarded your own with concern, and affection, and love—

It was almost as if all and any emotions swimming restlessly in your heart overflowed in an instant, and you couldn't think to stop the tears from falling. Choked sobs edged their way out of your throat, completely ignoring the horror at your sheer inability to control your own emotions.

You were so... pitiful. So pathetic.

You'd promised yourself you wouldn't cry in front of him over this, and yet, here you were.

Insult after insult swirled adamantly in your head as you turned, burying your face into his chest, desperately searching to anchor yourself in his warmth.

"What is it, snowflake? Are you unwell? What's wrong?" He murmured into your hair, soft, soothing rubs against your back, holding you tight against him—and you didn't feel like you deserved any of it. You wanted yo shy away from his gaze, from his touch—but the mere thought of such irrationality had you sobbing harder, berating yourself for even daring to doubt him at all.

You shivered in his arms, shaking your head, willing yourself to calm down.

And, perhaps, to you, there was no greater comfort than having him here with you.

Despite the conflicts in your mind—whether or not you were deserving of all of his affection—Zayne, and his sweet whispers of comfort, his reassuring squeezes, his loving caresses... Time and time again, you would never fail to find solace in his arms.

Now was no different.

Zayne always had that effect on you, and, perhaps, you wondered if maybe you should have considered opened up to him about this much sooner.

Now, at least, it was enough for you to steady your breaths, eyes closing, your own arms shifting to hug him back.

"Talk to me, sweetheart," he said, running a hand through your hair, soothing you through your sniffles. "It's bad to go to bed with negative feelings. Won't you tell me what's wrong?"

He didn't push you away, nor egg you to look back up at him, but you could easily hear the concern in his voice.

You shut your eyes tightly.

"...But you're tired," you whispered. "It's silly, Zayne..."

"It is not silly, not if it can make you cry."

This time, he brought his hand to your cheek, caressing it gently, and you tilted your head upwards to meet his gaze. "I didn't see you all day, snowflake," he nuzzled your forehead. "What happened to make you so upset while I've been absent?"

You pouted, already feeling another set of tears prick at your eyes, though you blinked them away rapidly.

"I... I missed you," you said quietly. And it was the truth, just not—all of it. It wasn't as if you planned on lying to him—what kind of a wife would you be if you did?

But you wouldn't have known where to start on this otherwise.

It was still true, anyway.

You'd missed his presence; you almost wished you had spent your lunch break with him like you normally did, and, perhaps, that way you wouldn't be feeling so down in the dumps like this.

But what was done was done.

"I missed you, too, sweetheart." He brushed the tears away from your face, and leaned down to place his lips on your temple, causing you to close your eyes at the gentleness in his every action. "But it's more than that, isn't it?"

Ah, a faint, barely-there smile made its way to your face. Zayne always knew you so well.

You let out a sigh, feeling yourself move in to chase his lips, hopeful for a more proper kiss that you had, in fact, been missing for most of the day.

While he allowed you to steal one, his eyes were expectantly searching yours.

You faltered, like you always did.

"...There's... a cocktail party next week..." You started quietly, moving to lay back on your back, eyes focusing on the ceiling above. "Tara planned it just this afternoon. A girls' outing."

"Did she? It's been a while since you've had those."

"...Yeah."

You turned to look at him, another tiny pout forming on your lips. "I just... I don't know if I want to go..." You leaned into his touch when he brought his hand back to cup your cheek, a familiar, comforting action he would often do with you.

"If you don't, then you shouldn't," he spoke matter-of-factly.

You let out a soft laugh.

It was a very Zayne-typical answer.

"Right, because it's always that simple," you rolled your eyes playfully. "...I wish it was, anyway. Zayne, I haven't seen them in forever..."

"Forever would be an exaggeration..."

You could almost hear the frown in his voice, but for a while, you didn't say anything else.

"...Sweetheart?"

Another gentle squeeze of your arm, and your eyes searched his, feeling your throat close up at truly admitting the source of your problems.

But you should, right? This was... communication. The both of you had always valued it; you couldn't just... go back on your own promises to him.

...It might have made you hate yourself more if you did.

"Zayne... I— I want to, but..."

You paused, taking in a deep breath, averting your gaze once more. Your lips quivered again, and Zayne's immediate reaction was to give you another soft, gentle kiss. Now, you could only close your eyes, focusing instead on the lingering feeling of having his lips upon yours, if only to keep yourself from breaking into tears yet again.

"I-I don't feel like I... Like my body very much, these days..." Your voice came out barely a whisper. "It's a formal event, right? Fancy dresses and all that... I went window-shopping with Tara today, and, I—"

Your breath got caught in your throat, and you shook your head, moving once more to bury yourself into his chest.

"I don't know, Zayne... Maybe, I think I just feel—hard to love, right now, or something. And it's so stupid. I know that you love me, I know that the girls do, and I've never questioned it, I just—I don't feel like I'm pretty enough to be loved, and..."

You clutched him tightly as more of your tears seemed to fall without your consent at all, your own heartbeat thrumming wildly in your ears just painfully hyperaware of just how pathetic you were being.

And you've been feeling pretty darn pathetic for virtually the entire day.

You really couldn't tell if crying was making you feel any better, either—you'd held it together this whole day up until now, but each and every time you spoke, it was almost as if the tears wouldn't stop. Even as he sighed into your hair, even as he hald you close, even with his soft, feathery kisses over the top of your head.

"Don't cry, snowflake," he murmured, gently rubbing your back. "Here, breathe with me. Relax, alright, sweetheart?"

You swallowed your sobs, settling slowly into whimpers and then slowly into hiccups, focusing on the steady movements of his palm against the silk of your nightgown.

"That's it. Breathe, okay?"

You sniffled as you looked up, pouting visibly, and he reached over to wipe your tears away once more, shifting to press his forehead against yours.

"Sweetheart. Have you been feeling this way for some time now?"

His eyes were intense. They carried within them was an emotion you couldn't quite place. It was almost as if it had swirled into a complicated mix, almost as if desperate to pull you out of your self-deprecating reverie; only giving way to a certain kind of sorrow when you feebly nodded your head.

"Oh, snowflake," he whispered, and the genuine regret that was laced into his voice made your heart thrum. "If only you had told me sooner."

"...M'sorry, Zayne..."

"Why do you apologize? I only wish to make you feel loved. Because I do love you. And I think you are the most beautiful, beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon."

His words felt weighty on your heart, nd you had to swallow down, for the nth time that night, that very same desire to cry.

"...Zayne..."

This time, he kissed you—soft, and slow, and gentle; not unlike most of his kisses, but laced with a certain passion that almost seemed to drown out all the fragments of disdain still in your mind. His hand moved up to your hair, his other drawing you even closer against him, the heat from his skin becoming ever more noticeable to you.

When you pulled back from his kiss, eyes dazed and mildly breathless, he traced his fingers over your face—from your eyes, to your nose, to your mouth, to your jaw... And down, over your collarbone, over the skin of your upper arm.

"You are beautiful, sweetheart," he repeated. And he stroked your arm, never once taking his eyes off of you.

For the first time that night, you thought—yeah. Maybe I am beautiful.

His hand, then, moved from your arm over to your clothed breast, grazing over the exposed skin peeking out of your now-disheveled nightgown, before trailing down to your stomach—and your hips—and your thigh—

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes moving downwards to watch as his hnd repeated the same motions, steadily feeling yourself relax into the lull of his caresses.

"Your hips," he mumbled. "Your stomach... your thighs... your arms... your breasts..." Zayne leaned over to kiss the tip of your nose, offering you the smallest of smiles. "Your cheeks. Your lips. Your nose, your eyes, your..."

"—Z- Zayne—"

"...Everything." His voice dropped low into a whisper, his hand slipping right between your thighs, brushing a knuckle against your clothed heat.

He nuzzled against you, sighing.

"You're beautiful, my snowflake. And I love every single part of you. Do you understand?"

You could only nod underneath his gaze, staying completely still as he moved his arm down to settle firmly over your waist, his eyes conveying a certain desire that was quite familiar to you.

"...Zayne," you mumbled. "A-aren't you sleepy?"

"No."

"But... You always say it's bad to stay up late..."

He gaze was unwavering; firm, yet expectant. You could feel his thumb rubbing circles into your skin, and when he lened back in to whisper over your lips, you could feel yourself dizzy at his hot breath against you.

"Maybe so," he whispered. "But you are more important right now. And if you would allow me, sweetheart... Then I, as your husbnd, would want nothing more than to show you just how much I love you."

Your breath caught in your throat.

His hand, now, would slide up ever so slowly, tracing the curvature of your spine, and you shuddered—

"Okay," you spoke, breathless, quiet, waiting in anticipation of his movements.

And when he smiled, you thought, truly, you couldn't wish for a more loving husband.

"May I know?" he mumbled as he gently moved the fabric of your gown up above your breasts. "What about your body do you hate so much?"

He stopped when you shivered involuntarily against the cold air on your stomach, subconsciously moving your arms over to cover yourself.

You looked away.

"I understand if you do not want to talk about it. If it's too much, then please, forget I as—"

"...I'm not slim, like the other girls," you cut him off softly.

Zayne's hands gently pried your own away from your stomach, bringing one of them up to kiss at your knuckles.

For a while, there was silence, and you shrunk under his gaze.

What if he also...

"You don't have to be," he interrupted your thoughts with a nod of his head, having finally gathered his thoughts, and his other hand moved back to stroke the side of your waist.

"...But... I-I don't fit well into dresses... My torso is long, and my figure isn't very flattering, my belly fat would show if I—"

He moved lower, this time, to place a trail of kisses from the valley of your breasts down over your navel.

"Z-Zayne..."

"You must understand that I think your figure is very flattering, sweetheart. You've always looked stunning in everything that you've worn. Don't you know how much self-control I must practice whenever I see you?" A smile tugged at his lips, and you almost shivered at the look in his eyes, goosebumps raising on your skin when he snaked his hand over to the plush of your inner thigh. "And I love the way my hands would mold into your skin. They fit so perfectly around your waist, your thigh... So easy for me to hold. Very easy for me to love."

He gave you a squeeze as if to prove his point, but you could only look away almost shamefully. "...But I have scars on my legs," you mumbled. "So wearing short skirts would expose them, and they're—"

"Beautiful."

He bent your leg to kiss your knee, gently brushing his fingers over the marks on your skin.

"They are beautiful."

Zayne shook his head with a sigh, before moving back up to capture your pout into another kiss.

"But—"

"No buts, sweetheart. These are not flaws to be hidden, nor things that you should feel the need to get rid of. They are part of you, and to me, that makes them perfect."

Another kiss, this time by the side of your jawline, and you drew in a breath.

"You are perfect, snowflake."

You felt your skin burn against his touch, and his words made you feel warm and tingly.

"The shape of your face is, too, perfect as it is. In case you were wondering. Just as perfect for me to hold, and just as perfect for me to kiss."

A kiss on your neck, to your collarbone, to your shoulders, down your arm...

"I can only say the same for your arms. So soft. They wrap perfectly around me, did you know that?" He smiled against your skin, before shifting to press you onto your back, caging you between his arms and hovering above you. "And your shoulders sit on you perfectly fine, I hope you don't think of them so badly, either. Frankly, they must be tired from carrying all the burdens you keep from me still..."

You noted the seriousness in his voice, and felt yourself subsequently relax.

"...Zayne, I—"

"Do not apologize. I won't ask for it, and you've nothing wrong. However... you must tell me, next time, sweetheart, whenever you feel like this. Can you promise me that?"

A silence followed, as if you were weighing your words—

And perhaps, you were.

It was never easy for you to speak of this thoughts. You'd think yourself normal if not for all these baseless insecurities, and you'd much prefer to keep them to yourself—

But what had that done? All these years spent holding in your tears, only to break at the slightest prod of your thoughts.

It wasn't as if crying had helped you.

It even made things worse, probably.

And it would do more harm to you if you continued in this unhealthy cycle of bottling things up.

"...You don't mind?" you whispered. "I don't want to bother you... You're always so busy..."

"Oh, sweetheart. I will always have time for you. And I am always here to listen. You understand that, don't you?"

"...I know, but..."

"I am your husband. What husband would I be to ignore your concerns?"

You smiled faintly at that, finally finding in yourself the courage to loosely hook your arms around his neck.

In the end, Zayne was willing to be your confidant. And communication had always been important between the two of you, you knew this well enough—an issue like this shouldn’t be too different from that. Why would you keep such things from him, truly?

"Okay," you nodded, a promise to yourself and a promise to him. "I promise, Zayne."

"Good girl."

His praise, so associated now with certain activities that you had often done, went straight to your core—you almost wanted to hide, despite knowing you had given him consent to do as he wished, but he leaned in for another kiss.

You could feel his smile as he moved his lips against yours, biting gently at your lower lip enough to elicit a gasp.

When he pulled back, the mirth in his eyes was clear, and you jumped as you felt the pad of his thumb graze ever so slightly over your pert nipple.

"Z-Zayne..." you whispered, eyes searching his.

"Do you know what I love the most about your body?"

He spoke against your lips, close enough just to touch, but not quite.

You slowly shook your head no.

"You're always so responsive."

His hand moved to knead at your skin, brushing slightly over your nipple but never quite touching. His eyes fixed upon yours, taking in the way your eyelids would flutter and the way you would instantly shudder at his touch;

"So... expressive. So telling."

You couldn't help the way you whimpered, feeling yourself arch slightly into his hand, eyes closing as he flicked once more against your nipple before pinching it between the pads of his fingers.

The moan he elicited out of you was airy and long, and had you opened you eyes, you would see the way he tilted his head, watching you, observing you. He only continued, of course—rolling it slowly, tugging slightly, feeling the bud get harder between his nimble fingers. It was almost as if he were eager to hear more of you moans, and he would get them instantly.

"You're always so sensitive for me, sweetheart."

Without giving you a chance to react to his words, he dipped his head down, latching his mouth over your other bud, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your arms. Another moan fell from your lips. You felt him gently rub your waist once more to ease you into the pleasure, expertly working you up.

He knew you so well.

You could feel it in the way he pinched and rubbed at you in all the right places, skillfully swirling the tip of the warm muscle over your stinging nipple. You felt his saliva pool from the sides of his mouth and onto your breasts—when he pulled back with a 'pop', you flushed at the way he casually wiped it away, eyes never leaving yours.

"Z-Zayne, really, you..." You were breathless when he spoke, barely getting a chance to collect yourself when he sat up, spreading you open and settling between your legs.

"You're wet, aren't you?" he spoke matter-of-factly, but the look in his eyes told you that he was quite pleased. "Hm, what did I say? So responsive for me."

His hand moved lower.

"Just like the good girl that you always are..."

Lower, lower, digging into the waistband of your panties—

"And you are such..."

Another kiss on your stomach, and he slowly pulled the fabric away.

"A beautiful..."

His eyes dropped to the way your slick pulled with your underwear, a telltale sign of your wetness.

"Good girl."

Zayne moved to swipe a finger over your slit, collecting your arousal and spreading it over to your clit. He raised an eyebrow slightly at you as he did so, taking in the way you would mewl almost instantly; "So wet for me, my snowflake."

You whimpered, hands reaching out for him, settling only when he tucked you under his chin, easily slipping a finger into your hole.

"Mmh— Zayne..."

Another moan, and he kissed at your hair, gently pumping his finger in and out of you.

"See how perfect you are?" He murmured, and his thumb would press over your clit, gently rubbing in time with the languid thrust of his finger. "The way you wrap around me like this... I could keep my fingers inside of you all night long, sweetheart."

You could feel everything, with the way he took his time with you, exploring every inch of your pussy almost as if committing it to memory. And he was right—he felt perfect inside you, feeling his sighs against the crown of your head everytime he would clench around you.

He slipped another finger in, and you groaned at the stretch.

"Shit, Zayne," you whispered, feeling yourself buck up into his fingers.

"Language, sweetheart."

You almost laughed at his words, had he not quickened his pace, finally moving his head down to bring you into another deep kiss.

You could feel it—the gradual knotting in your stomach, the jolt of pleasure when he rubbed against your sensitive spots.

"Zayne—" You moaned when he pulled back from the kiss, eyes turning hazy. "Zayne, please, I'll cum—"

He peppered kisses over your face, and smiled.

"Cum for me, sweetheart."

You gasped as you climaxed almost as if by command, trembling in your place, eyes wide as you felt the pleasure rip through you intensely. Zayne continued to kiss at your skin, soothing phrases in your ear, gentle caresses over your arm.

"Z-Zayne, I... You...—"

He pressed his cock against your cunt, sighing into your neck.

"One more, sweetheart, okay?" he breathed, teasing your entrance with his tip. "I need to be inside you."

And how could you say no?

You could feel the lust radiating off of him, his chest heaving with remnants of self-control, leaving slow, languid licks on the side of your neck if only to placate himself.

It was rare to see him lose control, but you knew that he would always end up getting like this whenever he would push himself inside you.

He would only get like this with you.

For you.

Your heart jumped, and you nodded, running your hands over his back.

"I can take one more," you mumbled.

Immediately, inch by inch, you felt him sink deep into your cunt, feeling the stretch of your walls to accomodate his length no matter how many times you'd done this.

Your eyes closed as you hissed in pleasure, wrapping your legs around his waist, taking in the way he would gently rut against you. Soft, steady, rocking movements; the bed would creak along with his thrusts in a lull that had your eyelids fluttering closed.

"You take me very well," he groaned from the throat, voice slightly muffled into your neck. "So perfect for me, snowflake... Your pretty pussy around my cock..."

His words sent jolts of pleasure straight to your core, every squeeze of your cunt on eliciting a sharp hiss from his lips.

"Haah... Zayne..."

He made you feel loved.

His cock was snug in your walls, every vein and ridge dragging perfectly against you. You were made for him, and he for you—his low moans were music to your ears, and you hugged him tighter, your chest swelling with warmth.

"I love you," you whispered, bucking your hips up to meet his. "I love you, Zayne... so, so much."

He finally lifted his head, the lustful cloud in his lime-green eyes mixing with overflowing adoration.

"And I love you, sweetheart. More than you think. More than you know."

You'd never felt yourself glow at such words before.

The pace he kept was steady, but the lingering feeling of your previous high had you now moaning unabashedly, feeling yourself getting closer, and closer to another one.

"Please," you whimpered, feeling your nails dig into his back when he angled his thrusts, hitting that spot that had you seeing stars. "Please, Zayne, 'mso close..."

He shuddered at the way you clenched, obliging you with harder, deeper thrusts, adoring the way you would throw your head back in moans of his name.

"Fuck," he cursed, eyes closing, hips stuttering. "Go ahead, sweetheart, 'm right there with you."

You could feel the way he twitched inside of you, thrusts getting faster, more erratic.

"Inside, right?" you breathed, clutching him tightly, almost locking him in place. "Inside, Zayne, please—together—"

He moaned lowly, nearly driving you into the mattress with the force of his thrusts, your words igniting a newfound fervor. "Shit—you'd like that, huh, sweetheart? Want me to fuck a baby in you? You'll be such a beautiful mother, won’t you?"

Your eyes squeezed shut, focusing on the feeling of his cock against your walls, claiming your cunt in the way you liked best. "Yes, yes, yes," you chanted, "please, Zayne—"

You mewled in your release, clenching tightly, feeling him paint your insides white as ropes of his cum spurted deep inside of you.

You held him close, panting, burying your face into his neck.

"I love you," you whispered, repeating your words. "I love you, Zayne. I love you, and thank you... For always being there for me."

He panted as he thrust inside of you once, twice, plugging you full of his spend, before pulling out and kissing you deeply.

"I love you ever more. I will never stop feeling lucky to have you, and I will always be here. I meant it, sweetheart... You'd make a beautiful mother." As you flushed, he pressed a hand against your stomach, and smiled. "For what it's worth, your weight is perfectly healthy. And there is nothing wrong with your body, okay, snowflake?"

"...I know. Thank you, Zayne."

"Would you prefer to go shopping with me, instead? My shift will end earlier tomorrow. I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of the day with you."

This time, you smiled. You snuggled into his embrace, finding solace in his warmth, just as you always did.

"I'd like that a lot."

⁺₊ / an: i ended up combining a couple of requests for this (and the youtiful series as a whole) and finally got around to writing zayne!!! this was incredibly hard to write, i love him INCREDIBLY so, and something about writing him amplifies the need to have it down perfectly 😭

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

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cobaltperun · 3 months

Note

Congrats on the 500 ❤️ just want to give you a request of a Tara x reader no ghostface au of basically Tara being this popular and reader being this nerd and how reader is madly in love with her but Tara is afraid to be with someone who isn't popular so she ignores reader until reader starts getting attention from another popular person(had no clue where to take it from there)

Miss Popular

Tara Carpenter x GN Reader (Request)

Masterlist

Combined with this request.

Word count: 1.5k

It was never going to work out in your favor. A nerd catching the eye of one of the most popular girls in the school? Tara Carpenter was charming, smart, beautiful, she could get anyone to like her with her kindness. It didn’t matter who you were, as long as you were a good person in her eyes, she would be pleasant with you, listening attentively and making sure no one felt alone.

The two of you talked occasionally and you slowly learnt things about her, that she didn’t want anyone to feel alone because she oftentimes felt alone in her own home. So, she decided she’d never make anyone feel like they were alone if they were in her company.

And you fell in love even harder than before. Her compassion, empathy, everything about her won you over and you were absolutely head over heels in love with her. But that love was impossible in your eyes. You weren’t a part of the same friend group, you only started talking because you happened to do a project together. And there was the main issue.

You were…

A nerd.

A quintessential book-loving, movie-watching, anime-enjoying, no-good-at-sports, introvert-still-waiting-for-an-extrovert-to-adopt-you, nerd.

Asking Tara Carpenter out on a date felt as daunting as writing an essay on a four hundred pages long book was to someone who despised reading. And unlike with the second group, there was no summary online to help you ‘write your essay’.

~X~

You were being incredibly weird these past few days, avoiding even an accidental glance and flinching whenever your eyes would accidentally meet. And Tara was genuinely getting worried, because she couldn’t figure out what she did to save her life.

She would have walked up to you, asked you plain and simple what she did wrong because knowing that she did something and not knowing what it was was killing her! Tara couldn’t do it though, she was afraid. She was a popular girl, on the outside. The truth was she just got lucky after years of being bullied. Mindy took a liking to her and since then she was a part of the popular group, eventually gaining ‘popularity’ herself. It was a fleeting popularity, one that would crumble and turn to dust if she acted on her feelings toward you.

Perhaps it was a selfish desire, but she hoped she’d get a chance someday, after the two of you were out of high school, preferably out of Woodsboro, preferably at a place that didn’t care about who was popular and who was a nerd. Or perhaps she would finally say ‘fuck it’ and forget about what other people said or did.

She would leave that to her future self, surviving high school was her top priority.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she missed you approaching and biting your lip with your hands trembling in your pockets and foot nervously tapping on the ground while Tara was waiting for her friends to meet up with her.

“Hey, Tara,” you uttered, your voice cracking adorably and she sat up straighter, a bit startled by you finally approaching her.

“Y/N,” she smiled at you, happy to see you, another positive of her smiling at you was that it seemed to help you with your nerves as well. It always did, anyway, but from the looks of it it had the opposite effect this time.

“I was, uh, you see,” you refused to look at her and she could only raise and eyebrow at how much you were fidgeting. “Wouldyougooutwithme?”

“Huh?” she really didn’t understand one word you just said.

You took a deep breath. “Would you. I mean, if it doesn’t sound like a waste, no that isn’t… could you, maybe, no hard feelings if you don’t want to, just consider, like, just for a moment think about it. It, uh, being, going out with, or rather just maybe getting a, you know, a drink, and I don’t mean alcohol, just like, water, coffee, tea, juice, something you like, with me?” you still said it really quickly, fumbling over words and looking anywhere but at her.

Tara blushed, her heart beating rapidly as she watched you. You, clumsily, and in the most adorable way she ever experienced, asked her out and her heart said yes. Her heart absolutely said yes! You could go to another town, you could hide it, she was sure you’d understand. “I-“

“Tara!” just before she could answer she heard Amber calling her name and turned to see the girl approaching the two of you quickly.

“I actually like someone else,” Tara whispered, and if only you looked her in the eyes, you would have seen the regret she felt.

You froze and Tara’s heart shattered, you looked like you expected it. “I see, of course, good luck. I’ll see you around,” you forced a smile, staying strong despite the rejection. And she watched you leave, cursing her inability to go after you.

“What was that about?” Amber asked, looking at your back in a condescending way. Even if she was sure Mindy or Chad wouldn’t mind that she liked you, in fact Mindy knew it, Amber would turn the school against her, because in Amber’s mind those that were popular shouldn’t spend time with nerds unless it was to get better grades.

“Nothing,” Tara muttered, not noticing the slight smirk on Amber’s face.

~X~

You didn’t cry over the rejection, you understood, though it did hurt. In fact, you were thankful to Tara for being fairly gentle and to the point about it. You figured she might have been gentler, offering a word of comfort or two, if Amber didn’t come right at that moment.

It didn’t change the fact that she liked someone else. And of course she did.

She had so many friends, so many people around her that the idea of her noticing you of all people was truly ridiculous. You were still happy you tried, even if it meant you wouldn’t be able to face Tara again for the rest of the school year.

At least it wouldn’t be too long. Only several months left and then you’d be leaving Woodsboro anyway.

Still, despite all your thoughts, all the reasons and logic you tried to call upon your heart still ached, you still hoped, deep down, for a different outcome.

“Hello, Y/N,” Amber came up to you in the school cafeteria and you looked up, surprised that she even knew your name, let alone addressed you.

Amber was, by far, the most popular student in the school. Attractive, confident, even arrogant if you were being honest. Being part of Amber’s group meant being at the top of the stupid school hierarchy.

“Hello,” you had no idea what she could possibly want with you.

As introverted as you were you didn’t really know about a certain habit of hers.

~X~

Tara was seething, anger rising within her as she watched Amber talking to you, clearly flirting. She wasn’t just jealous, she knew exactly what Amber was up to, and she was furious that you would be Amber’s target just because she probably figured something out yesterday.

So, before Mindy or any of her other friends could question her, she got up and stomped over to you, grabbed Amber’s forearm and pulled her away, determined look on her face as she dragged her to the corner to avoid attention from other students, not that it worked. Nearly everyone was already looking at the two of them.

“Easy there, Tara,” Amber laughed, more amused than anything right now.

“What are you trying to do Amber?” Tara demanded, looking right into her eyes.

Amber shrugged. “Just messing around, having fun,” she didn’t even try to hide it and Tara had enough. You were too good, too kind, to be another one of Amber’s ways to pass time.

It no longer mattered that Amber would turn students against her, that she could get bullied again. She just went and slapped Amber. “Not with Y/N, you hear me,” she warned ignoring the gasps and covered mouths and while Amber stood there, recovering from the sting of the slap and more importantly her shock, Tara approached you.

“Tara?” you were confused as she sat down, right next to you, your thighs touching and Tara intertwined your fingers together.

“I would love to go out with you. I’m sorry I rejected you yesterday,” she was probably as red as tomato, but you laughed lightly and squeezed her hand tighter.

“Thank you, I promise you won’t regret it,” you didn’t have to say or promise that, she knew she wouldn’t regret it. Come hell or high water, she would never regret this.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #scream #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x gn reader #perunrequests

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nebulaafterdark · 3 months

Note

An Aegon II suggestion because I've seen you're open to them, if you don't mind. ❤️

Perhaps you could do a part 2 of the Dracarys series? I genuinely love that specific kind of trope especially with Aegon because I rarely see it with him and because the specific way in which you wrote it has something addictive to it 😭. You decide if there's smut or not or how Velaryon!(Strong)reader fares.

Thanks if you'll read it.❤️

This is super short, but thank you so much for the ask! There’s just something about this Aegon. I hope you enjoy! 🩷

Dracarys (Part 2)

Aegon ii x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

Targcest, major character death, angst, no smut but it’s dark.

Part 1

“What did you feel before you felt nothing?” Aegon wonders, stroking a possessive hand over her dark locks.

“Fear, grief.”

“What did you feel for me?” He wonders.

“I suppose, for a moment, I was happy to see you.” She admits, because it does not matter anymore.

“And what do you feel for me now?”

If she tells him the truth of it, he may yet kill her. But is this truly living? “I hate you. I loathe you. I despise you.” How many ways can she say it? “I am sick at the sight of you.”

Aegon cackles, like a mad man, “why then, have you not killed me in my sleep? Take the crown, take it all?”

“Who says I haven’t tried?” She breathes, feeling his arms tighten around her. “Or that I won’t.”

“You are a cunning creature. An enchantress. A spider, created to trap me in your web.” He moves his lips to her ear, “if you wanted to kill me, you would have done it by now.”

Tears prickle at the backs of her eyes.

“Same as I cannot bring myself to harm you.” Aegon whispers, “I think about it.”

Y/N wills herself to remain still as his hungry eyes rake over the whole of her.

“Then somehow I never do.”

“Why do you think that is?” Y/N searches his eyes.

“Something in you is tethered to something in me. Tied together, in love and in hate. I have no way of knowing what my life will become if I cut this cord between us.” Aegon admits. “I have no desire to know.”

“I do not want to be tied together.”

“Yet here you are,” Aegon muses, “though you are not held in chains.”

“Because you are holding the only remaining member of my family under lock and key.” Y/N reminds him.

“Take your brother and go.”

“Surely another one of your traps.”

“Not a trap, but an offer. One that will not be made again.”

“Why?” Y/N demands, “why after all this would you let me leave?”

“Because you won’t. Even if you did, you would return. You have nothing left, save for me. I killed your mother, after our families killed each other and my sister killed herself; over a chair.” Aegon sneers.

Y/N’s hands ball into fists, “I hate you.”

“I know, my dearest love.” Aegon taunts, “just as our mothers before us, like Aemond and Lucerys. Even Jacaerys and sweet Helaena could not escape it. You and I were fated to dance.”

Part 3

#house of the dragon #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon imagine #aegon targaryen fanfic

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adventuringblind · 8 months

Text

Rest

Norlestappen X Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

Summary: Reader is struggling badly with a flair up but doesn't want to admit it.

Warnings: unspecified chronic illness, collapsing in exhaustion, worried boyfriends

Notes: another Nonny request!! Love this one so much! (Comments feed my praise kink and give me motivation to write... if anyone was wondering...)

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

The heat had been driving her insane. Qatar is a nightmare. It's so humid that it's difficult to breathe.

Her body despises the heat. It pulls every ounce of energy from her system. Make the pain soar to ungodly levels.

But she's not the one racing.

Max, Lando, and Charles are the ones racing. It's not fair to them that she needs their help when they have to endure whatever hell this is in a death machine for two hours.

She forces her mask back on and pretends she's fine despite her protesting body.

She checks on Charles first. Max and Lando are on the podium, so it gives her some time to see that he's alright.

Which, truth be told - he doesn't look. He's drenched in sweat mixed with cold water. He's panting and trying to peel off his fireproofs.

"Charlie? Are you okay?" She peeks her around the corner, and he shakes his head no.

She helps him get out of the drenched clothing and into a shower. Her phone buzzes violently in her pocket as Charles steps out. She kisses his cheek and dips out to see Lando, the culprit of calling her non-stop.

She drags her body to McLaren. Aching bones won't give her any reprieve as she walks. The heat is unbearable, smothering her mind in a deep fog she can't escape.

The McLaren staff barely bat an eye in her direction. Most give her pitiful looks, probably whispering about how she looks like a zombie.

She'll rest later. Her boys need her right now.

She taps Lando's door with her knuckles. He looks bright-eyed when she opens it. Smells of champagne sweat nearly knock her over. She has to bite back a gag.

Instead, she returns his smile and throws herself at him. "I'm proud of you!"

"Was a good race, wasn't it? A but jealous of Osc and proud at the same time."

She hums and closes the door behind her. Immediately going back to draping herself over the Brit. Effectively using him to help keep her upright.

"Are you alright, love? You look a bit out of it..."

"I'm fine, Lan, just been a long day, is all. Had a lot of cheering to do, you know!"

Lando manages to run around the small room, tugging off his wet clothes, rinsing his hair, and throwing on his team kit.

She grabs something to style his hair with, Lando will be in shambles later if he sees his hair looking wrecked.

She swears they both almost fall asleep to the repetitive movments. A small intimate thing shared between the two of them.

A much louder knock then her earlier one hits their ears, startling the two out of whatever trance they’re in. “Lando! You’ve got interviews to do!”

The Brit groans in disappointment, but gets up regardless. “Thank you, love.” He leans down to where she is still sitting and kisses her forehead. “Will you be alright?”

“I’m going to see Max next, I already saw Charlie.” She throws him a reassuring look. “I’ll be okay, promise.” She even holds out her pinky finger for him to wrap his own around.

That promise, however, is getting harder and harder to keep as she drags her weary bones to Max. Her body is screaming at her to stop moving, find somewhere to sleep for a couple of years before it goes back to making life difficult.

She shakes her head. No, she wasn’t the one driving in the hell today. She can wait until her partners are squared away.

Max greets her outside of the energy station. His face drops when he sees her. Her smile, although genuinely happy, is lopsided. Even the muscles that show her happiness are tired. That should be a red flag, but she continues forward.

Her and Max make their way to his drivers room. His arm wrapped around her waist in much ended comfort and support. She hopes he hasn’t caught on to the way she’s leaning into him to keep herself up.

they flop onto the couch together. “Lando told me you were on your way. He’s a bit worried about you.”

“I told him I’m alright, I promise. The heat is just difficult.”

“Tell me about it.” Max rolls his eyes.

Max’s presence and her comfortable position on the couch do nothing to help her fatigue. The drowsiness is slowly taking hold and she’s not sure how long she can hold it off for.

“You can sleep now, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She hadn’t even noticed she was asleep, slumped against Max’s body. Not until she cracks her eyes open and sees her lovers laying spread out across the room.

Ice packs are strewn across their bodies. Lando is drooling on Charles’ chest, Max has a hand dangling of the side of the sofa that looks like it was previously in charles’ hair, and Charles is sleeping with his body sitting upright.

She wants to giggle at the sight. They all look comfortable despite the chaotic positioning.

Her body moves on its own accord. the ice packs should be refrozen and she might be able to get her hands on some new ones while she’s at it.

She gets nowhere as Max’s arm wraps around her, pulling her back down on top of him. Lando and Charles stir awake from all the movement.

“Nice try, but you’re not going anywhere.”

She pouts at Max. “But I’m fine now. Just needed a nap, is all.”

Charles turns enough so that both him and Lando are able to see her, even if it’s not well. “The circles under your eyes say otherwise.’ He reaches up to hold her hand. “Thank you for taking care of us, but now it’s your turn.”

She would probably be crying s she had the energy to. The compassion they all have for her, even when she lacks it herself. It’s overwhelming at times. especially when she feels undeserving, like she hasn’t earned it.

Lando shimmies his way out of Charles’ hold and fixes himself. His arm coming up to wipe away the trail of drool. “Now that we’re all awake, I’ve tasked Oscar with bringing us popsicles, anybody want ‘em?”

A course of happy cheers fills the room at the mention of a cold treat.

Her smile doesn’t feel tired this time.

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yoon-kooks · 2 years

Text

paired & puppy-eyed | jjk

⛓️pairing: hotnerd!jungkook x popular!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, college!au

⛓️summary: When Jeon Jungkook agrees to be your partner for a class project, he doesn’t realize what that might escalate to until you show up at his door in a teeny-tiny crop top and cling to his tattooed arm like his naughty little kitten.

⛓️word count: 4.6k

⛓️warnings: dom!jk, sub!reader, daddy/kitten undertones, dirty talk, reader calls herself a sl*t one time, dick tattoo, many rounds of sex off screen😔

⛓️p&p masterlist⛓️

a/n: if you're looking for the ✨filthy✨ smut version, read paired & pierced from the reader's pov! this one takes place in the same 2 days but from jungkook's pov without explicit smut😔 if you read both, lmk which version you preferred! i personally like this one more bc we get more catdad!jjk heh

Jungkook doesn’t always have a goal for the day, but today is different. He’s running on approximately zero hours of sleep and would love to get a nap in before class starts. That shouldn’t be too much to ask.

Unfortunately for him, that won’t be happening today because there are at least ten girls huddled next to his desk when he walks into the classroom. An onlooker might assume that these girls are gathered around for a chance to win his heart over, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. In reality, there’s a queen bee sitting a foot away from him, and she’s the one everyone’s always drawn to.

That queen bee is none other than you.

As Jungkook quietly takes his seat, he overhears something about that Loudmouth Jim who sits on the other side of the classroom. Apparently, you were hanging out with that guy at some party. A girl like you can do so much better than Loudmouth Jim who always needs to make everything about him. He couldn’t accept it when his ex broke up with him, so he turned it around on her to make it seem like he was the one breaking things off with her. Now he’s made it his mission to make her jealous by flirting with popular girls like you. Jungkook swears he only knows this because his tattoo artist loves to spill the tea he hears from his other clients.

“Is he as big as they say?” All the girls look so wide-eyed and eager to hear what you have to say about Loudmouth Jim’s cock. They talk about shit like this all the time, and as much as it makes Jungkook want to bang his head against a brick wall, he’s also lowkey disappointed that they’ve never once wondered about the size of his cock. He wouldn’t mind if that seed were planted in that pretty little head of yours.

As it turns out, you haven’t seen Loudmouth Jim’s cock. Thank god. And from what it sounds like, you didn’t want to see it anyway. Good girl. In fact, when Jungkook takes a peek next door, you don’t even look super engaged in the girl talk. You nod along and smile a bit, but you’re a lot quieter than one would expect for someone so popular. It’s kind of cute.

Eventually, class begins and Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief. Now the girls have to cut the chitchat and leave. At long last, he can finally catch up on some sleep. This wouldn’t be an issue if not for the tiny demon kitten that wandered to his doorstep a week ago. Not only does she keep him awake at night by knocking shit down and chewing on his phone charger, but she also haunts him in his sleep.

He dreams of the little fucker swatting her paws against his back and wiggling her tiny body into his hood. When that isn’t enough to get his attention, she starts gnawing on his index finger.

“Hey Jungkook.”

The boy opens an eye and the first thing he sees is you bent down in front of him as if you were about to do something indecent under his desk. He immediately shakes that thought out of his head, though he still has no fucking clue why you’re down there looking up at him with such needy puppy dog eyes.

“Wanna be partners?” you ask him.

Still half-asleep, he looks around the room and sees everyone pairing up and talking about a project of some sort. Fucking hell. He absolutely despises any and all projects that aren’t individual. Even the ones where a super pretty girl is asking to pair up with him. But before he can decline, he notices you checking over your shoulder and sees Loudmouth Jim on his way over. Ah, it all makes sense now. You’re just using him to avoid being partners with that asshole. It’s a matter of picking the lesser of two evils. Understandable.

“Sure, I guess.” As much as Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, he wouldn’t have had it in him to say no to you anyway. Not with those puppy eyes.

“Good, good.” The smile on your face is too much. Why are you smiling that big for something as small as agreeing to be your partner? It’s really not that deep. But it is really cute. Fuck. See, this is what happens when he doesn’t get enough sleep—his mind develops some sort of irrational softness that won’t go away until he either lets his body rest or rubs one out. He’ll do whatever it takes to get that nasty soft feeling out of his system.

Seeing how the classroom isn’t the best place to have his hand in his pants, he opts to fall back asleep before class ends. Hopefully he won’t be disturbed by any more kitten nightmares.

Ten seconds later, Loudmouth Jim enters the scene, and Jungkook can kiss his nap goodbye. Still slumped over, the sleep-deprived boy listens in on the awkward exchange between you and Loudmouth. Bro apparently can’t take a hint that you want nothing to do with him. Jungkook would step in and tell Jim to fuck off, but he wants to see you do it yourself. That would be kind of hot.

“I’m actually partnered up with Jungkook, sorry,” you say in an apologetic tone. You probably get taken advantage of all the time because of that compassion. There’s no need for you to be so nice to everyone you interact with, and especially not to shallow people like Jim. That must be exhausting.

“That kid asked you to be his partner?” Loudmouth spits. Kid? Jungkook does his best not to snort while pretending to be dead. When he takes a peek, he sees you nod. “And you said yes?”

You nod again. This time, however, you don’t give him the gentleness you’re known for. With a furrowed brow, you almost look bothered—something you probably feel all the time but never show. It’s so rare to see your emotions out in the open like that. It’d be quite intriguing to see how you look when you’re genuinely happy, sad, mad, horny—

Nope. Jeon Jungkook is not going to let his sleepy mind wander there on a Friday morning. It can at least wait until he gets home.

After Loudmouth Jim is gone, Jungkook sits up and stares at you. Your face has already softened back up. Fuck it. He’s never seen anyone so cute in his entire life, through sleep-deprived glasses or not.

“Why didn’t you just partner up with that other guy? It sounded like he wanted to work with you.” Kind of a dick move of him to ruffle your feathers when he already knows about your distaste for Jim, but Jungkook is genuinely curious to hear what you have to say. And he’s not one to be curious about other people’s affairs.

“That’s not what he wanted,” you say. They don’t call him Bad Intentions Jim for nothing.

“What about everyone else? Aren’t you friends with everyone here?” Perhaps “friends” isn’t the best word to describe the rest of your classmates, but it’s clear that they enjoy being in your presence.

Apparently, you feel a bit more detached than that. According to you, no one’s going out of their way to save you from a hypothetical burning house. Jungkook probably would. But there’s no way in hell he’s admitting something like that. He’d sound like a simp!

“Who would you save?” he asks. Surely you have someone you’d put before anyone else. Anyone would be lucky to be your number one.

“No one.”

Jungkook knows he shouldn’t feel a certain way about your answer, but he can’t control how his lips curl into the slightest smile. Your response is proof that the two of you aren’t as different as it seems. He might even like you for it.

Heck, he might even offer to do the whole damn project by himself and still give you credit for it! That’s the plan he has cooked up for his antisocial self—until you keep insisting on working together. Something about meeting up on the weekend. Maybe he should stop playing hard to get and just say okay.

“I’m busy.” He immediately hates himself for saying it. That’s his default response for any sort of social gathering, and his dumbass went on autopilot for no reason.

“Busy with what?” The way you flutter your eyelashes at him is both innocent and seductive. Are you actually flirting with him? Because it’s working.

“My newborn,” he utters out of panic. It didn’t entirely come out of his ass, though. The vet did say his kitten is around eight weeks. That’s basically a newborn, and she’s definitely been keeping him busy.

But then your eyes get all big and sparkly. “You have a child?”

How the fuck is Jungkook supposed to respond to that? You’re so excited over a human baby that doesn’t exist, and now he has to be the bringer of bad news. He normally doesn’t feel bad for others, but this makes him feel like absolute shit.

“If it’s easier for you and the little one, we can work at your place?” you offer. Why the fuck are you so gullible and trusting in him, and why is that a huge turn-on for him?

“I was just fucking with you…” he finally comes clean. You look exactly like the surprised Pikachu meme, and yes, it’s adorable. Fine, you win. He gives you his number and address and invites you over.

All that for a fucking project.

When Jungkook returns home, a sleepy kitten waddles its way over to the door to greet him. She yawns her fish breath in his face as soon as he picks her up for a kiss. Ungrateful little demon.

She doesn’t stop there, either. With a burst of energy and a bushy tail, she flicks her eyes around, looking for a wire to chew on. The computer cords must be quite appetizing because she keeps trying to eat them.

“Hey, that's dangerous, Lucy.” Jungkook peels the kitten away from the wires and sets her down on his bed, but she just runs right back into the danger zone. “Lucinda, you little shit.”

Twenty minutes later, the boy makes a run to the pet store and returns with a few peace offerings. He’s not much of a cat person, so he has no idea what all the young kittens are into nowadays. Hopefully they like mouse toys and pink bunnies.

Like the new father he is, Jungkook spends the rest of his evening teaching the kitten how to play fetch, rocking her to sleep, and tucking her in with the mouse and bunny. Finally, the demon has been tamed.

By the time he gets into bed, it’s already past midnight. He’s exhausted and should probably get some sleep, and yet his mind is still wandering. He can’t quite shake that image of you getting down on your knees at his desk, just begging for his attention. For a second, it looked as though you, the most popular girl on campus, were lusting after his cynical smartass self. The mere possibility of that lures his hand into his pants to address that ache he’s been enduring all day. But before he can get any relief, he hears a set of paws back on the prowl.

Jungkook hobbles out of bed and turns on the light. To no one’s surprise, the naughty kitten is caught red-handed with a wire in her mouth.

With a sigh, he collects the kitty, sits her down in his lap, turns his computer on, and opens up the code for the partner project. It’s going to be a long night.

The funny thing is, the assignment itself doesn’t require much time or effort. What takes up all his time and effort is this silly kitten. She’s adorable but so damn needy. Kind of like you. If you were here to work on the project with him like you’d fought so hard to do, you’d surely be much too big of a distraction. No work would ever get done when you bat your eyes at him and giggle over the tiniest things.

It takes a good few hours between modifying and adding lines of code and keeping an eye on the troublemaker, but Jungkook eventually gets it done before the sun rises. As an added bonus, the naughty little wire fairy has finally worn herself out. She curls into a ball on top of Jungkook’s chest and falls into a deep slumber. The boy is out a minute later.

It’s around ten in the morning when Jungkook wakes up and checks his phone. You’re supposed to drop by sometime today, aren’t you? He wishes he knew when to expect you, or if you weren’t coming at all. It’s up to you to message him, though, since he gave you his number and not the other way around.

Just then, he hears a knock at the door. His first instinct says it’s you. But then he checks his phone again and sees no new message from your unknown number. Surely you’d shoot him a text before heading his way.

It’s probably just the special package of kitty toys he ordered a few days ago. He’d get up to check, but he’s not trying to disturb the little rascal from her slumber. She’s still resting peacefully on his chest, and he’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.

But what if the package gets stolen? Jungkook spent a lot more money than he’d like to admit on those kitty toys, and he’d be pretty pissed if someone took that away from his child.

Groaning, Jungkook slowly lifts the sleepy kitten off his chest and places her on the warm spot where he’d been lying. She stretches out her tiny limbs but otherwise continues her snooze. Perfect.

The first thing he sees when he opens the door is your bare tummy because you’ve apparently decided to show up at his door unannounced in a micro crop top. It’s so short your pretty tits might pop out if your arms were held above your head. Jeon Jungkook wouldn’t mind seeing a little underboob if that’s the look you’re going for today.

Then he notices you staring at him like he’s a stranger. You haven’t even greeted him yet. He watches as your eyes travel up his bare arm to his face and messy man bun, and then back to his arm. That’s when it hits him. This is the first time you’re seeing any of his tattoos and piercings.

The quiet studious Jeon Jungkook at school doesn’t look like the type to have a full sleeve or this many piercings. He doesn’t like drawing attention to himself and prefers to keep a low profile. Life is just easier that way. That’s why he always takes his piercings out and covers his tattoos with a hoodie when it’s time to go to class.

Seeing him now in a muscle tank must be quite shocking to you.

“Why do you look like that?” You have the audacity to point the finger at him when you’re looking that good in your little crop top. “I mean, if I’d given you a heads-up, would you have thrown on a hoodie and removed all your piercings before I got here?”

Oh? You sound kind of upset at the fact that he’s been intentionally hiding his body art in class. Like you’ve been missing out.

“Maybe,” he answers as he leads you inside. Your curious eyes are still glued to his tattoos. You ask why he hides it all, and he mentions his distaste for compliments and small talk.

He does it to avoid the exact things you’re so good at attracting.

“Fine, I won’t talk about how pretty I think your tattoos are.” You bring out a pouty lip to combo with those puppy eyes. He wonders how you make your pupils so big like that. And what the fuck are you so whiny for? You want to admire his body art that badly? Fine.

“I’ll grant you permission to give one single compliment.” Without a single thought, he lifts his tatted arm for you to grab onto. Your hands are so soft and warm as they slide across each tattoo. It’s in times like this that Jungkook wishes his entire body was covered in tattoos for you to trace with that angelic touch.

After what feels like forever, you still haven’t said your one compliment. It seems like you’re just using this as an excuse to latch onto his arm like his little kitten.

“Well? Are you gonna fangirl over my tattoos or just keep fondling my arm?” He’d give you a nudge but his arm is too busy being fondled.

“I wish I could see all of them.” Your eyes meet his as your tits press into his arm. The compliment is innocent at face value, but the implications behind it sure as hell aren’t. Oh, you definitely want to fuck him.

If you think you can just waltz into his home with that crop top, drool all over his tattoos, and ask for sex so shamelessly, you’re not wrong. His body is aching to squeeze those tits, to feel just how tight you are, and to make you squirm until you squirt.

“Ooh kitty.” Like an easily distracted toddler, you toss his arm aside and move on to the next toy that fascinates you. The kitten drops her mouse in front of you and sniffs your hand when you scoop her up. Jungkook watches from afar as his own kitten steals you away from him. She even presses her pink nose to your cheek. That little fucker.

Jungkook has to bite his tongue at least five times to stop himself from asking if you’re done playing with his cat. He’d come off as jealous and needy for your attention. Instead, he acts like the mature father he is and puts her to bed in that pink new donut cushion he’d bought for her the other day. She kneads her paws on the bunny until she can’t keep her eyes open anymore and settles into the loaf position. He’s convinced she’s only behaving like an angel right now to impress his lady friend.

“So what’s this project again?” The boy has no intentions of actually working on the project, but he’d prefer it if you weren’t so focused on his cat.

“You’d know if you were listening!” You turn back to the cat again. He could’ve sworn he heard you whispering something into her triangle ears like, “Your daddy is so useless.”

Hearing that name come out of your mouth is confirmation. Confirmation that you’d be so submissive if he were to spread your legs open and make you his little plaything. And he kind of likes the sound of that.

“I’m just fucking with you again. I already finished it, by the way,” he hums. Since you seem to be the stubborn type when it comes to project participation, he sits you down at his computer with the finished code to prove that daddy is not in fact useless.

He expects you to be all wide-eyed and impressed by his work, but you simply sigh as you run the program. Great. It appears he has yet another ungrateful little thing on his hands.

But then you start adding in a bunch of stuff “for the aesthetic” because although he’s “quite possibly the nerdiest boy you’ve ever met,” there’s still room for growth when it comes to “the fun shit.” And by “the fun shit,” you mean coding in a cat doing some elaborate kpop choreo.

Half an hour later, you run the final product again and submit it in its perfect form. Aren’t you the nerd here? Quite possibly the prettiest nerd he’s ever met.

“Are you sure that Jim guy wasn’t trying to be your partner just to get a good grade? Nerd,” Jungkook says before face-palming internally. Why does he always resort to name-calling as his way of flirting with people? This is why no one likes him and why he’d rather just keep his mouth shut. He’s going to ruin a good thing with you if he keeps that up.

But to his surprise, you throw the name right back at him with a playful smile on your face. “If that were the case, he would’ve asked for a threesome with you too, Nerd.”

“Not particularly interested in a threesome with him.” But a threesome with you? Sounds interesting.

You call Jim an asshole and don’t deny that you have a bunch of shallow relationships with the people in your class. When the boy asks you about it, you admit it’s intentional. It’s this mindset of surrounding yourself with a lot of different people until you run into the few you click with.

And while Jungkook can’t relate to having that many connections to his peers, he understands the desire for someone who cares for you unconditionally and makes you want to do the same. He’s been waiting for that person to show up for him too. Idly. At least you’re putting yourself out there.

“Found anyone yet?” he asks, lying down on his bed. He stares up at the ceiling and not at the pretty person sitting less than a foot away from him. You’d joined him on the bed at some point to play with the kitten, but the feline was very quick to abandon you. Now it’s just you and him.

“There might be a boy I’m interested in.” Your voice is flirty and soft. The boy knows he might have a big ego at times, but there’s no doubt in his mind that you’re talking about him. You wouldn’t be on his bed eyeing him like that if that weren’t the case.

With that knowledge in mind, Jungkook decides to tease you some more. “I bet it’s Jim, isn’t it? You know, like a passionate love-hate type thing?”

“Fuck no.” Your face hovers over his like the moon during an eclipse, except you’re much more enticing to look at. He catches your eyes on his lips until they find their way up to meet his gaze. “Never mind, it’s no one.”

Liar.

“Really?” His body suddenly moves on its own, overcome with the lust that had been building up since you first showed him those puppy eyes in class. He pulls you beneath him and holds both of your wrists above your head. He was right. That crop top is indeed short enough to show him some underboob with you in that helpless position. And, much like how you said you wanted to see all his tattoos, he wants nothing more in this moment than to see the rest of you until he’s seen it all.

Purposely keeping the tiniest distance between his lips and yours, he whispers, “I was under the impression you were kind of into me.”

As the afternoon turns to evening, you’re still at Jungkook’s place, still fondling his arm on his bed, and still obsessed with all the art and piercings that grace his body. The two of you had fallen asleep after getting a few rounds of filthy sex out of your systems, much to the boy’s surprise. He’s used to people leaving right after, whether it’s because the relationship was purely sexual or because it just wasn’t worth his time. You’re different, though. There’s something about you that he wants to keep holding onto.

“Did this one hurt?” You poke the metal sticking out of his eyebrow.

“Not as much as you stabbing me with your finger just now,” he frowns, running a hand through his messy hair. The man bun must’ve come out at some point in the midst of all that hair pulling and wrestling in the sheets.

“You must have really low pain tolerance then,” you giggle with your finger ready to poke him someplace else. But before you can do so, he closes his hand around yours and tucks your pointy finger away to put an end to your antics. “You’re no fun,” you pout.

“Really? You seemed like you were enjoying it when I let you s—”

“Where’s this one from?” You somehow dodge the accusation and free your finger from his grasp to poke the shark tattoo that you now know hides beneath his shirt. You’re so sneaky.

“Someone.” Aka the same artist he gets his gossip from.

“What about the… snake one?” Of course that’s the one that pops into your dirty little head.

“Someone else.” Aka the one he might have slept with a few times before she convinced him that the snake would look good on him there. She wasn’t wrong. “You’re nosy.”

“I’m just asking! Maybe I want a tattoo too!” you squeak. Jungkook has no doubt in his mind that you’d look pretty damn hot with any tattoo anywhere on that body. “Tattoos are attractive, no?”

“Be honest, you only fucked me for my tattoos, huh.” The boy knows this to be false because you aren’t the shallow type, but he just wants to hear what other good things you have to say about him. Because maybe he doesn’t hear that a lot from others.

“Obviously. It had nothing to do with how hot you are, or how easy you are to talk to, or how soft you are for your cat, or how perfect of a pair we made for that project,” you lie with the most charming smile ever, snuggling up as close as you possibly can to his body. Twirling his long hair around your finger, you tuck it behind his ear, and whisper, “I’m such a little slut for your tattooed cock.”

The boy gets yet another urge to tear your clothes off again and feel your bare body connect with his so perfectly. He’s just about to shove his hand into your panties (you gave up on pants after the third time) when you let out a tiny snicker.

“I take back what I said about you not being fun,” you say, lips flush against his neck. “You’re fun to tease.”

Him? Fun to tease? Maybe you’re forgetting about all the teasing and torture he put you through earlier. Maybe you’re in need of a little reminder.

“Hey,” he says in his stern parent voice. You look up at him with those big innocent eyes again. Oh great. It’s clear that you know his weakness and aren’t afraid to exploit it. Just like how his naughty little kitten knows she can get away with anything because she’s too cute to get mad at. “Behave or I’ll kick you out.”

“Oh?” His so-called threat catches your attention enough to get your ass in his lap and your hands tangled in his hair. You let him taste your lips, your tongue, your everything—a sweet taste he won’t ever get sick of. “Do whatever you please to me,” you purr as the soft kisses quickly become an unbearable heat of pure desire.

Between you and his kitten, Jungkook already knows he’s gonna have his hands full. The thought of caring for others would normally irk him, but it’s not like he could ever say no to you or the kitten, even if he tried.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts college au #nerd jungkook

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storm-angel989 · 5 months

Note

Is it okay if it is a one shot instead? I don't want to force you to do anythinggg 😭😭😭 it's my own preference!!

Hi There!

I will DEFINITELY do one shots when requested! They’re so much fun to write about, and honestly this is one of my favorite things to write about. I think to keep it organized from the “Outside The Office” series I’ll respond directly to the request with the story attached and add that to the master list.

You asked specifically for Val or Vox x reader and their little girl, so I tried to give both Val and Vox their time to shine in respective, responsible, parental roles. If you want a specific Vox x reader and their little girl or a specific situation for Val x Reader and their little girl, let me know! There are SO MANY to choose from but this is the first one that came to mind!

As always, enjoy! Feedback is always, always appreciated and valued!

“Princessa, hold still.” Valentino grumbled to the squirming toddler. His hands moved as quickly as they could, weaving her blonde hair into braids. “Princessa, stop, I don’t want to pull your hair.”

She let out a shriek and Valentino quickly wrapped the end of the braid in a soft pink hair tie before he scooped her up into his arms and rocked her gently, tucking her against him. “Shush, princessa, daddy is here.”

Never did Valentino ever think he would be calling himself daddy in the most appropriate context of the word.

She quieted quickly and snuggled into him. Valentino smoothed back her hair and pressed his lips to her forehead. Cooler than she was an hour ago. But not quite broke of her fever yet. Definitely due for her next dose of medicine.

She stuck her thumb in her mouth and sucked vigorously- a habit he despised with every fiber of his being. Honestly, he’d rather let her just have the pacifier but his wife was insistent that she break the habit. It wasn’t good for her teeth, she said.

He guessed she would know more about it than he did. She read more books on the subject than he had, and he had read quite a few himself as he tried to teach himself how to be the father he had never had. Truth be told, when his wife first found out she was pregnant, he was both ecstatic and terrified. A baby of his own- of their own. What if he fucked it up? What if something went wrong and he lost them both in the process? But the first three years of his little girl's life proved to be the opposite- he loved her with every fiber of his being.

The flutter of the kicks during the first nine months of her life. Listening to her heartbeat for the first time. Watching the love of his life, his reader bring her into the world, and the first time he held her in his arms- she was so tiny he was afraid of hurting her.

He remembered sitting in the hospital room, holding her as his wife slept, when the nurse came in and suggested that he take his shirt off and doing skin to skin contact with the baby.

“That’s a mom thing, I’m not her mom, I’m her dad,” he protested as loudly as he dared, so as to not wake the sleeping infant.

The nurse said it didn’t matter. The process would help her regulate her temperature and her heart rate- it was biology. Beneficial to them both. Reluctantly, he handed her off his baby and unbuttoned his shirt. The nurse handed her back to him and guided him to hold her against his chest, over his heart, and covered her with the smallest pink blanket.

“There you go Dad, just like that,” she told him.

Dad. No one had ever called him that before. At least, not in the true sense of the word.

Overnight, the top floor of the V tower he and his wife shared with Vox and Velvette had turned into a hybrid of ruthless overlords and a little kid's dream house. Neither aunt nor uncle spared any expense the moment they found out he and his wife were expecting a little girl, and Velvette herself had designed her pink princess themed room that his daughter called her own.

Not that she slept there. For a while, she was in a bassinet. And then a crib. And as soon as she was mobile she crawled into her parents bed and that was it. She slept between them, and more than once he and reader were grateful they had a big bed. For such a tiny kid, she sure took up space. They would have to break that habit he swore he would never develop, but according to the books he read- it really was okay, at least, for the time being.

“Dada,” she muttered. “Don’t feel good.”

He snapped his attention back to her. “I know babygirl. Come on, Daddy’s going to make you feel better.” He lifted her up and carried her into the kitchen.

One of the only benefits of being home with a sick toddler was simply that he didn’t have to go into work today- he could stay at home with his little girl. Normally his wife would be the one who handled all the care, but today was day two of his sweetheart’s sickness, and his wife was spent. And so, he put her to bed and the last time he checked, she was fast asleep.

And now as he filled the plastic syringe with a mix of bubblegum pink medication and juice, he half heartedly regretted that decision.

“No!” She screamed when she saw the dropper. “No! No! NO!”

No. It was her favorite word, one he was both proud and unhappy that she knew. Honestly, he couldn’t blame her for her refusal. He had tasted the sticky liquid himself out of curiosity and immediately regretted the decision. In all of hell’s amazing medical advances, could’t they make something that tasted good?

“Dollface, I know,” he said to her tiredly. “Look, I’ll make you a deal. You take this, and I’ll take you down to see Uncle Voxxy and his sharks, okay?”

That perked her up.

“Sha ka. Now.” She demanded.

He held up the medicine dropper. “Medicine first. Then sharks.”

“Sha ka!” She demanded.

“Then open up,” he replied, taking her chin in his hand. “All of it goes into your tummy. Then sharks.”

She gave him a look of disdain that inwardly made him wince, but she opened her mouth. Honestly, he feared what her teenage years would look like if she was this defiant at three. He stuck the syringe in her mouth and slowly pressed down on the plunger.

“Swallow it. All of it.” He reminded her. “The sooner it goes from your mouth to your tummy, the sooner you can have juice.”

To his relief, she swallowed it and he handed her a bottle of juice. Also probably not the best parenting decision, letting her be on a bottle this long, but the pacifier battle was enough of a fight. Even with Vox and Velvette’s help, they had to pick and choose their battles.

“Sha ka.” She demanded, reaching for him to pick her back up.

Valentino sighed but lifted her into his arms. She snuggled into his neck and that feeling of love, of protectiveness washed over him. He held her a little bit tighter as he carried her towards the elevator, pausing only to grab the diaper bag at the entryway.

Love. It was his field of expertise. But nothing, not even the day he married his wife, could compare to the type of love he felt the first time he held his daughter in his arms. It was different than anything he had ever felt- pure and protective. That feeling had never gone away, even on the roughest of nights, when his wife struggled to stay awake every few hours, struggling to feed this tiny little creature that now depended on them for her every need. Of taking turns holding her until she granted them both the mercy of sleep.

“Sha ka!” She screeched as he stepped into Vox’s office. She struggled in his arms and Valentino set her down.

“Aw, how’s my little peanut? Come to Uncle Voxxy!” Vox turned around in his chair.

Valentino watched as she took off to him and jumped into his arms. For the overlord of technology, he turned into mush around the little girl. And she felt the same way about him, that much was obvious.

“Yeah, you wanna see the sharkies? Come on, we’ll go see the sharkies!” Vox lifted her up and looked at Valentino. “You look like shi- fuck. Crap. I mean, you look like you need a shower.”

“Swear jar. Three quarters. No exception.” Valentino half joked.

The first time his daughter called her stuffed animal a word no toddler should say, Velvette in all her genius introduced the swear jar. The rest of them resisted at first, but it wasn’t like they couldn’t afford it. Vox struggled the most with the no cursing rule around the kid rule and as a result, she had enough in her piggy bank to buy herself a new car if she wanted. Sometimes, Valentino wondered if he did it on purpose. After all, she could spend the money however she chose and Valentino had a feeling that it would be spent at the toy store the next time he and his wife went out of town.

Or he would just buy her whatever she wanted and let her keep it. The word spoiled didn’t exist in his vocabulary. At least, not when it came to her.

“I mean it Val, let me take her for a bit. Go get cleaned up. Maybe lay down for a few minutes. I got the baby, yes I do, yes I do!”

He looked down at himself. Black tee shirt, and yesterday's sweatpants. Probably baby vomit from when she got sick earlier. But a shower sounded like a fantastic idea- a dream, really.

“She puked earlier, and she’s still running a fever. You sure you want that?” Valentino warned doubtfully as he handed Vox the diaper bag.

Vox shrugged. “Push comes to shove I’ll bring her upstairs and get her changed. Not a big deal.”

Valentino watched her snuggle into him and her bottle fell to the floor as her thumb went right back into her mouth, leaving baby drool and Lucifer knew what else all over his shirt. He bent down and picked it up, handing it to Vox.

“You don’t want to help with bath time tonight, do you?” Valentino asked hopefully.

Vox laughed. “Ha! Not on your life! I know what a little terror this princess is with water, yes I do! Yes I do!”

She let out a cross between a giggle and a shriek as he lightly tickled her.

“Go, Val. Shoo. We’re fine, I promise.” Vox reiterated as he turned back towards his desk. “Say bye bye to Daddy, babygirl, we’re going to go see sharks!”

“Sha ka!” she shrieked. “Uncie Voxxy! Sha ka!”

“Alright. Princessa, be good for Uncle Voxxy okay?” He kissed her forehead. Cooler, but not as cool as she was earlier. He turned and walked out the door to the sound of Vox cooing to her.

He walked back up the stairs and took as quick of a shower as he could, hoping he didn’t disturb his sleeping love. To his relief, reader didn’t move from where she lay, fast asleep. A pang of guilt. Being a full time mom was no joke, and he wished he could help her more. But hell would freeze over before he allowed his little girl in the studio- it was bad enough reader came in from time to time. He hated his wife seeing him in that role.

He pulled on clean clothes- jeans and a black shirt and bent over, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Was it him, or did she feel warm too? She blinked, and let out a tired yawn as she looked up at him. He saw the panic in her eyes.

“What time is Val? Where is the baby?” she asked, swinging herself out of bed.

“Baby is with Vox, go back to sleep my love,” he said soothingly as he caught her before she could stand up. “You need to rest.” He carefully looked at the watch on her wrist and opened the synched app on his phone. She was running a temperature too. Son of a bitch. “Do you feel okay?”

He listened to her as she inhaled and broke out into a coughing fit that sounded similar to what the kid had come down with. She shook her head no.

Double fuck.

“Honey, I’m going to bring you some medication and a drink. Do you want water or juice?” he asked.

“Water is fine.” She buried her face in her hands, only looking up when he brought both over to “I need a shower.”

“You’re free to do whatever you want, my love. I’ve got the baby.” He smoothed back her hair as she swallowed the drugs. “You rest, I need you to feel better too.” He pulled her to his chest and kissed the top of her head. “I can only do this by myself for so long. I need you back to full force, and that means lots of rest for you.”

She broke into a laugh that turned into a coughing fit. “That’s going to mean less sleep for you.”

“I’ll manage.” He wrapped his arms around her and cradled her head to his chest for a moment. “Go shower, love. I’m going to free Vox from her grasp.”

She nodded and he stood up. He waited outside the door for a few minutes until he heard the water running. Only then did he make his way back down the stairs.

“Princessa? Vox?” He called as he walked into the studio.

Vox turned around in his chair and shook his head, pressing a finger to his lips. Even from a distance, Valentino could see her tucked against Vox, his sleeves rolled up and his jacket covered her like a blanket. The drool stains on his shoulder were larger now, and was he wearing a different shirt?

“Shush, you’ll wake the baby,” Vox said softly as he carefully stood up and adjusted her against him.

She snuggled into his neck and started to fuss. Vox carefully handed her back to Valentino, ensuring she stayed wrapped up in his jacket.

“Hey baby, Daddy is here,” Valentino said quietly as he adjusted her in his arms. “Thanks, Vox.”

“Don’t mention it. That kid will rule the world someday, mark my words. I’ll see you after work tonight, happy to watch her for a few hours so you can get some rest too.” Vox handed him back the diaper bag. “She did puke by the way. Bright pink medicine, all over my shirt- totally wrecked it. Thank god you keep an extra tee shirt in the diaper bag, and I keep a spare set of my own in the office. I cleaned her up the best I could. But she fell asleep right after and I didn’t want to move her any more than I had to.”

God, there were definitely some parts of being a parent that were completely gross, even for Valentino.

She was fast asleep by the time Valentino carried her back upstairs. He pressed his lips to her forehead and was relieved to find she wasn’t burning up. A cool washcloth should help. He checked in on his wife, and seeing her fast asleep, made his way to the living room and laid down on the couch. It was a risk to lay the cloth on her neck but thankfully she didn’t stir.

As he laid on the couch with her in his arms, he wondered how he would get through the next few days, and hoped that whatever sickness took both his girls down stayed far, far away from him. He needed to take care of them, after all.

#valentino x reader #valentino x wife #valentino x you #the vees #hazbin fluff #vox x reader #the vees x reader #valentino #hazbin hotel #valentino hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel valentino #vox hazbin hotel #voxval #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin x reader #hazbin #velvette #voxvel

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55sturn · 7 months

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✮ COVERED IN YOU

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

synopsis: in which history has a tendency to repeat itself for matt and y/n, and this time y/n’s had enough of the back and forth because despite fighting it for years, she’s in love with matt, but does he love her back?

warnings: swearing, matt is the epitome of avoidant attachment, no established relationship, ex situationship to enemies to something complicated, making out, suggestive, alcohol consumption, angry!matt, mentions of sex.

THIRD PERSON POV

to anyone that dared to ask, most people would imply, rather than flat out explain, that matt and y/n hated one another for good reason. no one would ever divulge into full detail what the good reason was.

most believed it was feelings that were never dealt with, or lingering resentment from a fight that was never acknowledged. a lot of people had their theories, a plethora of them even. but no one but matt, y/n, and matt’s brothers knew the real cause.

when matt and y/n were in their senior year of high school, the year it happened, the two were close. like undeniably and i breakable bond close. they were attached at the hip. but one night things changed when the two of them shared a kiss at some party that eventually led to a much more intimate moment, it being their first of that kind.

from then on, they grew closer romantically. they went on dates, they kissed, held hands, spent hours talking to each other. all for matt to call it off in the middle of them laying in the yard watching the stars.

y/n was confused, to say the least, because she was so sure matt was going to ask her to be his girlfriend after nearly a year of them being whatever they had been. they had already said their “i love you’s”, matt just didn’t think a label was necessary so she waited.

“i just don’t see this going any further than what it is right now.” matt sighs, his gaze flickering from the stars above to the girl beside him, he felt guilty lying to her because in all honesty, she was the center of his universe. but he and his brothers had finally agreed to move to los angeles the second graduation finished, and he wasn’t going to put her though the pain of a long distance relationship.

“that doesn’t make any sense matt, you told me you loved me.” the girl whimpers, tears welling along her waterline.

“i figured that’s what you wanted me to say.” he hums, his voice void of all emotion as he stares ahead, trying not to give into the voice in the back of his mind telling, screaming at him, to take it all back, to tell her the truth.

“so you don’t actually love me?”

“not in the way you want me to.”

“fuck you matt, i gave myself to you, and this is what you do?”

“i’m sorry.”

“at least look at me while you rip my heart out.”

and from that night onward, the two haven’t shared much more than two words. after the triplets moved to los angeles, they lost contact with the girl for a while but nick refused to let up and soon brought her back into their lives after he found out that she had moved to a deeper part of los angeles for the social marketing courses she was studying.

matt, at first, despised nick for bringing her back into his life. he felt like he had finally gotten rid of every touch she left in his life, like he had finally taken a breath that wasn’t full of her for the first time in his life. just for her to resurface.

they had been so consumed by their feelings, which y/n felt was the worst part of it all. she believed love was never meant to be all consuming. and her love for matt, consumed every part of her and when he accepted that love without giving it back, it spit out someone she didn't want to know.

but she learned to love the version of herself that didn't know matt, that didn't want to know matt. but here she was, unfortunately thrusted back into his life and being forced to be someone that knows him again.

the two found endlessly for the first little while, constantly bickering over things that held no genuinely purpose to them, they fought for the sake of fighting. of hearing each other's voices. but when matt found y/n standing on their front step, drenched from the rain and biting back tears, his heart clenched and he softened up around the edges, letting the very clearly distraught girl into his house without hesitation.

he soon learned that the guy she was seeing had only used her as a rung on his ladder in his social climb due to her relationship with the triplets, and on top of that, the internship that she worked hard for that she had landed at one of the top social media networks, had fired her without so many as a good reason.

that night, they rekindled their friendship. they began to lean on each other again, finding solace in each other’s arms. but y/n was apprehensive of getting close again, she couldn’t go through being heartbroken by him again. but he reassured her that he was there and he wasn’t leaving again.

PRESENT TIME

y/n laughed as her and the triplets made their way down the busted sidewalk that led toward nate’s house, the four them of had flown back to boston for a couple weeks due to being overworked and homesick, and what better way to celebrate being home? a party in their childhood friend’s garage. the cold february air nipped at y/n’s hands and cheeks as she struggled to keep warm, and matt took notice of this, falling behind the group to hold her and keep her warm. once she felt like she was warm enough to keep walking without shivering, the two made their way up nate’s driveway, and were welcomed with the smell of beer, weed, and stale cigars.

as the party went on, more people arrived, some y/n knew well, and some she was only acquainted with. there were a few girls from shared high school classes present, and y/n spent most of her time catching up with them, sitting matt or playing beer pong with nate, but there was one blonde girl in particular that kept eyeing y/n. the nasty look on her face made it evident that she didn’t like how close y/n and matt were.

y/n knew the girl from high school, she was friends with matt’s ex fling nicole, and had always seemed to have a strong disliking for the girl so close to matt. but y/n brushed it off, figuring it was just jealousy because y/n stayed close with the triplets and she didn’t. but y/n was proven wrong when matt went to the bathroom and the blonde girl approached her.

“why are you so close to matt? it’s like you’re practically sitting in his lap.” the girl, that y/n remembered was named alara spat.

“what does it matter to you?”

“seeing as he’s my boyfriend, i’d rather not have a random girl hanging off him.”

“since when have you and matt been dating?”

“about a month, we hooked up the last time he was home and now we’re keeping it lowkey.”

“matt’s never even mentioned you.”

“well now you know to stay away from him, m’kay?” the girl laughs, before walking away, leaving y/n angry and upset as she stares at the beer she just opened. y/n scoffs and goes to throw her beer away as matt reentered the garage, immediately noticing her furrows brows.

“you okay?” matt hums, reaching out to brush the hair from her face as she steps back.

“don’t fucking touch me. i cant believe you.” she spits, leaving matt dumbfounded as he watches her walk over to nate, the two of them sharing a quick hug before she exits the garage.

matt’s eyes dart around the room, meeting alara’s pleased smirk as matt storms his way over to the blonde girl, gripping her bicep as he drags her to the corner of the garage.

“what the fuck did you say to y/n?”

“i told her the truth.” alara laughs, watching as matt’s expression grows angrier.

“please enlighten on what you believe is the truth? because the last i remember, you’re just some girl i fucked six months ago and then blocked when you went psychotic.”

“i told her we’re dating.”

“jesus christ alara, i just got her back into my life and you come in and fuck everything up.”

“well now you can be with me, matty.”

“no. you’re always going to be the random hookup that i regret and wish never happened. stay the fuck away from me.” matt seethes, dropping the girl’s arm and quickly leaving the garage, hoping to catch up to y/n. as he runs down the sidewalk, he spots her a couple feet ahead and he picks up his pace until he’s right behind her.

“y/n wait.”

“save it matt. i don’t want to hear whatever excuse for breaking my heart, again, that you’ve got ready.”

“it’s not an excuse. i’m not with her. she’s some chick i fooled around with six months ago, before you and i fixed things.”

“i don’t care matt, you and i aren’t together!” the girl yells, turning around to face as tears slide down her rosy, cold cheeks, prompting matt to delicately take her face in his hands as he wipes the tears. y/n’s eyes squeeze shut as she tries to find the willpower to pull away from his touch, but his hands are warm and she misses his hands on her and it’s harder to pull away with every passing second.

“i know we’re not together, but i want us to be. i fucked up the first time we had something because i listened to the fear in my head. since the night you showed up crying in the rain, five months ago, there hasn’t been another girl in my life. you are the only person i love, and want to love. i am completely covered in you. i am consumed by you. so please listen to me when i say there is nobody else, and there never will be.”

“matt, i’m scared. you made me let you in again, you made me love you again, and there is this fear in my heart that you’re going to push me away again. that you are going to tell me you love and not mean it again, that you are going to keep breaking me over and over again.”

“i know baby, but i don’t want to let you go again, i fucked up, and i don’t ever want to fuck uo with you again. so if you’ll let me, i will prove to you that i’m here for good. if you let me be your boyfriend, i will promise to never break your heart again. please just give me one more chance to love you right.”

“okay.” y/n whispers, her guard growing thin as matt whispers promises against her lips, and that fear is still there and alive, but how can she say no when he looks so pretty staring at her with frozen cheeks and tears threatening to fall? so, she gives in, pressing her lips to his to seal the proclamations and promises he makes, hoping that there will be some truth to them.

taglist: @dylsdunbar @verosivy @soursturniolo @4sturns @sturnsclutter @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshloveee

taglist: @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @lustfulslxt @sturnifyed @teapartyprincess4two @mangosrar @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @cutenote @ellie-luvsfics @strniolo @junnniiieee07 @33sturniolo @hearts4chris @evie-sturns @nicksmainbitch @gnxosblog @sturniolopepsi @wronqness99 @sturniolossss @hesvoid3434 @mattsfavwh3re @inlovewithmattstur

#Spotify #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo oneshots #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo x fem!reader #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo imagine

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ashen-char · 2 months

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dating amber freeman - hcs

ship: amber freeman (scream) x gender neutral reader

warnings: toxic behaviour (jealousy, possessiveness, etc.), swearing, mentions of canon violence/violent tendencies. this is the more tame of the amber hcs though

notes: this took a while! i was debating on whether to do amber during the movie, or a very toxic nsfw leaning take. those will be separate hcs. thanks to @certifiedpuppyslitter for the help! requested here

✦ amber is alone in her old creepy house a lot. she despises how lonely it feels and often has you over to ignore how empty it is

✧ her parents divorced when she was really young, and her dad got custody. a hotshot lawyer, he's always away, and she's always been distant with her step-mom. amber doesn't like letting people get to know her

✧ amber was a total daddy's girl. she loved to argue even as a kid, loving how people would say she's just like him - whip-smart and could win any argument. she even wanted to be a lawyer to be like him

✧ but he was less and less present, and eventually she stopped hoping he'd be around more. stopped trying to impress him, realising that her accomplishments don't mean he'll say he's proud of her

✧ he's always away on business trips which is why she can invite everyone over as much as she does

✧ parties, sleepovers, movie nights, you name it

✧ amber is very lonely deep down. only child, she doesn't let her best friends truly know her

✦ because of her parents, she had to grow up very quickly and take care of herself

✧ so she's got a lot of surprising skills. really self-sufficient. she cooks amazingly, and likes cooking for you because, as she says "cooking for a single person kinda sucks"

✦ she'd scoff if you ever said she was clingy, since amber likes to act all tough and independent

✧ but it's the truth, amber's happiest when you're spending all your time with her

✧ if it can't be in person, she sits in vc with you on discord

✧ whether amber gets to yap away about her beloved horror movies or the latest band she's into, or listening you talk about your day, or even silence

✧ amber just likes that you're there on the other side

✧ and amber loves to sleep on call

✧ she'd get angry when you leave, even if your phone dies, accusing you of leaving her alone

✧ (but she's kinda easy to win back, all you have to do is promise to watch stab with her, or set aside some time to be "all hers")

✦ speaking of discord, let's be real. amber's a loser

✧ she spends her time on reddit and discord, and on occasion places like twitch, tumblr, or 4chan

✧ it's not her fault! she was online at a very young age cause she was so alone

✧ trying to make friends, trying to fill her time so she wasn't so bored, trying to connect with people. amber was totally on omegle as a kid

✧ she's always arguing with strangers on the internet about her stab theories and how bad it's gotten, how derivative the sequels are, or ranking her favourite killers

✧ she's a mod on r/StabUnfiltered, a smaller subreddit off of the main stab one because she kept getting her comments or posts removed there for being too "inflammatory" or even "trolling" for her hot takes

✧ amber would stop in the middle of hooking up because she was bidding on stab memorabilia on ebay

✧ she'd be pissed all day and it'd be because she lost an auction, or some twitter idiot had a bad take on ghostface motives

✦ amber is on letterboxd 24/7, clocking in like it's a job

✧ whenever you two watch a new movie together, best believe amber is reviewing that shit like she's a critic

✧ and you're the type that just enjoys watching movies for the experience. amber absolutely gets heated at you when she asks what you thought about a movie she thinks is 1/5, and yo shrug and go "eh it was fun i guess?"

✧ but amber lets you off the hook when you kiss her and tell her that you enjoyed it because you enjoyed spending time with her

✦ she's also a loser in love. honestly, she's a bit of a simp for you

✧ love is the one thing where she doesn't try to pretend she's tough

✧ amber has these sweet nicknames for you that she peppers in all the time, ranging from babe, love, hun, sweetie

✧ she's pretty touchy. amber holds your hand under tables or under blankets, rubs your back when she passes you, absentmindedly plays with your hair

✧ amber loves teasing her friends about their relationships, like chad and liv's lack of a sex life, but she'll defend you like a knight if they even try to tease her back

✧ and best believe they tease amber about how whipped she is over you

✧ if you invite her somewhere, even when she's hanging with her group, she'll ditch them in an instant (well, not in an instant. she does always tell tara where she's going)

✧ she flips everyone off if they tease her about you, but internally she's smiling. she loves that they talk about you in relation to her, loves being brought up as a couple

✦ you painted the portraits of amber that she has up in her room

✧ by the next time you came over, she already had them hung up on her walls, bragging to her friends that you did them and how talented you are

✦ possessive

✧ when you dress up for her, she shows you she appreciates it

✧ BUT she also doesn't want anyone else to see you like that

✧ she'll whisk her jacket off and drape it over you, insisting that no one else deserves to even look at you

✦ protective af too

✧ she'd wrap her arm tighter around your waist if people are walking too close, with a fierce glare if they almost bump into you

✧ amber would watch your drink like a hawk at parties

✧ she'd insist on going with you to places if you want to go anywhere at night, and she'd definitely tell you to stay over if it was dark out

✦ gets jealous easily

✧ no looking at other girls, no following other girls on social media

✧ you're in for a huge fight if you dm anyone else, even if it was for something fairly innocuous like asking where they got their outfit

✦ oh and she loves to argue. you swear it turns amber on to fight

✧ she jumps at any excuse for it

✧ "why did that girl smile at you? how do you know her?"

✧ "why are you on your phone? i'm literally right here"

✧ she'd accuse you of ignoring or forgetting about her, then give you the silent treatment

✦ amber gets pissed off when you spend too much time with your friends

✧ and honestly, considering how close she is with her friends, it's hypocritical

✧ like, amber still has sleepovers with tara but god forbid you say you're hanging with any of your friends one on one

✧ amber will be at your door in an instant, claiming that you two made plans and that since she's here, she may as well hang out with you two

✦ sometimes, you don't really get why amber likes you

✧ you can't keep up with her horror movie rants like her friends, or even those weirdos she's always arguing with online

✧ like, amber's dream is to go to film school and she's so passionate about it that you wonder what you're even adding when you just go "you'd be amazing, baby" and "that sounds awesome, of course you're gonna make it"

✧ you try to be supportive but you feel bad that you don't really understand her 100% of the time

✦ when you ask her why she chose you, amber looked at you like you were being ridiculous. because the answer is obvious to her

✧ she likes you because you make everything easier. being with you is one of the few things that can make her mind go quiet

✧ like, yeah, she loves horror but even amber can be drained by how obsessed she gets with things

✧ you make her feel normal. you make her want things other than violence and pain

she doesn't want to throw her life away so bad when you two make plans for the future

✧ she admits that you're the reason she even thought about film school in the first place

✦ amber never really thought of life outside of woodsboro until you started bringing up universities, or apprenticeships, what next year could bring

✧ that's the first time amber actually thought about what she wants to do

✧ and she's wicked smart, so you were surprised that she didn't already know what universities she wanted to apply to

✧ AP classes, honor roll, college scholarships, you name it

✧ but when you ask about her plans, amber just shrugs and says she'll go where you end up going

✦ she can feel like a regular girl when she's around you, instead of all the pretending she normally does

✧ cheesy teenager shit that she always thought she was too good for

✧ dates to the local bowling alley, sneaking out, sharing a shake at the diner, going to the mall, camping, baking brownies for your birthday since she knows you prefer it from cake

✦ with you, amber can feel less damaged. less above it all

✧ she didn't think she was capable of a genuine love like this before you

✧ you make her think that she could be a decent person if she tried, that she's not defined by the monster that she could be

#mikey madison #amber freeman #mikey madison x reader #amber freeman x reader #scream 2022 #scream 5 #requested #i have a lot of amber feelings

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gleefullypolin · 3 months

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Stacy's Tipsy Musing's - Colin Bridgerton Hot Takes - Part 2

Ok boys and girls, we need to have a little chat about Colin Bridgerton.

Part 2 has been out now for a couple of days and there have been a lot of hot takes to come out of the season. A LOT of hot takes. I’m going to break this down into 4 parts. 4 questions that I'm seeing really bad hot takes about Colin.

Now none of this is new, I gotta say before Season 3 aired Colin was a hot button topic anyway. He seemed to be the Bridgerton brother that lots of people love to spew hate takes on anyway. But damn I gotta say its painful seeing the Polin fandom have so many bad takes falling from their lips.

So, I figured...having a little drink tonight, sitting down for Father’s Day (Happy Father’s Day, Colin) I’d give you the opinion on some of these takes that you didn’t ask for...Mine!

Last time we talked about Colin’s entrapment statement to Pen and if he truly meant it. Question 1, now lets get to Question 2:

Why would Colin send Pen home alone after finding her on the street at night?

Ok we are going to have to resolve a few things here. One, our desire to watch Pen/Colin have hot angry sex right there on the street, and two Colin Bridgerton respecting Penelope too much to do so. So, let’s start at the top. Colin finds Pen walking home on a dark street after a long night of drinking the night before they are to be married. And not just a little drinking, a LOT of drinking. He was going pretty hard at the bar with his brother, the boys could not keep up with him, and Kate called him out for smelling like a bottle of liquor.

Now he sees the reason for all his drinking, walking down a dark road STILL putting herself in danger in the middle of the night. His mind is racing about what the hell she is doing out there, he immediately just assumes it is connected to Whistledown. The woman he despises, hates, and is highly jealous of.

Now they fight. Because of course they do. Pen does a good job of holding her own against his anger here. She tries to explain herself, that she was trying to protect El, that she wanted to protect him, that she made mistakes, she should have done things differently. That Colin has given her confidence to stand up for herself without Whistledown, and you can see his resolve give. The moment he thinks she will walk away from it, he appears like that will end it all, it will stop the fight in it’s tracks.

But then she tells him there is still value to her keeping it. And that is where you see the real reason for him holding onto his anger. The jealousy. The fact that he feels she was laughing at him, by being a writer herself she must have not been truthful to him about his own writing. About his talent. And then the anger bubbles back up, and he hits her about his concern for her safety. And then it surges forward, his need to protect her. And that is where she strikes at him, she does not need his protection.

And here we are at the crux of Colin Bridgerton’s pain. His hero complex without a damsel to save. “Then what good am I to you?” She silences him with the one thing she can. Love. Pen loves Colin. It’s all she needs from him. And he is lost momentarily in her need for him to love her. His purpose. And they lose themselves in each other without thought in passion. Colin forgets his anger, his jealousy, his shame and he takes her up against the wall in public, on the street. And it’s not until that cursed horse ruins our voyeuristic excitement that Colin suddenly remembers that he has Pen up against a wall in public.

And this is not our Colin Bridgerton that loves Penelope. Not the Colin who just admonished her for not respecting him enough to talk directly to him. He is not the Colin Bridgerton who would take her out of anger. He would not take her while feeling this shame and hurt toward her. Simply having her tied to him does not mean he can just take what he wants. So instead, he treats her with respect, he walks her to the carriage, and he puts her safely inside.

He then makes sure she understands that she will see him in the morning at the wedding, he intends to be there to marry her, regardless of what is going on between them. And then he sends her home. Because anything else would not be Colin. He’s drunk, he’s angry, and the alternatives would not end without adding more shame to himself.

Stick around for part 3....

Why would Colin sleep on the couch and ruin their wedding night and then continue to sleep on the couch after they are married?

#bridgerton spoilers #polin #bridgerton s3 #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #colin bridgerton #i will never hate you #stacy's tipsy musings #hot takes

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sabokunsmalia · 11 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄, 𝐖𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄, m. list

featuring: sabo x fem!reader plot: over twelve years ago, sabo promised to marry her if they meet again in the future, but then he seemingly never reached the first island beyond dawn island. his death changed the plans, forced her back into the noble bubble until she decided to pursue a life in freedom. fleeing from her noble family in high town & following her childhood friend luffy through thick and thin. but multiple things happen, and suddenly, she finds herself in the presence of a long-lost face. content warning: nsfw! (mdni!) + fluff + pet names + depression + soulmates & second chance kind of trope, all warnings will be added before each part. hi it's malia: definitely need to write that one, just found it on the old blog. i'm prepared for that one because sabo my love..

𝐒𝐍𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐓: seated on a constellation of rocks, one larger than the other, she watched how the three boys ran along the path between the trees. a hand in the air, waving at her familiar face with wide smiles on their faces, and the loud laughter booming through the large summer trees. oh, how she wanted to joke around with them, follow them into the small villages around high town, and explore dawn island. but she could not attend the open streets. anyone who would catch a glimpse of her all too familiar face would inform the well-known family to snatch the bounty. berry for their missing daughter, as the three times before when she ran away from the nobility and joined the crew of three young rowdies.

"majesty," the young boy with the shaggy, raven-colored hair chuckled, attempting to mirror the curtsy they did in high town. obviously, his clumsiness kept the upper hand and he almost fell face-first.

"oh ace," she giggled, holding the back of her hand to her glossy lips. "you would make a very bad noble."

"how soothing that i do not want to be one," he answered, ruffling the already messed-up strands of his long hair further. behind him, the two other boys appeared that belonged to the trio. one with short blonde hair, dressed in an almost as noble attire as she was forced to wear, who had his arm wrapped around their brother's shoulders and pulled the tired and whiny boy along. "sabo! what happened to luffy?" she carefully jumped off the rock and hurried towards the crying boy. bruises covered his face and arms, the blue and purple marks hardly assessable.

"he tripped over a root while running away," sabo shrugged the shoulders, placing the youngest of three boys against a tree and crouching down himself. the pipe, he used to defend himself attached to his back, the large head pulled off his blonde hair. "sabo, did you push him?" she examined the bruises along luffy's legs, slowly tilting the head in the direction of the noble-born boy.

"what? me?" he pointed a gloved finger at himself, eyebrows raised at the little girl who occasionally joined their meetings. she was running away from the same town that sabo hated so dearly, despised more than anything else in the world. while others starved, the noble part of dawn island celebrated each day like their last and wasted too much food, too much water. "no! i would never do that!" sabo almost shouted, attempting to protect himself from the assumptions of his friend.

"if you lie to me, i will not marry you!" she argued, quickly coming up with a way to assure he was telling the truth. behind them, ace sat on the rock constellation, snickering about how the two fought.

"you already said yes! you can not take that back now!"

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: ↷ part one, return of hiken.

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yarrayora · 3 months

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because of the lack of female protagonists in... pretty much every genre, really, people tend to hype up a lot of series as "better than the average [insert genre]" just because it has a female protagonist rather than male

(personally i think girls deserve formulaic schlock, too, like how bofuri is basically the average MMOVR with a black haired plain looking boy repeatedly stumbling upon cheat powers except the protagonist is a girl)

but when i look for new titles saying "i want interesting worldbuilding where we get to see how this fantasy world works as a society and the court intrigue goes beyond high school level mean girl bullying" and people respond with titles like "i'm in love with the villainess" it's like asking for a grilled steak and getting handed a hamburger

burger's good, but not what i'm looking for

so here's a list of my manga/webtoon recommendations for stories of political intrigue in fantasy worlds with a female protagonist (not all of them are isekai or regression or reincarnation, most are straight up just fantasy world):

The Holy Grail of Eris

The story of a kingdom after the villainess is executed for attempting to poison the heroine beloved by the crown prince. Our protagonist is Constance Grail who finds herself being haunted by the ghost of the villainess Scarlet Castiel who saved her from suffering the humiliation of having her engagement broken because of a false accusation.

Scarlet claims that she has been framed, and together the duo is set to find out the truth regarding her death sentence.

Saying more than this would ruin the plot twists, but read this if you're interested in a story where it makes sense for a ducal daughter to be sacrificed in exchange for a lady of a lower class as the nation's queen.

Itsuwari no Freya (localized as Prince Freya)

A small kingdom struggles to defend itself against a powerful warmongering kingdom with the leadership of their cunning prince. Except, the prince has died. To prevent the flame of hope from being extinguished, the prince's inner circle employs the aid of Freya, a village maiden with the same face as the late prince.

There is no time to prepare her to learn the ropes of politics. Now Freya must plunge immediately into international turmoil and figure out a way to secure support from other nations with the help of the prince's knights and, of course, her own charisma and intelligence.

Ebony (localized as Lady Evony)

Sensational news sweeps the nation: the Grand Duke has put a criminal under his protection. Evony was accused of her father's murder and ended up suffering all kinds of abuse in the hands of the prison wardens who despise her.

Yet her time at the women's prison was also the only time she was able to gain education in a misogynistic nation who still bars women from learning while other countries have a headmistress for their famous college and traveling tradeswomen.

As she heals from the wounds inflicted both on her body and her heart, she realizes she wants to become someone who can stand equal to the Grand Duke and not just a fragile flower to be protected in his garden.

Great if you're looking for slow burn romance where the main couple are equals instead of the usual "obsessive yandere male lead who holds to power/lovely lady who struggles to be useful" or "stupid but doting male lead who needs his very smart lady to show him the way"

Also great if you're looking for a korean webtoon where all their problems CANNOT be solved by the protagonists being wealthy capitalists

The Falcon Princess

While other webtoons tend to focus on noblewomen's tea parties as a source of conflict, The Falcon Princess focuses on a kingdom in the middle of being invaded.

The protagonist is a princess on the run when the imperial palace ends up ransacked by the enemy nation. She wakes up as a falcon and ends up finding herself as her kingdom's commander's messenger bird.

Despite the language barrier, the princess helps the commander figure out the enemy's location, strategy, and various ways to defeat them and finds herself becoming a symbol of hope who leads the army into reclaiming her nation.

JK Haru is a Sex Worker in Another World

Last but not least but is definitely the most controversial pick. Haru is a girl who gets reincarnated in another world after she got hit by a truck alongside her otaku classmate.

While said otaku is living his best life as his power fantasy becomes a reality, Haru refuses to be his girl in exchange for a comfortable life, even though the only job she could have in a misogynistic world where women can't even eat at a restaurant without a chaperone is at a brothel.

And yet, she doesn't hate it. Although the customers can be rough, she befriends the other prostitutes at the brothel and figures out how to enjoy her job. It's a story that depicts sex workers with respect, acknowledging their struggles without turning it into misery porn.

It also asks an important question regarding the trope of "overpowered isekaid protagonist changes the world for the better": CAN they actually change the world just because they have cheat powers? After all, societal issue isn't something you can solve using brute force and money alone

#manga recommendation #webtoon recommendation #the holy grail of eris #itsuwari no freya #lady evony #the falcon princess #JK Haru wa Isekai de Shoufu ni Natta #JK Haru is a Sex Worker in Another World

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bellewintersroe · 1 year

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Daniel Ricciardo x HornerDaughter! Reader

Part 9 oooo couldn’t leave you guys hanging but I’ve been away the past week sorry for the long wait! No smut in this chapter, but pure tension and angst, mentions of heartbreak& sadness (obviously). Mentions of Panic attack.

After Daniel attends his first race back into AlphaTauri, she finds herself spending less and less time around him. She finds it necessary, but uncomfortably painful. When the two do bump into one another there’s, of course, a thick tension between the pair. Could things get anymore awkward? Possibly not, both of them know the feelings have not changed, and with Daniel’s previous admission out in the open, she’s tormented to the point of publicly breaking down.

After the most relentless few days had passed, y/n was awkwardly watching Daniel from the sidelines whilst he raced with Alpha Tauri. There was a semi relief/ semi disappointment that she was spending less time with him, a constant pain lingered deep in her chest and she felt as though somebody had sucked the life from her. She never believed she’d do the cliche thing of not eating, barely sleeping, crying into the pillow- but god, she was a wreck over a man she’d spent not even that much time with. To her, Daniel was the one that got away. Or- well, he wanted to…

She didn’t congratulate him after the race, she didn’t even see him, ensuring she was away from the grid the whole time. Her family picked up on it, so the next few days she endured the most awkward, tension filled appearance at a test drive, constantly on edge that Daniel would be around any corner. Of course he wasn’t. Daniel was just trying to keep his head focused on driving- his happy place. The minute he stepped out of the car he knew he’d be unconsciously searching for her, only for her not to be there. Maybe he would catch a glimpse at the back of her head, craning his neck to watch a little longer before she disappeared. She didn’t look good either. Not that she looked bad, but she looked tired, her lips were constantly tugged downwards and Daniel swore he hadn’t seen her smile in days. Truth be told he despised himself, what he did, what he said. He’d made a huge fucking mistake and now he wished all her pain would translate onto him- he wasn’t sure if he could carry anymore than what he was feeling, but he’d sure rather it be his pain than hers. On one mild Thursday in Belgium, she’d finally made an appearance with Kelly and P, down into the grid to have an explore. Kelly wasn’t stupid, she knew something was going on but couldn’t press. Y/n had always loved spending time with Penelope, practically seeing her grow up, so she was bound to put a smile on her face. And she did.

“Are you coming to my birthday?” The small girl questioned up, “I am.” Y/n smiled, “and I’ve got a surprise present for you as well.” She squeezed her hand as P giddily jumped around.

“Did you hear that, P, more presents?!” Kelly smiled down to her young one who bounced around excitedly. Y/n wished she could momentarily be that young and happy again- a depressing thought she quickly shook away, cringing at her dimness. At some point, she’d zoned out, not realising that Max and Daniel now stood right in front of them- her. Daniel, and her- fuck.

She could feel the gasp that got caught in her throat, trapping the lump that rose from her chest. Fuck. They shared not even a second of eye contact before she tore her eyes away, back onto the floor ahead of them. “You alright, y/n/n? I haven’t seen you in a few days.” Max spoke, giving her a quick hug. Daniel stood there awkwardly, the tension rising in his body as he fumbled with his hat, something he always did when he was nervous. “I’m good, are you.” Good. Ha, that was definitely a lie, she’d slept a grand total of 26 minutes last night, now she was running on absolutely nothing but water and a few bites of a sandwich she couldn’t bare to stomach. She offered no explanation of her absence, Daniel would know exactly where she was and why she’d been MIA.

“Great, yeah.” Max shuffled, feeling a little awkward at her clearly forced smile. Their conversation fell flat, unusually. Normally she’d be full of life and chatter, but now she just seemed to fall flat. Daniel’s eyes gazed over her, watching her with the saddest eyes as she hugged her jumper tighter around her frame. She seemed upset, blinking rapidly and breathing a little faster than normal. Daniel’s eyes constantly broke from the conversation between Max, Kelly and, P, onto the girl ahead of him.

Of course, she was having a breakdown mid conversation. Something as small as a picture of Daniel coming up made her tear up, now he was right in front of her, the devastation she’d been bottling up, mixed with the pure physical and mental exhaustion had caught up on her. She was working herself up beyond repair, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill. Fuck.

“I’ll just be two minutes.” Deciding she couldn’t stay there much longer, she politely excused herself, rushing off into the distance. Space, now, and fast. Y/n felt the tears practically explode from her eyes and begin pouring her face as she hurried to find a bathroom. It was all very dramatic.

She wasn’t quick enough. Not when a voice came hurrying after her. Daniel knew he couldn’t just stand and watch her run away like that. It was his wrongdoing, and although chasing after her would probably only make things worse, he couldn’t leave her upset, he wanted to at least try.

“Y/n.” He sighed as she spun around, startled by the Australian voice. He was the last person she expected. “Daniel, I’m sorry, just-“ her hand waved in a gesture for him to leave as she struggled to blubber out anymore words. Her breathing was shallow and she could feel the furious racing over her heart against her chest. Not a panic attack. Fuck, she hated these things, how quickly she’d lost her breath, how panicked she felt, and now it was happening in front of Daniel.

“Hey, hey. Just breathe deep for me.” Daniel stepped closer, recognising her laboured breathing as a panic attack. It felt like he’d just been kicked in the gut watching her this distressed. She paused, attempting to soothe her breathing to stop the attack quicker than it started.

Unable to prevent it, he reached over, placing a hand on an upper back, a gentle gesture to provide the comfort she needed. She needed- but she didn’t want. “I’m- I’m fine, Daniel.” She gasped, the whimper in her tone not convincing as he watched down to her, his chest knotting harshly.

“You’re not. Just take a minute, it’s okay.” The soothing of his hand over her smaller back soothed her. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, feeling Daniel’s touch was the best thing she’d felt in days. Her lips blubbered as she wiped at her eyes desperately. There was a couple more moments of her shallow breathing, a minute, five minutes? She didn’t know, all she knew was that Daniel was right there, comforting her through something she’d regret later.

“Sorry.” She exhaled, slowing her breathing as much as she possibly could until she was in control over her body again. “Sorry.” She repeated, becoming aware of her surroundings. Her hand dropped from her forehead and everything became visible again. Daniel was there, he’d just seen her having a literal panic attack. Fuck.

“Don’t be sorry.” He looked so sad, so startled and concerned. She could hardly meet his eye. “Don’t be sorry, y/n, are you ok-“ before Daniel could even finish, she was assuring him, “I’m fine. I’m fine.” “You’re not…” Daniel sighed as she wiped at her teary eyes. “I’m sorry.” He then muttered, watching the downwards pull of her lips. “I’m so sorry…” she was crying now, properly, something Daniel couldn’t bare. He thought he might cry too as he blinked away harshly at the tears that filled his eyes. He wanted to give her a hug, but he thought that was overstepping a boundary completely.

“It’s fine.” She repeated, voice hitched and unconvincing. “I just- I need to go.” She waved into the distance. “Let me drive you back-“ “No. It’s fine.” She had already set off walking, stupid idea, walking through the unknown streets of Belgium with tear stains drenching her face. “Y/n, you’re not walking back alone.” Daniel put his foot down, sighing in a way she found it difficult to say no to.

The whole car ride back was silent apart from her occasional sniffle, it was awkward to say the least. Daniels chest was heavy with wanted conversation, with a need for her, but it just wasn’t the right time. He should’ve never told her he loved her, he knew he’d probably hurt her feelings way more by admitting that.

Pulling up outside the hotel, she couldn’t be quicker than to unbuckle her seatbelt, an odd sense of longing stabbing at her heart when she stole a singular glance at Daniel. It was the most she’d look at him all day. a

“Thank you, Daniel.” She whispered, his breath hitching as all he could do was watch her walk away. She could see the sadness in his eyes, but averted her gaze. The quicker she was out of that car, the quicker she could rid of those dread awful feelings she got around him. If only a girl could control her feelings, wouldn’t that be life changing, huh?

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@mccall-muffin @benbarneslut @dinodumbass @allabouthappiness @ricciardhoe-3 @headinthecloudssblog

#daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo #max verstappen x reader #Daniel ricciardo x reader

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