I was so surprised to find out feitan actually talks in clipped and blunt words and uses the wrong grammar i thought the subtitles were js glitching or something every time he comes on cus he's so cool or something I feel like an idiot 😭
Relationship:- gojo has a crush on the reader and the reader is implied to like him too
The mission dragged on too long.
Too much cursed spirits.
Too much pressure from the higher ups.
Too many nights spend awake.
By the time the mission ended neither of you had enough energy to return.
Shoko kicked a pebble down the path, "where are they?" She murmured taking a long drag from her 78th ciggerate of the day.
"Hopefully somewhere safe..." Geto replied duking under a bench to check.
"Why would they hide under a bench?"
"Gotta check every where ;)"
She hummed in response, her eyes scanning the area, the ravenette nudged her,
"we haven't checked the shrine yet c'mon." He said already jogging to the old shrine Gojo always described as 'too rusty musty to look good' or whatever that meant.
Shoko followed him, already planning her next ciggerate.
When they reached the shrine,hidden among the large trees, neither of them spoke for a moment.
Because infront of them was Gojo and you-sleeping, curled up against eachother. You had your head resting on top of his chest, hands curled into the fabric of his uniform while his chin rested on top of your head, his arms encircled around your waist tightly, as if he didn't wish to loose you even for one second; looking as if he fell asleep mid moment making sure you won't slip away. His back resting against the wall of the shrine.
"Wow.." Shoko breathed out, a small smirk playing on her lips.
"Didn't expect this..." Geto murmured, looking at Satoru, who was sleeping with his arms around you.
"They are quite badly bruised" the brunette commented as she kneeled to check.
It was true, both of you looked utterly exhausted. Scars on your faces, bruises on your arms, bloodied and wounded; but both of you looked at peace."Did they just fall asleep? Ha..." Shoko sighed.
"I think so." Geto stared.
"Without his infinity?"
The realisation hit like wave for both do them.
The Gojo Satoru; the one who never trusted himself to be ever safe from enemies.
The one who trusted almost nobody.
Was asleep without any infinity, without any protection curled up against you.
Vulnerable.
Easy target.
Holding you close like a lifeline. When you moved in your sleep, murmuring something, Gojo eyebrows knitted together, his arms tightening around you making sure you won't slip away from his grasp.
Geto huffed but couldn't stop a soft smile from showing,"this is ridiculous.."
"Should we wake him up?" Shoko questioned.
"He'd be mad..." Geto murmured, kneeling down next shoko.
"And if we wake her up..."
"She will be mad..."
The pair nodded, sharing the same thought.
"So we leave them be, while informing principle yaga and hovering over them to make sure they are safe?" Shoko smirked as she put out her cigarette.
Geto also had a gentle smile playing on his lips as he nodded.
And thus, one the strongest sorcerers in history Gojo Satoru and his long running crush, dozed off together under the watchful eyes of his teacher and friends on 21st September 2005.
"Unbelievable..." Yaga murmured massaging his temples, while the raven head and brunette giggled with each other in the background already clicking pictures of the couple.
Info:- levi was taken into the care of your clan by your grandfather and he's adjusting to his new life filled with training, learning and the princess(you), he likes you and is softer towards you
OOC Levi
During the first few weeks of Levi being under your clan's care, he had long hair not long enough to be dragged on the floor but enough for his bangs to block his vision and his hair to graze his collarbones. The 9 year old found it rather annoying to have the need to push his hair back every few minutes, it's not like he likes his hair long. His mother had promised to cut it for him, her fragile and worn hands gently stroking his hair as she promised. He could almost feel the rhythmic strocking of her hands but she was no more and wouldn't be able to fullfill her promise...
He sat down infront of the cheval mirror his small hands gripping the loops of the hair scissors
sigh
Slowly the scissors approached his hair - slow, scrutinizing. His young mind still filled with the soft smile and reassuring words of his mother. He paused, his eyes were stinging; he was just a young boy who was still vulnerable after his mother's death yet that understanding failed to dull the aching sorrow coiled tight in his chest pressing his on him from the inside out.
He rubbed his glassy eyes, his shoulders shaking with his effort to keep the tears in.
"Whatcha doin'?" Your voice crept through, hesitant wondering why the grumpy Levi was sitting on the floor gripping scissors.
Levi flinched his eyes following the voice to your direction, gazing into your eyes. His own red rimmed eyes darkening as if he was embarassed to be caught in the act. "Tch, nothing..."
You step closer leaning in to inspect the scissors "Your holding hair scissors..."
"I know.."
A beat of silence passes through you both - you raise an eyebrow at his rather dismissive response and him trying looking at anything other than your face.
Eventually you kneel by his side your arms slowly circling around him; he flinches, his eyes widening a fraction as he finally looks into your understanding eyes - no pity, no fear, no nervousness... just understandment...almost like you understand the sorrow he feels pressing in on him.
"It's okay to cry"
"It's not."
"It is.."
"..."
You sigh," you can cry if you want to"
"I don't want to"
"That's fine too..."
You hug him tighter
For long moment neither of you utter a word; almost as if a single word might break apart the fragile moment. The room is quiet, the curtains filtering out the sunlight into the dim room and onto the two small figures enfolding on eachother.
Eventually you look into his red rimmed eyes; your own eyes strangely watery as if you were absorbing his sadness.
"I'll help."
A pause,"...help with what?"
"Your hair, silly." you sniff taking the scissors.
Levi looks up at you,"You don't know how..." but his eyes were softer than usual holding no scrutiny behind them."You'll mess my hair up" not that he cares anymore.
"Neither do you" a pause, "and if I do mess your hair up,you can cut my hair!"
"Why would I do that?"
"So that we can share our bad hair" you reply cooly, huffing as if he's the crazy one
A snort escapes him before he could stop it,
"You'll make it worse"
"We will figure it out..."
Levi nodded in reply his face looking unusually brighter.
You slowly start cutting and trimming at the ends,"Trust me..."
"You barely sound like you trust yourself" Levi jabbed a knowing smirk playing on his lips
"I'm basically a professional!" You excalimed snipping too high up.
The end result wasn't perfect but it wasn't expected to be. It's uneven, blunt ends on places Levi did not consider possible. Cuts behind his ear and nape, the hair cut wasn't terrible not amazing either but good enough for a 9 year old hair stylist who's only experience is chopping off her dolls hair.
But levi wasn't feeling any sense of disappointment or anger, because whenever he looks into the mirror now, he remembers:-
His mother's promise
And a girl who would move heaven and earth to keep him happy.
"There, told ya I'm a professional" a grin graced your face as you looked into the mirror catching his gaze.
"It's crooked."
"Artistic."
And despite everything, Levi was smilling because even if his mother wasn't by his side to love him you were and will always remain to be.
cw: vampires, kídnapping, slightly possessive levi, slight drúgging. Levi is Mikasa's caretaker, ackermans are vampires.
wc: 5,024
pt. 2
Paradis, a small English speaking town in the middle of nowhere Germany. It rarely gets many visitors– and those that it gets don’t stay for very long. The close knit town knows everything about everyone there, to some of the residents' dismay. The town consisted of old gothic style houses, a small church at one edge of town and a fountain in the exact middle with a statue of a woman holding a pot that poured water every moment of every day.
At the other edge of town sat a beautifully elegant gothic house, vines and moss had grown up the sides over time. Stained glass windows with iron bars over the outside of each one– was it to keep things out or in, no one knows. The house had been there for as long as anyone in the town could remember, passed down from family member to family member. Everyone in the town could tell you the residents kept to themselves, but when they would get the occasional glance of the dark haired family members– they moved like shadows.
The eccentric family looked as if an old photo came to life, their skin pale white and their outfits stark black. Despite the monochromatic appearance of their outfits they were enchanting to look at, almost as if people couldn’t pry their eyes off of them when they walked by. Shadows seemed to draw them out, their pale complexion attesting to such. Any chance of sun that day meant no sightings of the family.
The daughter was seen the most, usually carrying a big black lace parasol. Her outfits black like the rest, with red accents accompanying the black lace contrasting her almost paper white skin. She had a few friends within the town, her being the most sociable of the family, one being a short nerdy blond boy who was about her complete opposite, and a high strung brunette boy who was known throughout the town for being loud and rather brash. The two boys would stumble their way through town on sunny days, knocking at the door and waiting for her caretaker– a short pale man with a sour expression– to open the door for them to go inside. On cloudy days she would join them outside, usually sitting by the fountain in the extra shade from the large tree cascading over the fountain and its surroundings.
Her caretaker, the town assumed to be her older brother, was a short pale man who was known for rarely speaking to people unless necessary. He would wander the town during the early winter sunsets– a black overcoat covering his white button up, a cravat expertly tucked into the collar of his shirt. Townspeople referred to him as an old soul, cursed to look young forever. The family had slowly dwindled during the years, only two were ever seen leaving the house nowadays.
Knock Knock Knock!
The giant iron knocker on the front door sounds, the sun long gone from the sky and the moon starting to ascend from the east.
The door swings open quickly, the short sour man standing on the inside of the elegant house– looking at the stressed individual in front of him.
“Hi, I’m really sorry for bothering you this late. But do you know where I can get my car fixed? I’m visiting friends in town and my GPS was going insane when I got here, and then my car broke down, and then my phone died when I tried calling them for help and… I just don’t know what to do. Could I possibly come inside and charge my phone just enough to call them?” You ask, your head feeling suddenly light from how many things you could see from just the doorway of the old beautiful house.
“Hello, that sounds rather… unfortunate. Come inside, and I will fetch a cord for your phone.” The man steps to the side, inviting you in. You thank him and introduce yourself, extending your hand for a handshake as you catch your reflection in a mirror right by the entrance, along with the back of his head.
He nods at you, “Levi. Welcome in.” He leads you over to the living room, the room looking like a time capsule of old gothic furniture, a small lamp on the table next to the couch illuminating the whole room effortlessly in a warm yellow glow.
“Thank you, you know– I think this is the most vampire-like house I’ve ever seen. Apart from the mirrors that is.” You point to another mirror on the wall. The living room housed a wall entirely filled with bookshelves, books spanning almost the entire lifespan they could– some brand new, looking to be unread from how pristine they are. And some books looked like they had been there since the house was built– as if the bookshelf was made for them entirely.
A small chuckle leaves the short man. “Ah yes, family house– no reason to change the look of it if it works.”
“Well I think it’s beautiful.” You say, stepping further into the room and taking in the almost overwhelmingly grandiose decor.
“I’ll be right back with that… phone line for you.” He waves his hand around as if trying to remember the correct word for it before disappearing down the hallway. You slowly look over the room, the lamp shade even having an intricate design, however you’re drawn to the bookshelf– curious as to the old books that were there.
One title you recognize immediately as a classic, however the cover is one you’ve never seen before. Dracula. Bram Stoker. A bit on the nose for the vampire-esque house, no? Your finger draws up to the top of the book like a magnet– unsheathing it from its colleagues to get a good look at the cover. Hand bound it seems, the cover velvet and fraying– a test to how old it truly was. You turn it around to the back and are met with German text. A moment of confusion before remembering what country you were in, however your friends in town said German was the secondary language spoken– usually only the older generation here spoke it.
A floorboard creaking pulls you from your thoughts, you look over expecting the short man but are met instead by what looks to be a gothic teen girl staring at you, unblinking with a tilted head.
“Hello, you don’t live around here.” She says very matter-of-factly, the sentence almost chilling your body more than the dark night you had just walked out of.
“Uhm, you’re very right. I’m here visiting friends.” You shift your weight from foot to foot.
“Levi has a friend? How strange, could’ve sworn he was a shut-in.”
“Oh uhm, no. I-my car broke down and Levi is grabbing me a phone charger so I can call my friends.” You hold up your phone, which was basically an expensive brick as of now.
“That makes more sense. Levi doesn’t enjoy talking to people, surprised he let you in.” She says, her skirt swaying as she rocks from the heel of her foot to the ball and back again.
“I uhh-I like your outfit. You look nice.” You say, suddenly feeling small in her gaze. Her skirt was red with black lace hanging over it, her shirt black with lace sleeves trailing her arms. Tied together with a deep red stain of her lips, accentuating the cracks of her lips as she stared at you with the same eyes as the short man.
“Why thank you, took me quite a while to find such perfect clothes.” She says. “So you’ve never been here before?”
“Nope, first time. However if all houses are like this I might just move here.” You say, finding the distance between you two a bit off putting yet making no move to change it for yourself.
“It gets quite… homey after a while. Centuries don’t change much here, been the same for a while.” She says, almost as if she was the one experiencing it rather than the likely answer of the older generation saying it or her seeing it in old pictures.
“Well… that’s a good thing, right?” You respond, the house must be big if Levi is taking such a long time finding a phone charger.
“No new comers enjoy it, but we do. Townspeople mind their business enough.” She says, taking a single step closer– you feel almost claustrophobic at the small step despite her standing barely through the door frame, a good five feet away from you yet the feeling still creeps up your throat.
“Mikasa, don’t stay out too late. And don’t scare the company.” Levi says as he rounds the corner, holding a phone charger in his hands like he was offering it to the gods.
“Didn’t mean to scare your company. Have a good dinner, I’ll be home by morning.” She turns and walks away from the living room and out of your line of sight.
“Four at the latest.” Levi calls out, walking closer as the door opens.
“Fine. Have fun with your… company.” She calls out before the door shuts. Levi hands you the phone charger awkwardly, as if he had never held one before this very moment.
“Thank you, uhm…” You look around for an outlet you could plug it into. He walks out of the room with a glance back as if to tell you to follow him, which you do.
“Don’t mind her, she’s just a peculiar teen.” He says as he leads you down the hallway and into a kitchen and dining room. The tiles of the walls have beautiful details of flowers. Old paintings covering the walls along with many a hanging plants hanging from the exposed rafters.
“Oh don’t worry, every teen has a phase like that, some never grow out of it. Just be lucky she tells you when she’s going out.” You say as he points to an outlet, plugging the charger in and setting down the book you had kept a hold on to plug in your phone.
“Yes, well, I must say our whole family has always been a bit peculiar. Dracula?” He picks up the book off the counter as you spin back to look at him, setting your phone against the cold marble countertop.
“Oh yeah, sorry I was just curious. It seems old. Must’ve been expensive.” You look into his cold stormy gray eyes.
“It’s been in the family for a while.” He says, handing the book back to you before gesturing back to the living room and you two make your way back there.
“So, do you speak German?” He asks, pointing to the book as you walk further into the living room.
“Uhm, the smallest little bit. I took it in school, but I didn’t retain much.” You confess as he stays standing in the doorway, his hands shoved inside his pockets.
“Would you like some tea?” He asks and you try to remember what the polite thing would be to do– is it a culture of accepting or not inconveniencing the host?
“Uhm I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you or anyth-” You’re interrupted by a dry cough leaving your throat, quickly covering your mouth with your elbow.
“I’ll make you some tea. Rest, whilst I do so. Make yourself comfortable.” He turns and walks back to the kitchen and you sit down on the sofa, a dark red velvet soft to the touch.
“I’ll be right back with that… phone line for you.” He says, walking down the hallway, past the kitchen and to the bolted basement door. Unlocking it and closing it behind him swiftly before descending the dark staircase. Reaching the bottom of the stairs and flicking on the light, glancing over to the completely drained body from the town over– a shame really. The man fought so much just to die in the basement, and Levi thought he could’ve been added to the family– so nice at first.
Walking past the body and over to the shelves, opening one and searching through it. One of his meals had one on them when he brought them back home. It’s around here somewhere. He rooted around in the shelf, slamming it shut when he realized it wouldn’t have been in that one. He organized the relics from each of his meals based off a few things about them: age range being the first, how far he traveled to get them being the second, and the third was how much of a fight they put up.
He throws open the correct drawer, fishing out the cord easily and glancing it over a moment. Blood, of course. Why wouldn’t there be blood on it. Making the whole drawer dirty this entire time, but he’ll deal with that later.
He grabs a rag and wets it in the sink, wiping away the dried blood from the white cord. Tossing the rag into the sink he’ll deal with that later. Glancing at the body chained to his wall he’ll deal with that later.
Flicking the light off and ascending the stairs quickly. Locking the door behind him as he hears Mikasa’s voice. He knew she would, she always tries to get to his home meals before him.
“No new comers enjoy it, but we do. Townspeople mind their business enough.” She says, taking a step into the living room, slowly cornering you– exactly how he taught her.
“Mikasa, don’t stay out too late. And don’t scare the company.” He says, turning the corner– directly challenging her and indirectly telling her to back off you.
“Would you like some tea?” He asks, thank god you didn’t point out the many sedative plants growing in his kitchen– his plan would’ve been ruined if you did.
“Uhm I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you or anyth-” You’re interrupted by a dry cough leaving your throat, quickly covering your mouth with your elbow. More the reason to make you some tea while your phone charges.
“I’ll make you some tea. Rest, whilst I do so. Make yourself comfortable.” He turns and walks back to the kitchen, taking a teacup from the cabinet and putting a pot of water on the gas stove. He glances to your phone as the screen lights up displaying the time and a notification, reading “Yo! Hows the drive coming?” He recognizes the name of one of the townspeople Mikasa had talked about hanging out with, apparently he was very cocky and loved to challenge one of her other friends to random competitions. The plug next to that one doesn’t work, what if he…
The plug comes out of the wall easily, he plugs it into the broken outlet. But it turned on, how do he get it to not. Tapping it? He fetches tea leaves from their container, the good tea, he must like you. He sets up the tea leaves in their cage, placing it into the cup while he waits for the water to boil. He opens a small container of Valerian Root, dosing just enough into the tea leaves to where the taste of the strong tea would overpower the taste but not the effects.
He waits for the water to boil in his brass tea kettle, tapping at the screen display of your phone until it went dark. Tapping it a few more times just for safe measure as the kettle started to ring out. Pouring the water over the cage of tea leaves and dried valerian root, watching as the water slowly turns darker as the tea steeps. Once the water was tinted black he pulls the cage out, setting it in the sink, he’ll deal with that later.
He walks the teacup over to you carefully, not to spill any as he makes his way to you. Setting the tea cup on the coffee table in front of you on a coaster. He may be planning to eat you, but he won’t ruin his table for it.
“Thank you, you’re very kind.” You take the tea cup and blow on the steaming brew– without a second thought as to what he could’ve put in there. If you continue being this nice he’ll have to train you to be more weary in the future, but for now it was helpful.
“It’s no big feat, wouldn’t want to leave you outside in the cold night all helpless.” He sits down on the other end of the couch, crossing his legs and adjusting his cravat as he looks at you gently blowing on the hot tea.
“Well I’m thankful you opened the door. Your neighbors didn’t, probably because it’s late at night.” You say, taking a small sip of the tea.
“They’re old, go to bed early. You wouldn’t want to talk to them anyways.” He dismisses with a handwave and a tilt of his head.
“Tea is great, what kind is it?” You ask, blowing on it again.
“Care to guess? It’s a blend of a few.” He can’t help but hide a smirk as you give him a perfect way to get you to continue drinking it. You hum before taking another sip, this one longer.
“Black tea.” You say with a small smile.
“Can you tell what kind?” He tilts his head, adjusting his dark overcoat as he interlocks his fingers and rests his folded hands on his lap.
“Oh I really only know Earl Gray and English Breakfast.” You confess, your cheeks heating up a little from the heat of the drink. The copy of Dracula discarded onto the coffee table along with the book Levi had been reading before you knocked.
“Ceylon. And what other kind?” He leans towards you just enough to be noticeable but not reactable.
“Uhm…” You take another sip, this one big– holding it in your mouth for a moment. “Green tea?” You guess, not being able to place it.
“Close, guess again.” He prompts and you take a few more sips, your confusion growing as you try to figure it out. Your tiredness from the day slowly hitting you as you relax onto the couch. The warmth from the tea being a comforting presence after the stressful night you had before entering this house.
“Rooibos?” You guess, your nose scrunched up as you await his response.
“Not quite.” He smiles at you, if you didn’t know any better you’d be stumbling out a compliment at how good he looks when he smiles. Instead you drown out the comment with a big swig of tea, swishing it around in your mouth before swallowing.
“Would I be crazy for saying raspberry leaf tea?”
“No, there is some in there, good job. One more.” He praises, and you feel your body start to turn warm just from the tea though, not from the praise or anything else. You quickly take another sip, the tea having cooled significantly since your first small sip.
“It smells like my cherry blossom tea I drink, but I don’t think that would go well with these other ones.” You laugh, taking another sip.
“I’m intrigued, I don’t think I’ve ever had that kind of tea before.” He scoots towards you a little, covering it by leaning forward to readjust.
“Oh it’s wonderful, it’s green tea I think, might be floral. Anyways, it’s really good. I usually drink that or vanilla black tea in the mornings.” You smile at him.
“Sounds good, I might have to find some just to try it.” He grins at you, entranced by your smile and the way you talk about the tea you love. You take another sip of the tea, now a third of the way through the cup– your movements slightly slowed.
“It’s earthy, but in a good way.” You bite your lip in thought before taking another sip. “My lack of knowledge is really hitting me here I think. It’s not cinnamon, it’s not cherry blossom, it’s not lemon balm is it?” You ask, trying to remember all of the tea offered at the cafe near your house.
“It’s not lemon balm.” He states, his arms crossed under his black overcoat. The button up he was wearing, pristinely white almost to a fault. Your blinks slow just enough to where you don’t notice, but he does.
“Hmm.” You hum before finishing the tea off. “Damn, tell me what it was.” You set the cup down on the coaster again, making sure it was align before sitting back against the couch.
“Chamomile.” He stands, grabbing the cup. “I’ll go wash this out and check if your phone is on yet.” He says. He knows the phone will not be on, but you don’t.
“Thank you, really. It means the world you’ve let me in, let alone given me tea.” You thank as he walks towards the doorway.
“It’s really no problem at all. I’m happy to.” Happy to dine well for the next few days. His meal was delivered right to him nonetheless. Maybe even another member to the family. The house does get a little lonely when Mikasa goes out for the night– no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it.
He rinses out the cup, scrubbing away all the germs you left before setting it to dry on the mat. Taking the cage of tea leaves and emptying it out of the window into the compost below. Walking back to the living room and sitting closer to you this time.
“Phone is still not on.” He says as he sits down.
“Dang, I’m sorry it’s taking so long.” You say, folding your hands in your lap– going to raise your feet to sit criss cross but being reminded you’re wearing your shoes still. “Oh, I didn’t take these off when I came in. Should I have?” You ask, worried about mucking up the beautiful carpet underneath your feet. You might be perfect to keep as an extra family member, but Levi really shouldn’t get his hopes up– he needs to see what you’re like after you’re in the basement for a bit.
“Oh, here I’ll put them by the door. Thank you.” He gets up and waits for you to slip your shoes off, making a big show of placing your shoes in a noticeable enough spot to make sure you wouldn’t forget them when you leave. As if he was letting you leave, such a cheeky man really.
He sits down again, this time even closer, leaning forward to grab the copy of Dracula. “Have you ever read it?”
“Once, I was trying to read through all the classics. I got through Dracula and Frankenstein before I got sidetracked. I wish I had the time to finish all of them however.” You confess, smiling at him. All the more reason for you to become a family member, all the time in the world to read the classics– and anything else you possibly want. He opens the book, flipping through the pages to find a particular passage. Chapter three, when Johnathan realizes he was trapped in the castle. Perfectly on the nose, and they won’t even notice.
“Als ich entdeckte, dass ich ein Gefangener war, überkam mich ein wildes Gefühl. Ich rannte die Treppe auf und ab, versuchte, jede Tür zu öffnen und spähte aus jedem Fenster, das ich finden konnte; aber nach einer Weile überwältigte mich die Überzeugung meiner Hilflosigkeit und alle anderen Gefühle traten in den Hintergrund. Wenn ich nach ein paar Stunden zurückblicke, denke ich, dass ich in dieser Zeit verrückt gewesen sein muss, denn ich verhielt mich ähnlich wie eine Ratte in einer Falle.” He reads out, watching as your eyes start to droop and you lean back into the couch as your body grows tired.
“Wow, that sounded almost melodic. Your German is really nice to hear.” You compliment, your body relaxing against the grandiose red velvet couch with a smile on your face.
“That is very nice of you. You mentioned you took German in school, did you recognize any words?” He asks, if he distracts you from how tired you are– you won’t try to fight the growing tiredness.
“Uhm… I recognized the word ‘ich’.” You laugh at only recognizing such a simple word like ‘I’
“Is that all?” He asks, a small smile on his face. Why is this person making him smile so much, dear Dracula, draining you will be hard. Hopefully you’ll agree to become a family member, having someone like you around would be nice.
“Yeah… I didn’t retain much from my classes. You know it’s funny, the gothic house and Dracula. It would be almost too perfect if you were a vampire.” You laugh at the absurdity of that even being a possibility.
“Too perfect.” He agrees, watching as your body grows tired in front of him.
“Good thing I saw your reflection, otherwise I’d probably be freaking myself out with the thought of vampires existing.” You say, remembering you had seen the back of his head in the mirror when you walked in.
“That is a good thing, wouldn’t want you freaking out over such a thing while waiting for your phone to charge.” He places the book onto the couch where he had been seated before he got up. Folding his hands and placing them in his lap. His posture almost annoyingly perfect, never slouching even when sat on such a comfortable couch. You wouldn’t register the fear properly anymore, and he knows it.
“You know, if vampires were alive today, they would have reflections in most mirrors.” He tilts his head to the side as he delivers his fun fact.
“Oh really, why is that?” You ask, curling your body up on his couch.
“The reason old vampires couldn’t see their reflection was because mirrors were made out of silver. Now mirrors are made out of mainly glass. However some still have silver inside them.” He reaches out and adjusts your hoodie string, smoothing it out gently before pulling his hand back.
“That’s really cool. Why are vampires in mythology weak to silver?” You ask, tucking your arms around your waist as you nuzzle into the couch.
“It’s a holy metal. Just like garlic is a holy food. Vampires are unholy, devil reincarnate vampires used to be called.” He watches as you yawn, you barely register it happens as you pay attention to his words.
“Seems like twilight changed that perception though, most teen girls would’ve killed to be vampires.” You rub at your face with your balled up sweatshirt sleeve.
“That you are right. Mikasa enjoys those movies and books, made me put her copies on the bookshelf.” He nods over to the middle of the three large bookshelves, Mikasa had made him put the five books on display.
“I enjoyed them, teen drama is a good genre. Even if their vampires weren’t fully accurate.” You mumble as you turn back to look at him, resting your head against the back of the couch.
“According to what she told me about them, they’re very wrong. Sparkling in sunlight, how wrong can you actually write vampires.” He grumbles, remembering the glittery skin of the so-called vampire on the movie screen. You laugh at his grumblings, fighting to keep your eyes open.
“Yeah, that was a dumb decision. Especially around the time body glitter was a big thing, so easy to pass off. But how else would the hundred year old teen go to school?” You giggle, your head lolling forward for a second before you force it back up.
“If you’re feeling tired it’s okay to close your eyes for a moment. It is getting quite late after all.” He rests his hand on your shoulder, this meal was falling asleep rather fast– he couldn’t help but be nice about it.
“No, no. I don’t want to fall asleep on your couch. That would be rude.” You sniff and try to blink the sleep induced blur from your eyes, bringing a hand to rub at your face again. You’ll be falling asleep somewhere much less comfortable for a while after this.
“I insist it’s fine. But if you would like, I’ll go check your phone to see if it is on yet.” He reminds you of your phone being charged in the kitchen.
“Oh, thank you. Please, that would be wonderful.” You say, he pats your shoulder before standing up and walking out of the room. The silence that befalls the living room is dragging your consciousness from your body– and it was as if you had nothing to grab onto to keep it from dragging you. You curl up further onto the couch, your breath evening out as you vow to yourself that you’ll wake up when he walks back in the room.
A minute passes, and you’re curled up on his couch, and he’s not back in the room yet. He is down in the basement removing the body from the shackles, tossing it into the crawlspace which he sealed off from the rest of the house– the smell being too dirty to allow any air to escape.
Five minutes pass and he’s cleaning up the area quickly, scrubbing the disgusting germs from that man off the floor and chain. He takes the sheet off the thin mattress and tosses it, along with the rag from earlier, into the laundry room. Retrieving a fresh pair of sheets and a thin blanket for you before making the bed up.
Seven minutes pass and he’s walking back upstairs and into the living room, where you are passed out on his velvet couch. He laughs and picks you up, without a moment of apprehension.
Carefully walking you down the stairs to the basement and laying you out on the thin mattress, clicking the chain closed around your ankle. He takes a step back to look at you, peacefully laying in his basement. He leans back in and covers your body with the blanket, brushing your hair out of your face before he ascends the stairs, locking the basement door behind him.
Damion was a little shit in levi's eyes, he loved his son. Of course he did, but it didn't make him any less shitty. From taking up all intimate moments between you and levi to pushing levi away while sleeping — he made levi irritated but there was nothing the strongest soldier of humanity could do against the grumpy mama's boy sitting on his dear wife's lap.
You and levi got married a few years ago, with Damion being concieved by the second year, a cutie and a replica of his father — same hair, eyes and personality. He even held a swords at times swishing it around trying to be like his father. Despite Damion's possessive behaviour towards you and adamance in pushing Levi away from your schedule — he still looked up to his father.
Due to this your husband had to push and pull to be at the recieving end of your affections but worry not—for the last few days were solely for Levi, from morning cuddles under the golden sunlight peeking from the curtains to stolen kisses while working. Damion noticed — of course he did and he's not that happy with the attention his father is receiving. So in retaliation the young boy decides to steal your clothing — a red scarf, the one Levi knitted for you when both of you were young and in love. The one he knitted after you told him the nights are cold. The way your eyes had widened and brimmed with mirth when he handed you the scarf is a memory he will always cherish. He remembers the blissful pink that adored your cheeks, the way your hands trembled from excitement and the most important of all—the way you brushed a kiss against his own blushing cheek. The red scarf as you can see was a cherished ornament for the couple, a reminder of days spend with eachother and innocence of childhood love.
When the pouting child stole the red scarf and proceeded to deny giving it back— rather than feeling irritated or angry, Levi smiled,a small quirk of his lips, barely there but his eyes were soft with indulgence.
However, even if Levi indulges in his son's action he was still worried for the scarf afraid whether his son might tear or ruin the scarf, so the solution to this cute problem is by taking the scarf back, which is unfortunatly a problem itself.
"Damion, give me the scarf back..."
"No."
Levi exhaled sharply trough his nose, his lips pressing into a thin line. They have been at this for at least an hour, with you out on a mission given by that four eyes to pick up a few items from Stohess. Levi was in a pickle, there was no way this Mama's boy so much like levi himself will listen to him, as much as levi was strict on damion he couldn't bring himself to forcibly take the scarf....yet.
"Give me the scarf, brat."
"No! Mine!" His grey eyes gleamed with michief as his hold on the drapped scarf tightened.
"It's not yours, it's your mother's...given to her by me...." Levi's hand tugged at the scarf. Damian's eyes turned glassy in a second.
"Mine...."
'Seriously why is he crying already? I haven't even taken the scarf' Levi huffed at the thought.
"Stop crying, brat"
"Don't wanna give..."
His eyes twitched, "such a pain in the ass" he grumbled out.
The sniffling boy turned up to look sharply at his father—even the stoic captain was taken aback at the abrupt glare, he stuck out his tongue and ran off...again. Levi sighed pulling himself up to stand up and follow the boy to the next corner he might hide in.
But before your son could hide he stumbled into you, who had just returned from the mission—falling onto the floor as his mother towered over his small figure.
"Hey baby, whoa what do you have here?" You cooed at him and before he could start sniffling you picked him up, placing him on your hips.
"Mama's scarf..."
"I see...isn't it very pretty?"
He nods.
"But you see, this scarf is very very important to mama, super important if you accidentally tear it mama will be really sad. You don't want mama to be sad do you?"
The boy hesitated his small hands still clutching at the worn cloth. "No..."
A smile graces your soft lips as you press a kiss to his forehead, a one where he instantly softens and nuzzles into the crook of your neck — not even realising that the scarf has been taken off and handed over to his father who has been watching the entire domestic scene with warm eyes.
"He's sleepy...." You murmur, shifting his position to rub his back
"No...sleepy..." His dropping eyes and relaxed body tells another tale.
Levi nods curtly as he folded the scarf into a perfect square.
"Let's get you into bed shall we" this time you smile at levi who returned the action with a chaste kiss to your lips — reverent and filled with words and gratefullness at the family and life you helped create with him.
Chrollo and his obsession with having you close...
Chrollo loves having you on his lap.
You're sitting in a dingy bar, some old thing in a smaller town, only a few minutes from YorkNew.
It's not fancy or even remotely pretty but it has amazing corner booths, with each table having its own little nook, that makes it so incredibly cozy. The couches too are made of worn-out leather that has definitely seen better times, but you like it.
You're sitting on his lap, arms folded relaxedly on the table.
Across from you, Machi and Pakunoda are discussing a hunter that was being rude to them a few days ago when they were working with him to get some fancy artifact or something for a job (they don't mention that he's five feet under now, you don't need to know that).
The discussion is quickly dissolving into general complaining about people being rude and not showing any respect, especially in public.
You're chirping in every now and then with some story of your own work aquaintances and morning commutes on the train, the two women nodding along, having been in similar situations many times. But mostly, you just listen to them rant.
Chrollo's head is on your shoulder, arms snug around your waist as he listens to the three of you complain. From your place in his lap, you think he might even be drifting off, head heavy on your shoulder, but every now and then, he pulls you closer again or shifts his legs around underneath you, so he should still be awake.
He, of course, is very much awake and very much aware of what is happening around the four of you, guard constantly up, especially in public. But with Machi and Pakunoda across from him and his comfy position behind you, he's content to just rest against you and listen.
From this angle, he's in the perfect position to press little kisses into the side of your neck and he would be lying if he wasn't happily indulging in your scent, head resting right above where you sprayed your perfume earlier, smell mixing with your shampoo and something uniquely yourself.
It's so nice, he thinks, to have you so close, body pressed to his without any thought behind it. At some point you even sneak a hand in his hair and just smoothe your hands through it absentmindedly.
Chrollo thinks this must be what heaven is like, your weight pressing into him, solidifying that you are here even if he closes his eyes.
In which you jump out of a moving car to spite Boyfriend!Sukuna
“—because he was just making conversation!”
Sukuna scoffs, knuckles turning white as his grip tightens on the steering wheel. “Bullshit. That guy wanted to fuck you.”
“Oh my god. So what!” you yell. “It’s not like I was gonna fucking let him!”
“Coulda fooled me.”
Just like that, your angry face, which matches his, warps into one of calm decision. With speed he doesn’t see coming, you unbuckle your seatbelt, push open the passenger door and jump out of the moving car into the dead of night.
The car screeches to a halt not even a second later.
You’re pushing yourself up and testing the soreness in your ankle when a car door slams shut and Sukuna comes marching over to you. “You crazy, fucking bitch!” he snaps. Sukuna grabs your face, growling when you try to pull away. He inspects every inch of you, brows furrowed, and piercings glinting under the streetlights. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”
“I got a bitch ass boyfriend, that’s what’s wrong with me,” you grumble.
He ignores that. “You break anything? Wrist? Ankle? Dislocated your shoulder?” You shake your head. “Well, that’s a fucking shame.” Though as he says that, he can’t quite hide the tremors in his hands. Quieter now, he mutters with a tight frown, “Scratched your pretty face up. Fuck. Lost your one redeeming quality.”
“Okay, so I’m gonna walk home,” you say, deadpan. “I’ll see you around, asshole.”
Sukuna runs a hand through his hair with a frustrated noise. Then he smacks his lips against yours before you can actually start walking away (not that he’d let you get very far). “Alright, alright. You fucking win. Congrats. Christ. Get back in the car — we’re going to the hospital to get you checked out. Fucking dumbass.”
A hospital visit later, you’re in bed with him, cuddled up like nothing happened. It’s how arguments with him tend to go; neither of you really hold grudges against each other. Not when you’ve fucked any grievances out after. The last mention of today’s incident, however, comes in his sleepy mumble against the top of your head: “push me out instead.”
“Hmm?”
Sukuna’s hold around your body tightens, threatening to suffocate you with his hard chest. “Don’t jump out of the car. It’s stupid. Your body’s weak. Skin bruises easily. Cuts easily too. Just kick me out instead. I deserve it, I know... bonus points if it's into oncoming traffic.”
Ways Sebastian Michaelis shows he's obsessed with you (without saying it)
A/N: I wanted to write something short while at work, and I had this idea. I'm trying to work on another fic, but I'm experiencing writer's block because I have so many different ideas.
He memorizes your routines. Without ever asking, he knows your favorite tea, when you prefer silence, how warm your bath should be.
He doesn’t get jealous—he gets possessive. If someone so much as touches you, they’re met with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. No one is worthy of you. That person doesn’t last long.
He’s always behind you. Not in a romantic way. In a predator-watching-his-prize way. Silent. Constant. Comforting only because it’s familiar.
He handles your enemies personally. You never find out how, but people who upset you mysteriously disappear, fall ill, or are financially ruined.
He never calls you by name. He calls you mine, or nothing at all. There’s something more sacred in the silence before he says it.
He keeps something of yours. A glove. A strand of hair. Something innocuous, tucked into his jacket like a holy relic.
You never lock your door. Not because you don’t want to—but because you can’t. It never stays locked with him.
He watches you sleep. But not sweetly. Like a god admiring his offering.
He adjusts his demeanor based on what makes you flinch—or melt. He learns your tells, your weaknesses. And he uses them.
He never says ‘I love you.’ He says, “You are mine.” And it means more. And it terrifies you
The content tags: NO SMUT, domestic, dad L, boy dad L, fem/AFAB reader
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You stand behind the couch, wrapped in your favorite robe, watching in silence.
Neither heard you walk in, you're positive.
L is seated on the floor, knees to his chest, back supported by the cushions of the sofa, watching his son in complete and utter focus. The son in question is on his feet, bouncing and spinning to the Bluey theme song. He mumbles along to the instruments, before doing his best approximation of the spinning jump the main character does, shouting, "Bluey!" In time with the show.
Then, the song plays again, from the top. He's been dancing to the same 30 second song over and over for the past hour, and it looks like L's been watching for just as long.
Finally, you make yourself known by leaning over the couch and resting your hand on your husband's shoulder. "Boo."
He twitches, caught off guard, but doesn't turn around. He only rests his opposing hand on yours. "Good morning."
"Morning. Has he eaten yet?"
"Yogurt drops."
"Has he done anything else?"
"No."
"Nothing?"
"He seems to be having fun. Why stop him?"
"Alright..." you walk around the couch, and sit beside L. "What about you?"
"I...got the yogurt drops..."
"You need to do more than stare at him all day. And he needs more than a screen, his eyes will fall out."
"I spent much of my 20s staring at screens, and I have yet to lose an eye."
"That's because you're a freak, our 4 year old needs a little more enrichment."
"You're not very nice in the morning."
"I'd be nicer if you got me a cup of coffee."
His gaze drifts to you and your sweet, pleading eyes. "Fine."
"Kiss first?"
He presses a kiss to your lips, quick and chaste, before standing and plodding into the kitchen.
Your son spots L's movement out of the corner of his eye, and pauses. "Where are you going? I was about to do my biggest spin!"
"Your mother can watch."
He whips around to find you in L's place. "Mama!"
"Hi baby! Come give me a hug, I missed you," you coo, stretching your arms for him to come tumbling into.
"I haven't seen you in a million sleeps," he exclaims, climbing into your lap.
"I think you saw me like, one sleep ago," you argue, kissing the top of his head.
"I think maybe a million," he responds blithely, grabbing at your hair and twisting the strands in his tiny fingers.
"Did you and your dad have a good morning?"
"Uh huh! We had snack and watched bluey," he confirms, trying to braid your hair to the best of his lacking abilities.
"Are you hungry? We can go out today, how does lunch sound?"
"Ummm...I would but I am very precorperated with Bluey right now, so I'm thinkin' maybe we take a rain-check on lunch mama."
He was so cute. All little kids sound cute when they try to talk like adults, but yours is definitely the cutest. "You think? How about we take a short lunch, have a small walk at the park, and reschedule Bluey for later?"
"Dad says he stayed inside alllllll day when he was my age."
"And who's the funnest, me or dad?"
"More fun, not funnest," L corrects, slinking back in with your coffee and an unamused pout.
You shift, setting your child on your knee so you can take the hot coffee in your free hand. "See? I'm the funnest," you tease, gulping down the sweetened drink. He always makes your coffee perfectly, no notes. "L, any opinions? Lunch and a walk?"
"I think a walk might be enjoyable," he concedes. It was in your son's best interest, like it or not he needed time in the sun.
"I could have a walk," the boy nods, easily swayed.
"Alright. Go get dressed, get your shoes." He leaps from your lap, running off to change, already excited. You pull yourself up by the sofa, and down half of your mug. "We made a pretty great kid," you sigh, leaning against L's hunched frame.
"Agreed," he nods. "You should change as well."
"Mm...gah, I feel like I'm forgetting something..." you had no clue what, but it felt like you needed to tell him something.
"If it's important, it should come to you soon."
"Guess so. Go put on shoes."
He glances down at his bare feet, the only missing component of his outfit. "Do I have to..." he grumbles.
"Don't set a bad example. You want him to get tetanus?"
He doesn't respond, choosing instead to sulk his way to the shoe rack by the door.
You have two children.
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"Mama, can I get pancakes?" He was adorable, seated beside you in the booth and bundled up in his favorite red jacket, swinging his little legs. It was chilly out, so right before you left, L had crouched down to his level and zipped him all the way up to his neck. You had unanimously decided on brunch at a diner, one you frequented often enough to order quickly and enjoy yourselves.
The pancakes in question were chocolate chip, slathered in syrup, and topped with a mountain of whipped cream and cherries. "Well...what about the scrambled eggs? You like eggs."
"Dad always gets the pancakes," he whines.
You eye L, seated across from you and balancing two forks on a toothpick. It takes several seconds before he notices, looking up to find your displeased expression. "Is something wrong?"
"No...but your son would like the pancakes, and I'm not entirely fond of the idea."
He glances down at the boy, halfway to a meltdown. "I see..." he dips his head, getting to eye-level with him. "Would you like to share crepes," he whispers.
You grimace. It was better than a stack of pancakes to himself, but you really needed to get L's diet in check.
"What's a crepe?"
"A thin pancake with cream filling."
"Okay!"
He goes back to coloring the kids menu, scribbling lopsided stars and big giant smiley faces over the lunch options.
"I'm not a fan of crepes," you chide lowly, leaning in to be sure L knew you were talking only to him.
"The strawberry ones here are satisfactory, you might like them if you tried them," he shrugs.
"You know what I mean."
L sighs lightly, and reaches to clasp your hand in his. "He eats well at home. Having a treat every so often is beneficial, if anything."
"...fine...I suppose you're right."
"Are we having a fight?"
"...no. But it's still on the table, so behave yourself."
A small, amused smile lifts the corner of his mouth, and you return it.
"Dad, play tic-tac-toe with me!"
"Alright."
After three cat's games, L relinquishes his green crayon. "You're quite good at this."
"I know," your son chirps, moving on to the word search.
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"I swear, it was totally on the tip of my tongue."
You, L, and your son trod down the green park path. You held one of the 4 year old's hands, L held the other, and upon request you would both lift to swing him forward. Cool breezes gush in, blowing reddish leaves across your feet for the boy to pick up and stuff in his pockets.
"You'll remember," L comforts.
"It just...it feels important, but I can't remember!"
"When you look, you should go from right to left 'stead of left to right." Once, he was looking for his favorite socks, and L told him he would find them better if he looked from right to left because when we read, we look from left to right, and doing the opposite slows your visual processes in favor of cognitive processes, causing you to pay more attention.
All he knows is that he found the socks looking that way.
"Thank you, honey. I'll try that next time."
"Ooh, mama, go down the slide with me," he squeals, already running toward the play set.
"Oh- hold on!"
The three of you venture to the empty playground, swings swayed solely by wind. It was the middle of the week in the middle of a school day, you could count on having a quiet afternoon alone at places like this.
He leads you up the plastic stairs, toward the green, twisting tunnel slide at the very top of the structure. You tower over the siding of the stairs, able to see L standing at the bottom, hands in pockets, awaiting your fall.
"Don't get in yet, give me a sec..." you sit before the slide, calves resting within the tube. "Alright, now you can sit." You reach for him, and he settles himself squarely on your lap, wrapping your arms around his chest like a safety bar. "Ready?"
He nods, and you scoot forward, inch by inch, until you plummet. It was by no means steep, nor was it fast, but your son was screaming the whole way down, as if it were the biggest rollercoaster he's ever been on.
When you touch ground, he hops out of your lap, rushing to tell his father all about it. It takes a couple tries, but you're eventually able to maneuver out of the child-sized contraption, and rejoin your husband and son.
"Did you see us?! Did you see us go so fast?!"
"I did. Very impressive." L takes his hand, tiny fingers wrapping around his long, thin ones. He never imagined quitting detective work for domestic bliss, but...this was worth it. It was all worth it.
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"He went down easy today." You plop down next to L and grab a throw from the arm of the couch, draping it over both sets of legs.
"He's become accustomed to his new naptime," L agrees, allowing you to snuggle into his side. "Though it won't be long until kindergarten disrupts him again."
"We've got time," you shrug, holding his hand beneath the soft blanket.
"Did you ever remember what you meant to tell me?"
"Not yet..." you purse your lips.
Something from this morning...
something important...
L has to know...
"Oh, wait, I've got it now! I'm pregnant! God, that was gonna kill me, you wouldn't believe."
nerdjo, who’d always be soso nervous about physical touch and kisses no matter how many times you peppered his face in them or cuddled together.
nerdjo, who loves the nights you stay over in his dorm because he got to watch admire you getting unready, sleep and wake up in the most adorable way. (in his eyes at least)
nerdjo, who gets super excited anytime you two go out together, feeling like a true boyfriend when he holds the door open for you or insists on paying the bill.
nerdjo, who shows you off in any way he can. wallpaper? you two in a photo booth. profile picture? you kissing his cheek. wallet? a picture of you in his digimon shirt.
nerdjo, who prays to whatever power rules over the universe that he’s doing this whole relationship at least decently right, too embarrassed to ask any of his friends for advice.
nerdjo, who absolutely dreads the week you get your period, overwhelmed whit what he should do, how he could help because god help him, he has no clue whatsoever.
nerdjo, who feels like the biggest idiot, beating himself up that he knew all those incredibly hard formulas but not what kind of pads his girl needs as he stands in the feminine hygiene aisle.
nerdjo, who literally read a whole book and watched a dozen videos on menstrual cycles that night.
nerdjo, who needs you smiling and happy at all times, making sure you had everything you possibly needed whenever you wanted.
nerdjo, who’s phone must be on dnd when studying, it’s really that serious, yet changed his settings so that ‘my lovely lady’ ‘s notifications were allowed.
nerdjo, who tries so hard to get it all right each time you two try something new and is all the more grateful for your reassurance the times it doesn’t go as planned.
nerdjo, who enjoys having little things of you around. the ribbon from your birthday present to him on his nightstand. your deodorant in his bathroom shelf. your panties under his pillow.
nerdjo, who cherishes everything about you. every single thing you do is sacred in his eyes, he quite literally feels like he’s in the presence of an angel.
nerdjo, who’s biggest nightmare is waking up without you by his side. without you in his life. but is reminded everyday that he doesn’t need to fear such a thing happening at all.
the gap moe is gojo satoru, number one gaming youtuber in japan, and how he crashes out loser style whenever people hit on his vlogger girlfriend. (that’s you, by the way.)
content: language, crude humor, crack fic, modern au, youtuber au, everyone is an adult, hints of reverse harem
his expression twisted into one of utter confusion, eyes locked on the screen in front of you.
usually, you both went for anything action related on movie nights. this time however, you talked him into watching something romantic.
he, sweetheart that he is, didn’t mind at all, trusting your taste in movies.
which led to him being all cosy and cuddled up with you under a blanket, innocently enjoying the cute and funny moments.
until… the couple eventually started making out hungrily after not having seen each other for weeks.
“they’re kissing.” you mumbled, lips stretching into a smile as you held back a chuckle at his lack of knowledge.
it wasn’t his fault, really. he only started living a normal human life as a half-curse a few months ago, discovering what lovers were and did just recently.
“but they’re not kissing like we do.” he furrowed his brows, tilting his head towards you.
“they’re french kissing.” you corrected.
“the french kiss like that?” his tone turned from puzzled to curious. after all, he wanted to know all about human life.
including different cultures’ kissing styles.
“no- well, yes, but not just the french.” you chuckled, finding moments such as these amusing, yet pretty endearing as well.
“that’s just the name, it’s basically kissing but with tongue.”
that made him hum in acknowledgment, turning his face back to the screen.
“it looks messy.” he didn’t seem to entirely get the appeal of it.
and then they began moaning.
his ears tinged a pink hue almost instantly, recognising those sounds from the more intimate acts humans did.
“are they… having sex?”
god, he was so adorable at times, most times really. actually, all the time.
it made you break out in soft laughter against his chest.
“nooo, they’re just kissing, silly. although they might have sex later.”
the louder growing noises didn’t help his blush at all. it made him feel weird, heat spreading through his body at the thought of you two doing that.
“why don’t we ever… kiss like that?” he asked hesitantly with his gaze still fixed on the movie, unable to meet the sight of your pretty face right now.
that made you cock an eyebrow, mischief on your mind and replying “do you want to?”
“i dunno…”
“oh you do.”
“i don’t even know how to do that.” his eyes finally fell onto yours, all timid and bashful.
“it’s okay, i’ll teach you, cho.” with that you sat up and climbed into his lap as you so often did.
arms slung around his neck and anticipation growing between you both as you stayed this way for a moment.
“so, um- what do i do?” his hands found purchase on your waist, resting there ever so carefully.
“just mimic what i do, yeah?”
he nodded subtly, eyes widening as you leaned down to close the distance between you, lips meeting his before he even got to say anything at all.
it started off like their usual kisses, a prolonged peck where lips just lingered on one another.
and just when he began to believe you might’ve pranked him, your lips shifted against his, moving softly and more insistent now.
he tensed beneath you, a little caught off guard but not pulling away.
it was more clumsy than not at first, how he tried to imitate the way your lips felt on his and it made him let out a quiet whine without even realising.
you smiled faintly into the kiss when you felt his grip on your waist tighten the slightest bit, tilting your head a little to deepen it and slowing down just enough for him to keep up.
and when your lips parted somewhat from his, he almost chased back for more, deciding against it though.
a quiet, shaky breath left him, face warm and crimson tinting it accordingly.
stormborns
dailybridgerton
yousharknotpass
