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Prince: Jean Kirschtein x ReaderPrince: Jean Kirschtein x Reader by ~drunkkyo
Whether the boy accepted it or not: he had nowhere to go without you. Not North or South, East or West. If you weren't there, he wasn't there. He was after you like the possession he wished to have, the possession he correctly owned for himself.
It was definitely jealousy that coursed his veins, and it swam deep into the sanguine fluid beneath his skin to watch you talk casually with anyone that wasn't himself. Then it all simmered down, once you were perched atop his bed, hidden underneath his brawny arms and blankets, it was all going to be okay.
Then morning'd come, and he'd struggle to release you. Only because you were never awake when he'd wake up. You were still enchanted by slumber, your leg had always been propped up on his waist, and your face tucked into his neck. He expected nothing different each morning, except some mornings, you were grumpy, and some you were as sweet as the honey color of his eyes.
He'd eagerly lay beside you, re-wrapping his sinewy arms around y
Pleasantry: Rivaille|Levi x ReaderPleasantry: Rivaille|Levi x Reader by ~drunkkyo
He was merely a man who comforted you with a stern voice, cruel demands and cold messages. In the midst of his bitter clicking of the tongue, he'd wrap an arm around you, and awkwardly kiss your cheek, apologizing.
Actions, more often than not, spoke louder than words.
Both of you knew better than to anger one another, for he'd turn into an atrocious announcer, and you'd translate into a ferocious opponent. It was much better when silence was filled with lingering kisses and tender touches, anyways.
And, perhaps, it wast the man's turn to offer some comfort to your rather cruel desires.
"Mm..." You breathed out, holding up a red lipstick to the frowning man's lips. "I think this is too...dark." You muttered out, closing the cap once again. Calloused fingers reached into the make up bag that you had, more or less, borrowed from Petra.
Makeup was considered a luxury in the time being, people of wealth carried a bag of cosmetics . No one quiet knew where Petra had gotten the prized posses