#its like a wedding ring but earings | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

milky-aeons · 2 months

Text

'𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐎 𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

ᯓ★ starring: dazai osamu, kunikida doppo, atsushi nakajima, chuuya nakahara and fyodor dostoevsky; what they would be like on their wedding day.

warnings: marriage, swearing, alcohol-intake, wife reader, w.c 3.5k

ᯓ★𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔

: ̗̀➛ Dazai, who never really acted like a conventional human being, also did not propose like one, either. After dating the enigmatic Armed Detective Agent for, by then, two years, you did not expect him to get down on one knee and produce a beautiful ring, like you had seen in the movies. But you also did not expect him to drop the question like it was a frivolous thing one random Tuesday evening while you both shared a drink at your favourite late-night bar.

Blinking, your glass frozen mid-way to your lips, you turned to him and said, "What did you... just say?" That mischievous smile you were so quick to fall for flashed across his face. "I said, why don't we get married, hmm~?"

: ̗̀➛ There was no other answer in your mind, your heart, than a resounding yes. For he was the thorn in your side as much as he was your other half. Through the whirlwind of months following, you found it hard to discern where one day ended and the next began. Time bled together until you didn't have nearly enough of it, and the day of the ceremony was here. It was a casual affair not bound too tightly by tradition. By the help of the agents, an old, abandoned manor sitting by the riverside had been fashioned into your very own cathedral.

: ̗̀➛ Yosano Akiko fussed over your dress, your hair, your makeup — to a point where you thought she was having way too much fun. And yet, she left no stones unturned, either. As you walked in through the building decorated with bouquets of flowers and rows upon rows of familiar faces, she hooked her arm into yours and walked by your side. Using Thou Shalt Not Die, the doctor instructed fluttering, iridescent butterflies to sit against your dress and your veil, the cornet of your hair, any place she could in order to make you glow.

: ̗̀➛ He stood to his towering height at the alter with his back turned to you in an immaculate suit of white. And when he spun to face you, you fell in love for a second time — with his brunet hair tucked behind his ear, the blue rose pinned to his suit lapel and his eyes; how they watched you. With a type of stunned disbelief that melted into adoration. When you came to stand by his side in front of the pastor, his hand reached down to twine with your fingers, and he whispered;

"You — are absolutely breath-taking."

: ̗̀➛ Kyouka Izumi played the role of ring-bearer, delivering a small white pillow with the two shining bands once it was time to say your vows. Dazai reached out tenderly, slowly, as if to preserve this moment for as long as he could, and lifted the veil from your face. His eyes shuttered. He reached for your hand and slid the smaller band onto your finger, his eyes downcast, his voice low and intimate.

"Through you I have found what it means to love, what it is to feel human, and while I am by your side — I endeavour to protect and earn that title. For as long as I shall live, I am yours. My soul, my name, they are all yours."

: ̗̀➛ As the ceremony reached its closure, when you had both been bound to each other in heart and in soul, Dazai could not wait another moment before he could reach for you. As soon as the words you may kiss the bride left the pastor's lips, Dazai had looped his arms around your waist and bent you back into a dramatic dip. Cheers and claps filled the riverside chapel, you smiled widely against his lips, expecting nothing less of him. Your soulmate. Your husband. Your Osamu, who's name you brandished as your own.

𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 . . .

"Kunikida-kun~!" Dazai's loud voice, a little accentuated with alcohol, swam over the crowd. "Play the thing we talked about!"

Curious, your head turned to the sounds of footsteps shuffling onto the dancefloor illuminated by pale spotlights. The afterparty was in full swing, you had been flanked by a group of well-wishing women when your husband's voice reached your ears. Each of you observed as Dazai, alongside Kunikida, Junichirou, Atsushi and little Kenji took centre stage. Excited murmurs fluttered through the throng.

"What on earth are they doing?" You wondered, and then the starting notes to All The Single Ladies began blaring from the party speakers. Your mouth dropped. Every single one of the Armed Detective Agents began to move in unison to the beat of the music.

And for the third time, you fell in love with him, again. Expecting that there would be many more to come.

ᯓ★𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎

: ̗̀➛ Kunikida Doppo, who, at first, had not planned to marry you. After all, you only met twenty out of his proposed fifty-eight requirements that made the perfect wife. That was the thing about your relationship, however — you had come into the agent's life unplanned, uninvited, and turned every one of his rigid ideals up on their heads.

: ̗̀➛ Yet it was only telling of the Idealist and his old habits, how Kunikida went about asking for your hand in marriage. It had been early on a weekday afternoon when he had called you into one of the private meeting rooms of the Agency's office. He'd pushed his glasses up the strong bridge of his nose and laid out his terms. He'd even written a business contract for you to sign. The page had gone flying in the air when you had tackled him from across the table. Smattering a thousand kisses against his blushing, flustered face and breathing the words yes, yes, you silly man, yes!

: ̗̀➛ To concur with both your family's wishes and his own, a traditional wedding was set in motion. Kunikida Doppo was always a man to abide by rules and regulations, but it had occurred to you that perhaps he was taking this affair a little too seriously. For your parents, he gifted them the very traditional shiraga thread. During the sake ceremony, the blond sat ramrod straight, moving mechanically to take sips from the three cups. One for past, one for present, and one for your future. Together.

: ̗̀➛ He was so serious, in fact, that you had become nervous on the morning of your wedding — your most beloved of friends helping you into your garments, trying to soothe your thoughts. What if he doesn't want to marry me? You would whisper as they fashioned your hair up. What if I've forced him into this, what if he's unhappy? To one of your many anxieties, your friend had met your eyes in the mirror, and smiled.

"Oh, honey," She chuckled, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. "You should see the way that man looks at you."

: ̗̀➛ Her words played in your mind as the traditional music was strung during your procession to meet him. The black colours he donned made his long ponytail appear golden, his body strong, his face even more handsome. As he watched you come down the shrine walkway to be by his side, the blond reached up with one hand to push his glasses away and covered his eyes. It had taken you a few months after to realise that in that moment, Kunikida Doppo had shed a tear.

: ̗̀➛ It was not tradition for vows to be spoken, and yet Kunikida asked to say a few words as the ceremony drew to a close. You watched him carefully as he picked up the microphone, curious at the intentions he had. It was in that moment that your newly wed husband faced the crowd and brought the mic to his lips.

"First, I would like to thank you all for gracing our marriage with both your presence and your blessings. It is something we will see not to squander." "Second, I would like to say some thoughts of mine, if you would all be so inclined. Marriage, to me, was initially an agreement of convenience. I had the perfect woman laid out seamlessly. And in my wife that stands with me today, I say that she is not that perfect woman I so wished to find. But she is everything more. She is my best friend, she is my support, she is the person I go to sleep thinking of and wake up searching for. To me, she is my home, and I will take care of her fiercely."

: ̗̀➛ At your small reception, Kunikida was stolen away from you by some affiliates of the Armed Detective Agency and had his sake cup topped up one too many times. He found you afterwards, and proclaimed both his love and adoration for his newly-betrothed to everyone and anyone that was within a five mile radius.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 . . .

"Come here," You whispered to him, now in the comfort of your own apartment walls. A considerably uncoordinated Kunikida was struggling out of his Haorihimo, cursing in drunken slurs and promises of retribution to the small sliver of fabric.

Your fingers eased the cloth out from underneath his arms and you began to loosen the knot. Your husband was staring up at you from behind his crooked glasses. He swayed a little, and you stood in front of him, ready to support him if he went toppling forward off the bed.

But then, two strong, solid arms came up to the small of your back and he crushed you against him. Burying his head into your chest, he murmured;

"From the very first day I met you... I loved you. D'ya know that?"

Your heart grew tiny wings in your chest and began to sore. Smiling, you reached up, carding your fingers through his blond locks and undoing the tight ponytail.

"The first day you met me, you told me I was inefficient and lazy, my dear husband." You mused.

He grunted. "Same... thing."

ᯓ★𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀

: ̗̀➛ Your relationship with Atsushi was one that blossomed slow and tenderly. It was a natural progression, after three years of happy dating, for the agent to ask you to marry him. Everything Atsushi Nakajima did in regards to showing his affection for you was always timid and reserved — you never expected it; the elaborate surprise he had waiting in store for you that morning you came into the Agency's offices just like you always did.

: ̗̀➛ Well, perhaps he had a little help from the other agents, for the office was barren when you entered. Your eyebrows had creased at the very uncharacteristic quiet of the usually chaotic area you worked in. You had checked the time, wondering if you had showed up a little too early on accident. But then, there was a voice — the voice of agent Dazai Osamu, shouting at you to come to the nearest window and to do so urgently—!

Each of the agents stood at the sidewalk, all holding up a sign with different characters that made up a whole sentence. A question. And Atsushi — your sweet, kind, caring Atsushi, was perched in the middle, the biggest bouquet of roses in his sheepish hands. Will you marry me?

: ̗̀➛ Both you and Atsushi decide to get married somewhere far removed from the city skyline of Yokohama. You wanted somewhere special to remember this day, and perhaps, the great outdoors and stretching greens spoke to Atsushi's beastly side a little more, too. So you chose the heart of a nearby woodland where a great, ancient willow tree served as your alter.

: ̗̀➛ Atsushi wore a suit of sky-blue. You wore a simple slip dress decorated with accents of lace and flowers, Kenji had twined some wildflowers into your hair. The fauna of the forest acted as your choir when you walked down the small trail of brambles to your soon-to-be husband who waited at the base of the winding trunk.

: ̗̀➛ The reception was held in a greenhouse funded by the Agency's private books — you and Atsushi were members, after all, so Kunikida took a little less persuading than usual to move his ledgers around. For lunch, you served chazuke, and when you took the first dance, Atsushi's eyes appeared more gold than they were violet as they looked at you so lovingly the whole time.

𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 . . .

"Atsushi, they'll notice that we're gone." You giggled, bunching your dress up so you could step over the little bush of thickets. When you both reached the winding roots of the willow tree you promised yourselves to each other underneath, Atsushi transformed his arms and legs into their tiger equivalents.

"Dazai-san said he'd keep everyone entertained." He whispered, and then stepped forward to wrap his soft arms around you. "Are you ready?"

"It may be a little late for second thoughts." You teased, but looped your arms around his slender neck and relaxed into his hold. The new golden band on your finger glinted in the moonlight.

And using that tiger-strength, Atsushi dug his claws into the ancient tree bark and began to climb. Higher and higher until you both broke through the canopy cover and could look to the millions of stars winking at you overhead.

"Oh, Atsushi." You breathed in awe, taking in the wonders above. "Oh, it's beautiful."

Your husband nuzzled into your hair and whispered, "Each one represents all the lifetimes I'd still find and fall in love with you in."

ᯓ★𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

: ̗̀➛ It had initially been you and your General lover's plan to keep your engagement quiet and have a small affair away from town. Just the two of you, because Chuuya thought some of his colleagues were insufferable pains in his ass, and all hell would break loose if they were to figure out they had a wedding plan on their hands. It was, however, unfortunate, that you two had been discussing what type of ceremony you'd like to have when Hirotsu was just about to turn one of the corners. It took exactly one hour for the entire Port Mafia to know. Two for it to reach the Armed Detective Agency.

: ̗̀➛ It was no longer a personal affair. This wedding became a spectacle within the Mafia's ranks. From the lowest levels all the way to the boss himself, everyone was abuzz with ideas and anticipation, excited that one of their top brass was getting married and they could all take advantage of the time off to have a grand party. Chuuya threatened to resign several times, you always laughed at how excited the entire criminal organisation became at the prospect of celebration.

: ̗̀➛ True to the boss' word, you and Chuuya's wedding was held in one of the grandest churches Yokohama had to offer — having mysteriously skipped the two year waiting list. The building was laved in gold and stain glass windows. Chuuya wore a fine suit of blood-red and a black tie that contrasted with his wild curls, his hard blue eyes. But when they saw you come down the aisle, they softened, and when he said his vows to you, you never thought anyone would look at you with such adoration ever again.

: ̗̀➛ The main event was held in the bowels of the Port Mafia — one of the largest show-rooms this organisation had to offer, with chandeliers hanging from the ceilings and a private band playing any songs they were requested. Chuuya, for the majority of your reception, could not seem to keep his hands off of you. If you were not by his hip, his eyes would instantly go searching for you within the throng of party-goers. When he did find you, he would place a hand to the small of your back, he'd lean in to kiss you and say;

"There you are, my wife."

: ̗̀➛ There was another reason as to why Chuuya Nakahara was originally so hellbent on taking your wedding somewhere more quiet and peaceful. And it came in the form of a brunet ex-partner waltzing into the organisation's party, a broad simper on his infuriating face. Dazai Osamu took your hand and kissed the back of it, extending his deepest sympathies and that if you ever needed to blow off steam, he could give you his number.

: ̗̀➛ The Port Mafia ballroom had originally started off with three grand chandeliers. After Dazai had purred those taunting words, there was then, only two.

: ̗̀➛ After the many shards had been swept from the floor by a cleaning crew, the private band struck an up-beat quartet. Both you and your newly-wed husband took to the floor for the first dance. Chuuya's hand splayed protectively against your back, his other gloved palm slotting into yours and guiding you to twirl, skip, spin.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 . . .

"Shit, sorry." He grumbled when your foreheads were touching, the proximity sending his breath fanning across your cheeks. His pointy canines were jutting against his bottom lip. "That motherfucker — he just makes me see red."

"Hey, it's okay." You said, catching his eyes. "Because I love you. You, Nakahara. I am all yours and no one else's."

Those words touched something deep within this man's chest. Of course, the proof that you were his sat in the form of two stacked rings on your left hand, but to hear it. To look into your beautiful eyes and see the amount of love there.

He surprised you by reaching down to your hips and lifting you up, twirling you around, around, around.

"And I'm forever yours, babydoll."

ᯓ★𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐄𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘

: ̗̀➛ The initial letter you received from Fyodor asking for your hand in marriage — originally, you believed it to be fake. A shallow joke from someone who knew of you and the mastermind's occasional on-and-off relationship whenever he returned to your homeland. But as you traced the delicate loops of the handwriting that looked so much like his own, in the intimate moonlight beams of late night — you'd let yourself imagine. Hope. Only for it to swell and dwindle like ashes of a flame. Because there was just no way he would ask to marry you. That he would marry, at all.

: ̗̀➛ It was fitting then; how palpable your shock was when the slender, pale man you had accidentally fallen in love with — like a fool — was standing on the other side of your door that early morning. You had blinked hard, rubbed your eyes, wondered if you were weary from too many sleepless nights. When the stars had cleared from your vision, he was still there. An amused little smile stretched against his lips.

"So? Are you ready to get married?" You stared at him. And stared. And then dropped your morning cup of coffee onto the tiles of your hallway.

: ̗̀➛ At the news of your sudden betrothal, your family were both elated with a healthy dose of scepticism. Who is this man you are intending to marry, they fluttered around you with questions when you broke the news. Fyodor? I've never heard you speak of him, why do you intend to marry this man, girl? At that, you had smiled, not bothering to hide the small heat of blush on your ears, and murmured;

"Because he's a thief, and he stole my heart a very long time ago."

: ̗̀➛ The wedding was held in an old cathedral of gothic architecture. You don't think you've ever seen Fyodor look so refined; standing there in his simple suit of stone-grey with a black shirt. He had his hair tucked behind his ears, his eyebags were a little less pronounced, his skin brighter — but perhaps that was just the early-morning light. When you stood before your husband to-be and handed your heart over to him, for him, there was a shift in his eyes. You could not explain it, but you knew it ran deep. You knew that in his own way, he was also handing himself over to you. And you would accept all of him, just like you accepted his name.

: ̗̀➛ Much to the dismay of your family, you did not hold a wedding reception after the ceremony, but that was only because Fyodor decided to walk with you through the freezing streets of Moscow. He held your hand, and even though on many nights where you lay together he was stone-cold, today, he felt warm.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 . . .

"Fyodor?"

"Hmm?" He answered, noticing the sheepish tone in your voice. You looked up at him with those big doe eyes.

"Why did you ask to marry me?"

Fyodor held your gaze for a long, pregnant second. It was at that moment that a single flake of snow fluttered down from the grey sky and landed on his immaculate suit. Then another. Each one the same colour as your dress, each one different to the rest.

Fyodor held out his hand to catch them. "Why does the snow fall? Because it is natural. It is meant to be. I married you because it is the way I wish to fall. With you, by my side."

✎ . . . requested by the lovely @cocodrilofeliz!

WRITING REQUESTS

1K notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

Text

Run Away To Me (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, being hunted/chased, medieval period-esc standards, arranged marriage insinuations, toxic family insinuations, angst, protective Johnny?, etc.

A/N: This series is so Lord Huron coded

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

You rush through the low-hanging branches of the reaching pines, their green arms tearing at the once perfect and virginal white dress clothing your body; waves of delicate fabric like bird’s wings. Shredded and torn, you sob in large gasps while the shouting gets louder behind you—the pound of vile hooves along cobblestone.

“After her!” Blood was rushing down a long slice in your palm, dripping to the verdant grass as you traversed the off-trial paths, the roads of animals and bandits—monsters in the night.

Flashes of torchlight had gone out long ago, the rain slamming the ground with ancient purpose as the storm got angrier. Tree trunks slam into your shoulders, the wedding dress ripping away in strips as pine needles pierce the bare skin of your feet. Your shoes had slipped off as soon as you had started this mad dash.

“She went this way! Quickly!” You run faster, shuffling down a long hill as mud gets packed into your flesh; infecting wounds with its slimy make-up.

“Please,” your voice begs lowly, hiccuping out vowels as you drop to your knees at the bottom of a ravine before you sob and grit your teeth. Wading through the stream of chilled water, you dig into the ground and shove yourself up on shaking legs as rain pelts your head. “Please, I can’t go back.”

Even your thin clothes are heavy on you—body weighed down by terror and a desperate plea. Because what you said was true. You can’t go back. Can’t go back to the search party, can’t go back to the ceremony…and you can’t go back to the man you were supposed to marry. No, you’d rather face the woods.

Scaling up the other edge of the ravine, you slam a bloody hand down to the rocks atop, pebbles flying past your face as a flash of lightning momentarily illuminates your field of view. Noises reminiscent of an animal carve their way out of your esophagus, teeth gritted as feet slip and strain.

You heave yourself over and fight the weakness in your arms. Coughing, you pray the storm will wash away any trace of your charge to freedom—the blood and the tracks. With any luck, the hounds won’t be able to pick up your scent even with the strips of your dress left behind in the branches.

Pushing away the water from your forehead, you stumble onwards on unsteady feet that pound with pain. Grasping at your gushing palm, you cry out as the burning pain echoes up your forearm.

“Whatever God is out there,” You speak in gasps, slurring the words as your dry throat grates. It’s all but lost to the wind in its great bouts of staggering attacks through the trucks of the trees. “Please, offer me sanctuary.”

Lightning is the world’s answer, more streaks of light that make your soaked body flinch and shake even more. Yet, in that tiny second of light, there had been something in the far distance—a shadow.

Your eyes peer harder, the calls from the riders suck in the back of your mind as they taper off as the search is re-routed.

What was…?

Wooden sides, three separate rectangular shapes that stand firm in the rampaging elements. Your feet slide over the ground as you limp in the direction you’d seen them, the flesh of your body so cold that you had gone numb in the sheets of rainfall.

A heart fills with senseless hope.

A homestead! With no other option, you take a deep, ragged, breath and continue on as quickly as you’re able; dress hanging off one shoulder. When you reach the front door some ear-ringing minutes later you’re barely standing upright—legs teetering and thighs shaking with dying vigor.

Panting, your first banging to the wood is weak at best, barely a sound above the thunder and the slap of rain. You strangle a sob and wrench your shoulder back, landing three hard hits that act more like punches. Pain blossoms in your hand, but you continue striking the wood.

There’s a loud ruckus from behind the blackened barrier, a yell, and before your knuckles can make themselves bleed from fear-filled adrenaline, the door is whipped open. A dim firelight spills out from a low hearth and you find yourself staring into the narrowed eyes of a man and his exasperated expression.

There’s the beginning of a growl, heavy with an accented voice, “Now who in the hell is—!”

A strong jaw goes slack, brunette stubble stilling. Blue eyes like cobalt instantly peel back to show the whites, words strangled away in a sharp inhale.

The man is in his late twenties, stocky, and clothed in a loose sleep shirt made of thin linen with black pants. His shoulders were near large enough to knock on the frame of the door as he stood in it, built with the strength of a boar and then some. His large, lightly-tanned hand on the door slackens as his eyes speedily dart down your disoriented form. Biceps the size of your skull.

Heart hammering, you stare for a moment longer, rain pelting your back and looking like a wet dog. It’s as if you’ve forgotten to speak beyond gasps for air, but your eyes implore enough for you. The stranger recovers from his surprise at seeing such a beautiful lone woman at his door with a clearing of his throat.

“...Christ, Dearie, you’re soakin’ wet out here.” He shoulders the door open wider without another question. “Inside, now, quickly.”

You wrap your arms around your waist and speed into the shelter of the home, water dripping down to the wood as you shiver and your teeth clatter. Not for a second did you think if this might be safe or not, too scared of the riders and their hounds than anything. You wouldn’t allow them to drag you back to your husband-to-be. Not in a million years.

Your voice is hiccuping as you speak.

“I…I don’t mean to i-intrude, I’m very sorry, Sir.” The man looks around his home before he spots a large bear fur by the messy bed in the corner—he rushes over and grabs it. “I ask forgiveness for w-waking you at such an hour.”

“Jesus, is that what you’re worried about?” Blue eyes crease at you as the heavy fur over your shoulders; your hands snap to catch it, the entire thing swallowing you as gaze up in confusion. The man frowns, staring back as water drips from your nose. “Let’s just focus on gettin’ you dry, yeah? You’ll catch your death like this, Little Lady.”

A wide hand presses to the expanse of your spine, prodding you forward as you squeak at the sudden contact. You’re guided to a small chair in front of the hearth, plopped down and the sides of the fur are hiked up to your neck quickly.

The stranger kneels down in front of you, focused, and his tired eyes alight with worry. He makes sure the fur isn’t going to fall as he blinks over the state of your hands. He pauses, his large grip stalling at the sight of spreading blood.

Your wound—you’d almost forgotten.

“Now what’s this, then?” The brunette's words are quiet, very in-tune with your state as you try to catch your breath and shiver. It was like coaxing a wild animal.

Blinking, you shift your hand farther under the bear's fur, bringing it to your chest.

“I won’t be here long, Sir. I promise,” you try to change the topic, but quickly jerk your nose into the crook of your arm as you sneeze, bending over slightly as mud and blood stain your skin.

Lips tighten along a square face.

“It’s Johnny, Miss.” The world outside rages on, blocked out by the four walls of this nicely sized home of wooden logs and boards. It was well-made with pine and cider, the large hearth in the back wall with inlets near the shuddered windows and various crudely carved pieces of art.

Weapon displays lined the walls, various makes and models hung on pegs. Axes and swords, spears with red-leather shafts set next to halberds of black steel. You blink at them in slight concern, not used to being around weapons.

Johnny, as he calls himself, sees this and quickly explains as he rubs at the back of his head, eyes crinkling.

“Ah, Johnny MacTavish, the blacksmith, that is,” a small, rough chuckle echos out.

You ease at that.

“Mr. MacTavish,” you give your name and offer a kind, yet still anxious, smile. “I give my thanks for allowing me shelter. A-and the fur.”

His gaze slips down to your hidden hand once more, face swirling with an unidentified emotion before studying your torn wedding gown.

“Well, I’m not one to leave a person out on my doorstep in weather like this. Certainly not a Lady.” His brow raises, head tilting. “You going to let me clean that wound a’yours or am I going to have to fish it out myself?”

Your body tenses slowly, bare feet shuffling over the floor. Staring at Johnny, you gaze at the strangely cut hair atop his head and the messy strands that speak to a night of shifting on his bed. His face is honest and open to you, blinking in soft question as his head angles to the side with an easy twitch of his lips.

“It’s really not necessary,” you try to chuckle but it falls flat, eyes red and heart still speeding.

Johnny sighs and glances at the fire, blinking before he shifts to grab another log and toss it in with no concern for the heat of the flame that lap at his fingers. You watch his muscles bunch under his shirt and quickly look at your lap.

“I’m not the greatest doctor out there, Dearie, but I can do good with washin’ out a cut an’ wrapping it.” You study him and nervously tighten your lips. Johnny’s face seems to soften, hands going up and wrists tilting as his knee stays connected to the floor; firelight on his face. A small smile blooms. “C’mon, I’m not that scary of a bastard, am I?”

You spare a tiny chuckle, shoulders jumping as rainwater slips down your chin. Your shivering was still going on, and would until you got a change of clothes, but the warmth from the fire was helping tremendously. Already feeling was returning to your limbs.

“Ah,” the blacksmith huffs a laugh, “there’s a smile. Now, let's have a little look-see shall we?”

Under the fur, your hand lightly shifts, coming back into view, slit palm and all. Johnny’s eyes darken, face going serious behind his stubble. Brown brows turn in.

“Now where in the hell did you get a—” Just as his gigantic hands were about to circle around yours, there was a violent knock at the door.

You shoot up in an instant, jerking away from the blacksmith as he snaps his head to the front, eyes lighting. He stands up slowly as you back up a few paces, eyes frantically darting back and forth. The knocking starts up again and thunder peels from outside.

Your form flinches.

“You can’t let them take me back,” you say quickly, breathing catching up in speed again. Fear burns your lungs and suddenly you’re ten times colder than before. “Mr. MacTavish, please, I can’t go back.”

Another round of knocking shakes the barrier. Blues eyes stare at you blankly, half-turned face pulled in visible confusion as Johnny’s jaw clenches.

A voice echoes from under the door as the blacksmith once more lets his eyes linger down your battered frame; taking in cuts and the limp you carry. Muddy feet and water stained red. His hands twitch at his sides.

“These are the guards of Lord Wilkin, would anyone in this home come to make him or herself known? It is of the utmost urgency!” You grow more fearful, head darting to find any other exit in this home but you land on nothing besides the windows. Your fingers shake with panic.

No, no, no.

Confusion gives way to deep concern.

A hand grasps your upper arm and you’re being hurried to the corner wall by the front door with fast feet and a firm, iron, grip. An accented voice mumbles quietly by your ear, “Keep quiet for me, Dearie. It’s alright, you let me take care of it.”

He stands you there and takes one last look at you, blinking, before grabbing the bear fur and pulling it above your head in a swift motion. There’s a quiet chuckle as you tense and slam a hand up to the brown material instinctually before Johnny darts around the corner and opens the door. You hold your breath and listen.

“Well, steamin’ Jesus, you bastards have any idea what time it is?! And in this damning weather, you show up at my door reamin’ on the wood like you’re the one who has to keep it anchored to the frame.” There’s a fast conversation of apologies and explanations that you can't catch above the yell of the rain.

“Does it look like I give a shite about a lost bride? Not my fuckin’ place to keep ‘er…I’ve seen nothing besides you…anyone out in this storm is as good as lost…” You listen and stay completely still, holding your breath as if it’s a prisoner in your lungs.

You can hardly believe it. Why was this man…lying for you? A wounded stranger that had shown up at his doorstep in nothing but a tattered gown and babbling through tears. Anyone else would have turned you over—especially to your betrothed, Lord Wilkin. He owned these lands and held fiefs by all who lived here. Not a man to mess with, if your slit palm was anything to go by.

“Go on!” Johnny calls loudly, and the door closes a second later, the latch locking. There’s a moment of nothing, before the clearing of a throat and a soft call. “Well, they won’t be back, least.”

He pops around the corner and smiles comfortingly.

“Sorry about the yellin'.” You part your lips in innocent awe and you take a deep breath before speaking slowly.

“Why would you do that?” His expression tightens, crossing his arms over his chest. Under him, his large hips shift.

“Ya asked, didn’t you?” Your blank expression only serves to make him chuckle heartily, head shaking. Johnny hums, “I won’t press you about it all tonight, though I well should. You’re in no shape for it.” Cobalt eyes glance at the food before looking back up. “But I’m guessin’ you have a good enough reason to sneak off as I hear you did.”

The very blood in your body heats with warmth.

You’re waved back over to the chair by the hearth. “Let’s get that injury looked at and I‘ll get you a change of clothes. You can take my place for the night,” eyes twinkle, “there’s no bed bugs in it, Dearie, knight’s honor.”

“What about iron shavings?” You call back softly, lips jerking up momentarily. The man’s actions had given you a large amount of trust in him. Johnny blinks in surprise at your joke, but a large grin grows moments later as you walk over delicately.

“Can’t say for certain, but I promise there’ll be no weapons under the covers. If anyone breaks in they’ll find my fists to be the first iron they get a touch of.”

Your laugh bounces off the walls, hand coming up to cover your mouth in the picture of a cultured upbringing. Johnny chuckles in turn, looking smug. He liked your laugh, it seems.

“That was detestable, Mr. MacTavish.” You sit down, and Johnny kneels where he had been before—his hand outstretched where you carefully place your wounded limb.

Immediately you feel the scrape of old burns and calluses, hands hardened by long hours of labor and intensive demands. You’re certain these are the hardest hands that have ever touched your skin, but it astounds you by how gently you’re being caressed and turned. People with far fairer flesh have never handled you like this. As if you would break apart with the barest of pressures.

Your breath stills as the blacksmith, with all the care of a butterfly, tilts your cut into the light and studies it, thumb absentmindedly brushing up and down your wrist. You hold back a shiver.

“Ah,” he grumbles, still smiling yet more focused on your injury now. “It wasn’t that bad.”

You hum under your breath and try not to flinch when he wipes away a stain of mud near your wound. The blacksmith grunts to himself, gentle pressure at your flesh like the scuff of tree bark. But it wasn’t unpleasant. No, you thought, not at all.

The two of you fall into a hole of soft silence, Johnny leaving for a moment to grab a bucket of water and bandages, saying in a mutter that he had plenty of the former to go around.

“Have a habit of burnin’ myself on my bad days, y’see,” he shimmies past, pausing before pulling back up the bear fur from where it had slightly slipped down your neck. “Comes with the job.”

Your face burns as he grabs what he needs, eyes stuck on your lap. You were astounded by the man’s ability to put away his obvious confusion for your care, how he was content to wait for answers until you were rested. It was honorable of him.

Thinking back to Lord Wilkin’s guards at the door, your thighs shift over the chair. They’d be looking for you until they found you—be that days or months, it didn’t matter. The Lord wasn’t someone to let what he wanted get away from him. Like senseless beasts, your family would undoubtedly help. Your chest is stiff with worry. How would you get away with this?

The scene you’d made at the wedding wasn’t exactly subtle.

Johnny comes back carrying a small bucket of fresh water, ladled from the wash basin, and a bundle of clean white cloth.

“Alright,” he huffs, “let’s get this sorted, eh, Dearie?” The wound was very obviously a slice from a knife, anyone could see it.

Johnny takes your hand once more and holds it in his palm, glancing up at you before dipping one of the cloths into the water and beginning to clean the cut.

“Is it…bad, Mr. MacTavish?” You ask, worried about the likelihood of scarring. That would be the last thing you would want. The blacksmith looks up from where he pats the edges, the fabric already going red.

“Just Johnny, if it pleases you,” he smiles, hulking form seemingly all a facade to hide a cheeky and loyal Scot. “And…no, not bad. If you’re worried about a mark, don’t be—it’s deep but only at the beginning. A slight discoloration, no more.” His brows pull back, teasing, “You’ll not end up like me, at any rate.” Your shoulders ease back, and you let him work with a thankful comment and a giggle.

You watch and take in the way his jaw clenches and loosens as he works, completely focused as if he was fashioning an axe and not helping a complete stranger.

“There’s no harm in scars,” you settle on saying, thinking over his last comment. Blues lock with your eyes, head tilting like a hound. Your face gains a slight heat to it and you stutter, “It’s just this one I’d rather not carry, Johnny.” Smiling warmly, you see the man’s lips part, his motions stalling for a moment as he looks up at you and blinks. “But yours suit you if…I’m allowed to say.”

It’s then that you realize that a slight flush has come to his cheeks, starting from under his stubble and leaking out to his cheeks like a red blaze—his gaze burrows deep with hidden fire that rivals the dancing shadows from the hearth.

Noticing, your own face burns all the hotter as the blacksmith quickly clears his throat, snapping his eyes away. Fingers once more cleaning your cut, he grunts out, neck now shifting to a blush of crimson, “...Thank you, Miss.”

You stay in silence for the rest of the delicate process; the air heated and rolling with something. Electricity sparks when Johnny’s hands rub across yours, large enough to break you in an instant but acting like moss over a stone. You find yourself falling into a sort of comforted state you hadn’t felt in a long time—the fur over your shoulders and the tingle of skin-on-skin contact that expects nothing but offers all.

“There,” Johnny says at last, and a part of you wants to cry when he pulls back, standing slowly. A firm but malleable wrapping is over your palm, a tiny knot tied in the middle to keep it from falling off.

You bring it to your abdomen and blink, the other hand going to run over the material.

“Thank you, Johnny. Truly. If I hadn’t found your homestead, I would have been lost.” The man rubs at the back of his neck, tunic bunched up by his elbows.

“Gah,” after a second of bruising off the comment, he waves a hand while his wide chest puffs with pride. “It’s no trouble, really. Keeps me on my toes.”

Outside the storm continues to beat the walls, and the blacksmith can’t help but feel his eyes drawn to your dwarfed form under the large fur, the dripping water, and the weight of your gown. Based on the information from the guard, he had a decent story already forming in his head.

A runaway bride and an angry Lord. By his own role as the fiefdom’s accomplished blacksmith, he should be turning you over. But your eyes had been flooded with tears when you’d pounded on his door; soaked in rain and mud—blood. No shoes. Freezing.

You had looked so afraid, his heart had hurt for you, a strong need to shelter you stuck like a knife into his ribs. Johnny had seen much in his life, war, and death, but your desperation had stuck a cord in him.

He’d keep you here with no charge, offer food and shelter, and do what he can to understand your situation. If not for simply hospitality sake, then because he had heard your laugh and had found it to be like a bird’s call in the wake of a dew-coated morning. Your soft skin like the wisps of fire from his forges. Your voice like a rippling spring. There was no way to describe the way he wanted to help besides to admit to himself that he was a good man.

And, while cocky, the blacksmith had never once been self-absorbed.

He watches you rub at your damp cheek and starts out of whatever trance he had been sucked into.

“I’ll…” Johnny rubs at his neck again, “I’ll get you that change of clothes, Bonnie. You just wait right here.”

You stare at his back as he strides over, the fatigue washing back over you now that the adrenaline leaves in its stupendous sweep of heavy heartbeats. Anyone else would have given you up. Your face softens, seeing the quick dig of hands into the stack of clothes in the dresser.

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man huffs, looking over his shoulder and shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Dearie, all I’ve got are my tunics and pants.” Black and pale cream linen is held up on display.

“Oh,” you mutter, “I don’t mind,” your chuckle makes his lips twitch with care. “I would just prefer to be out of this…thing.” Your eyes glare down at the tattered gown, breathing softly. “Anything is perfect.”

“Well, then I hope you don’t mind the smell of fire,” Johnny hums. “Here you are.” As much as his insides twist to understand the story, making sure you don’t run a cold was more important.

Your legs push you up and you walk over softly, gliding over the wooden floor to take up the articles and dig your fingers into the warm and easy texture, thin stitching, and cuffed wrists. There was a cut down the neck with a tied cord looped through, making up an ‘x’ pattern.

“I would say thank you again,” you begin, “but I think you’ll be getting annoyed with how many times I’ve already said it.”

Johnny laughs, crossing his arms over his chest and setting his feet.

“Ah, perhaps only a little.” Silence laps into a minute, and you study him with slow puzzlement, tilting your head. For a moment, the man wonders what he’s done. The blacksmith’s dark brows furrow, lips moving back. He looks down at the clothes again and starts with a wild blinking of his lids.

“Oh! Hell’s bells, right,” Johnny walks to the other side of the room and swiftly turns his back to you with respect and a burning neck. He cringes. “Christ.”

You laugh brightly, letting the fur fall to the floor as you undress and shimmy into the borrowed clothes. Your nose takes in the scents of metal and fire—fatty linseed oil used to protect a blade against corrosion. With the crackling fire, you slip the large tunic above your head and find that it falls heavily over you; far thicker than it seemed and very comfortable, ending at your lower thigh.

But those scents make your head spin, rolling up the cuffs as you bring your nose to the collar and once more take it in with a slow breath. You hum and move, throwing the bear fur back atop your shoulders and grabbing your ruined garments from the floor before calling out to the rod-straight figure.

“Johnny?” His arms lightly jerk, as if he’d been unfocused, but he doesn’t turn around. “Where would you like me to throw these?”

The blacksmith delicately tilts his head to the side and utters with his eyes stuck to the side wall. “Bin by the door is just fine.” You look to the container holding scraps and other garbage to be taken out and drop the gown in before rubbing your cheek.

Wide cobalt eyes stare at the clothes you wear heavily, jaw loose before he re-set it and averts his gaze. Johnny chuckles to ease himself and loops his thumbs into his waistband, embarrassed.

“Do you need anything else, then?” Your eyes blink with fatigue.

“No, I…I don’t think so.” Gazing at the home, your lips thin. Your family would have a heart attack if you even mentioned that you were staying the night at a complete stranger’s homestead. No protection, no way to beat off a blacksmith beyond a well-placed punch, and running from your betrothed. To say that you’d cause anything less than a heart attack would be generous. But Johnny felt different. Firmer in his emotions and intentions. Far more than the Lord.

That was really all that matted.

“Are you really sure this is okay,” you still ask hesitantly, gargantuan clothes atop your frame. Johnny is already nodding firmly.

“It’s my pleasure. I won’t be turnin’ you back out to the woods in a storm like this.” For whatever reason, the next words fall from his lips like an oath. “There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.”

Your hand burns with the memory of his gentle grip and your heart skips beats. You feel as if a great weight is lifted, even if only for a night.

“Alright,” your words barely make it to air, and you grip the bear fur harder to stop yourself from kissing this man’s cheek, wanting to take him into a tight hug.

Johnny takes a blanket from the bottom of his bed and shuffles over to the inlet below the shuddered window, sitting down while you slowly walk forward.

“But, Little Lady,” you rest on the edge of the bed and look up to find him watching you intently, leaning back with a hand behind his head and the other on his stomach. The fire still crackles, the storm still dances outside, and the room is still tight with something you can’t put a name to. Like you’re caught in a trap of soft pillows and the scent of metal, you listen to the blacksmith with bated breath. “I’ll be needin’ answers…you hear?”

Licking your lips, you nod tersely. “Tomorrow,” you agree.

Johnny gazes off into your eyes, the runaway bride that had shown up on his doorstep and captured his attention like a bird made of a white wedding gown and panicked breath. He sneaks a peek down at your wrapped hand as you settle on his bed, burrowing into his furs and his covers—wearing his clothes.

For some unknown reason, the smallest of blood stains makes his chest roll with bright anger.

“Tomorrow,” he grunts through a tight jaw before he fights to turn his head away from you. It’s a long while before he sees any type of sleep, listening to the sound of your soft breath and the crackle of the fire.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

3K notes · View notes

lxkeee · 2 months

Text

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

-PART EIGHT

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Angst (for now)

Warnings: family trauma/lore

Notes: we love a family that bonds.

PART ONE | PART SEVEN | PART NINE | NAVIGATION

Xavier was worried, scared even. He's pacing back and forth in his room. Having second thoughts whether he'll go down to hell and look for his beloved mother or just wait for her here.

What he's afraid of is what'll happen if his mother sees his father. His father already caused so much emotional pain to her. Xavier cannot imagine what kind of heartbreaking pain she'll experience once she sees her husband.

Xavier looks outside his window, rays of setting sunlight peaks through the white curtains, giving his room an orange like glow. He runs his hand through his light blond locks in frustration. He can't wait a second longer to look for her.

Xavier wonders if his parents already met down there, the idea makes his blood boil.

The idea of his father suddenly back to their life makes his skin crawl. Xavier knows how much influence his father had on his mother's heart.

He sighs, a long exhale filled with tension and worry. It's already been a few hours now, what could she be possibly doing down there? He thought to himself.

With a small huff, he fixed his uniform. That's it, I'm going down there. He took a deep breath, snapped his fingers together and opened a portal that leads to hell.

He steps inside the portal, summoning his three pairs of wings so he can fly down. Xavier hopes that his mother is alright.

The portal closed and the angel who once stood inside his large magnificently large white room was no more.

Lucifer returned back to the palace, teleporting back to his bedroom. A sigh of relief escaping his lips as he saw that [Y/n] was still passed out asleep. His eyes softened, sitting at the corner of the bed, in the empty space beside her sleeping form.

He lets out a long exhale, a tired sigh. He gazed down at her sleeping and tired face, his heart ached. Clearly torn between two women. Lilith, his wife of many millennia and [Y/n], his first wife and the angel who stood by his side and supported him despite his neglect.

He regrets it, genuinely. He was young and stupid, he and [Y/n] got married when they were in their 200's. Romance wasn't common back then, nothing to learn from. The only love they were taught was loving heaven and its creator. Romantic love barely existed during those times as every angel was busy with their respective duties.

He loves [Y/n] genuinely and he was wrong for not upholding his vows to her.

He gently swept away some strands of falling hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. A small smile on his face once his eyes landed on his hand, devoid of any rings. He finally let go of his wedding ring, the one he used for Lilith. He didn't wear his wedding ring—the one he used for [Y/n]—as he feels like he doesn't deserve it.

Lucifer remembers that he didn't want to remove his first wedding ring with his first wife but Lilith insisted he should.

Lilith was envious, because after so many years he still wore it and led to some arguments.

He can't just forget about [Y/n], he doesn't have the heart to. Her heartbroken face is forever embedded into his memories, her empty and blank face as she stared at him and Lilith when they were banished.

A look in her face told him that she was tired, tired of waiting for him, tired of his second priority.

He should've been better, he should've treated her better. He should've been her perfect husband just like how she was his perfect wife.

His love for Lilith is slowly disappearing, ever since they've begun arguing. Their beliefs and ideals no longer match with one another.

He accidentally mentioned [Y/n]'s name during their heated arguments, which causes Lilith to be mad at him and eventually left, leaving divorce papers for him to sign on his desk.

He tried so hard to bury his love for [Y/n], he tried so hard to forget her as he knew he wouldn't see her again and most likely didn't want to see him either.

A single tear runs down his rosy red cheek, breath hitching. Emotions are finally spilling forth, his love and heart ache that he bottled up for so many eons finally erupting.

“So this is how it feels,” he sang softly, careful not to wake her up. His voice broke as he sang ever so softly, “To fall in love with you, to always think of you, to always dream of you,”

He made a mistake in his decisions, he admits that. He should've done things better. Choosing Lilith over her was a mistake, “Yes, it hurts so much to fall in love with.”

He sighs softly, choking on his words as he sings his unspoken feelings. His hand trembled with emotions, “Sorry for leaving like that, you don't deserve to get caught in my mess.”

He was a troublemaker, he didn't want her to get caught in his mess but whatever silly idea he had, she was always ready to listen and comfort him when the elders rejected it. He gently held her hand, feeling how cold her skin was, he cups it with his hand and blew some warm air to it to warm her hand. He used to do this when they were back in heaven.

He gently laid down her hand back to the bed and back to her side, a small smile on his face before he let out a sad sigh, “Loving me is just so difficult, I don't know how I should tell you that.” he admits softly, he knows how tiring he can be, he knows... He had to deal with himself after all. He sighs, he's been doing so much of it lately.

“I've fallen for somebody else, happened so quickly, I lost myself.” he admitted, he realized years ago that he was only infatuated with Lilith, when the honeymoon phase was over, arguments started.

“A shadow of you drifts along by my window or did I imagine that?” he could remember when he would spend all by himself at the kitchen, drinking after a fight with Lilith and during his drunken delusion, he would often see figures of [Y/n] comforting him.

A shaky breath leaves past his lips, eyes tired and dull. He looks at the sleeping once more, she looked so peaceful.

He wonders if he should transfer her to the hotel, he needs to check up on Charlie and the others too. With a heavy sigh, he gently lifted her up into his arms once more—effortlessly carrying her. A sense of deja vu hits him, a memory of the time he carried her like this after they got married, [Y/n] happily laughing in his arms while he grins at her as he held her. Times were simple back then.

A single tear drop, running down his blemish free pale skin, the droplet running past his rosy red spots of his cheeks.

He took a deep breath, summoning a portal that leads to an empty vacant room of the hotel, he steps in with her still asleep on his arms. The portal closes behind them as the room shifts into one Hazbin Hotel's newest guest rooms.

He gently walked towards the bed, gently laying her down comfortably, making sure to tuck her in.

Finally, he slowly gave distance between them. Standing just a few feet away from the bed, a sad look on his face, “This is how it feels, to fall in love with you, to always think of you, to always dream of you,”

Seeing her after all these years, ignited the fading flame of his love for her. Adding gasoline to a flame.

“Yes, it hurts so much to fall in love with you.” he silently admitted, she doesn't hurt him, he knows it was his fault. He made everything complicated, his decision caused harm to her and their son, to these sinners. He made a reckless decision of abandoning her, giving both of them pain in the process.

He doesn't deserve her. Not after the things he's put her through.

He thought sadly, before turning his back away from her, walking out of the room. He took one last look at her sleeping form before eventually closing the door as he left the room.

The heels of his boots tapped against the dark red tiles of the hallway of the hotel as he walked towards his own room. He needs some time to process everything.

Charlie wasn't expecting a visitor this soon after the extermination, she certainly didn't expect her visitor to be her half half brother, a frown on his face and a glare on his eyes. She would've mistaken him for her father if he didn't have [e/c] eyes and also if the boy wasn't ridiculously so tall.

Charlie smiled nervously, how could she not? Xavier was looking down on her literally with the same coldness in his eyes.

“Xavier... Hi! I didn't expect you to be here...” Charlie says nervously, waving at him.

Xavier just raised an eyebrow, clearly not interested in small talk, “Where is she?” he asked, voice cold and means business.

Charlie tilted her head, “Who...?” she asked, wondering who the older boy was referring to.

Xavier scoffed, [e/c] eyes narrowing down on the blonde girl as he crosses his arms together on his chest, “My mother,” he answered, a deadpan look on his face, “—She came down here a few hours ago, she should've been back by now.” he added, a worried tone on his voice. Xavier was beyond worried, his poor mother alone in this disgusting place—the realm his blood father ruled. He can't imagine the possibilities that could happen to her.

Charlie's eyes widened in realization, oh, the angel. Why didn't she realize it sooner? Of course he's referring to the passed out angelic woman. Charlie is slightly nervous about telling the older boy, but she has to, “She's resting, she suddenly passed out awhile ago....?” She says, nervously, avoiding Xavier's eyes.

Xavier's eyes widened, ears ringing as everything suddenly went numb. For a brief moment, it felt like he was alone once more, the scared little boy who begged for his mother's attention.

He could remember how close she was to him but for some reason, he couldn't reach her. His mother can barely look at him in the eyes without crying. He felt useless, pathetic for being born this way and caused his beloved mother so much pain. He failed, he failed, he failed, he failed, HE FAILED HER. He couldn't save her again.

Mom...? Where are you? Please... Don't leave me again...

Charlie's eyes widened when she sees a single tear slid down Xavier's cheek despite the boy's unchanging glare, Charlie though could notice how sad his eyes were.

“Xavier...?” She calls out to him, no response.

“Azrael... He looks so much like him... I... I can't... It hurts to look at him.” his mother sobbed on the unknown taller and black haired man's shoulders. Xavier grips his duck plushie, he was somehow fond of the animal. The little boy peaked through the small gap of the door to his mother's room, hoping for some comfort after a nightmare—he didn't expect to see his beloved mom crying about him and that made him freeze on the spot. He was a smart child after all, just like his father.

“[Y/n]... He's just a kid... He needs you...” Xavier heard the man say, he still has trouble saying his name. Was it Azwawel? Or Azrawel? He forgot. Xavier, despite being so young, barely six years old—suddenly felt so numb. He slowly walked away from his mother's room, dragging the duck plushie. It felt heavier than usual, his little arms too weak to hold it.

He felt his chest tighten, he couldn't breathe. Chest heaving up and down as he tries to catch his breath.

Charlie got even more worried as she saw him begin to hyperventilate, “Xavier! Hey, hey... Look at me.” She says softly, holding on to the arms of the shaking boy, the physical contact snapping him out of his trance as he quickly pulled his arms away from the girl.

“Do not touch me.” he hissed, glaring at Charlie, “Tell me where my mother is or I'll destroy this hotel just to find her.” he threatened, making Charlie's eyes widen in fear. She knows she can't fight him, let alone her friends aren't as powerful to fight an angelic being—a Seraphim.

“She's upstairs, resting... Just don't hurt anyone.” She stammers, giving way for the older boy to come inside the hotel. She knew as her father texted her about it.

Vaggie's eyes widened when she saw the angel walks in, she could feel the man's power as he entered the room. Suddenly, the room got colder. Vaggie summoned her spear but she saw Charlie crossing her arms into an 'X' while shaking her head. Vaggie hesitantly lowered her weapon as they all looked at each other, she had to grip Angel Dust's arm to stop the arachnid from doing stupid—thankfully, Angel Dust seemed to get the memo and closed his mouth. Husk had to hold Niffty to stop her from causing chaos again.

Charlie led him up the stairs to the second floor, the others watching as they disappeared from sight.

Xavier's eyes widened as the door to where his mother was resting was opened, the first thing he saw was his mother's passed out form, lying down on the bed.

Xavier immediately kneeled down to his mother's side, holding her hand affectionately. What happened to her?

He looked angrily at Charlie, dull [e/c] eyes staring at bright red ones, “What did you do to her?” he asked, voice lowering and clearly pissed off. Charlie shakes her head, clearly afraid of him, “We didn't do anything! She suddenly just passed out on her own.” she explained and he just sighs, shaking away his thoughts.

‘They wouldn't just recklessly harm an angel, they couldn't land a hit on her if they tried. She must've overworked again.’ he thought to himself, sighing.

“Just leave us alone please? Now.” he ordered, Charlie flinched in fear but nodded and quickly left the room, making sure to close the door on her way out.

Xavier sighs, his shoulders dropping. It suddenly felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. His mother is his world, after all.

“It's going to be okay, mother. I am here for you, always.” he spoke softly, kissing his mother's hand before lowering it back down to the bed, hovering his hand over her sleeping form and began to heal her.

Lucifer stood outside the door to where [Y/n] was resting, his hand hovering above the doorknob—shaking. Charlie just told him about the situation. His son is here, the son he didn't know who existed was here.

He took a deep breath, ‘You can do this, Lucifer... This is your chance to ask for forgiveness.’ he thought to himself before knocking first and then slowly twisted the doorknob, pushing it open.

It felt like he was looking at the mirror, it felt like he was looking at a reflection of himself—the reflection glaring at him, sharp [e/c] eyes glaring at him with so much hatred.

“You!” the boy growled, standing up from where he was kneeling.

Lucifer was taken aback from the boy's anger. It felt like he was looking at a past version of him, the past him who despised heaven who treated him so wrongfully.

“What are you doing here? Why do you have so much audacity to come here like you didn't do anything wrong?” the boy asked, his voice filled with so much distaste for his father.

Lucifer's eyes widened, words stuck in his throat. Say something!

With a heavy inhale and exhale, Lucifer looked at the glaring boy, trying to calm him down, “I know what I did and I... Want to apologize... For all the things I've done.” he said softly, stammering slightly. He's trying so hard not to show that he's beyond nervous.

Xavier's glare sharpened, who does this man think he is?! Did he think a mere apology can undo all the damage he has done to him and his mother.

“Who do you think you are?” he asked Lucifer mockingly, a cold look on his face. Lucifer just stood frozen on the spot.

“Just because you're the most beautiful being of all of creation doesn't mean you can have anything you want,” Xavier sneered, a mocking smile on his face, “Your title and power doesn't mean anything to me, how does it feel to be the most beautiful being in all of creation yet you are thoroughly despised by your own flesh and blood?” Xavier asked and suddenly Lucifer couldn't speak, his chest tightening at the harsh words his supposed son had said to him. His breath caught up on his throat.

“This face...?” Xavier says, his hand moving towards his own face, he glared at his birth father, “I despised it so much, it's horrendous.” he says flatly.

“I do not know what my mother sees in you,” he says, looking up and down on his father's frozen form—not moving a muscle, “All I see is an angel who failed to become what he needed to become. A failure, nothing more and nothing less.” he says sharply, [e/c] eyes dull and hollow as he gazes at dull red ones.

Lucifer felt the familiar sting in his eyes, he desperately willed himself not to cry. What a failure of a father he is. First Charlie, now it's.... He doesn't even know the boy's name, he remembered Charlie telling him, but he somehow forgot. Pathetic.

Xavier's lips were formed in a thin line, turning his back away from his supposed blood father. He still doesn't understand why his beloved mother loves his father so much. He's too afraid to ask. Too afraid of making her remember such painful memories. He'll wait for her to open up. They have so much time to heal, he'll wait. He could remember young him who wanted to meet his father so much, the young naive Xavier who admired his father—the father who created the very species he loved so much, ducks. Poor naive Xavier who finally learned the pain his father gave to his mother to point his mother can't look at him, her beloved son in the eyes.

With a shaky breath, finally letting go of the breath he took in. Xavier sighs, “I will be taking my mother back home, thank you for your hospitality.” Xavier murmured, gently lifting his mother into his arms with no effort.

Lucifer's eyes widened from what the boy has said, they're going to leave. He needs to do something, anything to earn their forgiveness.

“Wait..! Please let her recover mor—”

“Haven't you done enough damage already?” Xavier asked, his voice devoid of any emotions as he tilted his head slightly to look at his father, a single stray tear running down his pale cheeks, the single droplet running past the rosy red spot on his cheek.

Lucifer was taken aback once more, the King of Hell can see so much sadness, anger, and longing on the boy's eyes. Lucifer wanted to reach out to the boy, his fatherly instincts kicking in. His hand extending where the boy stood, pausing as he hesitated.

Even after all these years, sweet little Xavier is still somewhere inside him. The sweet naive Xavier who wanted a complete family, who wanted a father.

“I said what I said, she'll be going home and get proper treatment. I doubt hell is a appropriate place to treat an angel like her.” Xavier says flatly, clearly not open for any discussion left. His decision is final. Lucifer can only respect that, he owes it to them. Lucifer finally lowers his hand, regrettably so.

Xavier turned away from Lucifer once more, summoning a portal back to their home in heaven.

A bright golden light formed in thin air as a portal opened, Xavier stepped in with his mother in his arms. He dared not look back. He doesn't have any reason to.

The portal closes in. Lucifer was left alone standing in the guestroom, his first family gone in a blink of an eye.

He cried in anguish inside that room.

He can hear his bones rattle against his skin as he dragged his body to his mother's bedroom, Xavier is incredibly exhausted. Physically, no. Emotionally and mentally? Yes, absolutely.

He is still carrying his mother in his arms, prioritizing her comfort over his.

Kicking the door open, he walked at the center of the room where his mother's bed was, gently laying her down. Making sure to tuck her in.

[Y/n] snuggled, against her blanket. Xavier smiled, a gentle yet strained smile on his face.

“I'll protect you mom, sleep well and dream well.” he says softly, planting a small kiss on his mother's forehead before eventually leaving the room.

TAGLIST I:

@valerie-36 @blackbleedingrose @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @zc000ter @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @ok-boke @random-3455 @izzieg3987 @snoozewritezz @dreamzaremyreality @hcneyiced @witchbunny1210 @ghostdoodlen @aikobakugou @just-here-reading @dzhanett-blog @des-deswain5621 @cocomollo @haleypearce @onyxstarhigh06 @nirvana5874 @shaebutter-baby

#lxkeee updates #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer magne #“TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN”#lucifer x reader angst #lucifer x y/n #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #Lucifer morningstar x reader angst #lucifer morningstar x female reader

1K notes · View notes

luvring · 1 year

Text

WEDDING MOMENTS

gn!reader | kuroo, bokuto, akaashi, hinata, atsumu, osamu, ushijima hello everyone i'm back 🫶 these are more reception moments than wedding but y'know. give me a break man...

KUROO leans in and whispers in your ear as you dance, “is it bad i want to go home and just lie in bed with you now?” “why are you whispering as if someone can hear you?” you snicker back. tetsurou shoots you a cheeky smile. “so it looks like i’m saying something romantic.” you hit his shoulder, and he only laughs before pulling you into a tight hug. you wait for him to let go before replying. “idiot. but no, it isn’t. my back and feet hurt.” he hums, and you can feel his fingers tapping your back. “do you think it’s possible for newly weds to sneak out of their own wedding reception?”

BOKUTO is walking down the aisle again as everyone disperses to talk or get ready for the reception. you walk up to him, curiosity piqued as he bends down. “what are you doing?” “huh?” he drops a few petals that he was clutching. “crap—hi, baby. i’m just, uh, picking up some of the flowers to take with us. i saw someone do it online, and i thought we could press them or put them somewhere,” he explains softly, as if a little embarrassed. your heart flutters at the thought, and you smile before reaching down yourself. “we better get some flowers, then. and a ziploc bag or something.”

AKAASHI relaxes and rests his head against yours while you watch your guests mingling and dancing. you reach for his hand and intertwine fingers. “you okay?” he nods in response and presses a chaste kiss to your jaw. “yeah, i can finally calm down and not worry about something terrible happening.” “mm, something terrible could still happen.” “love of my life, can you please give your husband a break?” keiji blows air against your skin, eliciting a laugh from you. his tone is light, and you can feel him smiling even while you apologize.

HINATA takes one of the polaroid cameras that you got for the guests. you watch as he poses and takes a picture of himself before handing it to you. “do you want me to take a selfie?” he nods with a grin. “yeah! and also sign it so i can put it in my wallet, or maybe the back of my phone?” his sentence ends as a question to himself. you get your phone so you can check your appearance before mimicking your now husband’s pose. “sho, i swear if mine is bad i want a redo,” you say. he sputters as he looks at his forming photo. “well that’s good because i definitely screwed mine up. i’m like half in the frame.”

ATSUMU’s knee bounces as the video of your relationship the both of you got done nears its end. you shoot him a look, but he doesn’t seem to notice, gaze fixed on the scene. that’s when you hear a familiar voice, but unfamiliar clip start to play. “it’s, fuck, what day is it? november 13, and i’m pretty sure i need t’look for an engagement ring,” your now husband says into the camera. you gape, shock evident across your face. atsumu’s voice is soft as he says your name. “i love you, really. and if you’re seeing this then i didn’t fuck this up, and you decided to marry me, and i’m probably ‘bout to have a heart attack,” he nervously laughs. you turn to atsumu next to you, whose face is flushed red. “don’t look at me, the video isn’t done yet.”

OSAMU keeps holding your hand, and if he isn’t holding it he’s probably thinking of doing so. you don’t mind, finding comfort in the way he rubs the back of it. you’re sitting together when he silently reaches for it again. “i’m pretty sure you’ve held my hand more today than this entire week.” osamu rolls his eyes but smiles. you stare as he gently takes hold of your ring and fidgets with it. “sorry, can’t stop thinkin’ about how we’re actually married now.” you stare at each other, and he rests his chin in his palm. with his other hand, he brings yours up to press gentle kisses against the ring and your skin. “just another excuse to stay close t’you.”

USHIJIMA looks over when you poke his shoulder, and quickly realizes you’re trying to feed him some cake. “say ahh,” you sing song. it’s a half-joke, and you don’t fully expect him to accept, but he leans forward and opens his mouth, hand underneath the fork to catch any crumbs. despite his serious expression and stature, you can't help but think he looks cute. “i know we picked this flavour, but does it taste good?” you ask. wakatoshi nods. “it was a good choice.” he gets a forkful for who you assume is himself. but instead he lifts it toward you. “do you want to try now?”

@devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @dimslover @kuroaka @vampyrkookie @sunaslay @the-midnightskies @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @scill-a @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #bokuto x reader #akaashi x reader #hinata x reader #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #ushijima x reader #kuroo tetsuro #bokuto kotaro #akaashi keiji #hinata shoyo #miya atsumu #miya osamu #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu multi chara posts u mean the world 2 me #when no one has my back...i know u do.. can i get an amen ?!

7K notes · View notes

i-cant-sing · 1 month

Text

TIME TRAVELER AU PT 2

Original post/idea here. Part 1 is here. Part 3 is here.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

I fucked up.

You thought as you sat on the bed, holding your head in your hands.

I fucked up so baaaaaad.

Not only have you healed Baldwin of his leprosy, forever changing history of the LEPER KING, but also managed to somehow be his bride. To make matters EVEN worse, you cant just up and leave right now because you dont know the disastrous effects it'll have on the future now that Baldwin wont die of leprosy, which means that the kingdom of Jerusalem wont fall to Salauddin and his muslim army and after that its just a domino effect.

You tried to view your options here.

I stay here, marry Baldwin and fuck up the fabric of time and space because how can someone from the future marry someone from the past? Wouldnt I cease to exist?

I leave, return to my time where authorities arrest me for fucking around with time- that is, if I even exist in the future now that I've altered history. Who knows if my ancestors survived/were born after this?

No. Neither option is good. I need to stay here and fix this. But in a way that i dont draw too much attention to myself so that im so insignificant that nobody remembers, let alone writes about me in the history books.

You were drawn out of your thoughts with someone knocking on your door. "Come in." You said, straightening yourself.

A couple of servants walked in, all women. "Princess Y/n." They all courtesied. "We've been sent here by his majesty to prepare you for dinner with him."

Princess? Ah yes. Only a couple of hours ago, Baldwin had proposed to you, I guess the concept of asking wasnt a thing here as he just slipped on the big beautiful ring on your finger.

You narrowed your eyes at them. "First of all, Im not a princess. You will address me as Y/n only. And secondly, Im not going to join him for dinner, so there's no need to prepare me" The maids all shared a look of confusion before the head servant spoke.

"But we cant address you as anything else until you wed the king, after which you will be our queen, princess."

"Didnt I just tell you not to call me princess? Just call me Y/n!" The head maid shook her head. "Princess, we can not do that. If we do, then we would be punished. And we must prepare you for dinner with his majesty!" The maids moved ahead to start helping you but you raised a hand, halting them.

"I said, no." You said sternly.

"What... what will we tell the king, princess? He's expecting you-"

"Tell him i cant come because Im sic- no, Im not feeling well and Id like to be alone." You cant say "sick" in this era, because that means "death sentence" here and you dont want to be fretted over and bring attention to yourself as "the king's fiancee got SICK!". Besides, you do need to be away from Baldwin as much as possible and have some time to plot your moves.

You had pulled out your notebook and began writing out dates and historic events of this era to plan your escape. You're trying to find some sort of shortcut where Baldwin gets sick again and dies, leaving his kingdom in the hands of his sister and brother in law, who will bring its downfall-

Someone knocked on your door gently. "Princess?" You quickly hid your notebook. "Come in."

Baldwin walked inside and towards you, eyes worried as they scanned you up and down.

"I heard you're not feeling well?" He asked and before you had a chance to back away, he had cupped your cheeks in his hands tenderly. "What's wrong? Shall I fetch the royal physician?"

"No." You replied with your face smushed in his hands. "I'm fine." You pulled your face away his large hands.

Confusion spread through his blue orbs. "Then why did you not join me for dinner?" He asked, using a hand to push your hair over your ear, not taking the hint that you didn't want him touching you.

"I just-" what possible excuse could you come up with that would be both effective and not insulting enough to have your head chopped off. "you- you dont care about me."

Baldwin looked at you in bewilderment. "I dont... care about you? Princess, how can you say that?" He tried to cup your cheek again but you backed away before he could, putting on a face of hurt.

"How can I not? You dont care about what I want, or even ask me what I need?" You feingned pain in your voice, turning away from him for dramatic effect.

He grabbed your shoulders and turned you towards him, his pupils grew wide as if trying to search for what it is that you need. "My love, what do you want? Just say the word, and I'll give it to you."

You looked down, again for the theatrics, and Baldwin lifted your chin. "Go on."

"You never- never asked me to marry you."

"Huh? But I did today-"

"No, you stated it- demanded I marry you." You furrowed your brows and looked down again.

Baldwin smiled. Of course, how could he have not asked you? You were a girl after all, you want to be courted the traditional way. Its not your fault that you dont know that kings do not ask permission for things. They just get it, because who would refuse to marry a king?

He kissed your forehead, lifting your chin again to meet his eyes. "Im sorry, princess. I shouldve asked." He took your hands in his and had that charming smile again. "Will you marry me, Y/n?"

"No." You shook your head. "I... I cant marry you, your majesty." You said, adding tears into your eyes. His brows furrowed in concern.

"What? Why?" You tried pulling your hands away but he didnt let go, tightening his grip ever so slightly.

"I-" well, you could say that youre not catholic and the church would never let you two get married, but you also dont wanna be tortured for being a "heretic". Maybe religious differences could be the last plan. Taking your silence as hesitance, Baldwin spoke. "I can offer you everything and more. Jerusalem would be yours. What is it that I lack that anyone else could offer?"

"I am not a good match for you!" Ah yes, lets do the typical "its not you, its me." You bit your lip as you yanked your hands out of his and walked towards the window, your back to him (theatrics). "You and I are not equals- no we are nowhere close! Youre a king, your father was a king, your family is royalty. I come from nothing, as did my ancestors. There will never be stability in our marriage when we come from such different backgrounds!" You never thought that you would be putting yourself down and call yourself "inferior" to break up with a man.

Silence hung in the air, as you held your breath.

"Youre right." You heard him say behind you. "We are not equals, we never will be." For some reason, instead of being relieved, a chill ran down your spine. Baldwin wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder. "I may be a king, but youre far superior to me. You're an angel, sent to me by God, and you saved me. I wouldnt be king anymore if you werent here, princess."

Warmth spread from your cheeks to the tip of your ears, both due to the close proximity and his words. Sensing your bashfulness, he chuckled, kissing your cheek as he turned you around to face him. You could hear your own heart beat at how close he was.

Baldwin tilted his head, half lidded eyes staring at you. "Youre everything and more that I could ask for, princess. Never put yourself down and compare yourself to me, hm?" He said, giving your arms a gentle squeeze before moving away, but not detaching himself completely as he took ahold of your hand and looked back at you.

"Now that this is settled, let us go eat. I've had the servants prepare a feast for us and then we can discuss wedding arrangements-" shit shit shit shit shit fuck it!

"I'm not catholic!" Baldwin halted at that. You've already said it, might as well dig yourself a deeper hole. You let the tears form in your eyes. "Im... Muslim. I didnt tell you because I didnt want you to think I was working for Salauddin and spying on you for him, you know I wasnt! I really did only want to know about you. Please believe me, I wasnt-"

"I believe you."

What? Just like that.

"You- you believe me?" You breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. Once again, Im sorry i didnt tell you I was a Muslim, but dont worry, I'll pack my things and leave tonight-"

"Why? We still have to get married."

You blinked slowly. "But... Im Muslim?"

Baldwin shrugged. "So? It doesnt change anything."

You looked at him in bafflement. "It does! It changes everything! We cant get married! Im a Muslim! The church wont allow interfaith marriages, and I dont intend on converting to catholicism either if thats what youre suggesting!"

"I am not suggesting that. You can be a muslim if you want to, but we're still getting married." Baldwin stated matter of factly.

"The church wont allow it-"

"The church will do as I say. I am the head of the church. Besides-" He smiled.

"I dont remember angels having to prove themselves to be a catholic. You saved my life, you cured my incurable disease. As far as the church is concerned, youre a miracle sent to me by God. Youre the Chosen One!"

Is he... is he hearing himself? Can you try to convince him?

"But... but Jerusalem deserves a Catholic Queen-" you tried weakly, but he cupped your cheek and smiled gently at you.

"I am Jerusalem, Y/n. And I deserve you." Was all he said before pecking your forehead.

He tugged you along with him. "Now, we have to eat."

You dont want to eat. You want to stay behind and think of another strategy because clearly you cant talk yourself out of this wedding.

"I'm- I'm not hungry." You said, making him frown.

"How is that possible? You havent had anything since morning. I dont want you getting sick before the wedding." Baldwin continued to pull you along.

Does he not listen?

"I dont want to eat- I- dont feel like it." You said a bit harshly this time, hoping he'd take the hint.

And he did, finally stopping. He sighed and let go of your hand. "Okay. I suppose if you really dont want to, we can skip dinner tonight." Fucking finally. "Its just... I seem to have developed a habit of enjoying meals with you. And now that my leprosy is cured and I have no more diet restrictions, I just- I had the kitchen prepare some of my favourite dishes that I was able to enjoy before my disease disabled me."

You stared at him. Is he- is he trying to guilt trip you? Baldwin once told you that due to leprosy he had ulcers in his mouth, and he couldnt eat different types of food, and was only able to have bland, soft goo.

You looked away from his big sad eyes. He's not getting to you. You need to go back to your room, make yourself scarce, be far away from him as often as possible.

"You can still go and eat dinner alone."

With one hand, he cupped your cheek. "Princess, you know I cant eat until you eat too. But its okay, if you dont want to eat, then I wont too. I guess I'll just have the servants finish the chicken roast and oh-! They even made strawberry cream cake for dessert. But- maybe another day."

You looked into his eyes, those blue orbs that were filled with sadness, resembling a kid who was just told "no candy!"

Sighing, you held his hand. "Maybe I can have a few bites."

His face lit up. Ah, he knew you'd come around. "Lets go!"

The next day, youre helped by the maids to get ready for the day. Apparently, Sibylla wanted to meet you and discuss some things, and you suspect she wants to talk about the wedding preprations.

The maids had prepared your bath and were very insistent on washing you themselves but you made them all leave the bath chambers. Finally, they compromised when you told them that they could dress you up if they wait outside.

Setting your old clothes on the bed, you entered the bathroom and settled into the warm water. The essential oils and flower petals soothed your mind and body, and you finally had some desperately needed silence to hear your own thoughts.

Last night at dinner, Baldwin was very- well, "happy" would be an understatement to how he felt near you. And all those forehead kisses and skin contact doesnt go unnoticed by you either. You suppose that since he had leprosy, he never really had or was allowed to touch anyone else. But now that hes cured, all thanks to your dumb ass, he craves the physical intimacy.

You closed your eyes as you sank deeper into the warm water. Gosh, did I really have to give him the water? Had I not done that, he would still be ridden with lepro-

Your eyes snapped open. Thats it. You just have to make sure he never drank your water in the first place! Yes! You can go back in time and sure, its always dangerous to go back in the same time period more than once, but you really dont have any other option now, do you?

After half an hour, you finally exited the bathroom and the maids practically ushered you to sit in the chair as they finally, FINALLY got to dress up the future queen of Jerusalem and after a whole hour, they're finally done. And... well you look good. Your hair has been done nicely, and a delicate golden headpiece, almost like a elegant hair band sits on top of your head. They added some color to your cheeks and lips with crushed berries. As for your clothes, they dressed you in a dark blue tunic with loose, flowing sleeves. The tunic itself was made of silk, probably brought in from the Byzantine empire and was only available to the upperclass of this time.

"I am not wearing those!" You said when they opened the jewellery boxes. There were diamonds and other precious stones adorning the earrings and necklaces.

"But princess, you must wear these. It is royal protocol for the king's bride to be, and the future queen to wear the royal jewels." The head maid said. She doesnt know that you dont plan on sticking around and if you leave wearing these jewels, who knows what havoc would that cause?

"No. I dont want to wear them."

The maids shared a look of concern. "What?" You asked them.

"Its just... his majesty picked these out for you himself. He would be mad at us if you were not wearing these." One of the younger servants spoke as she fumbled with her fingers. Through the mirror, you looked at everyone's worried expression. You doubt that someone as calm and collected as Baldwin would lose his marbles over his fiancee not wearing jewellery.

"I dont think the king would be mad at you if I dont wear some jewellery. He isnt one to get angry that easily, you know?" You said chuckling, but it died when you saw them share the same concerned looks again. This time, you turned away from the mirror to look at them directly. "What? Go on, no secrets."

Another maid mustered up the courage to mumble. "Well- it's just- the king- I mean- his majesty is calm but um-" she paused to look at the other maids for help but they all avoided eye contact. "Out with it." You said a bit sternly.

"His majesty... gets... emotional- yes, emotional! When it comes to matters concerning you."

"Emotional? What do you mean? Speak clearly, no word will get out of this room, I promise." You spoke all while glaring at the other maids to make them silently comply to not tattle on their friend.

The maid bit her lip. "His majesty... gets mad when he thinks that you're not being treated well." You gave her a look to continue. "A few weeks back, while you were strolling out in the garden, his majesty reprimanded some of his knights for not escorting you. He asked them why they weren't guarding you?"

A few weeks back? It may have made some sense for Baldwin to be protective of his bride to be, but you two weren't engaged until yesterday. And before that, his relationship with you was barely platonic, more like a king-servant thing.

"Tell her about the kitchen incident too." Another maid whispered.

"What kitchen incident?"

"Um, 2 months ago, when the kitchen had prepared a feast for his majesty, he almost fired the entire kitchen staff for serving olives with the entree." You gave them a quizzical look. "Well, his majesty had told them that you can't eat olives and had told them not to include it in the palace's food. But it was a feast to celebrate his victory and the staff thought it'd be best to add olives because the king likes them."

Your eyes widened at that. He almost fired the kitchen staff because you said you can't eat olives? I mean, it's not like you're deathly allergic, you just didn't like how tart they were and when Baldwin saw you picking them out on your plate, all you could manage to blurt out was that you can't eat them. Perhaps, he thought you had diet restrictions like him.

You huffed. That still didnt warrant such a reaction from him. "That isn't nice. Don't worry, I'll talk to him."

The maid looked at you in horror. "No! I mean, his majesty would not like that we- um..." she tried to come up with appropriate words that wouldn't be insulting. Her scrunched up face as she thought hard made you giggle.

"Fine, fine. I won't say anything to him. You have my word." You said, smiling at them assuringly.

The head maid then held out the pearl necklace to you. You sighed and nodded, and they all cheered as they started picking out the jewels for you.

Its okay. You told yourself. I can always drop them somewhere before time travelling.

As soon as you were dressed, one of Sibylla's lady-in-waiting came to fetch you. She hurried you, saying something along the lines of "you must see princess Sibylla right away!" And you couldn't stop her from pulling you along, so time travelling will have to wait.

"Princess Sibylla needs to see you right away, princess!" The maid said as she pulled you towards a room. Knocking on it, the door swung open and you were met with the sight of different gowns hanging on dummies with maids tending to them, and right in the center of the room was Sibylla, practically jumping on her heels.

"Y/n!" She yelled out as she ran towards you and engulfed you in a hug before her lady in waiting, the same one standing beside you, cleared her throat. It caught Sibylla's attention who gasped softly before backing away and immeadiately giving you a courtesy. "I mean, princess Y/n." You gave a nasty look to the lady in waiting before shaking your head at an embarrassed Sibylla. "You don't need to courtesy to me, princess Sibylla."

She immeadiately beamed. "Of course I do! You're not going to be just my sister in law, you're also going to be Queen of Jerusalem! Of course i bow to you."

Me, a queen? Yeah, we'll see about that.

"Still, I consider us friends before anything else." You offerer her a small smile. "You called for me?"

"Oh? Oh, yes!" She immeadiately grabbed your hand and pulled you further into the room. "I didn't know what colours and material you preferred, so I ordered them to bring everything with the best seamstresses in kingdom!" She pointed at the seamstresses, who bowed to you.

"But... I don't need clothes. I already have a wardrobe." Your statement made Sibylla laugh as did a few of her hand maidens.

"Ahh, you're so naive!" Sibylla giggled. "That wardrobe doesn't exist anymore. You're a princess, soon to be queen, you need a royal wardrobe!" She said as she dragged her hand over one of the gowns, feeling the material. "And! You still have to select your bridal gown!"

For the next 3 hours, Sibylla had the maids show you different gowns and materials, even helping by giving her input as to what would suit you.

"I still like my old clothes, they're quite comfortable." You sighed. Designing your new wardrobe was not something that needed your urgent attention at the moment. You need to return to your room and get the time machine from your old dress and leave this era.

Sibylla nods. "I understand what you're going through. I still remember how they burned away my entire wardrobe when I married Guy. But I suppose its poetic in a way. Since you're starting a new life, so why not start one by getting new clothes!"

Wait.

"They burnt all your old clothes?" Sibylla nods. "Mmhmm! In a way, you're burning away your past! And starting a new-" You didn't stick around as you immeadiately rushed out of the room and made your way towards your own.

You can't- your old clothes has your time machine. If they burn it, you can't ever leave!

You burst into your room, looking at the empty spot on your bed where you'd left your clothes before going in the bath.

"No." The maids, they must've put it in your closet. You searched it, searched your entire room but to no avail.

A maid walked into your room, watching you tear apart the bedroom. "P-princess? May I help-"

"Where are my clothes?!" You walked upto her, the poor maid's fright apparently on her face. "WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES!?"

"They- they're burning it-"

"WHERE?!"

"The gardens!"

You ran out of your room, and made your way towards the royal gardens as fast as you could, but with how huge this palace was, getting there took a while. Not to mention when you did get to the gardens, you didn't spot anyone there, but you did notice the smell of something burning, which lead you to the back of the gardens, that was away from everyone's sight.

There you found them, two maids burning your clothes in a small bonfire.

"PUT IT OUT!" You yelled as you rushed towards them, startling them.

"Princess-" they began bowing.

"Didn't you hear me? PUT THE FIRE OUT!" They scrambled about trying to find some water, but of course, they didn't have it.

"I'll get it from the fountain!" The two maids ran to get a bucket of water for you, but it would be too late by the time they came. So when you spotted your old dress burning, you pulled it out with bare hands, not caring about burning yourself.

The dress was mostly burnt to ashes, while only few bits remained that were still on fire. You managed to wrangle out your time machine out of it, the small metal box that was burning hot and left marks on your skin as you tried to hold it.

But even from here, you could see the damage was done. The area that displayed the year had now completely melted off, as did some of the buttons.

No. No. No. No. No. NO!

You couldn't help but cry as reality began to set in. You're stuck here.... you're stuck here forever.

Heart wrenching sobs wracked your body as you tried to hold the hot metal machine in your hands, your skin burning as you tried. Even when the servants came and poured the water on the fire, you still kept on crying, clutching your machine to your chest, partly to conceal it, partly from helplessness.

The maids looked at each in worry as they tried to console you, tried to pacify you, lest you had them executed. But it didn't matter, you were inconsolable. While one of the maids sat by your side, trying to soothe you, the other one ran in to get help.

Moments later, when you were able to hide the machine in your clothes again, someone came up and touched your shoulder from behind.

"Y/n?" You looked up through your tears. It was Baldwin. For some reason, seeing him only made you cry harder as you finally realised that you were stuck here with him. That you fucked up permanently.

"Oh princess. What's wrong? Don't cry- shhh, I'm here." He pulled your body towards him, letting you sob into his chest heartbreakingly. Exhaustion, frustration and shock must have overtook your body, as you fainted in his arms.

"Princess? Y/n?" He tried waking you up before collecting you in his arms and rushing back into the castle.

Hours later, you woke up to find yourself back in your room, lying in your bed. Your eyes looked down at your hands which were now wrapped in bandages. They only served as a reminder of what youd lost- your time machine.

Tears welled up in your eyes again. Am I- am I really stuck here? You sniffled.

A hand came up to caress your cheek, startling you.

It was Baldwin. "Princess? Do you want to tell me what happened?" His soft tone made you even more sad, and you raised your bandaged hands to wipe your tears, but he caught your wrists and lowered them back gently, using his own hands to wipe away the tears.

"No, you cant use your hands for sometime. The burns need to heal." His hand remained on your cheek, thumb caressing the area under your eye. "What happened, Y/n? Why were you so upset?"

You cant avoid the topic for long, and now that your way of escape is gone, you need to be careful of what you say and how you act around the king.

You let out a shaky breath. "They... they burned my clothes."

"Mmhm. Dont worry, I will have them bring in the fanciest clothes for you. Sibylla will make sure of it. Only the best for my princess." You shook your head. "Its not- its not that... They were my clothes... they burned away-"

"I know... but its a tradition. The maids burn away the bride-to-be's old clothes to signify that youre detaching yourself from the past and starting a new life." He explained, watching as you sniffled. Clearly, you were still upset over this.

"But the maids, they still should've informed you of this tradition before doing anything. I know how emotional of a transition this could be for girls." You nodded sadly, heart still sinking at the loss of your machine. "Dont worry though, they will be punished harshly for it. I have them in the dungeons tonight, and tomorrow-"

"What? Punished? No!" You cut him off. You dont want anyone to die because of you, especially when you dont know if anyone these people could potentially be an ancestor of yours.

"But they caused you harm. You burned yourself due to their-"

"No, no. Please, don't punish anyone- I- it was my fault for not knowing about royal traditions! Please, your Majesty, I beg you- don't do this- i- i-" You pleaded.

"Shhh, okay. Okay. I won't punish them for it." He patted your hair. "On one condition."

You looked at him in confusion.

"You call me Baldwin from now on." He grinned. "We are to be husband and wife soon, I don't want us to use royal titles with each other."

Your eyes widened. Is he- is he really giving up titles? You're not that blind to see his attempts at intimacy, but what you don't understand is why or even how you came to be on the receiving end of it.

What exactly is it about you that has made him want to marry you? Surely, Baldwin would've preferred to marry someone of this era, someone who is more compatible with him. Despite you trying to blend in the past months, you allowed Baldwin to see how you're not... as Conservative as most people of this time period are. One could say that he may be impressed by how intelligent you are than others, but it also brings up the factor of being "threatened" or "insulted" by the same intelligence.

Even though you consider beauty to be a "subjective" thing, the whole "beauty is in the eye of the beholder", you're not blind to how attractive others are. So why not them?

Did he only like you because you're intriguing? Does he still think you're a spy? Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer?

Probably. Or maybe he really does believe all that mumbo jumbo about you being "an angel sent to save him."

"As you wish... Baldwin."

Last night, after Baldwin had left you to rest, you stayed up and tried to figure out if you can fix your time machine, and if not, then can you built another one?

Fucking hell. You closed your eyes. I made it once, I can build it again. But it's easier said than done.

Back in the present, you had the technology to build it. Now? You have to first make the technology and the tools from scratch before you could even get on making your time machine, all while keeping your science project discrete, which was easier before because you weren't going to be married to a fucking King!

Right now, you're sitting in Baldwin's private dining room (yes, there are more than one dining room. He's royalty, what did you expect) having breakfast- well, being fed breakfast.

"You really don't need to do this." You said as Baldwin fed you another spoonful. He smiled as he wiped your lips with a napkin. "I don't need to, I want to. Besides, I don't want my princess starving."

Involuntary, your face flushed. "I- the maids could've fed me. And im not a princess." He frowned slightly. "Why would you- open wide, princess- why would you want the maids to feed you when you have me?" He pushed the spoon to your face as you parted your lips, but then he pulled it away and brought his face close to yours. "Do I make you nervous?"

You backed away immediately. "I- no- I mean-"

He burst out laughing. "I'm- I'm sorry princess, but you are just too endearing!" Baldwin chuckled as he grabbed the spoon again and fed you.

Your cheeks reddened, this time more out anger than embarrassment. "I don't want to eat anymore." You muttered, turning your face away.

He smiled as he brought the spoon to your lips again. "Ah ah, but you still haven't had enough." However, you rejected again, looking away instead of replying.

He sighed, placing the spoon back on the plate. "I'm sorry, princess. I shouldn't have laughed at you."

"You shouldn't have." You mumbled, face still turned away from him.

His lips quirked up a bit. "You know, for someone who insists that she's not a princess-" He turned your face to him gently. "- you sure have all the blandishment of one."

"Blandishment?"

"Flattering actions of a princess." He nodded.

You frowned. "Are you calling me a spoiled princess? A brat?"

"I would never!" Baldwin gasped. "I enjoy you acting like royalty, demanding respect and attention. You deserve it and more. Besides-" He picked up some food on the spoon again and brought it to your lips. "Even if if you were a spoiled, bratty princess, I wouldn't mind. I would enjoy spoiling you, hm?" He nudged the spoon to your lips softly.

You parted your lips, making him smile. It really is hard to stay mad at him when he looks at you with his baby blue eyes. They just- they draw you in.

"Also, before I forget, I will be leaving the castle today to meet Salauddin. So you can either hand out with Sibylla, who still wants to help you design your wedding gown, or your can-"

Salauddin? "Why are you meeting Salauddin? Isn't he your enemy?"

He chuckled. "Only on the battlefield. He and I have developed a friendship, or a mutual respect over the years. As to why I'm going to meet him, is... well, you."

"Me?" He nodded. "Since you told me that you're a Muslim, I thought that we could perhaps have a discreet Islamic wedding- what is it called? Nikkah? So, I could go and learn more about it from Salauddin."

You opened your mouth to protest. You don't need to be part of history as the "king of Jerusalem's Muslim wife" or "the Muslim-Christian wedding that took place during the Crusades", even if it might make the world more progressive.

But then, you didn't protest. "Can I come?"

Baldwin raised a brow at you. "You want to meet Salauddin?" You shook you're head. "Well, no, not really. I mean, I don't mind meeting him, but I just want to get out of the castle for a bit. It's been months since i left this place, I just want to get some fresh air." This could be the perfect opportunity for you, because if memory serves you right, Muslims of this era had made significant advances in science. Maybe you can use their help to get some tools to make the time machine again.

Baldwin looked unsure. "I don't know if it would be safe for you-" you held his hand with your bandaged ones. "Please, Baldwin? Can't you take me with you? And wouldn't I be the most safe when I'm with you?" Ah yes, stroke the male ego.

Finally, he smiled.

"Alright. I supposed it would be fine, after all, you should see the kingdom you're going to be the queen of."

Thoughts? (Also, I need to go shower rn, so I'll put the read more later. Doing so much effort for u guys, my spoiled greedy children)

Part 3 is here.

#yandere baldwin #yandere king baldwin #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x #yandere x darling #yandere #baldwin iv

992 notes · View notes

buckyalpine · 9 months

Text

My First and Only

Virgin Mob beefy Bucky x reader

So I'm taking my drabble and making into a one shot. Our beautiful, rugged mob boss whose glare make grown men cower is just a sweet shy thing on his wedding night. He has his wife to guide him poor Bucky is even more nervous because he doesn't want to disappoint his princess. Do keep in mind he's going to be a menace once he's well practiced.

"The right one will be worth it Jamie" Bucky's mothers words echoed in his ear as he sipped on a glass of whisky, the loud bass of the club music making the ice in his glass clink. "You'll know when it's the right time"

He was sixteen when she told him that, around the same time that he started working closer with his father, preparing to take over his families business. With money came power and with the money the Barnes' had, it was near limitless. The last thing Winifred wanted was for her son to go down the wrong path, one filled with greed, violence and lust.

She raised him to respect those around him and himself. To see beauty in living things, to love others and above all else, to value what it meant to share a life with someone you cared for. It was a sharp contrast to the way George ruled with an iron fist but it gave Bucky the balance he needed to be an excellent leader.

Under his mother's guidance, he followed the path that lead him to where he currently sat along with his two right hand men, Steve and Sam, the three men sipping on a dark amber liquid, ignoring the numerous girls that tried to fling themselves at their table.

"You'd think they'd get the hint after you said no to the first three" Steve chuckled while another woman slinked up only to have Bucky politely shake his head.

"Think you'll say yes to any of them?" Sam playfully shoved Bucky's shoulder already knowing the answer. Whenever they were out, plenty of women would approach the mob boss only to be turned away every single time.

"Not tonight" Bucky snorted, knowing he'd be ready when he found the right one. It was just a matter of time.

Looking at him, it was doubtful anyone would think or know Bucky was a virgin. He'd dated girls before but no one made him feel anything that also captured his heart. Of course, its not like he told anyone what he did or didn't do with those girls. He certainly didn't look like someone who lacked experience. He took care of himself when he needed to, after all he was still human. His right hand knew exactly what to do when necessary.

He met his pretty angel at a flower shop. He was there to get a bouquet for his ma's birthday and left with your number instead, quickly going back with a blush on his cheeks, realizing he didn't get what he initially came for. Bucky knew he'd found the one when the first thought that came to mind after his date was that he had to take you home. Not to his bed but to his family. To show everyone the sweet girl he knew he'd love for the rest of his life, the one he instantly knew was for him.

"You better protect her with all your heart" Was the only thing his father said before patting his shoulder whereas His mother didn't say a word about you after you'd both first met. She simply handed Bucky her wedding ring, already recognizing the lovestruck look on her sons face.

When he kissed your lips at the altar, he nearly fell to his knees, the soft warmth of your skin already making him woozy. He didn't leave your side the entire night, his arm protectively around your waist, so in love with the one person he got to call his for the rest of his life. Your first dance was filled with soft kisses, whispering sweet nothings to each others while your loved ones watched with teary eyes. When the SUV came to whisk you both away, Bucky still didn't let you go, holding you tightly in his lap, ready to start a together new chapter as husband and wife.

The very first one being in his bedroom.

Bucky didn't understand this feeling. It was brand new to him. He'd felt every emotion under the sun except this.

Shyness.

Pure, innocent shyness.

God, he'd never felt so shy in his entire life, it was almost embarrassing. He shook his head at himself; he was over 6 ft tall, covered in dark ink but the thought of going to bed with his sweet wife was what was going to take him down.

"Jamie, can you help me with the back please?" You stood in front of the dresser while his sucked in a breath, his fingers fidgeting with the delicate buttons down your back. He carefully undid them, letting his hand ghost down your spine, his breath catching in his throat when your dress fell and pooled around your feet. You stepped of it, left in your white lingerie and heels, bending over to unstrap them, only to have Bucky stop you.

"Let me, sweet heart" He got down on one knee, taking off the tiny strap wrapped around your ankle and slipping your heels off before standing up again, taking in the soft lace that barely covered your body.

You took off his blazer before you unbuttoned his shirt, smiling at the way he held onto your waist, his thumbs tracing small circles onto your hips. He didn't know where to focus, feeling your lips kiss his chest where he had tattooed your name over his heart to the way your soft breasts were now pressed against his body.

You let your hands caress over the thick planes of muscle while going down to his belt buckle, various pieces of art covering his body in the most beautiful way. Bucky's heart hammered against his chest as your hands trailed down to unbutton his pants, your nimble fingers brushing over his throbbing erection.

He hopes you don't realize how nervous he feels when you unzip his pants, letting it fall to his feet. He gives you a shaky nod when you look up at him for permission to pull down his brief's, letting you see all of him for the first time. Your fingers hook around the waistband, puling them down his thick thighs, till he's left perfectly bare in front of you. His thighs tense together at the soft gasp you let out, scared he'd disappoint you some how though the very thought is ridiculous.

You can't help but take a moment to admire you perfect husband in his all naked glory, his thick, heavy cock curved towards his tummy, heavy balls, achingly full. The blush on his cheeks deepen when your eyes flick down to his most intimate parts; no one else ever seen him like this before, not since he was a baby. You lean up to give him a reassuring kiss while he slips his hand into yours, taking you to bed. Every part of him wants to pick you up, throw you over his shoulder and toss you on to the large mattress but not tonight. You lay down with him against the soft pillows, the silky sheets under you cool against your skin while he gently tugs on the straps of your lingerie.

"Can I?" He whispers, still to nervous to do anything while you move his hands to the clasps of the lace.

"M'your's Jamie" You nod, letting him take his time unhooking your bustier off, his eyes growing wide at your perfect bare breasts. You know its his first time and there's nothing more you want than for him to know you trust him completely and you're all his.

He doesn't waste any time slipping your panties off, his tongue darting out to lick his lips at the sight of you naked on his bed. It starts off slow and innocent. He doesn't rush to do anything, taking his time to hug you close to him, relishing on the feeling of your bare skin on his between soft kisses. He struggles to calm himself down with the way your soft body is pressed against his, your leg hitched over his waist, his cock itching to rut against your tummy for more friction. His wide, thick body engulphs you when he holds you close, his hands skimming up and down your waist before trailing up your spine.

His heart starts to hammer again when he starts to trail kisses from your jaw down to your neck wanting to touch more of you. He wants to show you how much he loves you, gently taking a nipple into his mouth, moaning as soon as he starts to suckle. Your back arches, a gasp melting into a moan at the way his tongue flicks and moves in circles between his lips tugging and sucking your peaked bud.

Nothing compares to how warm and soft your breasts are in his mouth, his cock starting to leak. He so lost in kissing and sucking your breasts, precum smearing all over your tummy, where his cock rests against.

"Can I Touch you baby?" you whisper, kissing his forehead when he looks up at you with wide eyes. He quickly nods, pressing his hips against you showing you where he needed you most while refusing to take his mouth off your breasts.

You hand goes down to gently palm him to giving poor baby some relief. You wrap around his thick shaft, loving the needy muffled moan he lets out, his hips moving on their own when they thrust up into your fist. He doesn't even realize he's practically humping into your hand, your lips nipping down his neck.

"I-

"What is it James" You ask with your sweet doe eyes and he manages to blush more. He should be the one making you feel good and taking care of you but instead here he was, scared he'd cum before getting a chance to be inside you. You see his eyes trail down your body, darting down to between your legs, understanding he wants to touch you too. You pull away slightly, lying down on your back for him because fuck, you needed to feel him.

"Angel" His voice was breathless as you spread your thighs apart for him, giving him the perfect view of your soaked pussy and swollen button. He could feel precum starting to dribble from his tip; there was something so beautifully erotic about the way you were giving yourself to him despite how shy you were yourself. Displaying your most sacred and intimate parts to your husband so he'd take care of you.

He loves the way your face contorts with pleasure each time he rubs your clit, moving in slow, deliberate circles. He doesn't get a chance to toy with your for too long when you peck his pouty lips before trailing kisses down his body. His eyes grow wide when you get closer to his cock, his hips nearly lifting off the bed so you'd know where he needed you so badly but too shy to ask.

You take your time to clean off his slick precum that's beading from the tip, his swollen cockhead growing more sensitive each time you flick your tongue across his slit. He lets out soft, sweet babbles when you take him down your throat, his salty taste coating your tongue.

"You're making me leak" He whimpered, biting his lip to keep from letting more high pitched whines slip out, "dragă, st-stop, I'll c-cum"

He's never sounded more gone, gripping onto the sheets while you swirl your tongue around his head one last time before pulling off with a pop.

"oh-OH" His eyes grow wide when you drip down further to take his balls in your mouth instead, the sensation different that anything he's ever felt. A steady dribble of slippery arousal streams out of his cock while you nurse on suckle his heavy sac, addicted to your husbands distinct, sweet taste. You love how heavy he feels in your mouth, the smooth silky head of his pink cock begging to be sucked again.

He know's he'll cum if you keep on going which is why he pulls you up, kissing you deeply before settling you comfortably against the pillows again. He wants to make love to you so badly, even if it's not perfect the first time. He wants to give himself to you, nervously blushing when you spread your thighs for him while he pumps his cock.

"Are you ready?" He whispered against your cheek, the both of you nearly trembling with anticipation when you nod, letting him line his tip up with your fluttering entrance. He lets out the most desperate moan when he starts to push in, his body weight falling on top of you while his cock throbs, already close to cumming.

"Angel, I think m'gonna cum" He whimpers against you neck, knowing the slightest movement will make him blow his load. He hugs and clings onto you tightly, rutting himself into your cunt with the most gentle roll of his hips.

"Want you to feel good Jamie, it's okay" you hug him back while he pants harder trying to give you deeper strokes, he wants to make you feel good, feel how much he adores you by giving you pleasure but he just can't. You feel too good, pussy so warm, silky and soft.

"P-please cum for me angel" He pleads, his hand slipping between your bodies, finding your throbbing clit, rubbing quick circles with his thumb.

"J-James!" You hold onto him tighter, spots starting to cloud your vision with the way he's toying with your body as if he's touched you for years, his cock reaching depths you didn't know existed. "Fuck, fuck baby, feels so good" Your moans nearly turn into wails when he moves faster, his orgasm barreling towards him when you start to clench around his cock.

"Need you to feel good angel, don't wanna cum yet, wanna make love to you" He hides his face against your neck to try and muffle his moans but it's not use, a few sloppy stokes in and hes pumping you full of his seed, unable to stop as stream after stream burst from his cock.

"I-f-fuck, Swetheart, m'cumming- I-oh-hng princess-" He practically rolls over with you, still buried deep in your pussy, your mixed arousal soaking the sheets. His body shudders and he continued to thrust his hips up, grabbing your ass to keep you flush against him, moaning into the crook of your neck, "m'cumming so much for you, god I can't stop"

And he doesn't stop.

You gasp, feeling him still somehow rock hard, his sensitive cock still thrusting into you, his cum making it easy for him to slip in and out of you faster.

"Not done pretty girl, gonna keep my cock in you all night"

****

"Was I okay?" He whispers innocently while you cuddle into his chest, the both of you still naked, snuggling in the sheets. You giggle at his adorable expression, pecking his lips

"Of course baby" You reassure him again, your body still trembling from the way he pulled a second and third orgasm from you.

"Is everything okay for you?" You check in with him, loving that the question okay makes him shy again, the pink on his cheeks now moving to his neck and ears.

"M'happy I waited, that you're my first and only" He playfully shrugged, struggling to meet your gaze while you hugged him tightly, closing your eyes. The both of you drift off to sleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night, blindly reaching for each other again.

No words are said but you end up on top, dinking down on his cock, bouncing up and down, the lights turned off, only the glow of the moon illuminating your skin. He can't help himself, greedily pulling you down towards him when your breasts bounce in his face, desperately suckling on your nipples.

Between the way you ride him and the way your soft breasts in his mouth feel, he doesn't even realized he's whined mommy, eyes closed and clinging onto you like a baby.

Keep in mind, this was Bucky's first time. He's surprised at how needy and subby he can get for you, so desperate to please and pleasure you.

Until he starts to get more comfortable.

When he discovers his dom side the bedroom.

He learns he loves when you call him Sir and Daddy. On the rare occasion the house is empty, he becomes the most filthy fuck you'd meet, pulling his knife out whenever he wants to strip your clothes off and getting on his knees to eat you like a man starved. He'll bend you over anywhere; over the banister, over the kitchen counter, the table, the stairs, the floor when he wants.

If he's not nursing off of your clit, you're between his meaty thighs giving him the most sloppy head of life and he's never been more thankful for his sound proof walls.

He loves being a switch the most, alternating between begging to get a chance to taste you and then railing you with his cock till your crying and dripping with cum.

2K notes · View notes

authorhjk1 · 5 days

Note

I hope its not much to ask but any chance you can make an Irene short pls? Her photos for her upcoming photobook is driving me nuts lol especially the one where shes lying sideways and looking at the tv.

You close the door behind you, take your shoes off and walk into the living room.

"You are still up?"

The love of your life lies on the couch in your shared apartment, watching TV. The room is just as dark as the night outside. You hesitate to switch on the lights, the blue shine of the screen illuminating your wife's gorgeous face.

"Of course I am."

It took her a moment to tear her eyes off the screen. But once she looks at you, her face grows softer.

"I always wait for you, when you work late."

"Yeah."

You lose your words, when you realize what Irene is wearing. Several years of marriage and you still can't help but feel like a stupid teenager when she looks this fantastic.

As she gets off the couch, the white shirt or dress slips down her frame. You can't really tell if it's your shirt or her dress, which she brought a couple of weeks ago. It's still dark. But you are disappointed nonetheless. It hides the beautiful curves of her hips.

"I left some of the food in the fridge, if you want me to heat it up for you?"

"I love you."

She smiles back at you, tiptoeing her way around the couch.

"Love you too."

She gives you a peck on your lips, before disappearing into the kitchen.

Once you are inside the bedroom, you quickly get rid off your suit and change into something more comfortable. After a quick stop at the bathroom, you enter the kitchen.

Your wife has already finished reheating the food she made.

"Thank you."

You lean over the kitchen table, kissing Irene's forehead.

"I'm just making sure you are not going to bed hungry."

You shake your head with a big smile on your face as you sit down in front of the meal.

What did you do in your past life to deserve such a woman like her? Caring, beautiful, loving, gorgeous, funny...

The list goes on and on.

As you reach for your fork, the dim light of the fridge makes the golden wedding ring on your finger shine. Irene wanted a fridge with a window in it, so it would be easier for her to see what she needs to buy, without having to open it everytime. Her own ring reflects the blue light as well.

How lucky are you? How is it possible that you are the man who was able to put that ring on her finger?

While you enjoy the food she made, you notice Irene looking at you. Her chin resting on her hand, her elbow on the table. A dreamy smile plays around her lips as she watches you eat.

"Do you have work tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow is Saturday, silly."

"Right."

Irene giggles as you focus back on your food.

"I thought we could do something together. Something in the city."

"What exactly?"

Irene leans a little forward, visibly excited and curious.

"I'll tell you tomorrow."

She pouts at you, leaning back a little.

"Is the cake already gone?"

You notice she didn't give you any as you reach the end of your meal. You don't have to tell her you enjoyed it. She knows it. She watched you the whole time.

"Well..."

Your wife gets off her chair and walks around the table.

"The cake is gone,"

She is now standing next to you, her hand resting on your shoulder. Irene leans down a little to whisper into your ear.

"but I'm sure we can find you something delicious to eat."

Irene kisses you right next to your ear, before walking into the bedroom. You look after her, watching how she moves with grace.

After quickly finishing the meal and putting away the dishes, you arrive at the bedroom door.

Irene is lying on the bed, her head resting on her hand again. She looks at you. But this time it's different. Gone is the loving, caring look she so often wears. It's replaced by a darker, almost evil stare. Her teeth slightly bite into her lower lip as she sees you standing in the doorway.

"Time for dessert, baby."

Despite her whispering, you can clearly hear her voice, dripping with lust.

You immediately get onto the foot of the bed. Grabbing her luscious thighs with your hands, you pull Irene closer. She is moaning already, knowing what's to come.

As you lean down, you suddenly realize that the pantyhose she is wearing is blocking your access. As if she read your mind, your wife shakes her head.

"Don't tear it open again. I have to buy a new one almost weekly."

"Now I know how you spend all my money."

Before she can protest, you rip the thin fabric apart. The loud tearing sound fills your bedroom for just a moment.

"Fuck."

Irene's head sinks into the pillow at your actions. Everytime you do this, she realizes she can just buy a new one.

Pulling her black panties to the side, you are greeted with her pink pussy. It's a meal you have had every day for the last years. A meal you can never grow tired of.

"Oh gosh, baby."

Irene moans as you tease her by kissing and licking her thighs. But when you are so close to her, you can't keep it up for long. Your kisses start to circle around her pussy. You tighten it further and further, until your lips finally meet her clit.

A loud whine echoes through the room. You can tell that Irene is biting her lips, trying to prevent louder sounds from escaping her mouth.

You indulge in your favorite meal. Your favorite dessert. Her most intimate part is yours.

Years of marriage have taught you everything you need to know about your wife. That includes her body. What she feels like, wherever you touch her. How she feels when you touch her. How to touch her. It's all in your mind. As if you wrote a book or painted a map. You know every inch of her skin like it's your own.

Small and quick kisses on her clit make Irene sigh and tug at her own hair her with her hand. Licks along her folds make her whimper, almost shake in anticipation. Burying your tongue inside her snatch makes her moan. Your hands on her thighs, massaging them, makes her melt.

The combination of all of the above makes sure that you give Irene the time of her life. Her flawless body is hit by wave after wave of pleasure. Her mouth can't seem to close and her hand eventually finds your head.

As she pushes you down, her nails digging into your scalp, you know that Irene is trying to fight a lost battle. A battle you've already won. From the moment you first placed your hands on her thighs a couple of minutes ago.

And the sound of victory is your wife's high pitched cry. Irene reaches her high, her mind going blank as her body betrays her. She has no control over it as she squirms and shakes on the sheets. Her wet pussy is dripping with her juices, leaving a wet spot on the sheets beneath her. Well, more like a puddle.

While she still rides out her orgasm, you plant kisses on her clit, almost apologetically.

With her taste still lingering on your lips, you quickly rid yourself of your clothing. Irene's chest rises and falls as she takes heavy breaths.

"Honey..."

She looks up at you. No other words are needed to express her gratitude, her satisfaction, her longing. Her eyes sparkle with lust as she silently begs you to fuck her.

Knowing how wet Irene becomes after her first orgasm, you align yourself with her snatch without any further preparation. You don't have time for that anyway. Her pussy captivates you, every time you catch a glimpse of it.

"Oh, god!"

Irene moans loudly as you push inside of her. Your hands on her thighs push them apart a little, making sure you have one of the most beautiful views anyone could have.

Your wife's gorgeous face twists in pleasure as you start to fuck her. Slow and deep at first, making her gasp, everytime you hit her cervix.

The lewd sounds her mouth makes eventually coax you into thrusting harder and faster. Irene's moans become louder, her thighs are a little shakey once more.

"You're so tight, baby."

You can't help but praise your wife. She is everything a guy would want in a partner and so much more. And her insides are no exception. The way her walls wrap around you, whenever you thrust into her. The way she squeezes your cock, making sure you feel just as good as she does.

The two of you quickly lose track of time. It was already late when you got home. Both of you were already tired from the long day. But this gives you new energy. New passion.

"More, baby."

Irene moans into your ear as she tears open old scratches on your back.

By now you've carried her to the window after finally undressing her completely. The torn pantyhose lying somewhere on the floor. Her bare back is pushed flat against the cold glass, causing goosebumps to cover her skin. Her legs are wrapped around your waist as you keep pounding into her with hard thrusts.

You kiss Irene's neck, making her moan even louder as you find her soft spot with ease. Her walls clench down on your cock at the same time. A not so silent battle about who makes the other person lose first. And losing is not bad at all. By no means. Losing has only one single outcome. Which is, cuming inside your wife. Something you would gladly do the entire day if you could. Something you did do every day, the entire day, when you were on your honeymoon.

"Babe..."

You gladly admit defeat as you keep pushing inside of your wife.

"Yes, baby. M-Me too..."

You feel Irene's walls squeezing and contracting around you. You plan on holding on throughout her orgasm, but you both know it's not meant to be.

With small "Love you"'s and kisses, the both of you cum at the same time. You feel yourself getting drained by Irene's contracting walls as she feels your load painting her insides. The two of you keep hugging each other in a tight embrace as you ride out your climaxes. Irene's usual squirming and shaking is reduced to a twitching of her stomach and abs, which welcome your cum inside her belly.

"I can't wait for another girl."

You chuckle into her neck.

"That's how you spend all my money."

She grins into yours, peppering your skin with kisses.

"Four times is the charm."

After showering together, you open the door at the end of the hallway. Both beds are occupied with two small figures, visibly sleeping. You kiss them both on their foreheads, before entering the room on the right. Your oldest is sound asleep too. She almost looks exactly like her mother.

"Sleep tight."

You whisper, before joining your wife in your bed.

-------------

Thank you for reading everyone!

I hope you guys enjoyed. I'm working on the next pieces, so stay tuned.

This got a little longer than I expected it to be. (As always)

I had to wait for the bus a little longer than usual, so I thought I would give this a shot.

Stay healthy!

#ask #anon #kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #red velvet #red velvet smut #irene red velvet #irene #irene smut #bae joohyun #bae irene #authorhjk1shorts

431 notes · View notes

screampied · 6 days

Note

can u pleasee do jjk mens fav positions ? or have u already done that

‘ CARTWHEEL ON THE D!CK ☆ ! ’

starring ꒱ geto, gojo, shiu, hiromi, choso, sukuna, toji ?!

@WARNINGS. fem! reader, praise, dirty talk, mentions of breeding, full nelson, missionary, (rev) + cowgirl, prone bone, size kinks, overstim, tummy bulge, face riding, impact play, shotgunning, squirting, till the bed breaks 18+

TOJI ✰ DOGGYSTYLE

“down, girl.”

with the pitch of his tone— that was how easy it was for him to have you arched over, bent over his wooden desk. your pussy was still sopping from earlier, needing a moment to get over your most recent teeth-shattering orgasm. toji prefers missionary too but he mainly loves doggystyle just so he could peer a few peeks at your ass. so cute, he smears his swollen tip against your saturated entrance before groaning. sloshes of cries die out from your folds as he’s ogling at how you’re so eager to swallow him up. leisurely, his fat, throbbing tip makes its way into you and he yanks the back of your tank top. “tojiiii, ‘s not gonna fit again,” you gasp, a broad free hand of his grabs a good chunk of your ass before spanking it. you moan from the sting, the pulse it gifts between your legs couldn’t have been any more embarrassing. “so f-fuckin’ big.”

“say that everytime ‘n ya still take it like a good slut,” he growls, feeling a hot sensation burn near the tips of his ears. you’re so feverish inside, he bites his lip before shoving you further against the desk. one single thrust and your life flashes before your eyes. his cock metaphorically splits the inside of your cunt open, having your lips pry apart and you hear that sinister snicker of his from behind you. “ugh. gotta be careful with you though. with a pussy this wet, might fall in love, heh.”

toji’s speed was always simply relentless—your chest would continuously thwack against the furniture, bump after bump occurring. it’s so loud, his dick pivots and reaches so deep, it rummages through every single orifice and you repeat your whines for him again and again.

“f-fuuuck, toji,” you’d babble out, the same words spewing out your lips on a constant never-ending loop like a mantra. full balls of his occasionally tap against you. with your legs parted, you’re all sprawled open for him. toji knew the layout of your pussy— he had to. with a sharp piston of his hips, his thrusts start to become more vigorous. you could barely match let alone keep up with his pace.

with doggystyle, toji was simply animalistic,

one of his favorite things to do was to wrap his thick fingers around your throat, putting his face up close to yours. “awww, babygirl. ‘s too deep? want me to go slower for you, baby? i can go slow for the pretty girl.”

he’s teasing you—pitching his voice in that faux caring tone, he drags his tongue against your neck and you whine, whimpering out a, “f-faster, fuck me faster, ‘toj.”

“well excuse me. then shut up ‘n take this dick,” and his words punctuate through every part of his dialogue. rough emphasis on his sentences—you gasp, feeling the crown of his cock prof against your g-spot. a scratch through your brain surges and you were already stupid. “take it like it’s yours,” he gruffs, his voice lowering a bit. your gummy walls squeeze against him tightly and it makes him suck his teeth. so soft, fleshy mounds of your ass gets grabbed by the rough hands of toji. throughout each spank he gives you, it rings in your ears like wedding bells. it only encourages you to fuck back against him quicker, making haste. “yeah, fuck me back. take this dick like ya own it.”

you’re hitting back and forth against him, feeling the way toji steadily pries open your pussy with the fat, plump head of his dick. he grunts, pushing your head back down into the sheeny polished desk until it’s smushed against the plethora of scattered papers. “t- toji, right there, right there please.”

“i know the fuck where,” he snarls, feeling his thin nostrils flare— it makes him a bit vexed with how easily your cunt takes him. swallowing him up, he can’t help but stare at how well you’re taking his mean backshots from behind. a big hand of his is still yanking onto the very back fabrics of your tank top before he quite literally tears it into two. “oop. my bad,” he snickers, hearing a cute gasp come out of you. he’s still balls deep before you whine.

“toji, my shirt !”

“yeah, what about it.”

you frown, he’s still deep into churning your guts before you speak with each moan butchering the delivery of your voice. “what do you mean what about it, that was a gift!”

“girl, chillax. i’ll get ya a new one.”

he doesn’t.

GOJO ✰ PRONE BONE.

“shh, you don’t gotta talk when you’re bent over for me, angel,” he’d hush you, and he brings a thumb near your puckering hole to daub the remnants of his sticky, glutinous cum back into you, preventing it from spilling back out again.

you whine, feeling every deep thrust he presents you. he’d just gotten done with filling you up to the brim—yet he doesn’t stop, he’s hungry for more. a hand goes over your mouth, a lustrous sheet of your own slobber paints the palm of his hand in response and he hums. gojo favors prone bone because he likes the closeness of your body against his.

it’s like doggystyle but better,

with your sundress lazily pulled up, he’s got better access and your tummy continually caves in. gojo’s so lengthy, you were still surprised he’d even manage to fit. it was a tight fit but he managed, plugging up your sweetened aperture. warm breathy pants fan against your skin and you whine, his hefty base repeatedly trouncing against your cunt. he was so up close to you, his weight pressing into you so deep that you’re at a loss of words. “s—satoru,” you whimper, feeling his tip stimulate against your most tender spots. each breath you had became more shaky, you were already pumped full of ropy, viscid amounts of his cum from before. your words were a bit muffled but he could still make out your adorable mewls. “so f-full.”

“well yeah. wouldn’t want ya to be empty,” he fake frowns, giving your ass an abrupt spank.

you bite back a moan by sucking your teeth, feeling his shaft reach even deeper angles. he’s got your pussy opening over and over, you’re drooling by this point, being met with slow yet deep hits. it’s primal for a few seconds once he pulls out - only to pull back in, then out again. you start to babble, hating whenever he did that.

gojo was a menace, he wanted to make you beg for more—you feel a fervor wash over you before your maw dangles open. the moment he pulls his dick out, he stares in awe at the thick volumes of cum exuding out of your flooded entrance. “oh, look at thaaaaat,” he sings lowly, staring at the mess painted between your thighs. he’s got the smuggest grin, watching such satiny ropes dribble down your slit. “my my, she’s just so pretty! look at how full she gets too, fuckin’ sloppy.”

“f-finish fucking me, ‘toru,” you pant in heavy breaths, already missing the fullness his dick supplied.

still, you’re over here arched over like some slut. a few cold whiffs of air wafts against your skin and you moan. you hear him sneer out a, ‘awww,’ before he brings his leaky tip back toward your swollen folds. it was so messy, unkempt and shimmering with his seed. gojo grows quiet, smearing his fat reddened tip against your pussy to hear the wet sloshes it creates. “pleaseeee, finish f-fuckin’ me.”

“say pretty please,” he coos, purposely sinking just the fattened tip inside before wresting it back out. he does it over and over, imagining your cute little pout displayed on your face from frustration.

you whine out a sweet, “p-pretty please?”

“pretty please what?” he whispers, strumming a thumb against your throbbing clit. he was edging you, your whines—despite them falling onto deaf ears, you whine again. gojo simpers, trailing a hand down your sensitive spine. “c’monnn. i have no idea what you’re saying please for, angel. you could be saying ‘pretty please can i finish?’ or ‘pretty please can i—”

“pretty please finish f-fucking m-” you grumble, although it sounds more like a desperate moan. even your words backfired on you, he found it so cute how you tried to maintain a rough exterior with your voice but end up failing miserably. you wanted him to finish so bad that you start to swiftly grind against him with your ass still raised up. he loves hearing you like that, so whiny and needy for more—yet once you were about to whine out another needy plea, you hear a sudden snap.

instantaneously, your initial reaction was to flinch and as you peek up—you spot the the wooden headboard snapping in half, the box spring shortly following to collapse. gojo’s still buried balls deep and he doesn’t even realize. only then does he start drilling his fat cock into you at a much quicker pace and you gasp, bawling the sheets into your hand. “s-satoru, fuck fuuuck.”

“oh damn the bed broke,” he sighs, barely acknowledging your moans—you’re so close to your release, feeling the sharp stabbing twist of his hips and he makes you fuck right back into him again and again. with a hand sneaking its way to tug at your hair, he leans up close to your ear before purring low. “hm. that sucks,” and as his hefty cock jackhammers into your loose cunt for the nth time today, he cheeses. “but uh, you’ll buy me- i mean us a new one right? riiiight?”

GETO ✰ REVERSE COWGIRL.

he loves whenever you ride him in reverse—your ass just throwing back against him, it drives him crazy.

with strong, ripped arms wrapped around your waist, a breathy pant leaves his lips and he‘s panting, his mind's racing and racing as he’s awaiting for your finish to peacefully come.

geto groans, you’re taking in every inch of his fat cock, you grow dumb quickly and your brain starts to spiral within seconds. “f-fuck, more. throw that ass back against me harder, wanna feel you.”

geto’s smooth words couldn’t have been any more seductive against your ear. big hands of his drag towards your tummy, his touch sending you shivers constantly before you moan. you’re jerking back against him with your mouth pried open, dilated irises glancing at your pathetic reflection of the mirror that stood in front of you both. “s-suguuu,” you moan, leaning back until your back presses against his bare chest. his warmth makes the butterflies in your tummy whir around at such a speed,

everything about your body was just enticing.

the way you just grip around him drove him wild. steadily holding his dick hostage with your saturated, gummy walls — it drives geto to the first street of erotic insanity. he’s haphazardly buried balls deep, the jaggy smacks that go up and down all due to your sweet hips makes him go mad. lengthy musses of black strands gets caught in his face and he gnaws on his bottom lip. a mucilaginous white ring that coats around his full base sticks against your skin the more your movements rises its tempo.

he’s panting right with you, hot puffy breaths of air leaving each lips, he wraps a hand around your throat before tenderly skimming his thumb down your passageway. making you almost twist your head to stare at him, he whispers, “easy. don’t cum on me yet, gorgeous. can ya wait jus’ a little to be messy for me?”

you frown a bit, pretty spit-glossed lips pursing together into a sweet pout before you whine once he reaches a pivotal certain spot. sage-colored boxers of his was lazily pulled down near his perfectly sculpted pelvic bone—even that was unintentionally sexy, all for a good fuck.

“but— but i can’ttt,” you whimper, feeling the familiar juddering sensation mash all into you.

“wait for me,” he whispers, a hand rubbing against your tummy. you pause your stuttering hips, leaning back into his touch. geto attacks the entirety of your neck with sugared kisses. he’s so tender, you gasp once he feels against the outline of his bulge. “mhm. you feel me here, don’t you pretty? ‘m so deep in you, fuck.”

your pussy’s voluntarily tightening before easing up and you let off soft mewl. “suguru, don’t stop,” and your plea was so sweet. he holds your hips firmly in place before pecking a honeyed kiss near your nape. with how lewd the angle was, you made sure your knees were planted forward as you slouched all the way back. he stuffed your walls so full despite how you brought your eager hips to a saddened halt. his girth wears you thin, you moan once he then brings two hands to squeeze against your tits. so handsy, a finger of his swipes against your perked nipple and you whine. “wanna finish riding you, sugu please.”

“my love, you’re going to. don’t be such a baby,” and that’s only once he turns you around—you inhale a single breath, meeting his pretty face and he pulls you into a deep kiss. geto’s kisses always tasted to candied, so honeyed with nothing but love and affection.

“oh, but i love you,” he says between kisses, leaving your face with multiple targets. he watches your expression turn shy, even leaning in to kiss the soft bridge of your nose. “mwah,” he concludes in a weary breath, holding onto your hips again. you hover over his tip and he grunts, knowing you wanted to ride him again. “always know how to- make me fall more ‘n more in love with you. messy girl,” and a dimple pokes against his cheek once he lies back. “my good messy girl.”

SHIU ✰ COWGIRL.

“ah ah, let me finish my cigarette first,” shiu would hum in a soft low tone, watching you hover over his exposed tip.

he was shirtless—dark cerulean blue boxers pulled all the way down by you and a lit cig sticks out from the left part of his mouth. he shoots you a sly smile, watching the pout on your lips grow as you didn’t wanna wait for him. you needed him carnally, he flashes you a similar coy grin before wrapping an arm around you. “fine. you never listen. i spoil ya too bad, sweets.”

“shiu, want more,” you’d whisper, and he groans once he feels you align himself against your needy hole. you felt the head of his cock scrape against your entrance—a few spurts of pre-cum coat against your folds so slickly. a hitched breath gets caught in his throat before he leans back, manspread. “wanna smoke with you.”

“hm,” he hums in a more form of a question. he’s got quite the length to him. he grunts, feeling the squelches your cunt makes in retaliation. the entire scenery of it all was so crude, he’s amused. with that cute expression of yours, he wants to buy you anything in the world. shiu rubs a hand down your back, easing you to take him fully before you moan at the stretch. “you wanna smoke too, darlin’? ‘s that what y’er tellin’ me?”

“y-yes,” you whimper in a cute plea, rocking your hips once he’s all the way in. he fit perfectly—nice and snug like a key fits a lock.

shiu had such dangerous girth to him too, your mouth desperately opens as you feel every inch. you even feel a slight upward curve he had, something as small as that made you throb—even the vein that runs down the center of his dick, you felt the twitch inside of you. he raises a brow, hazy eyes focusing on your every move. your moves were always so slow it was simply hypnotic. leaning up close, you press a wet kiss near the corner of his mouth. “kiss me.”

“now you’re just gettin’ greedy, baby,” he purrs, inhaling a single puff of hot smoke again. you watch with dilated hearty eyed pupils, and he cups your chin. “very well, open that mouth f’me.”

glossy lips of yours part, he pulls you in for a sultry wet kiss but before he does that, he blows the smoke that was in his mouth right into yours. you whine, bottom lip quivering as it pours right in so easily. the taste was smoky, despite it being literal air, you could still taste it.

shiu’s got half-lidded eyes staring at you, a smirk curling on his lips before he finally gives you that kiss you direly craved. it was deep, you’re still slowly hurtling your hips before he brings two hands to fondle with your neglected breasts. you mewl into his mouth, tasting the lingering flavor of smoke and a dash of mint. his tongue curls against yours, flicking his cigarette away onto the ash tray before pulling you closer. he tastes so intoxicating, a hand squeezes your ass firmly before he groans—you being jittery against his hips has his head spinning.

“s-shit,” shiu phews, globules of sweat racing down the sides of his face. with an almost flustered, out of breath look, he speaks in a soft tone. “you .. you want more, don’t ya sweets? guess y’er not finished with me after all, huh?”

“lie back, shiu,” you breathe in short breaths, softly pressing the clammy palms of your hands onto his bare chest. bristles of curled chest hair prick against your skin before he leans further back, slyly smiling at your sudden dominance. he watches as you pick up his thin cig, sticking it between your own teeth as your hips roll against him in mirroring unison.

“yes ma’am,” he smiles, a hand gripping onto your ass before giving it another spank. “do whatever ya want to me, sweets. ‘m all yours.”

SUKUNA ✰ FULL NELSON.

with full nelson—more than anything, sukuna likes to leave his favorite girl feeling stretched.

so stretched to where you can feel him reach the very deep pits of your cunt. he leaves you with ropes of his cum oozing out of you, he can’t help it — especially with a size he has. a thick shaft with staggering inches, every time he pumps another load into you, you’re drooling for more.

“oh, you’re so weak today,” he huffs out in a single breath, watching your lifeless body just dangle against his lap.

your legs were held above your head and within minutes, pretty eyes of yours were on the verge of rolling way back toward depths of your skull to see only splotches of pure black. you’re a whiny mess, barely able to synchronize with his rigorous pace. his front forearms has your legs in place, another is strumming the calloused tips of his fingers against your jittery hips. he’s so deep that you can feel the bulge of his dick extend through your tummy. a hand of his grabs your chin, pulling down on your bottom lip. “my, i’ve got such a such a sloppy girl,” he points out, brushing a thumb against your lips that was glistening with sweet spit. “with an even sloppier pussy.” and a hand of his reaches down to spank against your folds. you whine, feeling your entire body heat up from something as simple from his notorious touch.

“su— sukunaaaa,” you’d whine, basically being treated like a rag doll. a perfect way to capture your physical essence. just being thrown around, he punctures everywhere inside of your goopy walls, making his cock get known between your heat. your moans only grow louder until he shoves two fingers into your mouth. fluttering lashes lower before you happily suck on his fingers, swirling your tongue against his digits and he cackles. “mphmmm.”

“good girl, suck on them. use that little mouth for somethin’ more important,” and with each bounce of your hips, your brows furrow in pleasure. a jumbled of nerves that rest inside your stomach continues to build up—you know that particular feeling approaching and it was pure bliss. a brief twinge of a sting resides near your entrance as he hits against a spot that leaves your eyes widening. he found your secluded g-spot. a hand of yours squeezes onto the curses’s thigh and he hums in amusement. “oh, i found that little spot didn’t i, pretty?” and his pace quickens ever so slightly, hefty dick slamming into you time and time again. “this— pathetic spot . . riiiiight fuckin’ here?”

his breath was hot, all up against the soft lobe of your ear. with his deep voice alone, you’d cream all over his cock without any sorts of shame. jocularly, sukuna seeps his fangs into your neck, a low guffaw following from the back of his throat. you sucked on his fingers until you gag as response. you then pout as he pulls them out, stringy webs of saliva following his two digits.

“i-i’m gonna cu—” and your words get interrupted by the goading prod of his cock thrashing against that same spot. your mouth grows ajar and a sweet raw moan exits from your lips. you’re so at disbelief that you end up gushing all on his lap yet he doesn’t even notice you squirted until you look down.

“hmph,” sukuna scoffs, one of his arms reaching down between your legs. he smears his stubby thumb against your entrance, feeling how doused it was with your slick arousal. taking you out of the flexing minacious position, he turns you to face him now. prodding a thumb between your now swollen folds, he delves a finger inside before pulling it out, only to pop the same finger into his mouth. you watch, tremulous breaths leaving your mouth and he smugly smiles, taking pride in your embarrassed state.

“how sweet,” and as he laps up the mess on his fingers on his own tongue, he grabs your chin again, pulling you into a kiss. you whine, returning the gesture almost immediately. you’re needy still, grinding against the king’s lap—his dick that was laid against him flat, so thick and even more full. he snickers between the kisses, holding you close and you taste yourself on his mouth. after a while, he departs away before grumbling. “off. you made a mess on me, woman,” and he crosses his arms, a pout on his lips. “don’t just sit there. clean it off with your tongue, i’ll wait.”

HIGURUMA ✰ FACE RIDING

“a-ah,” he lets off a soft sigh, bringing a few kisses towards your inner thighs. you bring up you want to ride his nose and after that moment, it easily becomes his favorite position. he’s gentle, making sure to attack near the very sweet crevices with his lips. with an amused, jocular raise of a brow, he runs a thumb down your sopping wet slit. “aw, you wanna ride it, dontcha? you’ve been starin’ at my nose all day, sugar.”

with a twitch of your lips, you shift your weight that’s barely hovering over his mouth. “yes,” and hiromi’s got nothing more than tender smile— he knew what you wanted, ride his face but most importantly, ride his nose. “i just— i don’t wanna suffocate you with my thighs though, ‘romi. want you to be able to breathe.”

he ambushes your folds with a multitude of kisses before a sly grin forms against his pink sheeny lips. “you won’t do such a thing,” he reassures you, and you whine once he creates a single licking stripe near your entrance. “there there, just lay it on me, sweetheart,” and his voice couldn’t have been any more soothing— it’s alluring, each syllable that drags out of his mouth has you pulsing continuously. dark irises stare into you before he blows softly against your cunt. “give it to me, sit on my face ‘n enjoy the ride. i got ya.”

higuruma’s all laid back comfortably against the bed—he’s ready to feast, the moment you finally sink your quavering weight down onto him, his tongue makes a quick greeting. you bite your lip, the cold texture residing on his tongue makes you squirm a bit. “f-fuuuck, hiromi,” you whine, peering your eyes down and his hooded lids were already growing low and heavy. two rough hands of his grasp tightly against your ass, occasionally brushing his thumbs against your warm skin. his movements were slow but precise—he makes sure to allow his tongue to rummage all throughout your pussy. just a single taste and he’s already craving for more.

you’re addictive,

as you’re still trying to flutter your hips over his mouth but he only pulls you further down. you moan, feeling the slickness of your cunt rub against his nose. it slides against the bumpy bridge of it and he groans. with rough pants, he breaks away every few seconds to give you a praise or two, “thaaaat’s it, ride it jus’ like that, sugar.”

he had to multitask from breathing through his mouth and nose—you had him going feral, his tongue knew no bounds. it swirls all through your entrance before he starts to suck against the pulsating nub of your clit. that particular spot does something to your brain. higuruma studies your moments—every jolt your thighs does he watches, how sensitive, how needy you were. all from a few licks, the feeling of his nose prodding against your cunt was a soft gnarled texture. it tickles a bit at first before you’re left with moaning repeatedly. “hngh, so good, ‘romi. don’t stop p-please.”

he shoots you a sneer, a thumb of his snaking towards your clit to play with it also. the nerves you felt in every part of your clit makes you stupid. perspiring hands crawl into his hair, getting a good grip of his strands being lightly tugging on it. “m-mphm,” he likes that. whenever you’d give his hair just the slightest pull, it drives him crazy. you resume to grind your hips into his mouth, slowly. your rhythm despite how it wasn’t as fast as he initially wanted has him hard. higuruma feels the strain in his black work slacks the more your sweet whimpers reverberate across the entire room. the walls were quite thinx yet he could care less. if anything, the only thing that mattered between was your preciously candied pussy. his favorite treat—a dish he’d continue to ask for seconds.

strands of his hair tangle within your fingers, the vigorous buckling of your hips barely have hi time to process. he’s so sloppy, the slight curve of his tongue explores all inside the entrance of your saturated entrance and a whine dies out your throat. “m-mh, more ‘romi. your tongue’s so good,” and your voice remains to shake—you were sensitive, not before long the entire middle part of his face was covered with a sheet of your arousal. so soaked—you couldn’t help but drench him a bit, his stubble becomes glistening in your heat and he moans. you taste sweet, with low eyes he makes eye contact with you for a moment and the butterflies that reside inside your tummy makes you pulse. he feels the pulse in his mouth, stimulating every part with the tip of his tongue. he lays it flat, allowing it to ferret everywhere before he reaches there.

that sweetened g-spot—the moment his tongue shows itself towards your most precious slick orifice, he leaves it a few sweet kisses. mwah after mwah, long black lashes close as he shows your spot the utmost signs of affection. after all, he wanted to make sure he tasted all of you.

CHOSO ✰ MISSIONARY.

“don’t hide, please,” choso whispers, rutting between you. two big hands of his strokes your cheek, making sure you return his beatific gaze. dark gentle pools of eyes intake your alluring beauty before he moans into your neck. “you’re so w-warm. i love you, love makin’ you feel good.”

“i love you too,” you breathe, moaning quite a bit yourself. your voice was sweet, laced with some kind of addictive sound that makes his ears twitch whenever you speak. choso loves missionary because of how intimate it is. skin to skin, body to body—he loves the hot warmth your own body provides him every time. he’s way more vocal than you, he can’t help but suck against your skin as he’s stuffing you full of guiltless inches. “fuck,” you’d wheeze, rubbing the back of your ankle down his back. you feel him shiver at that, his face turns flustered before he reaches to hold your hand. in bed, choso was always a needy baby. he desperately wanted your touch, without it he felt like he’d die. perhaps he was a bit of a drama queen whenever it came to affection, but he was your drama queen. “choso, don’t stop your moans, baby.”

he grows quiet once you notice. the main reason he went to suck against your tender neck was to stop his whimpering whines.

he was always so embarrassed about them—so insecure.

he was forever so sensitive, the way you clamp down on him makes his breath nearly get caught in his throat. “but-” and you shyly smile, squeezing his hand tighter as his hips quicken. he’s about to finish early—you were quite familiar with his timid body language. it always gave him away. you pull him in for a quick chaste kiss, crimson lips of his mashing against yours and he pouts. once you pull away, he wants more. choso leans for a kiss and you kiss back, kiss after kiss. he feels the tip of his cock reach all sorts of mew depths within your walls. he’s clouded, feeling a rushing wave of crazed nirvana over take him sweetly. “i’m too noisy.”

“i like when you’re noisy,” you reassure him, and you visibly watch him melt into your hands. he’s so cute—you’ve got his heart throbbing, you’re so tender and patient with him that he’s falling more and more in love. choso’s tempo slows down a bit and he feels a concise spasm in the undersides of his thighs. he moans at your tenderized compliment, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

he’s still holding onto your hand, stubby fingertips sliding against yours. his touch—a perfect way to describe it was that it was hot, parching. you made him feel hot in every way and he never wanted the feeling to stop. “you can be a little louder, ‘cho. ‘s just you ‘n me.”

“you s-sure?” he whines, mending your cunt with a new shape from his jagged thrusts. he was so big, you had to constantly gnaw on your lip to conceal your own indecent noises. with a low voice, he still sounds as sweet as a kitten—his darkened brows twitch, awaiting for your answer whilst he prepares to gift your pussy with another precious gift of cum.

you have a soft smile. “i’m sure, baby,” and with a smeck, you kiss the pale temple of his cheek. choso’s heart was racing miles a minute. the moment he ends up finishing, he doesn’t hide his moans.

this time, he ends up giving you a deep kiss while his orgasm mercilessly pulls out of him. it leaves him breathless, tumefy lips of his gets swollen from each contact your own lips makes with his. he was always weak for your kisses, he’d go crazy without one.

“good boy,” you whisper, feeling his seed trickle all inside of you. hot sticky ropes, your legs snake around his slim waist, forevermore pulling him in. “let’s stay like this forever.”

“we- we will,” he mewls out, a gasp of exhaustion snatching out of him, he’s just on top of you, resting his head against your chest — still inside of you, plugging you in fully. choso’s voice was a bit raspy, strands of his hair tickle against your skin before he kisses your breasts. “i’ll never leave you. we’ll be together f-forever, princess.”

6K notes · View notes

servicpop · 2 months

Note

hello!

soo, you said to 'flood' your inbox so..may i ask for nanami from jjk? just some sweet domestic fluff, like marriage? i dunno.

if you decide to disregard or ignore this, its okay!

✶ ﹑ sleepy cuddles _

NOW STARRING : hubby nanami x male!reader

「ㅤSFWㅤ」ㅤcuddling on the couch with your husband!

✙ warnings — none, just fluff!

notes ,, I love nanami sm nonnie... I hope you like it!

The door clicked to your newly bought home as Nanami walked inside, greeting you with a small loving smile. You had been married to Nanami for a few weeks now, your wedding was set on a beautiful beach in Kuantan, Malaysia. It was truly magical to say the least.

Nanami always finished work later than you did, must've been hard teaching and going on missions but he always made sure to come back as quickly as possible. As he stood at the doorway, you got up from lounging on the couch and walked up to Nanami with a little more excitement in your step. Your hands met Nanami's tie that was resting on his chest and slipped your index finger at the knot, sliding it down.

"How was work?" You asked, placing your husband's tie to the side as your arms wrapped around his waist in a small hug with your ear pressed against his heartbeat. You sighed contently when you felt Nanami's strong and muscular arms wrap around your body tightly as if he never wanted to let you go. He kissed the crown of your head and inhaled your scent. He missed you. Even he lived with you, he still missed you everytime he had to go to work.

"It was alright, the students are doing great," Nanami replied, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. He danced you over to the couch, laying down on it before calling you over to cuddle with him with a flick of his fingers. You complied, settling yourself on Nanami's lap before laying down ontop of him with your chest against his and your face snuggled in the crook of his neck. He had onee arm wrapped around your back while another reached for a book placed on the coffee table.

This was the most calm you've ever been in awhile. The warmth radiating off of Nanami and the plush cushion of his chest was almost enough to lull you to sleep. In a way he was like a big teddy bear, always there to cuddle but he remained relatively still as he read his book. You looked up at his face, admiring the definition in his face, his eyes, his nose, his mouth. You were just the luckiest boy on earth. You moved your hand to Nanami's shirt, fiddling with his buttons silently as your ears tuned into his steady breaths, it was a habit by now.

The silver glimmer of the ring adorning your finger caught Nanami's gaze and he let out a gruff chuckle, placing his book down ontop of your back as his gaze casted down towards your fingers.

"Do you like it? The ring," He whispered, his own hands running through your hair, massaging your scalp with those thick fingers of his. It was quite an expensive ring as it was custom made, just for you. Your ring had carvings on the inside of Nanami's initials whereas Nanami's had carvings of yours. To be honest, he wasn't used to seeing the ring fit so perfectly on your finger and he sure wasn't used to the fluttering feeling in his chest.

You nodded at his question before laying your head down on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, quicker than usual now that you were here. Nanami noticed how your eyes fluttered, trying to stay awake and his gaze softened. He shuffled slightly before wrapping both his arms around you, tilting his head down to whisper a few words. "Are you sleepy?" He asked, rubbing circles on your back. He took the lack of a nod as a yes.

"Get some sleep, sweetheart."

♡

notes ,, 'v been really tired lately from work but I wanted to at least get something out! Sorry it's short

#bottom male reader #male reader #jjk x male reader #nanami x male reader #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #servicpop — fics/drabbles

555 notes · View notes

nuhuhwinniethepooh · 2 months

Text

B-urn

Tags : Fluff then Angst, Smitten Gojo Satoru x F!Reader :), Gojo as a hateful dad, character death.

A/N : I've had enough of soft dad Gojo Satoru, I need some hateful dad Gojo Satoru or something similar to it at least.

WC : 1.7k

__________________________________________________

1 " Hey 'toru, Get some peaches on your way back. " " Hey, honey. "

"You're crazy," you whisper speechlessly, pushing a strand of wet hair off your eyes and gazing blankly at Satoru kneeling on the tiled floor with a velvet box in his hand, encasing a sparkly ring inside- both his and your birthstones, you notice.

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. But one thing's for sure, I never thought I wanted to settle down. But now...now I just can't imagine a future without you," Satoru starts, you've never seen him so genuine of his feelings, so innocently vulnerable like he's gonna shatter if you say no.

"So please, answer my question. Can I marry you and make myself the happiest man to have ever lived?" He continues, gentler this time. You bite your bottom lip, holding a sob back as you nod, too afraid that you'll fall apart if you speak. You nod once again, feeling warmth envelop your skin as Satoru throws himself at you and peppers your face with kisses- 'Thank you's' and 'I love you's' slipping out his mouth like butter on a heated pan as he slips the ring on your finger.

You clear your throat, backing away as you look at the ring glint under the light with a smile," it's beautiful, Satoru. I love it but next time, please don't propose to me in the bathroom when I'm fresh out of the shower," you say with a wide grin on your face, tugging the towel around you to secure its position again. Satoru responds with a huge grin of his own, pulling you close and nuzzling your neck," Couldn't wait for tonight's date, I've waited long enough for this," he mumbles, placing soft kisses against your damp skin.

"Tha-," he shuts you up with his lips, "Okay, fine. Sorry, I'll keep the destination in mind next time," he apologizes with a sheepish grin but you know better than that, he's not the least bit sorry.

2 " I'm going shopping with your mum for my wedding dress today, I might be a little late. " " I hope you're doing fine "

The wedding was perfect from start to finish, the Gojo clan doing all the grunt work while the two of you made the final call at the end. Everything was perfect for Satoru, especially you. He even tears up a little when he watches you walk down the aisle towards him- muted giggles echoing in the enclosed wedding hall at his reaction. He had his blindfold removed for the day despite the fact that the shards of decorated glass and bright lights irritated his six eyes, a small sacrifice for the greater good.

The greater good being getting a better look at you, every blemish, every scar and every battle wound peeking out of your wedding dress was perfection to him. His heart tap-dancing in his chest when he meets your eyes, absolutely smitten for the look of pure joy in your face when your father finally rests your hand on Satoru's and the officiant starts the wedding, his words falling on deaf ears when Satoru chooses to gaze at you with adoration in his eyes instead.

Popping out of his reverie when your sparkling eyes meets his and a smile tugs at your lips," You're supposed to say 'I do' now," you whisper, squeezing his hand. "I do," his voice rings, loud and clear, squeezing your hand back after you do the same.

"You may kiss the bride." Finally.

"My wife," he thinks to himself happily before pulling you in and crushing your lips against his, the cheers from the crowd gradually turning into background noise, getting lost in the feeling of your warmth against his. He breaks the kiss only when thunder erupts and the pitter-patter of the rain starts loud and ominously, he turns and looks at you worriedly only to be left surprised when you look back at him with delight.

"Looks like even the heavens are blessing our wedding now," you hum, pulling him by the arm towards the door to the large balcony. Pushing the door open and dragging him towards the middle of the open balcony with a grin, the heavy rain immediately drenching the two of you- you let go of his arm, turning to face him with a hand held out," Can I have this dance?" a teasing grin on your face, Satoru swears his heart actually stopped for a second; grabbing hold of your hand, he places a quick kiss on your knuckles," gladly."

Gently swaying in the rain to the music drifting from the wedding hall, Satoru couldn't be happier. He's the happiest man to have ever lived when in your arms.

3 " 'll make breakfast tomorrow though, you want anything? " " I'm not sure if I told you this enough but "

Getting pregnant 3 years after your marriage wouldn't have been a surprising thing but it was for the two of you considering the fact that you went at it like rabbits. You wanted kids, he didn't, heirs and other matters be damned. He wanted you to himself for as long as possible, hoard your attention and love for as long as he could before you finally put your foot down.

The dreaded day arrived sooner than he liked, he'd have preferred another 7 years alone with you but you didn't give in this time. Adamant on bearing his child and starting a family, how could he ever say no to you? So he gives in and fucks you with a new goal in mind- getting you pregnant with his child.

Two weeks later, your breathe hitches as you look at the stick in your hand- you're pregnant. Excited squeals gushing out of you, you rush out the bathroom and to the shared master bedroom where you hold the pregnancy test up at Satoru's face. He looks at you with mild shock in his face," already?" He asks softly, taking the stick from your hand and looking at it blankly, sitting down on the edge of the bed besides him, you nod excitedly," We're gonna be parents, s'toru!"

Before you know it, he throws the test aside on the floor, pulling you in his arms and crushing you under his weight as he presses kisses all over your flushed face," we're gonna be parents!" You giggle, hands cupping his cheeks to slow down the barrage of kisses. Satoru still wasn't really sure about the idea of a child yet but your joy at the thought of it was enough for him to push that idea aside, what you wanted was what he wanted, it's a universal rule.

"We gotta celebrate this now, don't we?" He mumbles, hands slowly sliding under your shirt with a smirk, earning him a swat against his chest. "Gosh, you're disgusting," you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and pulling him in. "And you love me for it, Mama," he coos, pressing a light kiss at the corner of your lips- your heart swells at the thought of being a mother, you were finally gonna start a family of your own with the man you love, life couldn't get any better.

4 " It might rain today so call me when you're done, okay? I'll come pick you up. " " I love you so much "

Fear and respect, two sides of the same coin, was easy to come by when it came to Gojo Satoru, hating even easier but what was hard was loving him, harder than it should be- Loving him was like climbing up a snowy mountain with nothing but a fork, Loving him was like crossing the seven seas with only a raft, Loving him was like trying to figure out what to do with a beloved china bowl that got smashed into pieces. It was nigh impossible to love him, anyone who did try gave up halfway through, only leaving him worse still. But everything changed once you came along.

You didn't climb the snowy mountain with a fork, not at all. You just waited long enough for a ski lift to be built for skiing enthusiasts and then took the lift yourself. You gave him time to adapt, time to breathe before finally making your way through the icy remnants of his scarred heart.

You didn't travel the seven seas with a raft, not at all. You just sold the raft and bought yourself a ticket for a worldwide cruise, enjoying every single moment on the long trip back to him. You gave him patience and waited happily for him to come around.

You didn't just accept your fate to pick the broken china pieces and throw it in the bin, not at all. You just gently assembled it and glazed it with lacquer, painstakingly painting over every crack with gold. You didn't fix him, you just accepted all of his broken pieces, that's all - the rest he did it himself.

It wasnt the fact that you took the easy way out, not at all. It was the fact that you put the effort to think about ways to love him- It was always hard to love Satoru, you just made it easy. So if someone asks Satoru why he loves you so, all he does is smile and answers " no reason at all." He just loves everything about you, he doesn't need a reason to do so.

5 " You don't sound so well, is everything okay? " " More than you could ever know "

20 weeks, 5 months, into your pregnancy and Satoru's already starting to feel uneasy, the change is small, unnoticeable to the normal eye even. But the change is there, his six eyes catching everything. You've gotten weaker, not externally per se but internally. He brings it up once when the two of you cuddle in the bed, you laugh and brush it off by saying," it's only natural." He's not convinced but he doesn't push it, opting to graze the curve of your cheek instead.

Something was really wrong, very, very wrong- You've been rapidly losing weight, the complete opposite of what should be happening. The growing baby bump only makes you grow thinner, finding it hard to even do the basic things, having to rely on Satoru for everything. He'd have been delighted on being relied on some other time but this time he's not, he's more concerned than anything.

The trip to the doctors doesnt change a single thing, every single one of them saying the same thing over and over and over again. "She's fine, just a rare case. It's better than it looks, 'ts just an uncommon case of weight loss during pregnancy." He swears its not, the very molecules that makes up you seems to be slowly but steadily gathering and surrounding one particular place, your belly but how could they know that? They were normal doctors, not some omniscient sorcerer like him.

So he grits his teeth, quietly holding your hand and holding onto his last hope, Shoko. Despite it not being her area of expertise, he can only hope for the best afterall she was a sorcerer too, she has to have the ability to figure it out...doesn't she? All hope comes crashing down when Shoko shakes her head, there was nothing wrong with you, the final verdict.

" I told you, didn't I? It's just an uncommon case, honey. You're too paranoid," you grin and tiredly pat his hand, boney fingers brushing against his. Your engagement ring and wedding ring hanging around a chain on your neck glistens blindingly under the stark hospital light- it became too loose to fit you anymore. Satoru feels slight prickles in his eyes from underneath the blindfold, he doesn't know why but he does. Forcing a tight smile at you, he nods," You might be right dear, but you know I can't help it when it comes to you," he mumbles, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles to hide his falling smile. You chuckle lightly, flushing at the contact," You're such a silly man, 'toru. "

6 " Hmm? Oh I'm fine, don't worry. How's work though? " " And I swear I've tried, I really have "

Problems over problems befall, the number of curses quickly increasing exponentially with no rhyme or reason and the higher-ups pressuring him from all side was taking a toll on him, not to mention your declining health. You looked healthier now, taking the supplements that Shoko provided helped you not look like you were gonna fall dead at any given moment. A farce, Satoru notes, you're healthier on the outside, dying on the inside. He even contemplates getting rid of the thing inside you completely but as if like you read his mind, telepathically catching onto his thoughts, you become more protective.

Hands always wrapped around your belly and eyes instinctively following his every movement, always on sharp alert. Waiting for something to happen, you're not entirely sure for what but you wait. Catching onto your guarded attitude, Satoru drops the idea immediately. He doesn't want you to hate him, he'd die if you did and even he's not sure if he means it figuratively.

He makes sure to coo at your belly every night though, sure he doesn't want a child but that didn't mean he didn't feel any love for it despite the toll it took on you. He just hates it as a husband and loves it as a father- hates it even more as a lover. Hiding his slowly growing apprehension of the unborn child inside you with a mask of an excited father-to-be.

You know Satoru acts off this days especially when he interacts with the baby but you don't say anything, he's a busy man and you were currently out of service which meant double the work, you couldn't possibly have the right to ask him what's wrong, right?

7 " 'Toru, don't worry about me. I'm not mad, I promise. Just try to get your business trip finish a little faster okay? " " So please don't hate me too much "

You're a nervous wreck, anxiety fully settling deep in your bones despite the contractions. The pain was doing nothing to alleviate the turmoil inside you other than making it worse, 7 hours in after your water broke and Satoru is nowhere in sight- you're nervous, in pain and surrounded by strangers. Shoko was kicked out, 'only family members are allowed in' they said, despite your pleas they ignore you. They were gonna have hell to pay later until then you had to push through it by yourself, it couldn't possibly get any worse.

Biting down on your lips after screaming your throat hoarse, you squeeze your eyes shut, the salty taste of your tears mixing in with the metallic ones on your lips only making you want to gag. Slowly, loud words starts to blur and dim as your vision gets hazy, drifting in and out of your consciousness while barely catching sight of the figures hovering around you," I see the head!" One particularly loud statement snaps you back into reality, everything ending too quickly from there with still no sign of your husband anywhere.

With the first cry resounding in the room, your heart rate falls rapidly; the once searing pain only a throb now, a small respite but an unwelcoming one. You wish for the numbing chill to be replaced for the burning pain, praying for the latter if it meant that you could still breathe in the scent of his skin, still comb your fingers through arctic white hair, still stare into his cerulean blue eyes, still lay your head above hi- "I'm sorry" a hushed whisper in the chaos.

The high-pitched beeps flatlines, parallel lines all in all. The silence is too loud and the air too thick, working their way to restart a heart that's already dead and gone. Somewhere in the distance another heart drops, not with the promise of death but of something much worse. What use is a beating heart if the soul is already dead?

8 " I'm sorry I couldn't make it, I swear I tried " " But I can't do it "

Satoru doesn't hate her. No, he abhors her. The feeling of complete hatred and malice against an individual- every babble, every cry, every coo, her very existence disgusts him to the core. Somedays he just wants to snap her neck, it'd be so easy, so quick, so satisfying, so very dreadful. Somedays Satoru even considers it, his long slender fingers wrapping around her small sleeping figure and squeezing just a little, just a twitch but her eyes always flutters open, always gazes at him with a smile, always holds her chubby little arms out to him.

It's not her smile, her voice or his guilty conscience that stops him, it's her eyes. Your eyes. The curve, the shape, the color, the very crinkle reminds him of you, your eyes are staring back at him but it's not you. It'll never be you. Pulling his hand back like he got burned, he rushes out. It's what he always does these days, he runs and runs until he can't anymore, hoping that maybe somewhere along the way, he'll finally find you again.

You're so cruel and so very heartless, if you were gonna leave him in the end you should've never made him love you at all but you did, you did and he loves you. He loves you and you left.

Satoru is always bitter, maybe if she didn't have your eyes then maybe it'd be easier to get rid of her, maybe it'd be easier for him to move on. But you're always there, your first gift being her last saving grace. Your eyes, your first, your life, your last. Maybe you knew about it, you always did say that you wanted a baby that looked like you. He never bothered to ask why because he agreed with you, he always agrees with you, but now he seems to understand why, you always did understand him better than he did himself.

So all he does is mourn, he mourns but he doesn't cry- he didn't cry when he got the news of your death neither did he cry when he saw your body, not a single tear in sight. He just silently stood by your side, gently grazing your face with a finger, hands interlocked with yours until your last moment. And like all sorcerers fate, he watched your body get cremated until nothing but ashes were left in the end. Silently making his way back to a dark and empty house with nothing but the urn of your ash in his hand. He still doesn't cry when he hugs the urn close to his chest and stares at your side of the bed late into the night, he doesn't cry at all.

He doesn't cry because he can't cry. Tears are the embodiment of an emotion, what use are they for a man who's already gone numb?

9 " I love you " " I can't love her "

"Hiiii, 'toru"

"Hey, honey."

"How's everything over there?"

"She's growing up fast, you'd be surprised. She has my hair, y'know? Well, the color at least. It's funny how she's starting to resemble me, it's almost uncanny. She has your eyes though, it's like she copy-pasted your eyes onto hers, it's almost scary because it feels like it's you thats looking back at me sometimes. And well, she started going school now; just wanted to let you know that-"

"Well, that's sounds fun"

"...it's really not, not without you here"

"Aww, you miss me that much~?"

"I do, I miss you so much that it physically hurts"

"Aww I miss you too, honey. Tell you wha-"

Satoru sighs, cutting the saved voice message. What was he even doing, answering to your pre-recorded voice like a deranged person. But maybe he was deranged or tired perhaps both, he's not sure but what he was sure of was the fact that he hated he-

"Papa?"

Satoru hears before he sees, the door swinging open ever so slightly to showcase a pair of eyes, your eyes, meekly looking at him. Your eyes in his face but it's not you neither is it him, it's neither you or him but it's both you and him. It's so conflicting.

"What is it?" His voice softer than he wanted it, harsher than expected.

"I just wanted to show you the drawing I made today in class." Her voice is quiet, her footsteps even quieter as she slowly walks up to him, a rolled up paper carefully held in one tiny fist. She was so small, so tiny, so quiet, so utterly disgusting. Placing it down flat ever so quietly on the table, she takes a step back "It's you, me and...mama" she mumbles, pointing at the three stick figures accordingly.

Satoru pulls his blindfold up and narrows his eyes at the stick figure that was apparently you, your hair was wrong, the color, the length, the very style was wrong. "I-I don't know how mama looks like" she admits, tiny hands grabbing onto her shirt as she looks down.

"Of course, you don't. You killed her, sucked her life-force right out like a fucking parasite" he thinks bitterly to himself, fingers grazing over the paper. Everything was wrong, this whole situation was wrong, but the crudely drawn smile on your face wasn't. The smile wasn't, your smile wasn't. The edges of the crayon smile was raised just perfectly, you smiled just like that, always did even when he-

"Papa?" She calls out, eyes peeking through the soft tufts of arctic white hair- Satoru clears his throat, quietly re-adjusting his blindfold before nodding quickly "it's good, good job." He says, fingers gently outlining the curve of the crayon smile- it's what you would've said to her had you been the one in his place so it's what he'll say to her in your place. "You may leave now"

And don't ever come back.

She nods, reaching out for her drawing but Satoru shakes his head, tugging it closer to him which earns him a surprised reaction, something hopeful glinting in her eyes as she nods and quietly scurries out the door. He sighs when the door closes with a click, standing up and rummaging through his office for a spare frame. You'd have framed it and gushed about it had you been there but you weren't so the least he could do was frame it, he's framing it because it's what you would've done, it's what you would've wanted him to do.

He can't love her for you, he loves you and he'd do anything for you but loving her for you? He can't do that, he's more selfish than that.

Satoru sighs as he carefully puts the drawing in the frame, it's what you would've wanted, it's what you would've done. So he'll do it for you because it's you that loved her.

____________________________________________________________

THIS TOOK SO LONG AND IM FINALLY BACK! I ALSO FOUND A PARTTIME JOB! YAY! Gonna take a lot to buy a new laptop though so wish me luck!

Masterlist

#nuhuhwinniepooh #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo angst #satoru x reader #Satoru x reader angst #satoru angst #jjk gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader angst #jjk angst #I

492 notes · View notes