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princessbrunette · 11 months ago

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HOLD ME, KISS ME ♡

♪ the little dippers — forever ♪

WANTED: JOHN BOOKER ROUTLEDGE - SUSPECTED MURDER - $1000 REWARD - DANGEROUS! IF SPOTTED DO NOT APPROACH!

pairing: outlaw!johnb + sheltered!reader ⋆₊⊹♡

synopsis: your wishes come true when a beautiful boy is found sleeping peacefully in your barn. much to his surprise, you don’t care about who he is or what he has or hasn’t done — you just want to ensure he stays forever.

cw: mentions of prayer, religion and god (for plot purpose) reader has two parents, western!au, innocence kink, slight manipulation, mentions of crime, breeding kink, smut ♡

“Please deliver me a man, save me from this loneliness. Make him kind, and strong, and handsome. I vow to make him the happiest man alive.”

Your forehead rests against your clasped hands where you kneel beside your bed, speaking out loud as there was no one else to speak to. Your parents had gone on a trip for two weeks, leaving you in charge of the farmhouse all by your lonesome.

Isolated didn’t feel like the correct term. You were grateful, happy to live off the fat of your father’s land in the middle of nowhere, but sometimes you wished you had someone to share it with. Someone your own age who was there to see you. You had become the perfect host, thrilled when your parents would bring home guests once in a blue moon. You’d tie ribbons in your hair and pick the perfect dress and set the table like your mother taught you. You often imagined setting the table for a family of your own.

Your own farm house. The thought sent you off to sleep each night, walking through the home in your mind as if it were really real, feeling the creaking of the painted wooden porch beneath your feet as you enter, the distant cooing of your baby being comforted by your husband in the next room. White shabby-chic panels across the walls with oak furniture and knitted throw pillows and lots and lots of warm light. The kitchen table would have the perfect lace floral embroidered table cloth draped across it which you’d serve the heartiest dinners on each night. The babies room would be painted mint green, no— maybe pastel yellow, with handmade toys and a music box that played your song and oh, the master bedroom… where you and your husband rest your head would be flooded with natural light. A haven. All yours.

The details to the decoration often changed, new inspiration plucked from the papers that father would bring home and new favourite colours integrating themselves into your home plans but one thing remained the same each time. Your husband. He never had a face, but it wasn’t important. He was warm, strong without having to prove just how macho he was, kind— you could feel his love from the next room on. That was all you really wanted. You could forget the house, forget the land, live in a barn for all you care — you just wanted to experience a love like the ones in the fairytale books stacked high in your room.

It had been a week already of this routine you’d grown used to. You wake up, feed yourself and then the chickens, come inside, clean yourself and then the house, paint, crotchet or read — however the mood takes you, eat lunch, tend to the crops, brush the horses, maybe milk a cow, come inside and cook dinner, bathe, think about your dream husband and grind your wet messy cunt into a pillow, feel guilty, beg for forgiveness and then sleep. It was an easy life, and you couldn’t complain— but you couldn’t help feel the world had more to offer.

Your mother often told you that gifts from above come when you least expect it, you just had to keep your eyes open. You always wondered how one might find these gifts with no idea where to look.

Your gift arrived bright and early the next morning.

Well, not technically as early as it should have been, infact you probably nearly missed it. The roosters calls at 6AM each morning, but on that very day you had decided to sleep in. A few hours wouldn’t kill them, you think as you pull a plush white pillow to lay over your ear— it’s not like the chickens would starve.

At 11:45AM, you stumble bare foot onto the grass outside, setting out on your walk to the barn a little way up the land. Your pert nipples harden, awakened by the cool morning breeze as the thin white fabric of your nightdress blows in the wind. With the sunlight shining directly on it, it was sure to be totally and utterly see through— and you suppose that was one upside to living in the middle of nowhere, yards upon yards from civilisation. No one would see you. Sigh.

You feed the chickens, totally blind before it even occurs to you that anything might be astray. Infact, you don’t even seem to notice that the barn door was left ajar, as opposed to how you usually leave it bolted by a wooden slab to prevent the animals from wandering off or being massacred by foxes. You suppose that’s the price you pay for sleeping in, you live in dreamworld for the next few hours.

The Earth seems to stop turning for a moment when you see him.

You’re more curious than anything, wide eyed, holding your breath as to be totally silent despite having been humming and speaking to the chickens only a moment prior. You tiptoe through the hay, shards of straw sprouting between your painted toes and pin-needling your sole as you draw closer to the man. A fallen angel, your first thought.

He’s half curled up onto his side in the hay behind the stable for your white pony. He has thick-ish arms crossed over his chest, his hat laying over his face seeming to be serving as a purpose to block out the light. You figure as you hadn’t woken up him before, a closer inspection couldn’t hurt. Unhurriedly, you sink down into a squat beside him, knees pointed upwards and feet taking your balance. A real man, in your barn? It couldn’t be. You chew on your bottom lip, goggle-eyed and inquisitive as you cautiously lift the hat away from his face.

He doesn’t wake and you’re for some reason thankful. It gives you time to observe him, the breath all but knocked from your body as you take in just how beautiful he is. He was perfect, and just like what you were hoping for when you wished to be delivered a husband.

Dark eyelashes kissing at the rim of his closed eyes, pale lips and freckles, sunkissed across his nose. Your eyes trail over and across him, now with his face in mind taking in account what he looks like as a whole. You were still in disbelief, a real man sleeping in your barn. But then again, as your eyes skim lower and you notice the blood seeping through his shirt over his stomach — you wonder if he was sleeping. Surely he wasn’t dead? Only God could be so cruel to deliver you the perfect man without a pulse.

So, you press two cold fingers to his neck, searching for the rhythmic beats signifying life. As soon as you do so, the man jolts awake — wide brown eyes meeting yours.

“Jesus.”

This is where the stare off commences— you were sat in a squat giving him a straight shot up your night dress with dome like eyes and parted lips, observing him like he was some sort of alien life form that had happened upon your barn infront of your very eyes. Your chest rises and falls, and his gender fails to betray him as his eyes fall there for a moment, subconsciously noticing the way your bare tits strain against the thin fabric with each exhale. Somewhere in the back of his mind he can’t help but acknowledge that you’re a pretty thing, totally his type. In any other scenario, he might’ve seen you at a local tavern and introduced himself, getting you tipsy and loose, making you giggle beneath his soft gaze and coarse hands in some dimly lit booth before realising he’s far too respectful to take advantage of you like that.

With his eyes open, the picture is complete — and he truly is as beautiful as you thought. He had a puppy like quality to his eyes, they were big and brown but from the sunlight streaming in you could see specks of orange which intrigues you. You wish to look closer, but you feel it’s not the time. His adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow and he tears his eyes away from yours to look around, still disorientated from sleep. He touches his wound with gentle fingers and he winces, going to push himself up on his elbows.

You open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it, warm deep voice raspy from rest as he dives into a sequence of begging.

“Does anyone know I’m in here?”

“No, I—”

“Okay, that’s— okay, please — hey, please don’t tell anyone. I won’t lie to you, I’m in a little bit of trouble with the law, nothing super bad I swear just — I needed somewhere safe to sleep so I ended up here. Didn’t take anything and uh— and I’ll be out of your hair now that I’m up.” He rambles, continually glancing at the barn doors, expecting Sheriff Shoupe to bust them down and take him in at any moments notice. You say nothing for a moment and he pushes himself to his feet, eyes squeezing shut at the soreness of his injury. “Think it’s easiest if I just—”

He cuts himself off this time, because you slip your hand into his— stopping him from going anywhere. His eyebrows jump up and he freezes on the spot, staring down at your doe eyes with a wide and confused gaze of his own.

“…Hi?”

“You just got here? Why’d you have to go?” You sound sad, and he actually can’t believe what he’s hearing. Not only did he break into your barn, on private land — but he’d totally overstayed his non-existent welcome, and now you didn’t want him to leave?

“P—pardon me? Ma’am?” He tries to be respectful, when what he really wants to ask is along the lines of ‘What the fuck?’.

You scramble to stand up and he helps you using the hand that you’re grasping. “Well, you won’t get far with a wound like that. It could get infected. Maybe you could come inside, let me dress it. You can refuel… maybe stay a few days?” The last part sounds wrong coming from your mouth. He’s a stranger for goodness sake— everything your parents had taught you about safety went against this and plus you were practically begging. You might have been embarrassed, if there wasn’t such a nagging feeling in your stomach telling you that this was meant to be.

He scoffs out a chuckle, because he thinks there’s no way you’re serious— but when he sees your wide eyes bouncing between his own, searching for something he couldn’t quite put a finger on— he realises you’re being completely genuine and his expression melts into a more worried gaze, shuffling a little closer on his feet.

“Look, I really appreciate your hospitality, but you have done more than enough, really. Just the fact you didn’t have the sheriff busting in to drag me away is something I will be very grateful for. Believe me. But I can’t drag you into this. Anyway, don’t you have family? That you live with?”

You sigh, looking down at your intertwined hands that you had yet to release, staring as if you were trying to memorise the feeling of a man’s touch incase you really couldn’t convince him to stay.

“Well yes, but they’re on a trip you see — and they’re going to be away for another week and I’m not sure how much more I can take. I’m awfully lonely, and I know you’re a stranger and all but I could really use the extra set of hands… plus it’s the least you could do… for breaking in…” You feel you’re pushing it with that last part, but decide to proceed with it anyway, any means necessary to get him to stay. He bites his bottom lip in thought as you stare up through your lashes and he thinks screw it. He’s sure you’re not setting him up, a little thing like you would be far too weak to pull that off.

“Okay, I… don’t see why not then.” He doesn’t sound certain, but you make such a good offer he’d be a fool not to accept. He bends down and swoops his hat off the floor, holding it to his chest and you take his hand once more, guiding him out of the barn.

He presses his lips together in an awkward smile at the way you confidently lead him, almost having to break into a jog to match your eager pace. Once nearing the house, you tell him your name and he nods — taking in the scenery.

You’re sitting him down in the living room before he can blink, and he takes in the setting around him. A real cozy place, a family home for sure — with a pale blue couch, a scratchy patchwork blanket draped over the back and floral cushions. There’s photos of you in multiple spots around the room, an only child — he gathers. The main photo sits on the mantelpiece, framed, a set of parents curtaining your smiling face in the image. You seem to be a few years younger, fuller in the face, still cute as a button.

He doesn’t quite realise you’d gone anywhere until you’re returning — the contents of an old first aid box rumbling in your grip. You give him a reassuring smile and lower to kneel by his feet, opening up the container and fishing around for some cotton pads.

“Do you have a name, mister?”

He clears his throat, trying to gage your reaction once he speaks, attempting to work out if the name rings any bells. “Uh, yeah. John B. John B. Routledge. You might’ve… actually heard of me. If you have, uh— I’m sorry.”

You don’t seem to react in any kind of alarming way, a smile grazing your face as you pour rubbing alcohol onto a soft white pad.

“Heard of you how? Are you famous?”

“…You’ve never seen those big ‘Wanted’ posters up in town? Kinda got my picture up on one of them.”

You peel up his shirt revealing tanned, toned skin and a wound that had crusted over with blood. You press the pad to it and he winces, knuckles turning white in his lap and head lulling back against the seat for a moment.

“Sorry.” You furrow your brows apologetically before continuing to mop up all the dried blood. “Oh, and I’m not allowed up in town. Not by myself anyway. So, I don’t keep up to date with all that… stuff.” You pull away, rifling through the box for another clean pad. He nods, eyes jumping to look at his wound and then back to you, watching your face for any discomfort regarding his presence. Oddly, there was none. If it wasn’t clear before, it’s wildly apparent now that you’ve truly been sheltered your whole life. There was this innocence you carried that was hard to come by, a lack of judgement that was sweet but made him worry for you slightly. You were lucky he had a good heart.

“That’s… probably for the best, actually. You know, they like to tell lies. I’m being falsely accused.” He speaks a little slower, and enunciates the last part as if you might not understand, and as expected— you hang onto every word, lips a little parted and wide eyed. It’s pretty cute, albeit inappropriate considering he’s a stranger.

As he speaks, you wrap his wound, pressing the sticky part down onto his skin before gently pressing the cotton covering his injury. “Well I’m really sorry about that John B. You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” You chirp, before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss over the dressing, pulling back to offer him a sweet smile. The lines on John B’s forehead smooth out, his concerned expression melting into his own gentle smile of disbelief.

He wonders what the odds are that he’d stumbled upon a real life angel. Well, it was that — or you wanted to chop his body into tiny pieces whilst he slept and add it to your cauldron. He couldn’t quite figure it out yet, but you were pretty — and he was a total loverboy, so stupidly he was willing to take that risk.

He pulls his shirt back down over his now dressed wound and you begin to clear your things back into the first aid box.

“Is there anything I can do for you? Like, anything you need help with around here?” He offers and you look up at him, brows furrowing with adoration.

“Goodness, no— I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“Said you needed an extra pair of hands earlier.” He challenges with a smile.

“I only said that to get you to come inside. With your injury, I couldn’t possibly put you to work.”

He scrunches his face a little with a half scoff, half smile and shrugs one shoulder. “Please, this thing? It barely even stings. Come oooon.” He croons with a smirk, and you really feel the full effects of his charm now— the warm timbre of his voice headed straight to your clit giving it a heartbeat of its own.

“Fine.” It comes out airy with a giddy smile and you take his hand yet again, almost getting distracted by the coarseness against your palm, the sight of bulging veins along the backs of them.

Your bare feet are treading lightly over soft wood chip once more as you lead him toward the destroyed fence round the left side perimeter of the farm.

“So… I suppose you could carry all the planks back from the fence that fell down in that awful storm last week. I was gonna wait for my daddy to get home to get him to do it ‘cus I’m much too weak for something like that.” You point, and John B’s brown fluffy head follows your finger to the destination at hand. He nods, a doable task.

“Well a girl like you shouldn’t be lifting a finger anyway.” He turns his head back to face you with a smile, eyes squinted in the sun. He looks radiant, no sign of pain anymore and you look down at your night gown, scrunching it in your clammy hands with an uncontrollable grin at the floor, harbouring such an innocent crush on the boy already that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

His gaze stays on you for a tick whilst you step quietly and he speaks up again, tilting his head a little inquisitively. “I really, really hope this doesn’t sound rude… ‘cus I don’t mean to be. But… are you not… married?” He trails off, thinking of all the times he’s been walloped round the head in taverns for asking questions of a similar nature. Your smile doesn’t go away, your gentle nature not retiring for a moment.

“Oh no, no. I don’t meet boys often. Thats why I’m happy you came!” You chirp, hand reaching out to softly squeeze his arm. “Can be like husband and wife whilst you stay round.”

He just laughs in response. Not necessarily in a mean way, but the same way you laugh when a child tells you they’re going to be an astronaut when they grow up.

The brutal beating of the sun does nothing to stop the honest work you’d put the self proclaimed outlaw up to, he seems to be deep in thought often — carrying the planks to and fro. You slip inside for a while to change into something more appropriate, a sweet and floral sundress that ties up at the straps and hugs you in a more womanly way. You’d rubbed your lips together as you fixed your hair in the mirror before bringing him a sandwich in the early afternoon. “You are adorable.” He grins when you do so, and it wasn’t quite the reaction you’d hoped for on your dress but it still made you warm in the face. He simply brought out a true primal bodily reaction from you— that’s why you’d skipped the panties under your dress. He was making you excited and slippery down there and you just didn’t see the point. You stay out for hours at a time to chat with him. Your affections grow.

John B. Routledge finally returns back to the house when he’s all finished and you let him lay down for a nap on your couch, finally getting some real rest in. Whilst he does so, you spend hours preparing a hearty meal — the type you reserve for when mama and papa have guests round. As the pie browns off just a moment longer in the oven, you come to the man’s side, kneeling beside him and stroking his fluffy hair back.

“I made dinner. Sure you’re really hungry.” You whisper and his eyes flutter once more, the arms that were crossed over his chest stretching out as he wakes. You sit back to give him space, and when he opens his eyes you’re there with a smile — the orange beam of sunset haloing your head. Something about an angel drafts through his mind once more and he stretches.

“Oh boy, I slept longer than I was meant to huh?” He sits up and you shrug, leading him through to the kitchen where you’d laid the round table. Steaming seasoned vegetables in a bowl, freshly picked by you. Warm bread, baked and scored by you with flowers the centrepiece of the table. A jug of gravy there too. There’s a tray of mashed potatoes waiting, creamy and delicious looking. Routledges stomach audibly growls and he chuckles at this as he sits down, taking in the scenery you’d laid out. “You… have spoiled me. All this for someone who breaks into your barn?” He chuckles as he lowers himself into the seat.

You follow him round the table with a giddy smile. “Told you I like havin’ guests.” You perch your bottom on his leg, an arm wrapped around his neck as your feet swing. It felt right. You’d always wanted to sit with a man this way, you’d seen it before in the picture shows. Man and wife, domestic bliss. His brows jump up and he clears his throat awkwardly.

“Oh… sweetheart, you shouldn’t do that. I am a— a stranger, after all.” He tries to do the responsible thing, even though there was something about your innocent brashness that was turning him on beyond belief. Your eyebrows knit in the centre, a line between them and your bottom lip seems to have doubled in size from how it pushes out.

“But I like you?” You mewl, rejected. It all seems so simple to you, which is probably feels super unfair. No one had taught you how to address men because you were so sheltered, and now it was giving you all of these complicated feelings that John B would have to deal with.

“And I like you — a whole bunch. You know I’m super grateful for you taking me in and… all that good stuff. But sitting right here is gonna… make me excited. Because I’m a guy. Go ahead and hop off for me.” He taps your lower back gently and you huff, feeling upset and rejected about the whole thing. His eyes are all wide and hopeful as he stares at you, like he wanted to make sure you were okay. The way he handles you so sweetly made your stomach stir despite your current mope.

You drag your feet to the oven comically and he stifles a chuckle at how dramatic you were, despite his sympathy. You place your hands into oven gloves and take out the pie— perfect and golden. You walk it to the table and John B sits up a little straighter, eyes darting between you and the food.

“Did this all by yourself? You have got a real knack for cooking. Should put you on the TV.” He grins, switching on the charm to attempt to loosen up your silent sulk. You nod, eyes casted down childishly and he reaches out to touch your arm. “Thank you, pretty girl.”

A small smile slips out, and he flickers his eyes over to the heart shape you’d scored onto the pie, his own lips twitching up into a smirk. “That for me?”

“Maybe.”

“Hmm.”

You end up giggling, his smile too infectious and your bad moment is all forgotten as you serve him a slice, plating up for him and then yourself before you eat. John B digs in ravenously, it’s almost erotic — the way he’s groaning at how good it all tastes, gravy dripping from his lips as he licks more off his fingers. He was clearly less proper-mannered than you, but you liked that. Table manners were for boring old people anyway. Maybe everything about him got you going, but you had to really concentrate on getting some food inside you instead of just watching the show of eating he was putting on.

Once you’re finished, and he’s finishing up on his third helping — you let your giggles die down from the wild goose chase story he relayed for you, one where he of course wound up the hero which only made your heart beat harder for him. Your socked foot begins to prod at his ankle, sliding up his leg until it rests in his lap. He doesn’t seem to mind, the food having lowered his guard just that bit as he leans back in his chair, undoing his belt. He adjusts his hips on the seat as he does so and your thighs clench.

“So what did you think?” You ask, though you think it’s clear that he liked the meal from the empty plates and unbuckled belt. He lets out a long satisfied sigh, gazing at you for a moment with a kind smile.

“I think, whoever gets to marry you is a lucky son of a bitch.” He presses his lips together, almost like he was disappointed about the idea of you with another. You blink, the hands resting beneath your chin dreamily slowly falling to play with eachother on the table.

“Why not you, John B?” You question sadly, giving him those eyes again. The ones that tug on his heart and made him wanna give you everything and anything you ask for. He lifts a napkin, bringing it to his mouth as he shakes his head dismissively, closing his eyes with a frown.

“Mm—mm.” The tissue fabric muffles the sound. “You don’t wanna marry me, believe me — okay, I’m an outlaw. Your parents would never in a billion years accept me. Anyway you… you deserve someone less rough and tumble, you know? Like a prince from a storybook. A bubblewrap life. Not… whatever this is.” He gestures to himself, more so the browned blood stain on his shirt.

You sigh, determined. “My parents would understand. They’re — they’re generous people.”

“Really? ‘Cus they don’t even let you leave the house.” He quips quickly in response, smirking at your naivety and you fall silent for a moment. His face flattens just a tad from guilt. You were far too soft for that kind of tone.

When you look up at him again, your face is more solemn — wide eyes searching his for a shred of understanding. “You don’t understand, John B. There are actual scary, dangerous men out there that would take me and do terrible things to me.”

The outlaw leans his elbows on the table, his lips stretched into an amused smile at the irony. There wasn’t an inkling of threat about the gesture, pure amusement coursing through the energy between you from his side alone. “And how do you know I’m not one of those scary, dangerous men. Hm?” His voice is warm, it seems to rumble straight from his chest. You release a shaky sigh.

“Well you haven’t hurt me yet?” Your voice lilts out, and you engage in a long stare off. There’s a different kind of tension in the air now, it’s hot and feels heavy on you. It oozes into the nooks and crannies of your balmy skin and slithers between your thighs. You can’t take the heat and you stand, beginning to bring his dishes to the sink to wash. It’s quiet for a while, John B watching you with this thoughtful and almost knowing smile as you tidy up around him. Even he couldn’t run from how good ‘domestic bliss’ felt.

You let yourself indulge in the fantasy too. Wife cleans up, husband sits behind at the table and sips at the drink she poured him. You wanted nothing more than to experience this everyday, and your heart sinks sadly at the fact that this will probably be the last. You lose yourself to thoughts and daydreams as you scrub away, to the point you nearly don’t hear him stand up, slowly walking to lean against the sink beside you.

You smile at him politely as he eyes you, and return your gaze to the plate in your hand. You mustn’t dwell. He moves, and soon he’s behind you, a hand resting against the sink beside your hip, head craning round to look at you from the other side. “You’re really serious about this husband and wife thing, aren’t you?”

“Very serious, sir.” You bat your lashes at him earnestly and his cock stirs in his pants at the title, unexpected but not unwelcomed. Bless your heart, you were only being courteous. He presses his lips together in thought and the side of your face warms with his slow exhale. Turning your body, you face him fully now. “I just think it was divine intervention that you wound up in my barn. You’re like an angel sent to take away my loneliness.” You’re shy, a little bashful about your beliefs and without thinking he cups your cheek in reassurance, thumb swiping slowly over the skin.

His eyes take in your every detail, and your lips part with a wobbly breath, nervous. “May I kiss you, John B?” You address, just as his thumb strokes the delicate skin below your eye. He grins, slightly amused by your formality and simply nods his head.

You stand on tip toes to reach him, socked feet almost knocking at his boots as your body presses to his, lips meeting. You’re a little messy, inexperienced— which comes as no surprise to the boy as he tilts his head, welcoming your mouth at another angle and taking control in order to guide you. You’re mostly a quick learner, slowing your pace to something much more sultry and he nearly can’t contain his excitement. He wants to be a gentleman, but as soon as he introduces his tongue — you lose composure, needy and all but panting into his mouth right then and there in the kitchen. He pulls away and breaks the string of saliva that connects your lips with his thumb, stroking it over your moist bottom lip as you stare at him readily.

He tilts his head, eyes wide and almost innocent as he gestures away. “You… want me to show you what husbands do with their wives?”

You nod so hard your eyes nearly roll back like one of those baby-dolls.

John B is the one to take your hand this time, leading you slowly and carefully through the house. You partially think he’s giving himself time to rethink what he’s about to do, but from the way your pussy is drooling into your panties — it feels set in stone. He finally reaches your bedroom and you watch his head move left and right as he takes it in, cheek lifting with a smile at the China dolls on the wall and the frilly white bedsheets. It’s clear your room hasn’t changed since you were a little girl. The sun is just starting to disappear behind your lace curtains and he switches on the lamp, sitting you down.

The man joins you, easing himself down at your side and cupping your cheek as he begins to kiss you again. He takes it slow, but the passion and need only grows as the splayed hand on your back begins to slide upwards until its cupping the back of your head and he’s beginning to slowly lower you to lie down like you’re made of glass.

Naturally you shuffle up the bed and he follows, hovering over you and leading with his tongue this time — the wet muscles wrapping around eachother languidly making you moan, legs falling wider apart.

“I wanna make you feel really good, okay? That okay with you?” He asks gently and you nod, sucking in a breath. You’d waited for something like this since you knew what pleasure was, craved the touch of a man with strong coarse hands and a wet mouth. Routledges thumbs swipe across your tits through your dress, massaging them until your nipples were poking painfully through the fabric as he burrows into your neck, licking and sucking.

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as he tugs gently at your dress, eyes meeting yours once more.

“Let’s get this off, yeah?”

He tugs the garment up and over, puffing out his cheeks as he blows air out his mouth, brows raised at the sight of your naked body. You look so soft, so pliable beneath him. He was already hard just from kissing you, but this made him feel like he might combust. “Took your underwear off?” He smirks, pressing kisses to your stomach and between your tits before bringing his face up to eye level with you, same kind but teasing smile on his face. “Have you been needing me aaall day? Hm?”

You turn your head to the side, flustered and clammy with a whine— eyes screwed shut. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Oh, now you’re shy?”

“No, s’just — when you speak like that— n’say stuff like that… makes me hurt…” You’re breathless, hips twitching and bucking slightly as he grins, pearly whites showing.

“Aw.” Is all he manages before continuing his descent down.

He’s a real tease, spending an ungodly amount of time on your tits— sucking, licking and biting your nipples until you’re arched off the bed, teary eyed and wincing from sensitivity. It’s then, and only then he starts to kiss lower, pushing himself down your pristine sheets until he’s settling between your legs, gently easing your ankles upwards so that your knees faced the sky, your cunt fluttering and open right infront of his face.

“Well she’s very pretty.” He smiles up at you, thumbs coming up to spread you. He leans in slowly, hot breath fanning over your heat before he simply presses the softest kiss to your clit. He draws back again as you whimper, running the pads of his thumbs up along your spread folds. “Hear that? So wet, pretty girl.” He marvels in a whisper.

“Just want you to make it better.” You mewl and he nods slowly in understanding, tongue swiping over his lips as he observes you.

“That I can definitely do.” He confirms before leaning in, licking and sucking at your clit as his thumb automatically rolls downwards to massage your hole. You gasp, knees shooting up towards your chest as he eats you, similarly to the pure fervour and passion he only recently devoured the meal you cooked for him. You wondered how any appetite remained.

When he sinks his middle finger inside you, your stomach tenses — a high pitched noise of relief and utter devastation leaving you. You had no idea how badly you’d craved fullness to this very moment, and you weren’t even halfway there. He’s smiling against you, glancing up as you flutter around his single digit and make plenty of noise for him. “Yeah? Think you’ve really been needing some of that, little girl.” He nearly laughs at your extreme reaction. He had to admit, it was fun doing this with someone so inexperienced. Everything to you seemed like the best thing ever.

He eats and eats away, proving himself to have quite the monstrous appetite for your slick . Your feet rest on his shoulders at one point, lost in pleasure as you whine and writhe and to keep you out of the way, the outlaw pushes your legs up and pins them there, nose deep in your gloss.

“Feels too good— feels— hurts!” You cry, because you don’t know how to put that you’re simply aching to cum.

“Doesn’t hurt, sweet girl. Just let it happen.” He corrects in that low reverberation that you’ve grown to love. After a series of ‘Uh’ and ‘Mm’s, you feel yourself hitting that peak — the one you usually reach all over the soft cotton of your pillow, but ten times the strength.

As soon as he senses this happening, he doubles down and continues repeating the same action with his mouth over and over until you’re squealing and pushing him away, curling into a ball as your completion dribbles out of your quivering hole.

He grins, real proud of himself as he pushes up on his hands to near you, gently shushing you the same way you would to soothe a baby to sleep. “I know, that was a lot huh?” He coo’s, rubbing your back with his warm hand as you suffer the aftershocks, clenching and whimpering, a smaller clammy hand reaching out to his shirt to grab a fist of it.

He forces you softly onto your back, stroking a hand over your warm forehead. For someone so convinced the two of you shouldn’t be together, he sure did look at you like you were his entire world. By the gaze shared, you would never know the two of you only met that morning.

“What now, hm?” He smiles, quiet. You open your mouth to speak, and your voice rasps from the loud and explosive release that had you calling out.

“Wanna… make you feel as good as you made me feel, John B.”

He licks his lips, thinking over it. If it wasn’t already clear, his dick was throbbing in his pants just from pleasing you— and had you wanted to end things there he would be sure to take a trip to the bathroom to finish in his hand. Maybe swipe a pair of your underwear from the basin for inspiration, but that made his stomach tense with guilt.

“Think I can manage that, yeah.” He nods before reaching slowly for his belt. “Sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, good.”

His belt is still undone from after dinner so he slides the snakey leather from its loops with one hand, the act more attractive than you anticipated which made you clench once more with need. He sits on the edge of the bed and you usher up beside him, pressing your naked body to him and ghosting your drooly lips over his jaw line as he sighs, working his length out of his pants.

“Oh my.” You breathe, as soon as you look down. Now you hadn’t had much experience in dealing with the male anatomy, clearly — but you knew for certain John B had to be miles larger than the average man. His cock stood tall, straight — slightly mauve towards the tip with a beautiful blue vein drifting down his shaft like a river on a mountain. His balls sat beneath, heavy and pink — inviting in a way that made your mouth water primally.

“Yeah? This is… what m’working with.” He chuckles, sounding a little nervous.

“How do I…” You mutter after a moment and he’s quick to take your hand, pressing your fingers so that it forms a cup and bringing it to your mouth.

“You wanna spit for me, pretty? Right here.” He encourages and whilst you don’t understand, you do as he wishes, letting a bubbly glob of saliva drool out into the cupped crevice of your hand. You look up at him with wide unsure eyes, searching for praise or reassurance that you’d done as he asked. He presses his lips together at the sweet and submissive expression, shifting his hips a tad in excitement. “Mm, fuck.” He punctuates with an airy chuckle, ticking his head in a single shake.

He brings your hand down and begins to smear it all over himself, releasing a shaky exhale as he does so. “So, uh… you’re gonna wanna move your hand. Just like this.” He sighs as he works your hand up and down his shaft, slowly jerking him off. Your eyes flicker between his face and pretty dick to make sure you were doing it right. As you do so, he presses a lingering kiss to your lips, muttering a “So sweet, bubba.” Against your mouth.

This only encourages you to gain confidence, doing whatever feels right. You twist your hand— squeezing just a tad harder towards the tip as that seemed to be what made him release that heavenly groan, jaw constantly agape as he watches your hand.

“Theeere you go sweetheart. Easy right? Like milking a cow.” He kisses your temple briskly once more before his eyes screw shut, chest heaving with quicker breaths. You get carried away, fascinated by the pearly precum that seeps from his slit as you work him with your hand and following your own judgment you lean down. You figure if he used his mouth on you, you could return the favour.

His eyes open with a loud shudder when you tentatively wrap your plush lips around his tip, working your hand up and down to try and squeeze more of the interesting salty flavour from him. You let out a long drawn out moan of your own as you feel your clit throbbing with desire, liberating his precum from your mouth to let it dribble back down his shaft in messy bubbles.

He winces, placing a hand on your shoulder and removing you with such an abrupt speed that you nearly flew off the side of the bed. You sit up straight, slick mouth pouting as your eyes flicker between his, worrying that you’d done something wrong. There’s a second of just looking at eachother, before you stumble over some words.

“S—Sorry. Did I hurt—”

“No, no God no. I uh— I just wasn’t sure if I should make a mess all over that pretty face just yet.” His wide eyed expression melts into a reassuring smile, thumb rising to swipe lovingly at your cheek. You lick your lips, savouring the taste of him and nod — not quite sure where to go from there.

Your silence makes him question, and he eyes you. “Is there… anything in particular you want now?”

You think, blinking your doll-like eyelashes off into the distance before nodding once more— pushing off away from him and scurrying to the head of the bed where you lay yourself gently on the pillows.

“Hm?” He follows up in confusion, craning his neck round to watch you.

“Would… like a baby now, please.” You spread your legs a little, shy and bashful in your request like you wasn’t sure if you’d asked impolitely. His face falls as he stares at you for a moment before closing his eyes, rubbing over his face with an exasperated chuckle, elbows on his knees.

As you stare at him with with an upset little pout, already ashamed by your forwardness. “Like husband and wife?” You try to justify and he sighs out his nose, turning his body fully to you.

“Oh sweet girl.” He tugs you gently lower toward him by your hips, rubbing his thumbs at your waist. “We just met.”

You launch into full fledged begging, whiny and high pitched with tears threatening to dive over their trough. “I’ll make you so happy John B, I’ll make all your problems go away and you won’t have to run anymore. Please?” You were deadset on this man giving you your dream life, and you’d officially pushed shame to the side in order to get this. His brow is permanently creased, staring with those big wide puppy dog eyes, continually stroking your skin in hopes to calm you.

“Are you… sure that’s what you want? You’re still young. So much time for all that.”

“Just want it now. I’d never be lonely again.” You sound defeated, staring down away from him now. He felt bad, he’d always hated disappointing people. Once upon a time he was a fixer, always running to his friends aid to make their problems go away. That urge never died, just burned low and quiet like an old candle flame. He wanted to make your problems go away too.

“Okay.” He presses his lips together. “I’ll give you what you want, sweetheart.”

He watches your devastated expression lift into a radiant grin, and it was like watching the sun appear from behind a grey cloud after weeks of downcast weather. “Yeah?” You chirp toothily as he crawls over you, leaking tip grazing your tummy and then your folds as he buries his face into your neck.

“Uh-huh.”

When he pushes his tip inside, John B says a prayer for the first time in his life.

He’d never really followed any religion. His father had been the type to say it was all a bunch of ‘Mumbo jumbo’ and that he should believe in the human psyche instead, or something like that. But as your wet folds swallow him and you release that high pitched mewl at the inevitable stretch — he finds himself asking God — please, please don’t let me knock this young girl up.

There’s a warm blanket of chills that cover his spine as he slowly sheathes inside of you, feeling like he was pushing deeper and deeper into a black hole that would selfishly keep sucking him inside for the rest of his life. It felt too good, calming — like falling asleep. He was euphoric.

“So — so big inside me!” Your cry knocks him out of his thoughts and he kisses your shoulder before looking down to watch himself push in all the way to the hilt.

“Feel okay, gorgeous?”

You nod, a pained whine falling from you as you dig your nails into his skin, walls fluttering around him like they were constantly trying to accommodate for this thickness. “Fuck.” He groans, before sliding back a little and starting to thrust. Yeah, he wasn’t gonna last too long— he needed to get to work on you fast.

As he gently fucks into you, your plush tits recoil with the movement and he can’t close his mouth, sounds and sighs leaving him without permission. A hand slides between the two of you, the other pulling his shirt up to grip between his teeth— giving himself a better view of the way he strokes at your clit — your legs being spread exposing it, making it easier for him.

You clench, and shudder — that sweet face contorting with each time his tip ever so slightly grazes your cervix, careful not to bruise it. You really were beautiful, that type of homely beauty he’d thought of marrying in his lonely nights of travelling through desert and grass. The type of girl you work for, the type that deserves spoiling, princess treatment. The more he fucks, the more he’s convincing himself that impregnating you might not be the most awful thing after all. Why should he chase away security?

Your fingertips grace his chest, and he takes your hand — pinning it to the bed as your fingers intertwine, using the grip to aid his rolling thrusts— speeding up the pace and force now he knew you could take it like a champ. His mouth opens to speak, and his shirt drops out of it.

“Taking me real good baby. You like getting fucked, don’t you?” He coo’s and you can only nod, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes before rolling down to your temples. Poor thing, lost for words.

There’s a wet slapping sound with each thrust, your cunt equally gushing as it was thirsty — hungrily welcoming each inch of his, and even demanding more by locking your ankles around his lower back. Perhaps you did it for comfort, or perhaps because you suspected a hesitance, the threat of him pulling out last minute too much for your baby-crazed brain.

“Jesus. Sweet little puppy.” He breathes like it’s a revelation beneath your ear, the curly tuft of hair above his shaft tickling you as he continues to rub your clit.

“S’gonna happen again, John B. The big feeling.” You strain, eyes clamped shut and sniffling— too overwhelmed by your impending orgasm. He kisses each eye lid and watches you closely, experiencing you unfold once more.

“Thats my good girl. Let me have it, pup. Gimme a good one.”

You’re an explosion of whimpers and moans, thrashing under his firm grip once more— and he’s not sure when your orgasm ends, if it even ends at all— he doesn’t care, the release pushing him close to his own. He speeds up his pace, hand that was at your clit now wrapping around your lower back, forearm pushing your lower half up and against him, forcing you to just keep taking him.

He was like a beast from a fairytale book, fucking wildly into you with a primal determination that had you struggling to breathe. You’re crying now, full out crying because it’s just so much. There’s still one last thing you require, and only he can give you it.

“You wanna make me daddy, huh?” He demands, that gentleness in his voice gone. It’s nearly unrecognisable from him, and you preen beneath the rough touch.

“Mhm!”

“Words.” He barks. He didn’t mean to be mean, he just got a little bossy when he was close. You’d come to learn that.

“Please give me a baby. Please just — make you a daddy! Need it!” You’re squealing, voice shaking from the hard ‘plap plap plap’ of his balls slapping against you. You feel you might pass out if this goes on much longer.

He releases with a long groan, lips dropping to the centre of your chest and back arching upwards. You register his sounds before you feel it, hot slimy ropes of him— shooting up inside you, warming your walls. You moan too, because it feels so good to be full. It feels right, like this was what had been missing after all.

Everything is a blur for the next few minutes. It’s like you black out a little, because maybe you forgot to be breathing like you should have been. You briefly recall John B scooping you up and helping you through that, ignoring the gooey seed dripping from you to cradle you like a baby, humming a calm “Breathe, sweetheart. In and out. With me, c’mon.” Your gentle boy was back, and through your haze you smile.

Once you’re tucked at his side beneath a soft cotton blanket, his hand stroking over your head after cleaning you up, a whispered conversation ensues.

“Do you really like me John B? Like, you really think I’m beautiful?” You inquire, gazing up at him with stuck together black eyelashes. The question was so innocent, yet he could tell it was so meaningful.

His expression doesnt falter, a gentle smile sat comfortably on his lips as he continues to pet you. “Baby, I think you’re the ponds swan. Just… gotta get to know you a little better, okay? ‘Specially if I really did put a baby in you.” Only then his smile falters, brows knitting as the reality sets in. Oh Lord.

“Okay.” Your eyes flutter closed, happy to leave it at that, happy to fall asleep right by his side under his watchful eye. It was unnerving how safe a lonely girl could feel with a stranger.

“Okay. Good girl. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out.” He quietly reassures, watching you drift off. He’s not sure if he’s trying to dispel your fears, or his own.

#outlaw!johnb #john b fic 🎀

1K notes · View notes

sanospet · 6 months ago

Text

✩ MAKE ME FEEL LIKE IM YOURS AGAIN ✩

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 - 𝘚𝘏𝘐𝘎𝘈𝘙𝘈𝘒𝘐 𝘛𝘖𝘔𝘜𝘙𝘈 𝘟 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋𝘌𝘙

𝘲𝘶𝘰𝘵𝘦 : gummy walls tightening around the thick of his shaft, tomura's brows knitting together as the coil nestling at the pit of his stomach slowly came undone, hips staggering, painting your warmth with his pearly seed, inscribing the story of your shared love on your walls like a parietal painting.

warnings and notes!

18+ . mdni . smut . angst . hurt comfort . quirkless au . fluffy ending . after care . detailed descriptions of SA . mentions of a knife . reader held at knifepoint . reader has a breakdown . heavy suggestions of reader struggling with SH . detailed fight scene (tomura beats someone’s ass) . deeply insecure reader . they’re both just trying to navigate their way through complex emotions . a whole lot of guilt and self-blaming . soft dom tomura . passionate sex . codependency . requited clinginess . praise praise praise . tomura just being a sweetheart, honestly . pet names (“baby”, “my love”, “princess”) . gender neutral reader . afab reader . reader’s sex is mentioned . proofread though there still may be some spelling mistakes, enjoy <33

authors note:

this fic is super self indulgent, i am the reader, the reader is, indeed, me, lol. it took me much longer than usual to complete, and in turn it is probably one of my longest fics yet, lol. but im happy with how it turned out, i literally daydreamed (basically me writing/directing a movie in my brain, im not sure if that’s the right term…but i do it quite frequently) this fic for like 6 hours straight from start to finish the other day and it kept replaying in my mind like a movie ever since. i needed to get it out and written down, and i wanted to do it justice, so here it is. i hope you enjoy it, and i hope i explained the complexity of their emotions and the turmoil they faced well. thanks for reading <33

(+1000 aura points to you if you caught my shrek reference)

- linus

"you can't be serious..." the question was drawled as tomura gave your outfit a once over, a slight quirk in his brow, earning a pout in response.

"what's wrong with it ?" you whined, feet shifting beneath you as you twirled, "isn't it cute ?" a sweet smile dawning your glossy lips.

tomura's eyes softened, "it is," he confirmed, "very very cute, too cute, even," gaze resting on your upper thighs, raking over the length of them in the reflection before shifting to where your skirt cut off at the back, just beneath the curve of your ass.

sighing softly with a troubled expression, "look, i wouldn't mind you wearing this if i were coming along with you, but you're seriously thinking of going out in that all alone ? to a party, no less...you'll be getting all sorts of unwanted attention from the weirdos plaguing that place."

your hands fiddled with the silver chain, attempting to clasp it behind your neck as you spoke, "tomura, in all my years of living, you're the only guy that's given me the time of day, let alone a double-take," the reality of it set a pang in your chest as you let out a soft, awkward laugh, "i'll be nothing but a fly on the wall at this party, i highly doubt anyone will try anything."

soft snowy locks swaying with a shake of his head, tomura rose from his perch on the armchair, gently shifting your hair to your front, hands replacing your own, "well you'll do it for my peace of mind, won't you ?" gaze meeting yours in the reflection, hand smoothing over the skin of your back, "if you pick out the perfect piece, i suppose." a small smirk rested on your features, tomura reading the playful glint in your eyes.

tomura sifted through the hangers, pulling out a long, brown, flowy skirt, "it's a party, tomura, not a church." shaking his head at your remark, "no, no, look," he took place behind you, laying the fabric against you, "pretty, no ?" eyes shifting from the skirt to your unimpressed ones in the reflection, "tomura..." cutting you off with an exasperated tutt, "fine, fine."

returning to his previous endeavour, "it's like you dress for the summer all year round," he mentioned, flicking through the plethora of mini skirts and dresses before him "fashion knows no weather." you replied, earning a laugh in response.

pulling out a pair of flare jeans, with hope filled eyes, "what about these ?" you shrugged, "it's a skirt kind of day" amused by your reply , "only you would come up with something like that, god, you're impossible."

"oh," you chirped, kneeling down "how about i wear some tights instead ? compromise ?" he hummed as you pulled open the drawer, "let's see them first," sifting through the load, you landed on two that would match your colour scheme, "yeah, well fishnets wont exactly help your cause," he remarked, "don't you have any of those normal ones ?" fingers combing through his locks as he watched.

"and threaten to ruin my ensemble ?" gasping, "not a chance." holding up both pairs as the man observed "pick your poison, tomura~" you joked a slight melody stringing the words together as tomura rolled his eyes, "these will do," seizing the fabric from your grip, he knelt on one knee as you rose, pulling the lace over your legs before taking place behind you, arms wrapped around your waist.

"i can change if you really want me to..." offering a faltering smile, guilt crept in for pushing back so hard, but tomura insisted, "i can take on anyone who dares touching you," setting a soft kiss to your exposed shoulder, "and i don't think i ever really want to go through your closet again, anyway," and you giggle at that.

"you remember the rules, yeah ?" he asks, earning an eager nod in return, "recite them."

"don't get too drunk," you held up a finger, "don't accept drinks from anyone, and guard my own," adding another finger, "keep my location on at all times, text you throughout the night and..." you grew quiet, "don't wander off too far from your friends" he piped in and you nodded, "but what if they're like…making out with someone ?" you questioned, "watch them." he shrugged, "ew, pervert." tutting, softly nudging your elbow into him and he laughed.

the air felt cold and void when he broke your embrace, the clock's incessant ticking toward your departure doing nothing to aid your growing anxiety about your separation with tomura for the night.

"are you sure you can't come with me ?" voice pleading as you trailed close behind him to the kitchen, "i wasn't invited, love." he swallowed thickly as the words left his cracked lips.

he wanted nothing more than to accompany you, the thought of being parted for so long having glass shards set in his stomach, tearing him to shreds from the inside out. yet he pushed for your lonesome attendance, with the thought of you spending time and having a ball with the friends you adored so.

"im sure they'll let you in regardless," brows upturned, eyes soon to be wet with tears, "besides, i don't think security will be that tight, anyway..." placing an opened bottle of ukon no chikara in your hand, he lifted it to your lips, tipping it as you swallowed.

"you know i'm just a phone call way, baby," he smiled, "and i can come and pick you up at anytime.”

placing the small, empty bottle on the counter, "well you don't have to stay up if you're not coming along," you couldn't help the pout that formed, saturating your murmured words, "i could catch a ride with my friend or something."

raising your gaze with a hooked finger beneath your chin, "you know i can't fall sleep without you, love, and i'm pretty sure i need to be awake to answer your messages," thumb shifting to gently stroke your cheek, "and i love your friends, truly, i do, but there's no way i'm letting them drive you home when they're drunk."

"i could get a taxi..." his brows furrowed at that, "and im sure they'd be just as bad as the creeps at the party, love."

nodding at the words, shifting to the balls of your feet, noses brushing together with a smile, your lips meeting in a gentle touch. his hand moving to the small of your back, pulling you closer as he deepened it, tongue pushing past your lips, the subtle taste of your cherry flavoured lipgloss accompanying it.

"i'll miss you," parting, your breath fanning against his lips as you spoke, "i'll miss you too," he smiled softly.

"do you have everything you need ?" you hummed, moving to grab your small bag from the counter, handing it to him to look over, "and do you really need three lip products ?" he questioned through a breathy laugh as you plucked the lip gloss from his grasp, using the aid of your compact mirror to reapply it. "lip shades are like mood rings, tomura, they change with my emotions."

phone screen lighting up with a message, "she's here already ?" he questioned, failing to suppress the disappointment in his tone, earning a nod as he placed the device in your bag, following you to the front door as you slipped on your shoes.

turning to him, "how do i look ?" clammy hands smoothing over the fabric of your skirt, he neared you, tucking your hair behind your ear, "perfect," he smiled, eyes raking over your appearance, "absolutely perfect."

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

the music seemed to permeate through your eardrums, rattling in your head and you could feel the thumping of the bass in your chest as it played, the alcohol mellowing it out just enough for it to be enjoyable. your body felt loose as you swayed to the melodies, singing along amongst the crowd of perspiring bodies.

your friends had split as the party drew on, dotting around the oversized living area, hidden in corners and splayed on the leather couches at the centre of it all, preoccupied with their newfound love interests for the night, though you lingered near them.

as your buzz began to subside and the itch for another drink began to set in, your head spun, eyes scanning for a friend of yours to accompany you to fetch one, ruling out the few who had made their way to the second floor in hopes of finding an empty room, dwindling the group to just two, both who seemed to still be busy with the acts of exploring their dates bodies, your defeated sigh was unheard over the music as your feet shifted toward the kitchen.

the ceiling was just as tall as the ones you'd seen prior, the room almost soundproof as you closed the door behind you, warm lighting illuminating the dark oak of the cabinets and the hefty island that stood tall in the middle of it, housing a mix of opened half drunken bottles, crushed solo cups and beer cans as well as your bag.

the bright blue cooler almost shone in contrast, juxtaposed by the mahogany in which it rested upon and you reached in for another cider, before aiming to head out.

bumping harshly into the chest of another, you stumbled back, feeling a tight grip on your wrist and the deep, slightly slurry voice that followed "my bad, are you alright ?" speech failing you, an eager nod was all you could manage, your gaze searing into his tight grip.

finger hooking under your chin, a large smirk growing as he gave you a once over, "well, what's a pretty little thing like you doing all alone at a party like this, hm ?" words laced in excitement, "your friends ditch you or something ? did you lose your way ?"

breath hitching, his touch soldering, blazing your skin, your mind fell numb, heart rate only rising as you attempted to voice back, "i..." the lump forming in your throat swallowed your sound, "i came to get a drink," you pushed, voice low, his gaze moving to the cider in your hand, as you pulled your confined wrist from his grip, "excuse me." head hung, you took a step to leave, the searing cuffs of his calloused hands forming its assault once more on your upper arm, grip bruising.

"oh, c'mon, don't deny a guy so harshly," tone grating, whining almost "we can have some fun of our own." his voice deepened, slowly twisting your arm in his grasp, forcing you to meet him once more as you turned, the only solution to stop the growing discomfort and pain blossoming as you suppressed a cry, the can falling to the ground at the harsh tug.

"l-let me go!" yanking your arm toward you in order to free yourself, he only followed, chest slamming against yours, "eager, aren't we ?" he smirked.

stomach churning, the taste of copper sat heavy on your tongue as he placed a hand on your hip, his grip all but crushing. pushing your lower back against the island, his head dipping into the curve of your neck, "stop!" the attempted yell was more of a chirp, "i have a boyfriend!"

riled and raged, the man pulled back with an irritated sigh, lazily glancing around the empty space, "i don't see him," mocking bitterly.

the words set the fiery pit in your stomach ablaze as you continued "he's on his way," you convinced, "just a few minutes until he arrives."

"well i guess that earns us a few minutes to get this over with," you continued your aggressive attempt to break free, soon stilling as the sensation of a cold and sharp object made its presence pushed up against your exposed stomach, "wouldn't you agree ?" lips grazing against your ear as he spoke, laughing softly, pulling back at your silence with a smile, "god, you're so much hotter once you shut the fuck up." he sighed, eyes raking over your face, observing.

your breathing shallowed, almost diminishing completely as your face paled, his lips moving lazily against the soft flesh of your neck. animalistic groans almost reverberating on your smooth skin, teeth grazing harshly as he nibbled, his eyes shut tight. fingers inching up your thighs, crawling beneath your skirt, goosebumps rising in the trail of his vulgar touch.

the growing pit of repulsion and guilt in your stomach threatened to force up the drinks you'd had, and as your eyes glazed over, thoughts of tomura flooding your brain, the sensation of a sprouting rose deep in your heart followed, its unforgiving thorns shredding the pumping organ in its wake.

"s-stop..." you forced through a shaky breath, "please...you don't have to do this," pleading, he continued on, teeth grazing against you harshly, earning a pained whimper, "t-there are so many people here, there's gotta be someone who would jump at the chance to sleep with you tonight..." meeting you once more, eyes lidded, filled with need, the sight sending jagged shards of terror down your straightened spine, "you think ?" you nodded eagerly, "cute, but, the thing is i want to sleep with you tonight, so they're a little out of luck, aren't they ?" smirking, words filled with mockery and snark, as he looked toward the clock, "seems like your boyfriend is running a little late," tracing the flat edge of the cold weapon against the dip of your waist, "let's make the most of it, shall we ?" he whispered.

palms turning white, he gripped the glazed wooden slab tight with one hand as he rocked his hips into yours at a vigorous yet sloppy pace, the edged surface of the island bruising your lower back, his breath fanning against your ear as soft moans escaped his parted lips, head hung low.

"alastair, you in here ?" door swinging open, tufts of golden hair and amber eyes coming into view, "oh—" cutting his words short at the sight before him, analysing your position with a studied gaze, the man before you, alastair, shielding the weapon from the golden man's sight as he raised his head, "uh, we're about to play beer pong, wanna join ?" the two pairs of eyes now trained on you, "if you're not already busy, that is."

alastair hummed, face inching closer to yours, lips grazing your cheek as you turned away, "i'll be right there." sighing, turning your gaze toward him once more with a harsh grip on your chin, "next time, sweetheart ?" he willed, pushing off the counter as he pocketed the blade with a grin, setting a few taps to your cheek "next time." he replied to himself, turning to join his friend as he stumbled through the tall door.

your body remained stagnant in his wake for a while, unmoving as the cold air rushing in through the opened window coated your skin. willing yourself to move, to run, to scream, to vomit to do anything but let that scene replay in your mind for the nth time, or to think about tomura...both only causing a putrid cocktail of rage, guilt and disgust with yourself to build in your veins.

the reflection of the bathroom mirror met you after suffering the treacherous trail of making your way through the drunken, sex filled halls of the winding home you were seemingly trapped within.

a gut wrenching scream was kept locked in the back of your throat as your hands moved, vigorously rubbing and scratching against your neck and shoulders, soap and water trailing down your skin, soaking your clothing as tears crept down your face, falling into your teeth gritted mouth, breathing ragged and irregular as you worked with such force, hyperventilating.

shaky hands steadied with a firm grip on the sink, vision cloudy, tears falling with a blink, your reflection soon came back into focus. skin rubbed raw, rosy, irritated, makeup smeared, eyes wet and red, a chesty cry ripping through your throat at the sight.

you were disgusting, defiled, tainted, no amount of scrubbing and scouring could reverse the damage that had been inflicted upon you.

bag illuminating as your phone shone bright, a message coming into view as you peaked in.

tomura.

culpability gnawed at you from the inside, crawling up and into your lungs with its jagged claws, piercing gaping holes through your chest, guilt and remorse nestling in the pit of your stomach, the scorching craving for agony and torment setting in.

you deserved it, after all.

you betrayed him, had been disloyal to the overwhelming love you shared, and hadn't done enough to stop it all.

'i could've fucking tried harder' the thought was deafening, echoing in your brain and you could almost hear it, 'should've taken my chances of being stabbed than just standing there like a fucking statue and letting him have his way with me…’

heart clouded, encompassed by the grim emotions, compressed by the pressure of it all, you let out a jagged sigh, shaking your head as if to rid yourself of thoughts completely. collecting yourself to the best of your abilities, you tapped lightly at your makeup with your powder brush, intending to save it to no avail, mascara having left streaky trails, moving onto your messy hair with a tut before smoothing out your clothing and making your way downstairs.

"hey," your friend mouthed from across the main room, waving you over as you pushed past the crowd, "we're thinking about calling it a night and..." bright smile faltering, concern dawning as she took in your appearance under the dim lighting, "have you been crying ? are you okay ? what's wrong ?" hand moving to rest gently on your arm, the pad of her thumb offering strokes, "im alright," your hoarse voice pushed, "do you want me to drive you home ?" she whispered, almost worried as if her volume would shatter you completely, "i, um," you bit back, fearful that the utterance of his name aloud would set your throat ablaze, "t-tomura's c-coming to um, pick me up..." wincing at the words.

"alright, but um, i'm here if you need to talk, you know that, right ?" she spoke softly, brows upturned, eyes overflowing with worry, and you forced a smile, "i know," nodding, "thank you."

arms interlocked with hers, you finally escaped the, now seemingly claustrophobic, confines of the oversized home. offering your friend a farewell, waving to the others, you slowly made your way to tomura's parked car, his shadowy figure leaning against it.

the soles of your shoes scraping against the asphalt as you dragged your feet to continue your trek closer to him, the intense loathing, you'd been all but consumed by, threatening to take over as he waited with outstretched arms, a warm smile dawning his face.

falling into him, your body relaxing upon contact, a shuddery breath escaped your lips as the comforting scent of his cologne filled your head, arms wrapping around him despite the turmoil in your brain.

"you missed me that much, yeah ?" he let out a gentle laugh, your eyes falling shut as the melody vibrated through his chest, slightly straining as they filled with tears once more at the sound of him, despair twisting your stomach in a harsh pinch.

"_____?" words dripping in concern as he hooked a finger beneath your chin, chest tightening at the sight of you. eye whites more of a crimson shade, veiny and dried out, your neck looking more like his own, hair tousled and unkept, clothes home patches of water as it stuck to your skin, the makeup you'd perfected now streaky with canals of dried tears.

letting out a manually steadied breath, he aimed to suppress his swiftly accelerating anger in a soft veil, "what happened ?" tomura's undivided attention had your face wet once more, rivers pouring from your eyes, hiccuping as you could barely form words, apologies spilling from your lips as he guided you into the car, hoping for more privacy and peace as you explained.

"it's all my fault," you pushed as your breathing steadied once more, "i shouldn't have..." shaking your head as tears continued, voice breaking, "i-i shouldn’t have l-let him..." the car fell silent, save for the unsteady puffs of air falling from your lips. tomura's jaw clenching at the mention of another, he knew where this was going and a sloppy cocktail of guilt, fiery fury and rage coursed through him.

tomura gently urging you to continue, you obliged, albeit through choked sobs and hiccups, hands interlaced, his thumb stroking over the back of yours, aiming to give you some sort of solace as you struggled, despite the ire festering within him. breath hitching, he swallowed thickly at the mention of the weapon you were held up toward, eyes frantically flying over your being, hands moving to inspect for any injuries, "i wasn't cut or anything," you explained, "he just h-held it up to me and i was scared so i..." the words stopped at the back of your throat, the confession stinging your throat,"um, i...i stopped fighting" gaze falling beyond the window, looking at tomura only causing an eruption of pain within you, "...im so sorry."

letting out a serrated exhale, "do you remember what he looks like ?" earning a slow nod in response, gaze lifting toward the house as alastair's infamous figure came into view. "are you going to h-hurt him ?" you questioned through sniffled gasps of air, tomura following the object of your glare, eyes landing on the tall man, "he'll be lucky if i don't fucking kill him." he breathed, turning to you, "stay in the car."

tomura's gait was that of a soldier, marching toward the man without a word, a heavy mist of enmity encompassing his being, trailing after him as his boots scraped harshly against the asphalt, echoing amongst the chatty drunken party-goers during his trek. slowly garnering attention from them as he shrugged off his jacket, before he raised a tight fist, slamming it down onto alastair's face with vigor, the man almost kissing the ground as tomura pulled his fist away, ready for another blow.

"what the fuck ?!" alastair slurred, mind spinning, the stench of alcohol coming off him in wafts as the weighty sole of tomura's boot crashed into his nose, before retracting and slamming into the man's ribs. falling to his knees, alastair trapped between them, tomura's world fell silent.

tomura wanted to break the man before him, tear his limbs from his body with his teeth and leave him strung up to be eaten by wild animals, to burn him alive and savour his tormented shrieks. tomura wanted to disintegrate him, dust him by a single touch, into nothing but a pathetic pile of grim ashes, to have him slip away between his fingers, to be forgotten, to drift away in the wind.

tomura's punches were mechanic, automatic, rhythmic as he moved, dealing continuous blows of the same force, and the packed crowd that had formed around him were hushed, gawking, the only sound echoing through the night being that of dull hits and cracking bones.

"....im tomura!"

his unforgiving assault continued, heart pumping liquid ivy, adrenaline coursing through his veins like a drug, eyes glazed over, void of light, face expressionless as your screams slowly permeated his trance.

"you're gonna kill him, tomura!" pleading, eyes bloodshot, slightly hesitating to touch him,"that's enough...please..." reaching for his raised fist, shaky hands enclosing around them, "let's go home..."

the cacophony of overlapping sirens sliced through the air like bullets as the crowd clamoured, scattering like flies, yet your stagnant positions remained. tomura's gaze raking over your tired eyes and puffy face, heart clenching. hands tightly woven together, you rose as a duet, crisp air lacing over his bloodied knuckles, nipping at your tear stained cheeks as you made your way to his car once more, settling into the warmed seats.

tomura was the first to break the otherwise wordless journey home, "he could've killed you." the statement was harsh, piercing, "i wouldn't know what to do if you were to die," focused on the road, tomura's grip tightened on the steering wheel as he let out an uncomfortable laugh, "i mean, i can barely sleep without you, let alone live without you..." trailing off, "...i think i'd be better off joining you.”

the sentiment was not lost on you, you knew he meant it, deeply at that, yet it pained you to no end. his words feeling like an open wound exposed to the elements, heart continuing to bleed for you in the wake of your betrayal.

you'd never experienced such life altering love in all your years, something so dizzying, intoxicating and intense, something so real and raw and beautiful, something you could almost...touch, something you didn't deserve.

tomura was the best thing that had ever happened to you, by far and...he now sat beside you solemn, hands bloodied and bruised, heart torn, trust broken, betrayed and trampled upon by the one he treasured most in this parasitic world.

clothing rustling against the leather seat as you shifted uncomfortably, "why didn't you call me ?" he questioned through a small sigh, tired words laced with defeat, disappointment. "...i wasn't in my right mind," you spoke, voice hoarse, eyes trained on your fingers placed in your lap, fiddling with a loosened thread of your skirt. "i was in a daze and i was frantic and i went to...wash him off of me in the bathroom right after and," speech pace speeding as you explained, "i was so fucking overwhelmed by everything and that's when i got your message and by the time i went downstairs you were already there and...now we're here..." exhaling softly through a shaky breath, "and i'm so sorry..."

the soft blow of the car heating was all you could hear, as tomura's mind spiralled, fingers reaching for his deck, putting the cigarette to his lips, lighting it. "you broke our agreement." it was a statement more than anything, just a voicing of his conflicting thoughts, expressed through a sigh after a long drag, yet you replied, "i know…im sorry”

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

knees buried in the soft carpeted floor, you tipped the rubbing alcohol onto the cotton, gently pushing it up against tomura's knuckles as you finished cleaning him up, barely earning a hiss from the man. eyes searching your face from his position above, observing the wrinkles in your forehead due to your furrowed brows, "what's on your mind, love ?"

stilling your movements, gaze lifting to meet his, white hair falling forward as he looked down at you, almost curtaining the rubies held within his eyes. words clogging, gulping harshly, breaking the stare for a moment before locking it in again, with the help of his hooked finger beneath your chin, a shaky breath escaping your parted lips, "c'mon, what's up ?"

"hurt me...p-please" begging, glassy eyed, voice breaking. tomura's tone remained calm at your pleads, almost as if he were expecting such a request, "why would you want me to do that ?"

eyes straining once more as tears threatened to well, speech quickening, "i...i betrayed you and i broke your trust and i let that guy touch me and i could've done more to stop it and i could've fought harder and i didn't tell you right after and—" vision clouding your eyelashes failed you as tears began to trail down your face again, chest rising and falling faster as you spoke, eyes darting around the place, "i— your pretty hands are scarred now because of me and...and...i deserve it."

nodding firmly at your own words, finally raising your gaze to meet his own, pleading, "please, take your frustrations out on me...it would make you feel better." eyes squinting, "it would make you feel better." he corrected, "it would." you confirmed.

rising from his perch on the sofa, extending a hand out to you, leading you to your joint chambers, tomura's lips met yours in a gentle embrace and as he moved to deepen it, you pulled away, eyes wide "w-what are you doing ?" confusion knitting your brows together.

"i forgive you," he stated firmly, "i think your guilt is punishment enough," tucking your loose hairs behind your ears, shifting your tendrils from your face, his hand rested on your cheek, thumbing it softly, "this...all of it, it wasn't your fault, you had no choice," he spoke, tone assertive yet tender, "you just need to forgive yourself now, yeah ? it's gonna be okay," setting a soft kiss on your lips, resting his forehead to yours "we're okay, we're together again like always, yeah ? just you and me, it'll be okay." the words were whispered, like a secret only to be shared between the two of you, something special to treasure as a pair.

leaning into him, crashing your lips together once more, you couldn't help the tears that fell, hoping to seal the taste of him in your soul, meld into him completely as his hand found the small of your back, pulling you in closer as he breathed you.

pulling away, "is this truly what you want right now?" he questioned, searching your face for any signs of discomfort, coming up empty as you nodded eagerly, whispering, pleading, begging, "make me feel like im yours again, tomura."

hovering over your nude laying form on the cushioned bed, clothes collectively discarded on the hardwood, safe for your undergarments, his lips met your cheek, trailing down your jaw slowly, slowly before meeting your neck. pushing his pillowy lips against your sensitive skin, mellow actions growing eager gradually as he continued, teeth softly grazing your skin as he sucked, making a mark, branding you as his own.

shame shrouded tomura's being, hanging heavy like a thunderous cloud, striking him in his core. his culpability was discernible in his mind, his constant turn-downs of your unofficial invitation gnawing at his insides. his presence all that would've been needed to prevent such a situation from taking place, to prevent such trauma, such pain, yet he withdrew the opportunity, and it haunted him like a vengeful ghost.

soft mewls fell from you as he worked, the nausea you'd associated with the actions earlier that night being reborn anew at the touch of your lover. hands gripping his arm, hips rutting, as he toyed with your most sensitive part through the fabric of your underwear.

finger hooking into the band, hand slipping underneath, finally making contact, a gasp falling from your lips at the act, tomura continued, sharp intakes of breath soon switching to a whines as he did so. drawing circles on your blossoming core, pulling away, he admired the flowery imprints he’d created on your neck as they deepened in shade.

lips meeting yours once more, finally slipping a digit into your warmth, taking the opportunity of your opened mouth to slip his tongue in as you moaned, slowly pumping you before doubling the dosage. lacing your hands into his hair, brows furrowing as tomura swallowed your tunes, meeting you with his own, kiss growing desperate as your hand found his clothed cock, slipping beneath the fabric, intending to alleviate the tension as you stroked, earning shaky groans from the man.

parting to hurriedly free yourselves from the threaded pieces of fabric, you met again, lips interlocked, his thumb pressed to the length of his cock, leisurely dragging it between your folds, as he rutted against you.

the strain was native as tomura slowly buried the head of his cock into your core, yet you couldn't help the need to paw at his shoulders, face contorting at the width and he gripped your wrist, "you can take it, princess," whispering, lips grazing yours as he spoke, inching deeper, soon bottoming out, "there we go."

stilling as you adjusted, tomura's mind itched for friction yet he remained stagnant as your lips crashed with fervour, treasuring the complete feeling of being slotted together once more, like missing pieces of a jigsaw, your core carved, his cock sculpted to couple.

his motions were slow at first, tender, pulling out at a grating pace before filling you once more, your hips moving to meet his, yet they harshened as he continued, pelvis soon snapping into yours, coarse strokes pummelling against that gentle pocket of nerves deep within you, leaving you in a choked daze. bodies rocking in tune with the bed springs, tomura's head buried in the crook of your neck, groans slipping into your ears, aiding the tightening knot nestling in your core as his thumb drew circles between your folds.

raising his head to meet your gaze, flushed cheeked and glossy lipped, heavy lidded eyes harbouring a fountain of lust, and you were enraptured by the view, his cologne almost permeating off him at the short proximity, intoxicatingly so.

mind dizzying as he observed your features, wanting to savour the expressions he pulled from you, clenching around him unwillingly at the sight, eyes squeezing shut in shame as your cheeks rosed, a smirk dawning his face in return, "you're taking me so well, baby." his voice raspy, a whine slipping from your lips, "such a good girl for me, aren't you ?" nodding eagerly at the question, "anything for you, master." through whimpers, and tomura smiled at the words, knowing you met it, all too deeply.

panting softly, the knot in your stomach tightening harshly as you squeezed around tomura once more, "can i—" cut off by a moan, hands fisting the fabric of the sheets, "cum on my cock, princess." back arching off the bed at the vulgar words with a mewl, tomura slipped his hand beneath, holding you, pumping you through your bliss, relishing in the way your muscles tensed, the way your eyes fell shut and the lazy open mouthed smile that rested on your lips.

"t-thank you," you pushed through a whine as the sensitivity set in, tomura's actions persisting as he chased his own high, pace becoming languid and jagged as it neared. hand flying to grip his wrist as he began to pull out, "w-wait..." pleading, "c-can you uh...inside..." cheeks burning as you spoke, voice timid, quiet.

tomura's brow quirking at the request, his silence only making you feel the need to explain further, "t-the love bites aren't enough..." you pushed, "i...i want to feel you from the inside..." eyes searching his face as you trailed off, a smile forming on his lips as he obliged, settling back in with the gentle words, "anything for you, my love." you smiled shyly in turn, knowing he meant it, all too deeply.

gummy walls tightening around the thick of his shaft, tomura's brows knitting together as the coil nestling at the pit of his stomach slowly came undone, hips staggering, painting your warmth with his pearly seed, inscribing the story of your shared love on your walls like a parietal painting.

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

the rushing water pooled at your feet, head tipped back as tomura's sudsy digits massaged your scalp gently, eyes falling shut as he moved the shower head over the length of your hair, keeping the soap from trailing down your face before raking conditioner through your locks with tender care, repeating.

your fingers moved through snowy locks as tomura reached for the shampoo bottle, taking a whiff, "it smells so…sweet," he commented, "one of the reasons i like it so much," you shrugged, "is it any good ?" he questioned, "you'll see for yourself when we're done," humming, he sniffed it once more, "i like it" slight confusion lacing your brows, "how so ? you haven't even seen the results yet," earning a shrug, "it smells like you," the words forming a sweet ball of golden light to glow within your chest, a smile dawning your face, "besides, your hair is always super soft anyway."

dried and clothed, tomura fingers combed through his hair in the reflection, "woah…" he spoke, "see ? this is why i keep telling you to quit buying the cheap stuff," gently poking a finger into his arm with a smile, he shrugged, "eh, it gets the job done but this...this is some fancy shit." laughing at his choice of wording, "yeah, sure it is, tomura." sarcasm laced within the words, earning a playful squinted glare in the reflection from the other.

"do you wanna do a face mask with me ?" holding up a small pot in one hand and a sealed packet in the other as tomura splashed water on his soapy features, patting his clean face dry as you continued, "a clay mask is drying and would probably irritate the areas around your lips and eyes but i think a sheet mask should be okay."

"and if it does irritate my skin ?" you squint, pointing as you talk, "it’s moisturising, so i have high hopes that it won't..." smiling as you trailed off, he shrugged, "sure then, go ahead."

perched at the edge of the bathtub, you took place between his knees, his hands placed on the backs of your thighs as you laid the serum doused sheet on his features, tugging it into place. entranced by your focus, tomura's heart swelling as his eyes raked over the soft lines of your face, the wet tendrils sticking to your forehead, the gentle curl of your pretty lashes and the plump lips he so dearly wanted to kiss again, "there we go." you piped, breaking tomura's daze, his eyes shifting to the mirror, "i look terrifying," he laughed, "you don't," you retort, "and don't laugh, you'll shift the placement of the mask," shrugging, arms held in surrender "whatever you say."

he observed intently as you swiped the clay on your face, "now we both look terrifying," you laughed, earning a tut, "no, you, you look cute." giggling at the words, "well, you think i look cute in anything." shrugging, "my point exactly."

tomura's chest warmed as you gently pressed the serum into his skin, the dried mask discarded on the counter not too long ago, fingers setting soft pats against the scarred flesh, careful not to agitate the wounds, "you haven't been scratching as much recently," you spoke, gaze dipping to his neck, reaching for the moisturiser you'd put on moments prior, gently massaging it into his skin, "the urge comes in waves sometimes," he shrugged, "still, im proud of you," a gentle smile gracing your lips as you uttered the words, tomura mirroring it, "all done!" you beamed, tomura pulling you down, setting a soft kiss to your lips, "now you're done." he corrected.

you soon found your tired bodies interlinked within fresh silk sheets, your head on tomura's chest as his fingers smoothed over your hair, the nostalgic cartoon playing in the background on the tv becoming white noise as your heavy lids fluttered shut, drifting into a hearty slumber within the safe confines of the arms of your lover.

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desparaic · 6 months ago

Text

To Kill My Melody - Muzan X Reader

In which, Muzan, despite having buried away his pathetic past as a human, pitifully clung unto his regret.

Read sequel here

TW: Angst, death, no beta we die like my motivation to finish my rengoku x reader

Having lived for 1000 years, Muzan have seen everything that Japan has to offer— the world, too, had he not been so obsessed with finding the blue spider lily which he is convinced can only grow on the soils of his motherland.

His mind is set on the future, the desire of perfection, to be free from the chains which have held him down for so long.

Yet there is one that he refuses to let go, no matter how much it wraps around his seven hearts so tightly.

The first thing that flashes in his mind when he thinks back to those old days was a melody that used to play every so often when he lied on his death bed, sick and frail. A melody that he secretly welcomed and longed for, though he kept this fact to himself. A melody that brings comfort and peace, even for just a moment.

The next thing he would think of would always be you.

You, who he was forced to wed.

You, who did not once complain about having a sick husband.

You, who tended to him so kindly and carefully, with a touch that made him feel human.

You, who would get upset when your friends whisper the possibility of you inheriting Kibutsuji fortune once your husband passes.

You, who he had not once acknowledge in his past sickly foolishness.

Every medicine you brought to be drank, every words you speak to soothe his sore muscles, he hurled it all away, cursed at you for your pitiful attempt to help him. How could you? You cannot save him from his impending death. You cannot even ease his pain. How useful could you possibly be?

Tea would be spilled, a flash of hurt could be seen as it scald the skin away, painting it red with pain. A downcast look would then replace the pained expression, wondering where you have done wrong this time.

And sometimes, just sometimes, in late evenings where the moon was nowhere to be seen, he can hear soft weeping and heart cracking. A melody (if he can even call such as one) which he would turn deaf ears on.

He would rather hear that old melody he grew to enjoy instead.

There were times, however, where Muzan didn’t find your presence as miserable as he normally would. Snarky remarks here and there, though he would not drive you away. Although he would never admit this, you would claim that his airy exhale, which he would let out at times when you managed to say something that amuses him, was akin to a laugh of sorts.

Laugh? Impossible. What is there to laugh when he would die before he reaches the age of 20?

Yet here you were, dreaming about the day where he would have enough strength to have a picnic with you in the garden, under the sunlight, sharing stories and eating sweets which you would prepare just for the occasion.

He scoffed at this whenever you dreamed of such impossibility. If he had those days, then he would never waste those times doing such mundane things.

How mindless, how slow, how naive you were indeed. And you are a noble lady, who used to win over the hearts of many men, chasing for your hand? What is there about you that is worth chasing?

He scoffed at your smile, he scoffed at your laugh. How dare you laugh at him when his face contorted with confusion as he tasted a sweet he had never seen before. How dare you tease him when he doesn’t know something you claim to be simple? Like taking care of a flower, or knowing what he picked from the lists of clothes would be an atrocious fashion disaster?

How foolish you were indeed, and Muzan knew it to be so when you had foolishly set out in an attempt to find some flowers just to cheer him up that one night.

He didn’t remember the details. Something about rain earlier in the day… the road muddy and slippery… weak footing… fall… fall.. fall…

THUMP!

Was that his heart? How can it be so? His heart, so weak and fragile, he could barely even sense it in his own body, thumping wildly against his chest when he heard the commotions outside his room, hearing servants shouting, “Get the doctor!” and “Someone help me carry her!”, but one among all that caught his attention, one that gave him strength to stand up, despite him not being able to do so earlier that morning…

No, he dare not repeat the words in his mind again.

When he stumbled into the room, crowded with servants, he saw you in such a terrible state. Kimono torn, limbs bloodied, face muddied.

He ordered, roared at the servants to get out. Only the doctor, that damned doctor who swore would cure his illness, whom he is convinced is nothing but a quack, remained to tend to you.

When he, too, left, there remain Muzan and you… and that melody ringing in his ears.

And here you were, smiling despite your state, repeating that same, foolish dream you had as always. Him, in a healthier body, a picnic, sunny day.

But you weren’t in that dream, you then claimed. You hoped, begged, pleaded, to have him find a better, more competent wife, to care for him, to bear him children which you could not do due to his sickened body, to live long lives with him.

You were foolish indeed. Foolish to throw that dream of yours down the ocean of despair so easily.

“More competent?” He scoffed, who is more competent than his current wife who commands the entire estate, taking over his duty as the head when he was unable to, caring for him despite his stubbornness, staying by his side despite his desire to push you away?

“Then,” you choked out, “In another life—”

No, not this nonsense. You will not leave him, you will not make him wait for a lifetime. You want that stupid picnic? Fine, he will have the servants to arrange that stupid picnic. You like sweets? He'll invite the finest chefs to make whatever sweets and other food you want. You want it to be sunny? How bothersome, it’s been raining a lot these days, but very well, he would find ways, even going to the corners of the earth, to strike down those clouds and drag that damned sun out.

For the first time in their lives as husband and wife, Muzan clinged to you to sleep. In that night, the melody he used to love hearing was soft and weak. Then he continued so the next night, and the night after that.

Until you passed in his arms.

How foolish, indeed. How dare you leave that dream of yours behind to forever haunt him? How dare you be so selfish to plague his weak heart with such foreign pain? How dare you curse him with those three words which he did not even get the chance to ever say before you slip away into eternal sleep?

And how foolish are his pathetic servants, trying to pry your body away from his arms. You were still warm, he refused to let anyone steal that warmth away. Not even death. He has faced death many times in his bed, he refused to acknowledge it, now he refused to acknowledge yours.

He refused to acknowledge the absence of that melody.

Then, when he felt that power coursed through his veins, the power to conquer his sickness and death, to bring humanity down to its knees, his first immediate thought is to share it with you— to bring you back to him, and—

cold were your body, cold were your touch.

Silence replaced the melody that he killed, all because he refused to acknowledge you.

That melody, your heartbeat. He now remembered those times in his sickly episodes, where his head rested against your chest, listening to that melody.

Now, he will be haunted by it for years to come.

How foolish was he, to push away that melody that had brightened his solemn world.

And now, 1000 years later, desperately, desperately, he awaits your promise about that another life.

Next part: To Hearken That Dreadful Silence

#muzan x reader #demon slayer #kny x reader #demon slayer muzan #kibutsuji muzan #kny muzan #muzan kibutsuji #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #muzan x you #muzan x y/n #kibutsuji kny #muzan kibutsuji x reader #muzan

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