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saerotonins · 11 months ago

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in a world full of boys, he's a gentleman

ft. nanami kento x fem!reader

— in which kento unintentionally proves how much of a husband material he is.

content warnings: fluff, smut, light angst, suggestive, making out, nanami kento being a certified hubby, fiancée!kento, weddings, mentions/implied slut-shaming, reader has horrible relatives, reader is described to be non-traditional, riding, p in v sex, creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, choking, hair pulling, curses still exist but nobody dies (yay!) and geto is mentally fine and a teacher at jujutsu tech <33, im so in love with him, some can be considered bare minimum and subtle but idc if he does it he's the standard, kento loves it when you're checking him out, just kento being a gentleman, kento is so in love with you, you you and you in his mind, reader is just as the same btw, corny ass vow (idk how to write one srry)

wc: 5591 (holy shit lol)

note: im!! so!! head!! over!! heels!!! with!! this!! man!! (it's really not that obvious, right?) he's so dreamy he deserves a lot of kissy kisses and a ticket to malaysia <33 also!! just realized this is my first piece for 2024 tehehe happy new year, everyone! 🎀🎆

best enjoyed with: slut! - taylor swift

that time when you both went out for a picnic

the sunset paints the sky with the most vibrant colors as you and kento bask in each other's presence and sit on a picnic blanket, surrounded by the quiet sways of the green grass, accompanied by some people who decided to hang out around the vicinity.

it's one of those days that kento is blessed by once in a blue moon break from being a jujutsu sorcerer. kendo's always grateful to have this kind of day because it would mean that his hands would spend their time stealing soft touches against your skin instead of fighting curses.

a faint clink can be heard when you and kento toast your glasses together, half filled with your favorite champagne. it's a tad bit sweet to kento's liking as he is not good with sweets, but he opted to bring it to your picnic instead of his favorite whiskey because he knows you love it.

kento watches you put your lips on the champagne flute and drink your sweet alcohol with glee. he takes a small sip from his as he stares at you with admiration.

satisfied with your drink, you set it aside on your coaster as you lean your head on kento's shoulders. "such a lovely day, isn't it?" you say while you close your eyes, soaking in the remaining rays of the sunshine before it sleeps, allowing the night to take over the sky.

kento hums in approval as he puts his free hand on your head, giving it gentle and loving pats as he rests his head against yours, but not before giving you a quick peck. "we should do this more often,"

"i agree; you should ditch gojo more and spend more time with me," you joked, and you heard your fiancée chuckle, "that wouldn't be so professional of me, darling," it's your turn to let out a chuckle.

"it's gojo; being professional is already out of the window."

"you're right, maybe i should," kento jested back.

the two of you just sat in comfortable silence until a slightly strong gust of wind blew in your direction. caught by the shock of it all, you close your eyes and hold your sundress down to avoid flashing the strangers. but before you could even do it, a strong pair of arms wrapped around you.

kento had covered you, so any speck of dust blown by the wind wouldn't be able to get into your eyes. your sundress is also held down by his knees between your legs. when you opened your eyes, you were greeted by your fiancée's face close to yours, assessing you. you suddenly feel your stomach tumble and fill with butterflies.

"are you okay? didn't get anything in your eyes?" he says gently, eyes observing you with worry. you give him a slight nod, "mhm, i'm fine kento, how about you?" kento answered with a hum as he tried to fix your dress and some parts of the picnic blanket that was slightly blown away by the wind.

"i think that's the cue for us to pack up, or do you want to stay for a while?" kento asks you while he starts to pack up some of your stuff into the picnic bag. "we should stay until the sun completely sets, it's a shame to leave while the sky looks pretty."

kento nods and finishes packing before he sits beside you, looking at the view. he then makes your head lean on his shoulders once again, his hands caressing the top of your head. "yeah, i agree, the sky looks pretty." he states.

he feels you nod and continues, "but you're prettier to look at," he says as he looks down at you and to his surprise, he meets your eyes on him. "i could say the same to you, kento," you say before capturing his lips against yours.

kento smiles on your lips before reciprocating your gesture, slightly tasting the remnants of your sweet champagne earlier.

and at that moment, he thought, it doesn't matter if his tongue tasted something so sweet, as long as it's from your lips.

that time when you went christmas shopping

the mall filled with bustling crowds is not a perfect way to spend time with your fiancée. but when this is the only time your schedules align to go for a last-minute shopping to buy gifts for your loved ones, you don't really have a choice.

kento especially noticed how much you were on edge today despite being excited to buy gifts for everyone especially his mentees. you weren't the type to enjoy a busy crowd, so he knows how to elevate your stress.

store after store, he gave you every opinion he had (that you asked for) ever so gently and thoroughly but not too much to overwhelm you since you're technically a ticking time bomb now. kento was attentive at every store you went to and immediately picked out gifts you thought were best to give. he stood up in the busy and long line as he let you sit on the lounge chair present in the store.

by the time you're done shopping, he carries all the bags and refuses to give you any (even the small ones). and when you insist, he gives you an offended look, telling you he can manage.

while you're walking to leave the mall, your stares don't go unnoticed by your fiancée as he sees you mindlessly gawking at his arms that flex every time he has to fix the bags while walking.

and that makes carrying your shopping bags even more worth it to him.

that time when you got drunk at a new year's party

gojo has set a new year's party that includes everyone in jujutsu tech in one of his vacation homes in japan. it was supposed to be a reasonably small party but this is gojo satoru we're talking about; he's going to be extra about anything and everything.

the party is semi-formal and requires everyone to dress up nicely. kento does not enjoy parties, but seeing you dress up in a pretty dress that enhances your assets makes him think that attending this event has benefits too.

the party wasn't uneventful per se, but despite the semi-formal wear that everyone was rocking, the event itself was casual. the house was filled with laughter and noise, mainly from the students and everyone else sharing stories and conversing. an hour or two into the party, you and kento decided to part ways as you go on your way to interact with gojo, geto, and shoko.

kento trusted you enough to be alone with them so he opted to talk with some of his colleagues whose presence calms him (obviously not gojo). he spent his time talking with higuruma, sharing ideals and mundane stuff they both enjoyed doing. it was a calming conversation for both men, who wanted peace and tranquility.

"there's this store that sells rare vintage vinyl; i think you'll love to shop there," higuruma suggests as they talk about collecting vinyl, a hobby they share. kento was about to reply, but even before he opened his mouth, he heard a very loud—

"nanamin!" which made both men turn their heads in the direction where the sound came from.

the voice no doubt belonged to itadori, his face painted with concern as he rushed to kento's area. "what is it itadori?" he asked the young man the moment he arrived while panting.

"your wife! she's—" before itadori can even finish his sentence, kento's already sprinting to where you are, itadori following suit.

kento doesn't need to know what he needs to say; the worry on itadori's face, accompanied by your name, is enough for him to look for you.

turns out you're drunk of your mind.

when kento arrives in gojo's kitchen, it's just you and him having a very drunk and heated argument about whether cereal or milk comes first.

"no! that's so stupid, cereal should come first, think about it you stupid idiot, if you pour milk first, you'll miss the chance to fill the bowl with so much cereal!" your fiancée sees you standing on gojo's kitchen island alongside him, slurring your words as you sway the glass of wine in the air, threateningly spilling as you keep on moving.

gojo scoffs at your argument, "maybe t'was the point! it's all about ratio, how else can you enjoy cereal when there's too much cereal and little room for milk!" he barks back, holding a—

is that a massive cup of sunrise tequila? no wonder he got so drunk, kento thought as he sighed.

"there's no such thing as ratio for you, gojo! you're the same person who adds too much pineapple on pizza that it becomes disgusting!" you shouted at gojo's face as you continuously pointed at his chest with your index finger.

across the kitchen island stood geto and shoko with unamused faces, looking like they were just waiting for everything to die down on its own. kento sighs and asks them, "did they have an alcohol-drinking battle again?" and all they reply is a solid nod.

"gojo got too competitive and drank that sweet poison, which led to this... argument," shoko adds, looking at both you and gojo incredulously. "they immediately started gulping down the alcoholic drinks right after midnight," geto said, a chuckle threatening to leave his lips.

"please help me break them up," your fiancée kindly pleads to geto and shoko. they immediately showed empathy to their former junior and decided to hold gojo back together while kento held onto you.

it took almost half an hour to break you and gojo apart, not to mention the commotion and your silly drunk discussions that blew out of proportion because the both of you are just so passionate and no one would back down without a fight. after successfully separating the two of you, kento immediately guided you away from the party and to your car, not without leaving shy goodbyes to the people he would face along the way.

the drive back home was thankfully not chaotic, but it was definitely filled with your drunken chatter as you slur words kento can barely make out.

getting you to your shared home was relatively easy; you were patient enough to let kento walk you off to the front door and remove your heels before gently placing you on the couch.

he was about to let go and grab some water until you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to your face; kento felt his heart race. "hey there," you whispered against his lips, distance threateningly close.

kento could smell the alcohol on your breath, probably a mixture of beer, wine, and then some. still, he couldn't bring himself to care when he knew your lips would probably taste slightly sweet. "have you ever been this handsome, kento?" you ask, your voice dripping honey despite being out of your mind, trapped in your own drunken bubble.

"maybe that's just the alcohol's doing, darling," he jokes.

"no no, i think i already saw this face years ago."

"really?"

"really. you look even more handsome now, you should give me a kiss," you say as you pucker your lips, slowly leaning towards his.

kento couldn't even say no even if he didn't want to (not that he will ever not want to kiss you). he decides to give you a swift peck just to entertain your shenanigans, but when he is about to let go, you deepen your kiss, tightening your wrap on his neck, forcing him to lean forward and straddle you with one of his thighs digging on the couch.

he can taste the red wine you had recently drunk, and he's confident he can get drunk with your lips alone. kento's mind went hazy as he moved against your lips languidly, letting himself drown in your kiss. he wanted this to last longer, even take it further, but alas, kento has always been a man of self-control, so he lets go of you, not before giving you one last kiss on the forehead before heading to the kitchen.

the whole night, kento tends to your every need that you couldn't do. he had prepared you a warm bath, removed your makeup, and did your skincare for you that he knows at the back of his hand. he had lathered you up with your favorite lotion, dried your hair (not without a fight since your drunk self found the hair dryer too loud), and kissed you good night before tucking you to bed, leaving a pack of aspirin and a water bottle on your nightstand before sleeping.

the morning after, you woke up to the smell of your favorite soup and your fiancée insisting on feeding you even though you told him you could manage.

you make sure to pay him back really well that same day.

that time when you attended a family reunion

it's always this dreaded day you always wanted to avoid but couldn't.

you would rather stay home with kento rather than attend a gathering that will just piss you off, but your mom had pleaded with you to come— "so that they won't gossip about you," she said.

you know that's a lie; whether or not you attend, they'll always find a way to talk about you anyway; there's no winning. but since you wouldn't want to let your mother down, you suck it up and prepare for it regardless.

what makes you nervous is that this is the first time Kento has come along— or more like you let him come along.

you had heard complaints from your relatives about not meeting kento when he was still your boyfriend, and now that you're engaged, you should've at least let them meet him. you begrudgingly agreed, but it doesn't mean you're not nervous.

your relatives have been annoying throughout your life, always meddling with things they shouldn't even care about.

it always started with asking about your weight change, school activities, grades, chosen course, and relationships, not to mention the ever-so "you should do better" undertone in all aspects of your life. and for some reason, always making you feel small is included in their mandatory list to piss you off.

you know that once you let them meet your now fiancée, they would bombard him with questions and annoy you and him for the rest of the day. you only keep up with the tradition because your mother is too kind to tell them off, laughing awkwardly when they berate you and always giving you a silent apology through her eyes.

it wasn't her fault; you just wish she'd shut them off.

kento had noticed your change of behavior ever since this morning while preparing in your home. you had been silent and spacing out, only replying when he had finally snapped you out of your daze. he doesn't know what the deal was with your relatives, but all he knows is that your mood drastically changes whenever they're involved in the conversation, and that's enough for him to tell you that they're not really good news.

"are you sure you want to go, honey? we can always drive back home," kento said with worry, cutting through the thick tension in the car. "it's fine; I can handle it; we're almost there anyway. it would be a waste if we turn around," you tell him with a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

Kento replied with a small smile, taking your hand to his face and kissing your knuckles, "just know that i'll always be there, alright?"

you nod, feeling slightly relieved, before looking out the window to drink in the scenery as you pass by.

it turns out you can't handle it.

you thought your relatives would be a little tamer because you have someone over, but you were totally wrong.

ever since you both arrived, your aunties had surrounded kento and bombarded him with questions. from his age, degree, university he graduated from, where you met, wedding date, monthly income (which is incredibly embarrassing), to how many children he plans to have.

most of it wasn't a problem, but your blood boiled the moment they asked about what he saw from you.

this would've been such a sentimental moment if it weren't for your auntie's sarcastic tone, as if the question was meant to belittle you, to make you feel like you're not worthy of him.

when kento was about to open his mouth just to pour out how much he loves you and how he's lucky to have you, one of your aunties butt in with their loud mouth.

"well, she isn't really a traditional partner isn't she?" she said, a smug smile forming on her ugly and wrinkly face. "yeah, i mean, i assume with a fine man like you wouldn't be attracted to someone like her," another one added.

kento clenches his fists as he felt fury fire inside of him. how dare they think about you like this and talk about you like this, like you weren't just in front of him, seething in pain and anger.

he was about to give a proper and calm response when your uncle had spoken, "besides, she dresses like a... you know," then an ugly cackle. "a what?" your auntie had joined, taunting him to say the word.

"oh, you know, like a sl-"

that was the final nail in the coffin. his words are cut off when kento angrily smashes both palms on the table, seemingly angry, forming an angry red aura you have never seen. "i've had enough," he started, while all eyes are on him, including yours.

"i will not allow any single one of you to disrespect my wife any longer. i will not tolerate your old and immature ways of talking about her. i've been patient enough, but this bullshit is something I will not allow," kento's vulgar choice of words has made everyone's eyes at the table grow wide, shocked.

"i would say this respectfully, but you guys weren't to my wife either, so please, i'll say this once," he inhales, trying to calm himself down.

"fuck off," kento declares before taking your hand and exiting the venue.

during the walk to the car, he had been slowly calming himself down. once you reach it, kento holds your face gently, "i'm sorry for the outburst there; i just couldn't stand them disrespecting you any longer, so I had to." he says before putting a gentle yet quite long kiss on your forehead.

once he lets go, he sees your face. your eyes had been filled with tears, and it broke his heart. "that's fine, i've been wanting to tell them to fuck off for years anyway. if anything, i should thank you," a smile spread through kento's face before opening the car door to let you in.

once the both of you are finally settled in your seat, you ask, "by the way, I just noticed you called me your wife; what was that all about?" you ask him out of curiosity. he knows you're happy about that based on how happy your voice sounded when you asked him.

"i'm just so sure you'll end up with that title anyway, unless you're having cold feet?"

"oh god, no! i'm just touched, 's all," you shrugged as you settled in your seat, a smile stretched across your face.

kento chuckles and leans forward to kiss your cheek before starting the engine and driving off.

your mom visited you and kento later that week, saying she was happy she was finally not invited to the next reunion. she then made you your favorite dishes as an apology for that day.

you don't mind what gossip they would come up with next, not when you have the kind of man kento is.

their little toxic gossip train had nothing compared to the love that kento gives you every single day anyway.

that time when you asked him to be rough

the night is still young and cold but kento does know how to make it hot.

his hands fumble the plush ass as you keep on taking his cock, sloppily riding him as you let your hips and thighs do the work. your cunt meticulously takes all of him, molding your walls just like it was made for him. "hah, faster darling, please," kento pleads, voice broken and desperate for release.

his calloused hands caress your body gently like you are someone sacred, a figure that shouldn't be harshly touched or you'll be condemned, the same hands that used to exorcise and kill curses without a single thought. and yet with you, he carefully carries them lightly, holding onto your waist, not too tight enough to leave you in pain.

you feel your stomach tie into a knot, slowly feeling yourself come to a climax, "shit, kento, you're so big, mngh, make me feel so full," you say through gritted teeth, further speeding up your pace. the sound of your thighs slamming against his echoes through your bedroom, accompanied by your ragged breaths and kento's broken moans of pleasure.

your fiancée's hands then find their place back on your ass, squeezing it tight, but not too much, guiding you to bounce on his cock more as he feels himself closer. "s'good for me, yeah? taking me like a good girl?" kento looks at your eyes lovingly, his brown orbs touching your soul. you nod, not finding the words to say, mind too hazy to answer as you keep on taking his dick, taking him in like you always do.

"yes, oh god, yes, kento— please, inside— me," were the only words you managed to let out as your movements kept on getting sloppier and sloppier each moment passed by. he knew what it meant, and who he to deny such a polite request?

kento let himself release inside of you with a groan, making sure every drop of his cum is given to you.

your pants envelope the room as you both try and catch your breaths— then a beat of silence.

you take kento's face in the palm of your hands and caress his cheek, "you know, i sometimes wish you could be rough," you say as you observe his sexed stupor, "i occasionally get rough on you, don't i?" he asks, eyebrows raised with confusion.

"no, like i mean, rough rough," you emphasize, "you're always so gentle. you don't think i can handle you?" faux sadness evident in your voice, one that your fiancée can never say no to, not when you're asking this nicely. "oh darling, i'm sorry, i will do it next time," he coos, fixing the loose strands on your hair by tucking them behind your ear.

"we can do it now?" you suggest, making the corner of kento's lips perk up, "oh? you sure you can handle it?"

"i know i can handle it," you say as your voice rang with confidence.

you knew kento had it in him to be rough, but good god, you never expected him to be this good.

he had given you a more than good fucking, which leads you drooling on your sheets, with your back arched, ass up, and your hands held behind by kento as he drills his cock into your sopping cunt. his hands left prints on your ass and thighs, which left a delicious burn on your skin. "want to take my babies, don't you?" kento says as his hips meet your asscheeks.

"mnghh, yes, daddy! full— 'f your babies!" that was enough for him to unload himself inside of you, burying himself deeper to make sure you'll take all of it before he pulls out.

you were about to sit up, panting, when you felt kento's large hands wrap around your neck from behind, squeezing it while the other was pulling your hair.

"who said i was done with you, pretty?" the deep timbre of his voice went straight to your pussy.

this side of your fiancée is undoubtedly a pleasant surprise.

the following day, though, you were treated again like a queen, a bath ready for you by the time you woke up, surrounded with fresh flower petals that he had taken the time to buy from your nearest flower shop, and your favorite candle burning alongside your bath products. kento also insisted on giving you a full body massage to ease any tension and muscle ache.

you asked for it anyway, but you also don't mind this kind of treatment from him every now and then.

that time when you had a cold

you woke up feeling like absolute shit.

you don't know when or why it happened; it just did.

your head was throbbing the moment you opened your eyes, squinting at the sun rays that peeked through your windows. your body felt heavier than usual, and your shoulders felt sore. kento had taken notice of this as soon as he woke up, tending to your every need.

it pains your fiancée to see you in such a state, voice hoarse, your sniffles meet with a crumpled-up tissue near your nightstand, a mucus-filled cough every now and then, and an occasional "my throat hurts" whenever you speak. you had begged him to bring you some slightly cold water along with your food because lukewarm water doesn't hit just the same. but being the ever-responsible adult that kento is, he says no, leaving you sulking as you begrudgingly eat your food with a frown.

taking your medicine, though, is a different kind of task.

you stall every single time, finding it hard (or hating) to swallow the pills. even more so if he gave you water with a dissolved effervescent tablet, claiming it's too gross to drink, even if it doesn't really have any flavor. whenever you're sick, this is always the obstacle he has to face.

"please give me some juice or candy kento; it'll help when i drink the medicine," you begged, adding a touch of cooing pleases to make him say yes.

"i think the sweets you ate are what led you this way, darling," he says, which practically means no.

a pattern he noticed is that whenever you eat too much salt or sweets without drinking the right amount of water, it always leads to you getting this sick. "it'll just be a little sip, please? baby?" you had finally hit a new low, busting out the occasional nickname when you need something from him.

"you're a big girl, honey; you can drink this. here, i'll cover your nose for you," at this point, you just let him do it; there's no way you'll be able to convince him. you reluctantly nod and decide to drink the medicine instead.

kento pinched the sides of your nose together, effectively covering the smell, or lack thereof (he doesn't even know why he covers your nose, he just knows you'll take it if you don't smell anything). your face scrunched as your tastebuds are met with an unfamiliar and unwelcome taste, but you drink it anyway, your throat desperately chugging it so you can be done with it right away.

once you felt that you had finally consumed all of the medicine, you immediately let go of kento's hold on your nose, quickly reaching out to the glass of lukewarm water on your nightstand. after you drink enough to allow the aftertaste of the medicine to go, you place it back and let yourself lie in bed.

"i'll prepare you dinner, and i'll be back, alright?" kento takes away your glasses and places them on the tray he had brought them with. he was about to leave the room when he felt you tugging on his shirt "hm? do you need something?"

you shake your head, "no, just... thank you,"

a small smile spread on his face, your fiancée takes his free hand on your head and gently ruffles your hair, "this is nothing to thank about darling, i'm just doing my job," he bends down and gingerly places a long kiss on your forehead, "i love you, get some rest."

you nod, but not before giving him a small smile back.

that night after you had eaten your dinner and drank your medicine (albeit hesitantly), you spent the night with kento caging you in his firm, warm arms.

you feel yourself get better by then.

that time when you got married

when you walked down the aisle, kento looked at you like you had hung the stars for him. his eyes sparkle as he sees you wearing the gown you've been working on for months; even kento himself can't believe he's seeing an angel.

is this what heaven is? is this a dream? are you even real? how lucky is he to be with someone like you?

kento always believed you're out of his league, someone out of reach, and like the stars from the sky, the only way to capture your beauty is through his eyes. but he couldn't believe that the universe was on his side, fate working its way to make him yours, and he happily obliged.

cupid had shot him through the heart, and you stole it, and he can't even be mad at it. he'd happily give you all of him at the snap of your fingers. let himself be bare to you; let himself mesh with you. your soul, senses, beliefs, and love clouded onto him.

he consumes every single aspect of you within him, lovers stitched together by fate that no one can even cut.

kento sees himself becoming one with you, so he will never regret the time he got on his knees to present you with the prettiest ring he could ever find, but nothing can compare to the beauty you carry, not even this ring.

when you accept him with a delighted "yes," kento swears he's the luckiest man alive ever, blessed by your whole being.

so when you finally reach his side, everyone becomes a blur, his eyes focused on you the whole time, soaking in your beauty; he can't believe this is the face he's going to see every morning for the rest of his life.

"hey handsome, you look great," you say, holding kento's hand. "i could say the same to you, pretty," he replies, and he had to stop himself from kissing you right there and then.

and comes with the exchange of vows; kento feels slightly nervous but proud because he gets to declare his love for you in front of the people you both cherish most.

he clears his throat before opening up the letter in his hands and looks at you with such love and contentment.

"to the person who helped me see love in your form,

you've always painted colors on my blank canvas, and i cannot thank you enough. you shed light when i'm in my darkest days, have been with me through my stormy nights, and share my gloomy days.

you have been the compass to my lost soul, guiding me to the destination i know as love. you give harmony to my life as your laughter always brings music to my ears; your voice reminds me that you're here with me. you had composed the greatest symphony that sang its way to my heart, making me bare my soul, something that i will never regret," kento pauses, his voice croaked, words stuck in his throat as he tries to stop his tears from spilling. he fails to hear the audience coo in awe, focusing on you.

he continues, "loving you became my eternal pursuit, my garden whose roots are planted deeper than the sea where my endearment continues to blossom.

every step with you feels like a dance, one that i will not get tired of swaying my heart with. your hands had made a map of my body and soul, imprinted the images of love one couldn't see, and only i could feel.

and the only time i get to call something home, i stare into the deep abyss of your eyes and see myself tangled with you.

with you, i am willing to get even our souls intertwined, dancing through life as we face the uncertainty together, with love ink deep within my veins.

to my anchor, my only solace, the only anthem my heart will forever sing,

i hope the warmth of your arms will forever embrace me, even after death." the attempt to keep his tears falling fails, so does the audience, and so did you.

your eyes filled with tears, but one that's full of love. your heart feels so full that it's threatening to spill out of you. you love kento so much that it hurts; it aches to the core that someone could ever love you this much.

and you're forever thankful.

that day, your promises to each other are officially sealed with a kiss so intense and wedding bands that even evil couldn't break, that no trespassers shall get into and rip your bond away.

when kento's lips met yours, it was soft, it was warm, it was sweet, it was comforting.

finally, your husband thinks.

that day sealed the chapter to your newfound forever.

another note: i'm not so proud of the vows i made but i hope it captured kento enough lol srry 😭

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 days ago

Text

Death Wish 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

There’s no casket for the funeral. In this neighbourhood, that’s expected. After the usual affair at the church, all are invited back to the house to pay their respects. You put the only picture you have of your father on the mantel; his wedding photo.

You dress in black but not for your father. You’re mourning your sisters. Yourself. You dress in sombre slate for the uncertainty of it all. The colour is as dark as your guilt. You brought this fear upon them.

You didn’t think about any of this. Barnes was entirely right in that regard. You didn’t think any of it out. You weren’t thinking at all. You were angry and tired. Now, it’s done and there’s no going back to what was. You don’t truly want to do that but you don’t see a path ahead that’s much better.

The people there are there because it’s expected. They are your father’s associates. Not family or friends. Funerals are part of their job description.

You walk numbly from room to room. You haven’t cried. You haven’t had a tear for your father in years. You try to make yourself look distraught but all you feel is empty.

Adrienne sways between bouts of bawling and soft sniffles. Kitty is stronger. She busies herself with the flowers and thanks every guest for attending. You accept their condolences but offer little in return.

You’re all just pretending. You’re acting like you’ll miss him. You won’t. Even if your sisters are stunned and just as scared as you, you know they aren’t sad. You all wished for this the very night before the envelope showed up. The night that you... killed him.

You sit in one of the mismatched chairs set out to accommodate the guests. The neighbours lent some of their own for the event. You are worn through. You haven’t slept more than an hour at a time since you pulled that trigger.

You won’t tell yourself it’s regret, you were never more certain of anything in your life. No, you know exactly what it is. Dread. You have a debt to pay.

A figure appears in the open door. You see him through the archway of the front room. You stand as the new arrival stops just within the frame. A slow hush rolls over each guest. You look at Kitty as she glances over from the tray of cookies she spent all night making. She sees him too.

Your older sister goes to Adrienne and touches her shoulder. The youngest lifts her head and peers up as all attention aims at the arched doorway. Barnes fills it easily. He looks around. His suit seems blacker than usual.

It isn’t a surprise. He’s the boss. He’s expected to see his men off. He nods at you, then your sisters. You go to them, standing with Kitty behind the sofa as she keeps her hand on Adrienne.

“Please,” Barnes waves your younger sister from standing. “Stay. I’m sure it’s been a long day. I’ve only come to pay my respects.”

He looks between you all then sidesteps the couch. He goes to the mantle and considers the wedding photo. He bows his head and reaches into his jacket. He sets a silver coin in front of the frame. It’s an old tradition. Back in the 30s, people would leave pennies on the church altar to help pay for the burial.

He takes a deep breath and backs up. He turns to face the room. The people in it might be familiar but they are just as much strangers to you as someone on the street. They don’t care about you, they don’t even care about your father. They’re only there because that’s what you do.

“Thank you all for coming. You may go,” Barnes says.

There’s a moment of hesitation. Then, the men in suits and their wives, shuffle out obediently. Kitty grabs her hand and squeezes Adrienne’s shoulder. You watch the man they call the king.

When the room is empty, he goes to shut the front door. He returns and stands just inside the archway. He peers around again.

“Your father died as one of mine, that means you’re all under my protection. Consider the casket paid for,” he says.

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes,” Kitty says. “That’s very generous.”

“I do it for all my men. I try not to lose too many,” he replies grimly. “I want you girls to tell me if you need anything. Got it?”

Adrienne smothers a sob and nods frantically. Kitty hushes her and leans in to pet her head. You stand staunchly beside them, staring at him. His eyes cling to you.

“Catch your breath, doll,” Barnes says. “Calm her down.” He points at Kitty then you, “Your daddy got a gun safe?”

You look at your sisters. You can see the glisten in Kitty’s eyes. She’s good at taking care of people. You’re not. Adrienne needs her. You did this. You gotta deal with it.

“Yeah, upstairs,” you answer as you step around the couch.

Barnes waits until you’re level with him before he turns. He lets you lead him out and follows you to the second floor. You take him to your father’s bedroom and push the door open. You can’t go inside. You were never allowed. Not unless you wanted a taste of your father’s belt.

“I don’t know the code,” you say.

“That’s fine. Just needa know it’s here. I’ll have my men sort that out,” he rocks on his feet. “We needa talk.”

You nod.

“Privately,” he glances over at the staircase.

You look at your father’s door and take a step back, “not in there.”

“Right, wherever you like,” he shows his palm indifferently.

You turn and guide him to your room. You pause before you let him inside. You’re embarrassed as he enters. Your basket of laundry is overflowing and your makeup is still strewn all over from your erratic morning.

He paces around your bed and you shut the door. He’s quiet. So are you. The tension is enough to make you squirm. You just want him to come out and say it.

“It’s me. I owe you. Not my sisters--”

He raises his index finger. “You do.” He stops and faces you. “And so did your daddy. He had his hands in my pockets. Deep. I coulda had him done for that. Coulda done it myself. Then I thought about it. I do that, I brand him a thief, and what does that mean for his girls?”

You stare at him, chest aching as your heart pounds.

“The house and what he actually brought in, it isn’t close to even with what he took,” he crosses his arms, setting his feet flat. He lifts his chin. “I really shoulda done it myself but you wanna know why I didn’t?”

You can’t talk. He’s toying with you. You look down at the floor as if you might see your sisters through the boards.

“Ah, eyes up here,” he comes closer until he’s right in front of you. Your eyes flick up and wet with tears. Finally. “I wanted to know if you would do what needs to be done. If when the hammer comes down, that you won’t crack.” His eyes flick up and down and he sucks his teeth. “You didn't. You didn’t fucking flinch either.”

“He deserved it,” you whisper, voice wobbling.

“I know he did, doll. And I know you deserved to do that,” he says. “And what I saw that night, I never seen that before. That’s a woman with steel in her gut. The kinda woman a man like me needs.”

Your forehead creases in confusion. You don’t know what he means.

“You want me to... take over for my dad? I can’t--”

“Ha, no, no,” he startles you as he brings his hand up. You flinch and he keeps his hand aloft. His eyes spark and he tilts his palm, gently caressing your cheek as if coaxing a street cat. “This isn’t woman’s work. No, doll, all I want, is you.”

Your eyes round and you shiver against his touch. He smirks.

“And I know, just like in that warehouse, you’re going to do exactly what needs to be done,” his thumb strokes your cheekbone. “For your sisters.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #death wish #series #drabble #mob au #au #winter soldier #captain america #avengers #marvel #mcu

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tomriddleslovergirl · 5 months ago

Text

The Cannibal Prince

Pairing: Vampire!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

Includes: nipple play, kissing, non-consensual vampire turning (Including a kiss), biting, side character death

Word count: 2.3k

Summary: You marry Prince Aemond, and he reveals another Targaryen wedding tradition that many aren't privy to.

It was fortunately windy at Dragonstone — a delightful contrast to that of King’s Landing.

You wore one of your Dornish gowns, showing off quite a bit of your skin. You hadn’t really gotten into the fashion at King’s Landing. It was so terribly hot there and your gowns from back home gave you a delightful reprieve.

You stood outside. You had first come out to watch the waves lick at the big rocks, but your thoughts soon drifted off to Aemond Targaryen — Your betrothed.

You had brief interactions with the man. Once, when you first arrived at King’s Landing. You had eaten dinner with Prince Aemond, along with the rest of his family. It had been a tense first meeting for you. Queen Alicent was the one carrying the conversation, with Otto asking questions about Dorne here and there.

Though you were not Dornish royalty like the Martell’s, your house is a great one.

You had noticed Queen Alicent lowering her gaze to your dress a few times over dinner before looking back at you with a fake smile. You think she didn’t like your dress.

Aegon, though, scared you. He would not take his eyes off of you during the feast and would speak of how you were too pretty for his cripple brother. You noticed that Prince Aemond had tensed at that, his fingers tightening around his cutlery. You hadn’t spoken out in defense of Aemond — just gave Aegon a faux smile, hoping he didn’t notice how uncomfortable you were. You think he did.

You had heard rumors about the Targaryens. Of how their serving girls were disappearing at an alarming rate, about Prince Aegon’s sexual debauchery, that your betrothed was not missing an eye at all, and that when he had his eye cut out, it had come back! That you did not believe, it simply wasn’t possible.

You shivered from the cold Dragonstone air, and like he knew you were thinking of him, a voice spoke out from behind you. “Cold, My Lady?”

You turned around, your golden dress moving with you. There stood Aemond Targaryen, a few feet away from you. His hands were clasped behind his back and his long white hair looked slightly unkempt because of the winds.

You bowed, before looking back up at him. “Nothing I can’t handle, My Prince.”

You were proven wrong as the wind beat at you, forcing you to squint.

Aemond wrinkled his nose, like he had smelt something he didn’t like before getting his expression under control and clenching his jaw.

“It is getting quite late, betrothed. Would you allow me the honor of walking you back to your chambers?” Aemond asked.

Your eyes widen slightly at the request, but you nod anyway. “Of course, My Prince.”

You both walked back into the Castle, a quiet overtaking you both. You had hoped Aemond would have offered you his arm, but he hadn’t, and this was the longest time you two had spent together, so you contented yourself with that.

Your eyes gazed at all the dragon furniture and you were reminded of Princess Rhaenyra.

You had been surprised when you found out that you’d be marrying Aemond here, as you had heard that Rhaenyra had left for Dragonstone because she couldn’t stand the Hightowers and their children anymore. Perhaps she had a change of mind.

You and Aemond reached your chamber door. There were dragons carved into the wood, their long, lithe bodies stretched out on it.

You opened the door and stepped in, turning to look at Aemond. “Would you like to come in, My Prince?” It was a courtesy, of course. If you and your betrothed were both caught alone together, it would be quite the scandal.

Aemond looked at you, scrutinizing your body as his eyes traveled down the length of your body. He stared at the exposed area of your neck before forcing himself to look back at you, his jaw ticking.

“Perhaps after our marriage ceremony.” With that, Aemond gave a curt bow, mumbling “My Lady,” before turning around and leaving — presumably to his own chambers.

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words and shut the door. You hadn’t expected Aemond to say such a thing — maybe his brother, but not him!

Your handmaidens helped you get dressed for bed and you couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth in your stomach.

As you lay in bed, listening to the sound of the sea — you had insisted to keep the shutters of the window nearest your bed open and one of your handmaidens reluctantly did so, lecturing you about how it would be a terrible thing if you got sick the night before your wedding — your thoughts drifted back to Aemond. You wish he had come into your chambers.

The next morning, you had awoken to terrible news. One of your handmaidens — Aimya — was dead. Her corpse was found in one of the halls. Your handmaidens said that Otto Hightower claimed that given the girl’s pale skin, she must have picked up a sickness. They weren’t allowed to see the body and had no confirmation that this was true.

You had hoped the marriage ceremony would be canceled because of this, but of course, nobody cared for the death of a random dornish girl. Nobody except for you and the other handmaidens.

Over the years, you had all become very close to each other, and her death was like a ship wrecking when it was close to land. The night before your wedding! If you didn’t know any better, you would have taken her death as a warning.

Your handmaiden — Brise, a woman a few years older than you with a sharp face — leads you to your vanity and has you strip out of your nightgown. Your other handmaiden — Miana, a young girl with rosy cheeks — untangling your hair with a shaky hand as you sat atop your vanity stool, naked and shivering.

Brise shut the window before grabbing your wedding robes. After Miana was done, you stood up, facing the older woman. She held the traditional Targaryen wedding robes.

How disappointing. You had always thought your wedding would be an extravagant thing, but it seems not.

“Aimya seemed fine. I-I didn’t think…” Miana broke out into a sob.

Brise shook her head as she helped you into your clothing. “I don’t trust these Targaryens,” she said the name with such disdain that you couldn’t help but look at her surprised.

“That is my betrothed’s family you are speaking about,” you say as Brise finishes tying the front of the robe.

Miana grabbed the headpiece, but was shaking so much that Brise grabbed it out of the young girl's hands and placed it atop your head instead.

“My apologies, My Lady.” But you knew Brise, and you knew she wasn’t sorry at all. You decide not to dwell on it and begin your trip out of the castle.

You stand face to face with Aemond, your expression one of pain as he cuts into your palm. You bite into your covered bottom lip to silence any sound of pain that would try to leave you.

Aemond’s own hand is bloody, as you had cut into it first and you can feel it on your palm as you press it against his. The blood doesn’t do much to hide the lack of warmth in his body, but you brush it off to it just being a reaction to the cold of the Island that is Dragonstone.

An older man wraps a cloth around your hands and you watch as your blood — now mixed with Aemond’s — drips into the cup. You hear the man say some words in Valyrian, but you don’t understand any of it.

Soon, you are drinking out of the chalice. You take a small sip, the heavy taste of copper now on your tongue. You hand it over to Aemond, and he holds your gaze as he drinks the rest of your shared blood.

Then, you both kiss. It’s a quick thing, and you are aware of the eyes of Aemond’s family watching you.

Hours later, you are in Aemond’s chambers. You suppose you’ll be returning to King's Landing very soon.

You sit on the edge of his bed, anxiously fiddling with your fingers as Aemond walks over to you.

Gently, he takes off your headpiece and places it on the side table. Using one cold finger, Aemond places it under your chin, forcing you to look into his purple eye.

You’re captivated. You are sure you will never in your lifetime see anyone that looks like Aemond. Sure, they others have purple eyes, and white hair. But Aemond is unique, with his sharp features, and one eye.

“There is no need to be nervous,” Aemond reassured you. His fingers trail down your neck, to your pulse, gently pressing them there. “Wife.”

You watch as Aemond takes in a sharp breath at the feeling of you, and he quickly pulls his hand away.

Your husband sits down on the bed next to you.

“We need not do this tonight if you don’t wish for it,” he says, surprising you.

You shake your head, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you speak, “No.. I want to, Husband.”

Aemond lets out a harsh breath out of his nose and nods. “Very well.”

Gently, Aemond reached out, cupping your cheek and forcing you to look at him. He presses his lips to yours, and for some reason he still tastes of copper.

His hands find their way to the ties of your robe and undo them. He pulls away from your lips and pushes down your clothing, leaving it on the floor.

Aemond looks down at you, and you feel your nipples harden very quickly.

Gently, Aemond pushes you down on the bed, so that you are laying with your back flat against it, your head resting on one of the soft pillows.

He rests one of his hands on your hips, and the other — the scarred one — trails down to your breasts. Aemond presses his palm atop the left side of your chest, almost like he’s trying to feel your heartbeat. When he’s satisfied, Aemond brings his fingers to your nipples. He tugs on your nub and you let out a soft gasp.

His attention is instantly brought back to your mouth and he presses his lips to yours. It’s very different from your first kiss when you were getting married. This one is rough, like he’s trying to consume you.

His fingers dig into your breast — so much so that it’s starting to hurt. You let out a small mewl, and Aemond instantly lets go of your lips and breast.

Slowly, Aemond kisses down your chest, and stomach, until he is at your hips.

Aemond undos the ties of his own robes, and drops the garment onto the floor.

He spreads your legs and presses a small kiss to your inner thigh, “So pretty.”

You let out a small, pleased, sigh. “Husband..”

Aemond brings his lips back to your thighs, and brushes his lips against them. Using his cold hands, Aemond holds onto your hips, pressing them down to the mattress. You shiver at his touch, and when he licks at your thigh, you feel small tingles spread through your body.

Your eyes flutter shut, and that’s when you feel it. Something sharp presses into you and your eyes shoot open. You wriggle in Aemond’s grip, but feel his pale hands pin you down. All you can see is the white of his head as you look down at him.

You let out a small cry, confused. “A-Aemond.. What are you…!”

Aemond’s lips finally release the hold they had on your thigh, and when he looks up at you, your eyes land on his bloody mouth.

Before you can even do anything, Aemond lets go of your hips and instead crawls over you, his lithe frame atop of you. Using one hand, Aemond grabs ahold of your wrists and pins them over your head. His other hand grabs your jaw and pushes it to the side, revealing your neck.

Aemond presses his nose to your neck, taking in your scent. His eyes flutter shut and you hiss in pain as he bites into your flesh.

Your legs kick at Aemond, but it doesn’t deter him.

Soon enough, you run out of energy and cease your struggling. You quiver under Aemond, and tears run down your cheeks.

Just when you’re on the brink of death, Aemond pulls away, pressing a wet kiss to the area he just bit.

Aemond lets go of your wrists, but still holds onto your jaw, though his grip has loosened.

Your eyes flutter open, your vision blurry.

Aemond bites into his own wrist, sucking up a considerable amount of blood, before pulling away.

Aemond presses his lips to yours, and forces you to drink in the mix of your’s and Aemond’s blood. Some blood escapes you and Aemond’s mouth and trickles down your cheeks.

Aemond pulls away after what feels like an eternity. You take in big gulps of air, your lungs burning.

A warmth runs through your body before being replaced with a coldness. It feels like you're freezing. Aemond kisses at your tears before pressing his lips to your bloody cheeks. He coos against them, feeling their warmth turn cool, “I know this is now what you were expecting, wife, but that was not the end. Perhaps…” he trails off. Aemond pulls away, letting go of your wrists. His eye looks down at your naked body, and despite it all, you feel a heat spreading through you. “After our marriage ceremony.”

a/n: Wrote this in celebration for season 2 of hotd, though this was written a few days before it came out! divider creds: @saradika

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

Text

Title: Meat.

Pairing: Yandere!Ayato x Reader (Genshin).

Word count: 4.5k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Branding/Burning, Prolonged Imprisonment, Forced Marriage, Possessive Behavior, Descriptions of Gore, Implied Stalking, Mentions of Pregnancy, and Suicidal Ideation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You always thought you would wear red on your wedding day.

It was a family tradition – passed down with dutiful care for as long as anyone could imagine. Your grandmother had given her dress to your mother who had gifted it to you, her only child, on your eighteenth birthday, years before you would so much as think about getting something as permanent as marriage. Still, you safeguarded it with a religious devotion, never going more than a week without laying it out to check for signs of moths or mold. When you found yourself on a boat set on a course for Inazuma and could bring nothing but what could fit in the space underneath your bunk, her dress was the only item you truly could not bear to leave behind.

It was one of the few things Ayato let you keep, when he first brought you to his estate. He hadn’t wanted to, but he’d known that you’d throw yourself off the nearest cliff if anything ever happened to that dress. You still would, if he so much as touched it without your permission.

The kimono you were being fitted for now was not red. The fine silk was pure white, the detailed embroidery along the hems and sleeves dark blue and bright, shining gold. The symbol of his archon glowed violet on the swell of the train – meant to appease the other factions of the tri-commission who protested when Ayato announced his intent to not only marry a commoner, but a foreigner. You hated that embellishment most of all, more than the sickly way his colors crawled over your body, more than the irritating smoothness of his favored silks where they hugged against your form and groped at your skin. It marked you as a tool, something to be used to one end or another. It marked you as a sacrifice – and an unwanted one, at that.

“Just as exquisite as I knew you’d be,” Ayato announced, his voice strong and unabashed. You’d begged him not to, but he’d insisted on sitting in on your appointment, making sure you couldn’t correct seamstress or overrule any of the choices he’d made on your behalf. The tailor hummed as she fastened a temporary sash around your midriff, tight enough to press uncomfortably against your ribs. If you needed to cry on your wedding day (which, in all likelihood, you would), it would have to be loosened. “How do you like it?”

You hated it. You despised it. You wanted to claw it apart with your own pristine nails, separate each thread and seam with your very own teeth. You would’ve set yourself on fire just to see it turned to ash that much sooner.

“It’s perfect.” Your own voice sounded distant, distorted. There was no façade of sincerity. He knew as well as you did that there was nothing he could force onto you that you wouldn’t loathe, and you knew that any word uttered as to your hatred for him outside of the privacy of your shared bedroom would result in a collection of fresh rope burns to decorate your wrists, the better half of a night spent bent over his knee. “So long as it pleases you, my lord.”

You dropped your eyes to the floor, attempting to spare yourself what suffering you could, but your resistance didn’t matter; you could hear the sharpness of his smile, picture the way his head tilted to the side as he basked in his own self-satisfaction as he went on, addressing the tailor. “If there’s a veil, you can get rid of it.”

You didn’t think you would ever get used to the way his voice seemed to grate when he was happy with himself.

“I think my heart might give out if I’m not able to see my beautiful fiancé’s lovely smile.”

After meeting Ayato, you began to dream in red.

It was more of a pink, at first – during the first few weeks of his courtship, when the extent of his intrusive affection was a few dendrobiums left on your doorstep and a lingering glance as the handsome young commissioner passed your stall during his weekly stroll through the city market. For a short while, after his possessive habits began to rear their head and you were able to catch his guards in your peripheral more often than not, your subconscious was tinted a near-violent shade of scarlet, the kind that would leave you drenched in your own sweat and half-suffocated by the time you forced yourself to wake up. Recently, since he announced your engagement, they’d taken on a darker shade; choking velvets and deep crimsons blurring the distorted setting as Ayato’s faceless body moved on top of you, as his mouth unhinged and his lashing tongue dragged you down his waiting throat. On your worst nights, he’d tear you apart with his hands, first, divide you into neat, orderly pieces that he could slip past his lips and savor one at a time, one after another, until there was nothing left of you. He’d always preferred you in your most consumable form.

It was ironic, really, considering just how little red he let seep into your waking life. Maybe you had a deficiency; like a pregnant woman craving fish to make up for a lack of calcium. The closest you got to red from the doorway to his study were a few cherry blossoms fluttering past the window, their color dulled by age and their tree nearly stripped bare by the approaching winter. He looked away from his paperwork as you shrugged past the screen door, his pale eyes lighting up as he saw the tea tray in your hands. It was Thoma’s handiwork, but you doubted Ayato cared. He wanted to see you in the role of a caretaker, playing out the part he wrote for you to the best of your limited acting skills. What happened behind the curtain was none of his concern.

“To what do I owe the honor?” he asked as you set the tray on his desk. “I can’t remember the last time you visited me on your own.”

You flashed him a small smile. “Can’t I dote on my soon-to-be husband freely?”

He visibly straightened at the word ‘husband’, a familiar zeal infecting his expression. There was a quirk to his grin, a light tap to his thigh, and the tea went ignored as you obediently fell into his lap, your legs hanging over the side of his chair as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you snug against him. If he was a monster, he’d be one with a thousand hands and a million fingers; he couldn’t seem to go a full minute without clutching at your hips, groping at your chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a deep, relieved sigh. “Husband,” he repeated back to you, all spellbound awe and deceiving wonder. “Archons, I can’t wait to be your husband.”

You wondered, sometimes, if it was his childhood that made him the way he was. After so many years of loneliness, so many tiny disappointments and frigid betrayals, you could only imagine he’d be eager to grab the first warm body he could and refuse to let you go. But, he let Ayaka come and go as she pleased, and seemed to take a certain delight in sending Thoma off on long-winded, far-flung errands. Whatever cruelty his upbringing had bred, it was clearly reserved for you.

His hand slid underneath the slit of your yukata, his breath turning hot and unpleasant against your collarbone, and you drew back with an airy laugh. “I do have an ulterior motive,” you admitted, hoping his curiosity would offset his insatiability, if only for a few seconds. “It’s about my wedding dress.”

“The breathtaking and priceless dress I’m having made by the nation’s most talented tailors so that all of Inazuma will know that I’m marrying the most beautiful person in Teyvat?” He raised his head, clicking his tongue. “What about it?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you said, because he wouldn’t listen to you if you didn’t and you needed him to listen to you. “It’s just— I’m such a long way from home, and I know my family won’t be able to come, but—” You cut yourself off, swallowing back the bile that threatened to spoil your sweet smile. “I was hoping we’d be able to incorporate my mother’s dress, somehow. If it’s not too late.”

It wasn’t. You’d been tracking the progress of his tailors meticulously, counting down the days until your wedding like a prisoner waiting for their execution date, and if it was one of his whims, another row of bedding added onto the sleeves or a new embroidery pattern worked onto the train, you knew that there’d be all the time in the world to make any adjustments he asked for. Still, his smile wavered, a brief sigh slipping past his lips as he shook his head. “My love,” The petname lulled off of his tongue as if it’d been coated in sugar and syrup and all the worst things you could think of. “That’s quite the risk to take. The poor thing’s so old, it might fall apart as soon as the tailor’s needle touches it.”

He'd been crueler, before – called the dress a rag as he looked at you with disdain-tinted pity, swore that your reliance on the filthy relic must’ve been caused by some inherent failure of your homeland – but your heart still clenched just a little tighter in your chest at his veiled disdain. “I’d like to try, at least.” Your hands curled around his collar, your frown taking on a more pleading note. “Please, my lord?” A pause, a tightened hold. “Please, Ayato?”

It was his given name, loving and tender and so rarely spoken in your voice, that did him in. He relented with an airy groan, letting his head roll forward in faux exasperation. “We’ll see.”

You beamed, but he was too lost in you to notice, already preoccupied with pressing open-mouthed kisses into your shoulders, your neck. The sash of your yukata was drawn loose, your sleeves pulled down to your elbows and your body shifted onto his desk, where he could spread your legs apart and bury his face between them. Your eyes drifted back to the cherry blossoms trickling past the window, but whatever tree they’d been falling from had finally been stripped bare. All you could see was the bright, cloudless sky – blue enough to leave you burnt and begging for a storm.

Two springs ago, the Kamisato Estate had been overrun with finches.

It’d been a comedy of errors, in hindsight. Ayaka had taken up a fondness for a new kind of flower – one native to Sumeru, introduced to her by an outlander with golden hair and knowing eyes. Thoma, the miracle worker that he was, quickly found a way to propagate it in the estate’s garden, and within the month, little violet blossoms had consumed all that they could reach despite the best efforts of the gardeners to keep them in-check. It would’ve been a delightful problem to have on its own, but the peak of the infestation happened to align with an annual migration of a type of finch that happened to hold a particular shining for a plant with a similar shape and color and— well, anyone could’ve guessed what happened next.

It was a nightmare for Thoma and the other groundskeepers and, since Ayato was staying in the city on business, paradise for you. You spent your days in the courtyard, showing the servants’ children how to braid crowns out of vines and press flowers between the pages of books stolen from Ayato’s personal library. You and Ayaka fed seeds to the red-crowned invaders and coaxed them close enough to pet and sketch, as little talent as you had for the latter, and she listened as you rambled excitedly about the crane-headed whistles you used to make every summer for a very wealthy ornithologist with very slippery fingers. She was just as lonely as her brother, albeit significantly less deranged, and you – trapped, isolated, desperate you – were the perfect victim for her. The two of you were never quite friends, but you came close that spring.

And then, Ayato returned. The flowers were uprooted, the children sent back to their chores, and the finches driven away with nets and stones and salt. You sobbed for hours the day the final flock left, and by means of consolation, Ayato presented you with a blue-speckled wren in a cage of pure silver, silk flowers bound to the bars with yellow ribbons as a reminder of your lost haven. To this day, you still aren’t sure if he meant it to be as cruel of a gift as it was.

You made it all of two days before risking another month spent shackled to Ayato’s bed and sneaking past the guards posted at the estate’s frontmost gates, the golden cage tucked against your chest. You released it in the woods, somewhere with plenty of tree cover and places to hide while it remembered how to be a wild creature, and watched with a smile as it fluttered past the cage’s door and into the open air, eventually landing on the leaf-littered ground.

It hopped all of three tiny steps before a fox emerged from the underbrush and swallowed it whole.

“Are you still with us, love?”

You should’ve gone limp. You should’ve acted as if the pain had gotten to you. You should’ve pretended you were dead to the world and that you couldn’t feel his cock languidly thrusting into you and that you’d gone numb to the searing iron slowly cooling into against the small of your back but, for as resentful as your mind was to him, your body was entirely subservient to Ayato. You tried to respond verbally, and when your voice caught in your throat, you forced yourself to nod, the motion small and shaky. Ayato rewarded you with a breathy chuckle, a fleeting touch to the curve of your spine. A hundred pinpricks of purified agony accompanied his touch.

The silver brand had been commissioned from the finest metal crafters in Inazuma City, made to resemble the warped camellia that was the Kamisato Clan’s crest, and you let out an agonized scream as Ayato drew it back and pressed a calloused thumb into the tender patch of burnt skin. “You always do make such pretty noises for me.” He circled the shape of the white-hot bloom, drawing out another ragged whimper. “It’s a shame I only get to hear them when you misbehave.”

You wanted to apologize, to beg for his forgiveness, but try as you might, you couldn’t seem to remember what you’d done wrong. You hadn’t tried to run away. You hadn’t talked to any of the servants. You hadn’t done anything aside from smile and sit beside him as he spoke with the head of another clan – an older man whose eyes burnt into you for the entirety of their brief conversation. As far as you could tell, he was just a particularly shameless nobleman trying to decipher the curiosity that was the Yashiro Commissioner’s reclusive bride, but Ayato hated letting other men gawk at you at the best of times. Such prolonged exposure would’ve surely brought out the worst of his possessive habits.

You felt something tighten in your chest, catch in your throat, but you only realized you were crying when Ayato’s lips ghosted over your cheek, the gentleness of the gesture quickly replaced with the brutality of his fingers tangled in your hair, your head forced down and into the plush of his bed. You body threatened to collapse, but his free hand fell to your hip, keeping your back arched and your ass raised as he ground lazily into your cunt, in no rush to put you out of your suffering. “I think,” he groaned, lust heavy in his voice. “We’re going to have a big family. Half a dozen kids, at least.”

You beat your fists against the mattress, shaking your head violently, and he twitched inside of you. “They’ll have your eyes,” he went on, a sadistic delight in his voice. “And my swordsmanship, and I’ll love them as much as I love you.” He paused, the head of his cock scraping against something deep and vulnerable inside of you. “Well, almost as much as I love you. As much as I can.”

You tried to struggle, to get away from him, but Ayato held you close, his grip as unrelenting as his slow, aching tempo. With a calculated sort of grace, he leaned towards you, slotting his chest against your back and bringing his mouth to the shell of your ear. “You don’t think it’s too soon to start, do you, darling?”

All you could do was try and fail to scream in response.

The first gift Ayato ever gave to you was a necklace the color of freshly split sapphires.

He insisted that you not think of it as a present, that you consider it little more than justified repayment for an item from your stall broken by the clumsy fingers of one of his couriers, but it was a present, it couldn’t be anything else. His courier had paid for the ruined pottery days prior, and yet, he’d sought you out in person to apologize with that sun-bright smile, to let his fingertips brush against yours as he passed you a satin-lined case with a perfect, ocean-blue velvet choker tucked safely inside. It was a beautiful thing, embellished with silver and dripping with transparent crystals, but you’d liked the color most of all. It’d reminded you of Ayato, and there’d been a time when you treasured any excuse to think of him.

You’d worn it the first time you saw each other properly, too. The occasion wasn’t formal enough to warrant something so needlessly extravagant, but you couldn’t seem to stop smiling for the entirety of your brief-meal-turned-seven-hour-conversation, and as your night came to an end, perched on the edge of a cliff underneath the Raiden Shogun’s palace and breathless from laughing, he told you that if you weren’t careful, he might just fall in love with you. You’d told him that, if he waited a few more days, you might fall in love with him, too.

You’d been wearing the same necklace when he broke your heart for the first time. It’d been an overcast day, the sky a clouded blueish grey and the shogun’s fury just barely audible in the far distance. He told you, with that perfect grin and those lonely eyes, that it really was terribly improper for the lover of a commissioner to run some meager stall in a sweat-soaked market, that he owed you better than a cramped room on the outskirts of the city where you had to wade through hours of farmland to reach anything of importance. When you said that you enjoyed your work, that you adored the back-breaking labor of your craft and loved having neighbors who would leave baskets of cabbage and lavender melon on your doorstep in exchange for misshapen cups and off-pattern bowls, he laughed as if you’d said the funniest thing in the world and cupped your face in his hands, pulling you into a kiss deep enough and sweet enough to make you forget whether or not you’d agreed with him.

You were brought to the Kamisato estate less than a full month later and had yet to leave since.

The final garment was delivered two weeks before your wedding day. You watched from your pavilion as Ayato met the courier at the estate’s gates, accepting a large package wrapped in scarlet silk and brushing off the guards’ attempts to carry it on his behalf. You were embroidering, that day – a delicate, time-consuming art that Ayato praised in comparison to the messy, unpredictable medium of clay. You loathed the monotony of it, the strictness of the patterns, but it meant Ayato was less likely to break your fingers when he found you scrounging away spare mora in the hopes of some perpetually eventual escape and so, you embroidered.

“My mother’s dress,” you said, as soon as he was close enough to hear you. The wooden hoop was forgotten in your lap as you stared up at him, hope written clearly across your expression. “Do you know what they did with it?”

His grin widened. “Eager, are we?” You nodded frantically, and he added, “If I’d didn’t know better, I’d say you care about a dress more than your own betrothed.”

He settled next to you, the package laid across his thighs. He moved to unwrap it, then pivoted – his attention shifting as his gloved hand took hold of your wrist. He’d been touching you more delicately, lately, something you couldn’t help but link with his long-brewing but only recently materialized desire for children. It was a problem you elected to deal with later on, after the wedding, if only for your own inability to process just how horrific of a problem it was.

(There was a part of you which knew, even before your conscious mind could bear to accept it, that you would never be able to love something he put inside of you. Ayato’s obsession was enduring, able to feed off of nothing and contort reality to suit its needs, but your love had always been a rational thing, bound to end the moment it became inconvenient to house. Your love for your homeland died with your mother. Your love for Ayato died with your abduction. And, whatever love you could’ve had for a child— no, a shackle would die the moment the foul creature was born. You could hold no affection for a child that was made in Ayato’s image, that would be cleaved from your flesh for the sake of his happiness, and if by some miracle you did love the monstrosity, then you could only assume it would be because you’d abandoned all hope for yourself. Both futures seemed equally grim.)

“Ayato,” you simpered, leaning against his side. “Please?”

He rolled his eyes, playing soft as he handed you the oversized package. “It should be wrapped separately. I said I didn’t want to see the finished product until the day-of.”

Your hands shook as you undid the many knots. A smaller bundle sat within, separate from the tumor of ivory fabric you forced yourself not to linger on, and you took it up with a desperate sort of keenness, practically trembling as you tore it open with no regard for the integrity of its packaging. The crimson silk was torn away to reveal—

Blue.

Dark, never-ending blue.

“The color came out so beautifully. I’m glad you protested the way you did – otherwise, I might’ve never known we were missing something on our wedding day.” This time, you didn’t fight as he tore the remains of your mother’s dress out of your hands, holding out a sash the shade of apathetic night. You searched for something familiar, for something you could use to ground yourself, but it was absent of all recognizability, desecrated to the point of being all-but alien to you. “It had to be dyed, of course, but I’ve been told the process only cost it a moment of its integrity. The tailors—”

You blinked, but your vision remained black when you opened your eyes. Your body was lurching forward, and then you were in Ayato’s arms, limp and buzzing. Ayato was laughing, as shocked as you were drained, and you made no effort to pull away from him. “My poor little wife. I know – the anticipation’s almost too much to bear.” He pressed a kiss into your forehead. “Why don’t we spend some time together, like we used to? I think I can push my obligations aside for the day, considering the occasion.”

You didn’t respond, but he gathered into his arms regardless. He had always seemed to prefer you as dead weight.

You did end up in red on your wedding day, but you doubted you’d be getting married, anymore.

His own sword slid and out of his back with a wet, gripping noise – only interrupted when the blade slipped in your hands and hit bone rather than viscera. Blood splattered against the white of your kimono with every plunge, staining the susceptible fabric easily and leaving you struggling to keep your feet underneath you as the puddle of scarlet grew deeper, as the screen walls began to drip and your lungs filled with copper and iron. Ayato, the ever-worried lover that he was, had come to check on you before the ceremony, fussing over your blank eyes and the tear-tracks that had ruined your make-up twice, by then. He’d been concerned, but giddy, unable to keep himself away from you despite his many promises of tradition and decor.

He'd made it three, maybe four minutes before beginning to toy with the clasps running down your chest.

You’d taken up the first thing you saw – a hand mirror gilded with shining rose gold – and brought it down on his head.

That, on its own, would’ve left him with a scar and little else, but you’d worked quickly, drawing the sword from its sheath on his belt and bringing it down into anything that seemed vital, anything you could reach, anything that bled calming, soothing red. He stopped moving on the fifth strike, his uncalled upon Vision going dull on the sixth, and on the seventh, you heard someone call for the guards.

You waited until you could hear their footsteps before falling to your knees, bringing the point of your blade to your stomach and clenching your eyes shut, praying to any archon who would listen that you’d hit something they couldn’t be healed, that they’d lend you a more merciful fate than another jail cell, another lifetime of entrapment. You plunged the blade into your stomach and—

And were met with little more than a cold, blunt sensation and a bottomless pit of despair.

You opened your eyes, your gaze flickering from your ice-coated blade to the doorway of your dressing room, now occupied by Kamisato Ayaka, one hand raised and her Vision pulsing at her side. Guards rushed in on either side of her, grabbing at your shoulders and wrists, but your stare never left Ayaka, her parted lips, her flushed cheeks.

Her bright eyes, just as blue and just as lonely as her brother’s had ever been.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere kamisato ayato #yandere ayato #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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gloomwitchwrites · 6 months ago

Text

Flower Crown

Aragorn x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, light angst, kissing, non-descriptive intimacy

Word Count: 2k

During a spring festival, the man you love returns unexpectedly.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // spring 2024 masterlist

The sky is a cloudless, endless ocean above your head.

You breathe deep, savoring the scents in the air. Newly bloomed flowers, freshly baked bread, and roasting chicken all infiltrate your nostrils, reminding of you the celebration that’s about to begin. Anticipation buzzes under your skin like a swarm of startled bees. You’ve been waiting for this all winter. Spring is finally here, knocking, ready to be greeted. The flowers are in full bloom, and the trees have awakened from their solemn slumber.

Every year the small village in which you’ve lived your whole life celebrates the changing of the seasons. A community-wide festival is held. Each person is involved in their own way, and the duties are often assigned at the beginning of winter to allow everyone to prepare. Sometimes, these responsibilities shift, but a few remain the same.

Last year, you attended the baker in their duties to provide baked goods. This year, you were tasked with sewing new dresses for all the unmarried young women. The base fabric, an off-white cotton, remains the same. It’s like a blank page awaiting colorful paint or black ink, each dress ready to be designed with every young woman in mind. You, and several of the married women, take great care in personalizing each dress to the young ladies’ personalities.

It is not by chance that this happens. It is more than tradition. Rebirth and renewal are the themes of the festival, and with that comes an influx of weddings. The dresses are for that very reason, as a form of matchmaking, along with the presented flower crowns and the festival itself. You’ve always thought it silly but never truly commented on the matter. Fortunately, with you on sewing duties, you were able to work on your own dress.

With the dresses come flower crowns. They are given to the young women by unmarried men of the village. It is always the married women and village elders who quietly determine which man will gift what crown to who. They’re intuition is almost always correct. It is rare for a pair to not eventually marry. Sometimes it is quick, and sometimes it is years later before either realizes they belong together.

And the flower crowns are the true beauty. Another group handmakes each one. But because you know how intricate they are, you did nothing for your dress. It is simple. Plain. Just because you’re forced to be part of this tradition doesn’t mean you want to try and find a husband. You’re perfectly fine alone, because the man you do want is far away.

He isn’t avoiding you. Not on purpose. Aragorn is a ranger. He thrives in the wilds, seeking out the darkness to rid it from the world. But you do miss your wanderer. He tries to travel through your area as often as he can just to see you.

Over the years, the friendliness has grown, becoming heat and tension.

None of the other men in the village make you feel the way he does, and they likely never will.

In the shade of a tree, you smooth out the front of your dress. The tips of your fingers itch and you need to move them just to calm yourself. That alone is silly. What do you have to be nervous for? The process is always the same, always consistent, so why do you feel like this?

The young, unmarried women begin to congregate near the arch of flowers. Breathing deep, you march forward, finding your spot where it always is. You can taste the eagerness in the air. The women around you are just as nervous, nearly bouncing on their toes. They whisper to each other, giggling, but none of them glance your way or address you.

All day, and not even one has thanked you for your work.

But you won’t let it eat away at your resolve. Today is a good day. You’ll drink berry wine and gorge yourself on delicious food while listening to the married women gossip about their husbands.

As the village elders arrive, all talking ceases. That is the cue, and just like the women in line, you curtesy. You’re not allowed to look up, to glance into the face of the man who will place a crown upon your head. You keep your head bent and gaze on the ground.

There is shuffling, the rustling of hands lifting crowns. You focus on the green grass beneath your feet. You’re the only one up here not wearing shoes. You breathe in, and out, watching as so many pairs of polished boots pass by.

When someone does stop before you, the boots are not clean. They are muddy and have seen travel. You almost want to laugh but really, you’re curious. Who is this? Who would be so bold to come to the crowning with filthy boots?

In the next moment, the crown is placed upon your head. You don’t move. Don’t breathe. The stranger’s fingers brush the underside of your chin, pressing gently. You respond. You can’t resist. It is natural to do so.

Your gaze takes in this stranger as your head lifts. And when you see his face, you realize that this is no stranger at all.

“Aragorn,” you whisper, and his response is a smile.

There is applause, and good-natured cheering all around, and yet you respond to none of it. It is only him, this man you’ve been missing, standing before you.

“What are you doing here?” you ask just as the music starts up. It’s too early. Aragorn often arrives in the fall when the leaves start to change.

Others are already wandering off together or going their separate ways. You’re left staring, happy to see him but not understanding why.

“To see you,” he replies.

To see you. To see you. Whatever nervousness you felt before is gone, replaced with a giddiness that sends heat right to your cheeks.

When you don’t reply immediately, Aragorn frowns. “Have I upset you?”

“No!” You reach for him, grabbing his upper arm, taking a step forward. “Not at all. I’m just…surprised.”

His gaze softens, and you could fall into his depths. “Didn’t think I’d come?”

“You always visit when the weather begins to cool.”

“I do,” he agrees. “Couldn’t stay away.” Aragorn says this almost absently as his fingers toy with a white ribbon on your dress.

A young woman shrieks with delight, and you and Aragorn both turn as she’s hoisted in the air.

“Would you like to dance?” he asks.

The answer is immediate. “Yes.”

He presents his hand, and you take it. His palm is warm. Strong. Aragorn leads, and then you’re moving, matching the correct steps. It’s not an intense dance but it isn’t slow either.

“Did you just arrive?”

He smiles. “As they were distributing the flowers.”

“Is that why you’re so dirty?” Aragorn laughs as you lean in and sniff, making an exaggerated expression. “And smelly?”

“I thought you liked the way I smelled after a ride.” Aragorn wraps his arm around your waist, turning as he does so.

“A ride,” you correct. “Not a journey.”

The music swells, dips, and then increases in pace. You’re left focusing on your feet, going through the motions. But Aragorn knows what he’s doing, and he leads you through it effortlessly. It’s difficult to speak, but his hands do enough talking. Aragorn’s touch lingers. He might squeeze slightly or allow his hand to wander. It stirs something hot in your belly that travels lower until you’re blazing everywhere.

When the music comes to an end, and the two of you are out of breath, Aragorn places his hand on your lower waist and guides you away.

“Something to drink?”

“Please.”

Berry wine is had before Aragorn takes your hand again, the two of you strolling off into the nearby orchard. Between the trees, there is privacy, the two of you walking in gentle silence. It’s just your hand in his and the warm breeze that stirs up your dress.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you say, stopping next to an apple tree. There are leaves on its branches but no blooms.

Aragorn comes to a stop beside you, his chest nearly brushing your shoulder. “Glad? That is all you feel?” With a soft touch, Aragorn turns your head in his direction. His head is angled downward, and there is no escaping what you see in his eyes.

There are times when the two of you have found a bit of quiet, some peace only with the need to explore the other. As you gaze upon his face, you are entirely aware of what he wants, but Aragorn is an honorable man. He will not push or insist on more unless you’re the one who seeks it out.

The berry wine is warm in your blood. Aragorn’s nearness is just as intoxicating. His fingers play with that same ribbon, and you lean into his touch until your noses brush lightly against each other.

“There is plenty I feel,” you reply, your voice a whisper amongst the birdsong and breeze.

“Is your heart willing to share?” Aragorn tugs lightly on the ribbon, loosening a portion of the bodice.

“Is yours willing to hear the truth?” you counter, knowing that you’d give him anything in this moment.

Aragorn tugs on the ribbon again, loosening the bodice further. Air rushes into your lungs as your chest receives a bit of freedom. “Tell me now. Under the trees. Let the sky listen.”

“You’re far too sweet to be a warrior,” you laugh, and Aragorn grins, closing the distance. The kiss is chaste and lovely, sending heat down to your toes and up to the crown of your head.

Your fingers find the front of his tunic. They curl inward, pulling of their own accord, seeking his closeness. Aragorn indulges, deepening the kiss until your bodies are pressed together. His hand rises, clutching the back of your neck. There is only you and him and your repeated meetings.

When you finally break apart, your lips are raw, and you hunger for more. You ache for deeper things, and long to tell him so.

“Is this all right?” he asks, fingers brushing against your exposed collarbone.

“Yes,” you murmur in reply, shivering under his touch.

Aragorn returns to your mouth, and you open for him. Your own fingers explore as much as his, but it is Aragorn’s fingers that venture beneath fabric.

You inhale sharply, and his hand retreats. “Apologies.”

“Don’t stop,” you say, grasping his wrist to guide his hand back to your skin.

Under the shade of the apple tree, Aragorn follows your lead, the two of you finding a dance. Although time has not been kind, keeping the two of you parted, there is no need to rush. You are happy simply existing with him, taking time to explore and savor what you’ve missed over the last few months.

Every caress is a song, and each kiss not only satiates but fuels the hunger that sits low in your belly. Fingers press and dig into skin. Clothing opens or falls away. There is no one else around, and Aragorn’s warmth is all you seek.

“Will you stay?” you ask between kisses.

Aragorn pauses, drawing back slightly. “For a few days.”

A few days. A few days with him and then separation. With Aragorn arriving now, will he return in the fall? Or will this be your new normal?

Even as these doubts swirl in your mind, you know the truth.

You don’t care.

As long as he comes, as long as he returns to you when he can, that is enough.

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck

@tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @cherryofdeath

@berarenado @therealbloom @ninman82 @thewulf @ferns-fics

@beebeechaos @hantheconqueror @miaraei

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flemingsfreckles · 7 months ago

Text

Newlyweds

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Preview: You and Jessie finally get married, when you get home, your original plans get derailed by your sleepy wife

Warnings: suggestive, mentions of sex (fingering), getting walked in on, no detailed smut, non sexual nudity, showering together,

WC: 1.6k

A/N: this ended up soft and fluffy, I thought about taking it the smut route but I didn’t, sorry I know yall love some smut, I also finished writing this just now and I’m just gonna post it, it’ll edit it if I find errors but it’s very possible they’re in there.

Jessie was practically cackling as she ran down the hallway of your home toward your bedroom with you cradled in her arms.

“If you fall you’re going to get us both hurt Jessie.” You tried to protest when she went to pick you up outside the front door.

“It’ll be fine! Plus it’s a tradition thing.”

“I think the tradition is the groom carries the bride through the door, last time I checked we’re both the bride.”

“Shhh just let me do it.” You had, reluctantly let her pick you up, bridal style, walking you through the door of your house. It only took 3 steps for Jessie to in fact trip over the rug that sat at the entrance.

Thankfully neither of you were hurt, she had managed to catch both herself and you before either of you hit the floor.

“Jessie!”

That’s what set her off laughing. And she couldn’t stop, she was hysterically laughing as she kept moving, using your body to push open the bedroom door. By the time she placed you on the bed you were laughing too. You couldn’t help it, your wife’s laugh was contagious.

“I cannot believe you almost fell.” You shake your head looking up at where she stood next to the bed. Going limp she flops down onto the bed next to you. She’s laying on her stomach, looking at you as you lay on your back, turned to the side to look at your wife.

“Hi wifey.” She whispers to you, the biggest toothy grin across her face.

“Hi wife.” You lean in and kiss her gently.

You both lay, just staring at each other, soaking in the fact that just a few hours ago you had officially gotten married.

The two of you had joked for so long that you practically were married, being together since you were 17 and 18, you had stayed together falling in love with each other more and more as the time went on. Now being 25 and 26 you finally had done it, in front of all your friends and family, you were married.

As you stare at her you notice her eyes starting to flutter closed, then she’d open them with a couple hard blinks, before they’d start to droop again. The sight is adorable, Jessie’s sleepy face gently placed on the bed.

“Let’s go to sleep Jess”

“No, we’re supposed to, ya know, consummate the marriage.” She cracks her eyes enough to look at you and wiggles her eyebrows.

“Babe, I think that tradition is more for people who didn’t sleep together before marriage, we’ve been having sex for like 8 years.”

“But still, we’ve never had sex as wives.”

“What do you call the fingering in the reception bathroom then?” You counter.

You weren’t too proud of it, but something about seeing Jessie in her tuxedo declaring how much she loved you in front of everyone you both cared about, turned you on. You couldn’t help yourself but to whisper some filthy words into Jessie’s ear as both of you sat having dinner. The two of you had snuck off to a bathroom during your reception to have a moment to yourselves, one thing turned into another and before you knew it Jessie had you sitting on the sink, her fingers under your dress and inside of you.

Jessie’s face turned red at the memory.

“That doesn’t count as consummation, no one finished.” She argues with you.

“That’s not my fault, you can thank your sister for that.”

Jessie’s little, but thankfully adult, sister had come looking for both of you. The photographer needed you both for photos with your brand new wedding bands. You thought you had locked the door when you walked in, turns out Jessie had already made an attempt to lock it, meaning you unlocked it. She had looked everywhere, before she opened the bathroom door, seeing her older sister between your thighs, your dress hiked up around your waist and Jessie’s hand between your legs.

“Oh, you two are disgusting.” She clasped her hand over her eyes. “Wash your hands and both of you get out here, the photographer needs you!” Jessie had been mortified, being caught by her sister of all people, she would’ve preferred a teammate. You had laughed it off and dragged your red faced wife out of the bathroom.

The party continued on for a few hours after and while you were still very turned on by your wife, the exhaustion of the day started to sink in not exactly leaving either of you in the mood for what you knew would be multiple rounds of sex.

You watched as Jessie’s eyes continued to flutter shut each time they shut they stay closed for longer and longer until you’re pretty convinced she wasn’t going to open them again.

“Hey,” you gently nudge her shoulder and her eyes crack open. “Let’s go shower and get changed.”

“But I’m so comfortable here.”

“Come on babe, we can have our first shower together as wives.” Saying the word wife and it not being a joke anymore made you smile.

“So cozy in the bed.” She mumbled as her eyes closed again.

“Alright, hang on.” You stand up, moving over to the side of the bed closest to her, you scoop your arms under her shoulders and the other under her knees. She doesn’t protest as you lift her and carry her into the bathroom.

You gently place her on the floor and give her a kiss. “Let’s get you undressed.”

“That’s what I’m talking about.” Jessie smirks at you.

“No, you were just falling asleep on the bed.”

She pouts at you, arms crossed. You gently take her wrists, undoing the cufflinks of her dress shirt and then sliding off her tuxedo coat. Your fingers move to the buttons on her vest, undoing those and helping her remove it. Lastly is her dress shirt, she works from the top down as you work to undo the bottom of her shirt. Your hands meet in the middle and she pulls the shirt off and quickly follows it with her sports bra.

“My beautiful wife.” You lean down placing kisses across her exposed skin. While your mouth stays kissing her chest, your fingers move to her belt, undoing it and sliding it out from her pants. She undoes the button on her slacks and lets them fall to the floor. You hands find the elastic of her boxers and you slowly pull them down. Moving your head from her chest you place kisses along both of her thighs as you remove her underwear.

“You’re turn.” She says, you turn away from her to allow her access to the zipper and ties on your dress.

Jessie’s hands find the top tie and begin undoing the knot. “Have I told you enough how beautiful you look?” She says as her fingers move to the next tie. “Absolutely stunning, you took my breath away.” Her hands then move to the zipper, undoing the rest of the dress. She brings her hands up to where the top of the dress sat. She begins pulling it off of your body, similarly to your actions she brings her lips, placing them on every inch of skin on your back she exposes pulling down your dress.

Jessie extends a hand to you to help you step out and over the dress. “Wow.” She takes the time to look you up and down. You had bought a new set of lingerie for the wedding. It was a lacy white set, one you knew would make your wife crazy. “Where did you get this?” Her fingers work into the straps of the bra.

“Oh you know, just something I had lying around.” You joke with her. Her eyes are locked on your chest. “Quit staring, I’ll put it on again tomorrow for you to fully enjoy.” The comment had Jessie biting her lip, likely thinking of what she’d get to do to you after a good night's sleep.

You move your own hands to your bra, unclasping the back while Jessie’s thumbs hook into your matching panties and pull them down your legs. She comes back up to meet your lips with hers.

You both stay for a second, grinning at each other, both overwhelmed with happiness. You pull away to start the shower, while you wait for it to run warm you pull Jessie into your arms, hugging from behind. You turn the two of you toward the mirror above the vanity.

“Look at my wife.” You point in the mirror at Jessie’s figure in front of you.

“Ehh she’s alright but look at my wife!” She teases you back, pointing at you in the mirror.

“I love you, wife.”

“I love you, wife”

Your arms release her, giving her a quick squeeze with your hand on her shoulders. “Let’s hurry up and shower so we can sleep and then tomorrow we can do all the consummating you want.” You give her a wink and she quickly follows you into the shower, the two of you having a moment of peace and relaxation after the day’s festivities. As you looked at her in the shower, you couldn’t help but think how it was just the two of you, and that was all you would ever need. You and her.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #jessie fleming imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #canwnt x reader

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samiraaraghi · 1 year ago

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#unique dresses for weddings #non-traditional weddings #non-traditional wedding gowns

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thoughtsforsoob · 3 months ago

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where you get married - txt

a/n: i've been in serious domestic hours lately. i just wanna get married ands have babies and other stuff :( idk why but i just rlly wanna find the right person already. anyways, please enjoy this. im going to make it as fluffy as possible.

yeonjun

beach wedding!!! i know hes this really cool guy but you begged him for a beach wedding and he gave in immediately. he found a private beach to hold the wedding at and you get to use it the whole night. the ceremony is cute and tropical themed, lot's of colorful pastels in the deocorations. then, the part he was most ecited for, the party! the party was on the beach and it was honeslty really cool. it was all tropical themed and you had a little bar and a dj and everything. yeonjun and you first had to go around and thank the guests and when you were done, he drags you out to the dance area and you two dance the night away. he deicates a song to you and sings (the boys might jump in also and sing with him because they're sweethearts).

soobin

wedding in japan is all i can say. i get the sense that japan is a place that soobin really loves and he can onyl hope that you share the love with him of this place. you two pick the spring to get married. you find a venue with lot's of cherry blossoms and you have a nice little ceremony. everything is really sweet and cute. you two have a photoshoot right after. you change into a few outfits. you wear the weddit clothes, your cultures traditional clothes, korean traditional clothes and finally, cute little kimonos to match the setting. after the shoot, the party starts. it was a cute party hall and the main event, dancing and karaoke. it's unconventional but you two love the wedding. after said event, you spend 2 weeks together, roaming tokyo.

beomgyu

beomgyu want's something small but not underplayed. he loves the idea of something in a garden. i know beomgyu is the silly, nerdy gamer type but something about a garden is just so pretty to him. you two decide on a small reception with little sweets and tea. the part that ensues afterward as absolutely insane. all of your friends and family are there and everyone is drinking/having a good time. i think beomgyu is a bit of a drinker so this would be really fun for him. the contrast between the ceremony/reception and the party is insane but you both have a lot of fun during it.

taehyun

he wants a small affair. it is was completely up to him, he would just have a small ceremony at the city hall or something like that (ik it's probably different in Korea). you two ultimately do just have a small court ceremony but you have a nice little party with just some friends afterwards. you bring everyone over to your home and just have some fun. he also urges you to wear something comfortable, rather than a big dress. you agree to this and pick something cute and small. he picks something simple too, wanting to look good for you.

huening kai

he seems like a family oriented type of guy and that leads me to believe that he would want a whole big wedding. therefore, he and you plan a big extravogent wedding in a big fancy hall. he also makes sure there are a lot of people presents, of course if you're okay with it too. he loves participating in planning but always takes into account your opinion. it's both your big days. he also loves non-traditional korean stuff at his wedding. lot's of loud music and dancing and fun activities. if you're not korean too, he would def want to embrace your culture too with any music or food or traditions you want to partake in.

#txt post #txt imagines #txt #txt fic #txt fluff #txt headcanons #txt reactions #tubatu #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #taehyun x reader #huening kai x reader

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starshideurfics · 4 months ago

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Thirsty Thursday - Shut up and dance with me

steddie, omegaverse, a little bit of fun during my angst-fest to celebrate some follower milestones 🥰

Steve keeps saying he feels goofy wearing a suit, even if he’s happy to do it for Robin. It’s non-traditional, sticking an omega in black-tie. But neither is an alpha like Buckley having an omega as her best man. Her mating ceremony is beautiful, Chrissy absolutely sparkles, and Steve cries through half of it because he’s so happy for his best friend.

Eddie might cry a little, too.

He’s seated in the front row, with Robin’s family, since he and Steve are ‘capital S’ Serious, and Steve has practically been adopted by Robin’s parents. Melissa catches him crying and smiles; she’s certain to ask when he and Steve are going to tie the knot themselves.

He’s nowhere near ready to answer that one. Especially without Steve to help. Eddie hasn’t wanted to rush things, even being friends so long beforehand. Knows that he loves Steve more than anything. But they’ve barely been dating a year…

After the ceremony, Steve catches his eye from the reception line. “You good?” Eddie mouths, quirking a questioning brow.

Steve makes a dumb face—pretends to cry—gives him a thumbs up, and it’s like everything rearranges, his whole world shifting a couple inches to the left.

He knows.

All his worries about it being too fast float away like so much dust on the wind. He’d be happy enough watching Steve from across the room for the rest of his life, to giggle and mime at one another.

But after the reception, he gets to take Steve home.

Not being in the wedding party, he should honestly head over to the venue soon—after going through the receiving line. He kisses Chrissy’s cheek, tells her she looks stunning, high fives Robin for locking down her perfect omega, and whispers, “I’ll be waiting for you with a cocktail,” in Steve’s ear.

He manages to cop a feel, squeezing Steve’s ass before pulling back, earning him a tiny whine as they part.

Forcing himself to keep walking, Eddie hates leaving his m—

Hates leaving Steve. He wants to run back and scoop him into his arms. To keep him close.

Instead, he gets in Steve’s car and drives to the reception, grabs a scotch from the open bar, and distracts himself from missing Steve by chatting with Jonathan who is just as in need of the company since Argyle and Nancy are also in the wedding party.

Eddie’s on his second scotch when he hears whispers that the limo has arrived, and he goes to order a Manhattan for Steve with extra cherries. He’s barely got the coupe glass in hand before the DJ is announcing the new Mr. and Mrs. Buckley.

They’ve changed into their reception outfits: Chrissy’s dress short and frothy, Robin in metallic pants and a shirt unbuttoned halfway down her sternum, both of them already dancing as they make their grand entrance.

The whole room hoots and hollers as they burst into cheers.

The rest of the party has changed too. Nancy’s in a slinky dress, the depth of the black of it the only thing hiding the outline of her dick. Argyle is in shorts that make him seem ridiculously tall, and Heather is in a romper covered in rhinestones.

Then there’s Steve.

He’s dressed to match Robin in silver-sequined pants, trading the button-down for a loose tank top that shows off too much of his golden skin, freckles and moles like so many stars in the sky.

Eddie’s mouth waters as he makes his way over to him, drink in hand.

“Damn, sweetheart!” he says, eyes locked on Steve’s tits, needing to hold him by the sides and slip his thumbs in to tease his nipples.

Steve grips hush chin, tilts his gaze up until their eyes meet. “Thanks, babe.” He smiles into their kiss, uses his teeth a little.

Eddie offers him the drink, and Steve happily accepts, plucking out a cherry and popping it into his mouth. Another kiss, this one cherry-sweet, and Steve downs his drink, holding his extra cherry between his teeth for a long moment, grinning as he bites it in half.

“Why is it so hot when you do that?” Eddie rasps, his dress pants suddenly a little too tight.

Steve smiles, pulls half the cherry from between his lips, and presses it to Eddie’s mouth. “Shut up and dance with me, Munson,” he says, laughing, barely containing his delight.

He drags Eddie onto the dance floor, the alpha going willingly, hands easily finding their way onto Steve’s hips. Falling to the beat, into moving with one another is easy. So easy, Eddie nearly forgets his revelation from earlier.

And he’s distracted again by Steve’s chest.

“You okay there, Munson?” he teases, using a single finger to direct Eddie’s gaze back up to face him. “Keep your eyes on me.”

A purr rumbles through Eddie’s chest as he leans in close. “Why d’ya still call me Munson all the time, Stevie?” he murmurs, then kisses Steve’s ear.

“Like the way it sounds. I like everything about you, Eddie.” The words are soft and vulnerable, barely audible over the pulse of the music.

It makes Eddie brave enough to be vulnerable, too.

“How do you like the sound of Mrs. Munson? Or Ms.” He smiles. “Whichev-”

Steve cuts him off with a kiss.

“I like the sound of that a lot.”

#steddie #omegaverse #fanfiction #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #ficlet #stranger things fic #thirsty thursday

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brailsthesmolgurl · 8 months ago

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Salvation

In another parallel universe, the legend was retold. The God of Sea and his bride has A heart so great that it holds the power to bring Lemuria back to its olden days glory. The bride however, is untouchable. If so, who is going to be salvaged?

Here comes the parallel universe ending! I know it was long awaited, but thank you for waiting patiently as all of my written stories are planned meticulously hence it takes up a LOT of time.

Read the start of this series: Damnation

Read the sequel of the Damnation: Retribution

Warnings: Angst, Spoilers for Rafayel Lore, Character Deaths, Gore and Blood (tbh its a common theme for this series already). A little bitty suggestive heh cause my hormones are raging for this man. Smol surprise at the end :)

"Tomorrow marks the day." Rafayel's slender fingers ran through y/n's curls, a smile slowly stretched across her lips, her cheeks evidently turning rubescent under the moonlight's sheen. "Tomorrow is the day I shall bring you to visit Lemuria." The purple haired god laid next to his soon-to-be bride, on her bed, in her chambers. The thing he could do to her right here and right now were endless. And none of them involved any items of clothing. That was how much the young god was holding himself back.

The smile on her face never faded, as her small hands reached up to cup both sides of his cheeks, his face warm and soft to her touch. "I can't wait. Hearing all of those stories from you, no pictures nor drawings could possibly compare to the reality of seeing your kingdom with my own eyes." She said, eyeing Rafayel glistening under the moonlight, the shadow on his face does not cover up his ethereal looks. Rafayel leaned in closer to her, his breath mingled against her cheeks. "You know we should not kiss until tomorrow, right?"

Her reminder of the pre-wedding taboo made him grunted, his lips formed an immediate pout and he threw his head back, clearly frustrated. "I should be the one to ban such traditions next time." He grumbled, but calmed down to look at her when her hands cupped his cheeks again, thumbs smoothing over his chiselled jawline. "How could one possibly live with not kissing their bride the day before their wedding?"

His childlike remark made her giggled. "Your people had done it for ages, and I figured it would only be right if we were to go along with such customs. As I shall be the first mortal bride afterall. I do not wish to upset any of your merfolks." She raised her hand up, surrendering herself and Rafayel leaned forward to hug her tight within his arms. Laughters erupted from the both of them.

When they looked into each other's eyes, their laughters slowed down, mesmerised by one another's gaze. Y/n could barely believe that this very moment is happening to her. It felt like yesterday when she had rescued Rafayel from the sandy shores and released him back into the ocean after he had promised to return to her some day. Now, here they are, awaiting for a grand wedding tomorrow, an official bond to be tied between the God of the Sea and his mortal bride.

The once cherubic looking Rafayel had grown into the dashing young god he is today. With misty purple locks that are naturally wavy---although he constantly claimed that it was the sea water that turned it wavy. Eye colour a mixture of lilac purple and lapis blue, that could change colour depending on the lighting and his mood. A personality that not many can and would want to handle given his nonchalant-ness. Mixing in good looks and his non-chalant attitude, he is like walking trouble amongst mortals.

But she knew Rafayel better than anyone. She knows the way he talks, although condescending to some, she knows that he is not just a talker, but also a doer. He nags her over the smallest of things, be it her dress colour not matching her lip colour for the day or whatnot; she knows that he cares for everything, even for the smallest of details. He yaps like he knows what he wants and gives off the vibe of an independent individual, but deep down, he is just a needy young man, seeking for her constant comfort, validation, love and affection.

These are just some of the small characteristics of Rafayel that made her fall for him even more. She watched as Rafayel inched in, his lips aligned with hers. But before she got to utter a word, he quickly moved his lip upwards and pressed a big kiss onto her forehead. "If I could not kiss your lips, I would just have to settle for kisses on your forehead and cheeks then." He teased her and continued barraging her face with kisses. Their laughters for the night were endless.

Rafayel sat at the edge of her window sill, turning around to watch her as she was fast asleep, her brunette hair messily tousled all over the bed, but she looked picturesque, with the silvery moonlight painted across parts of her face and the steady breathing of her chest made her a living art in Rafayel's eyes. "I shall see you later, my beloved bride." Not wanting to wake her in her slumber, he dived into the water below.

...

"Your highness! Stop running so quickly!" The maid, Natasha cried out, struggling to keep up with the bride's quick feet. "Your dress might get dirty and unkempt! And I did not receive any other gowns from them!" Sadly, the maid was the only one who gave her blessing to y/n's marriage. The king and queen could care less as long as Rafayel kept their pockets loaded with gold.

"Come on Natasha, lessen the apprehension, would you?" The bride slowed down her footsteps and turned to flash her maid a wide smile. "Today is a big day after all and I know, everything is going to be alright." Seeing the bride's grin, Natasha sighed in defeat and trotted behind the bride, exhausted but still anticipating to watch the union ceremony.

When they arrived near the sea stacks, Natasha handed her a red velvet box. Upon opening the latch, the box opened to reveal a veil, one woven from silk that could only be harvested from sea anemones that grow in the far West, the ones that only glow during the winter times. The veil was translucent, with an iridescence of silver glow whenever the light refracted off of its material. The crown that goes around her head is made out of pearls that were harvested from oysters that could only be found in the southern region of the seas. Collected and crushed by the merfolks and infused with a rare blue gem that only Lemurians possessed to create the crown for the veil.

The veil shorts of nothing extravagant, as expected of the God of Sea's taste. Rafayel ensured that this veil was done 6 months prior to the wedding as he does not appreciate any mishaps especially when it is related to his bride. Y/n took the veil out of the box and she carefully placed it on top of her head, Natasha going behind her to dust off the excess sand off of the back of the wedding gown. She also took the time to adjust the veil behind y/n's head, wanting to make sure everything is in place before the ceremony begins.

"It has to be perfect. Perfect." She remembered the way Rafayel nodded his head towards her, spelling the word PERFECT to her just so she could understand him. But Natasha caught him the moment he said the first sentence. Although she just waved him off that time, she knew that on the day of the wedding, Rafayel is the last person she would want to upset. Who knows what would happen to her if she made him upset. The thought itself sent a shudder down her spine.

"How do I look?" Y/n turned to face Natasha and the maid's heartwarming gaze gave her just the answer she needed to hear indirectly. "I can't wait for this Natasha." She held onto the maid's hands tightly. Horns started blaring loudly and the two women looked towards the sea stacks together. The sun rise made the sea blended in with the sands on the shore, the saturated warm glow casted upon the surface of the waters a sight to behold indeed.

Trumpets and choirs joined in with the blaring of the horns and y/n knew it was time for her to present herself walking towards the sea stacks. "Your Highness, your bouquet. Don't forget it." The maid shoved a bouquet of flame lilies and the bride muttered a thanks, hastily holding onto the bouquet before she stepped out from the backs of the huge rock.

The appearance of the bride made the merfolks gasped in awe, the off-shoulder wedding dress was made out of fine silk, and it did a great job in outlining her bodyline and curves perfectly. Her dress cut off at the mid of her thighs, but a big ribbon was attached to her right hip, aiding in the aesthetic and transitional fabric from fine silk to a chiffon tail. The tail of the dress was completely see through, with droplets of diamonds sewn on it. The bride glowed under the ray of the sun and nobody could have dreamed of a better start to a wedding.

Rafayel emerged from the waters, in his mundane form of course, riding on top of two orcas and he was delivered right onto the top of the sea stacks. His clumsy stumble made her giggled, hands going up to cover her mouth. Rafayel donned a full white suit, with a swallow tail at the back of his tuxedo, his hair neatly styled, probably with the help of his people. And the left side of his pocket peeked a corsage with flame lilies, same as the ones she has as a bouquet in her hands.

Upon seeing his bride, Rafayel was enthralled at her beauty, his jaw dropping slightly ajar before one of the merman spit water at him thus he only managed to snap himself back to reality, glaring at the merman who spat at him as he reached up to wipe the stain off of his sleeves. Not like the water did anything to his outfit either, but he had to be sure of it. It is their big day after all.

"Ain't this my bride." Rafayel said confidently when he walked to the edge of the sea stacks, reaching out his hand to her, for her to take so he could guide her onto the sea stacks. "Careful, I do not wish for my bride to be unable to walk before the grand night tonight, yeah?" His wink made her face flushed instantly and she smacked his arm playfully.

Standing next to him, she felt like everything was set in stone for her finally. She got to marry the one that she had always been in love with and she will be one of the very first mortals to visit this forbidden land under the waters. "Here, we rejoice in each other's company. One of merfolk and the other of mortal." Amund, Rafayel's trusty friend took the opportunity to solemnize the wedding.

"This moment shall mark the first of its kind in mortal and merfolk's history. A reunion to be witnessed between the God of the Sea, Rafayel, and his bride, a mortal. y/n. Shall there be any objections towards this blessed reunion..." Amund trailed off, eyes scanning the crowd, both in the waters and the only human on land before he continued. "You shall not be entertained." His sentence took everyone by surprise and everyone shared an understanding laughter. "Hence, Rafayel, would you take y/n to be your beloved wife? Through all suffrage, illness and happiness?"

Rafayel nodded, facing her and confidently saying. "I will always say yes to that. For I will love you for ages to come."

"How about you y/n, would you accept the God of the Sea, Rafayel's intentions of having to love you through all?" You immediately nodded and Amund shouted. "This reunion is blessed, you may kiss the bride!" Rafayel's lip immediately pressed against his bride's, the kiss shared between the two erupted a huge reaction from the crowd. Claps and whistlings and shoutings could be heard from all directions. The choir then resumed its melody when Rafayel pulled back from her lips. "Y/N?" His smile faltered as he watched his bride's irises had turned into a shade of blood red, matching the same colour of the liquid that was oozing out of his chest, staining his white suit into crimson red.

...

Y/N jolted awake in her own bed, beads of sweat littered all across her face. Running her palms across her face, surprised that her face is cold to her touch despite the current season is far from winter. Reaching over to her bedside drawer, she fetched her goblet and drank the contents of it.

A couple of knocks could be heard from her oak door. "Come in." The door slowly opened to reveal one of the maids, Clarrice. The red head walked in, silver tray in her hand, ready to be served to the princess. She bowed partially as a sign of respect, then placed the tray by the highness' study table before she walked over to pull open the heavy drapes of the curtains to reveal the warm sun rays shining in from the windows.

"It seems like your highness has chosen to sleep in today, hence I had drawn your curtains whilst you were in deep slumber." Clarrice smiled, her pink thin lips a contrast to her pale complexion, brown freckles strewn like constellations on her face. Y/N sat on the bed, eyebrows knitted together, not being able to figure out why Natasha is not greeting her as per usual. Given Natasha was the maid that was specifically assigned to care for the princess.

"Have you seen Natasha anywhere?" The princess questioned, taking another sip out of the goblet in her hand. Milk cold to the inside of her mouth, when the princess had always been accustomed to warm milk in the morning.

"Your highness, Natasha was nowhere to be found within her chambers at dawn." When the maid replied, she watched the princess' eyes narrowed and nervously added on. "It seems like Natasha had left the palace in a hurry. All of her items remained within her chambers, including her uniform. All that was missing was her common outfit. She could have left for the farmers market?" The hesitation in the maid's tone does not sit right with y/n.

"You may head on with your day now. Thank you." The princess spoke promptly and the maid hurried out of the chambers. Placing the goblet back onto the bedside drawer, y/n started retracing the dream she had earlier on. All she remembered from her memory was her being at a beach...the beach near the sea stacks!

The princess catapulted herself off of the bed, still in her outfit. Her outfit. She did not noticed the outfit she had on while she was in bed. She is wearing a gown. Specifically a fancy one, one would wear for a wedding. Wedding ceremony. Natasha. Rafayel. When the pieces started to piece together, so did her heart rate quickened. Raising her hands to her vision, she caught sight of splatters of crusted liquid on her palms, a brownish shade with specks of what seems to be blue fairy dust.

Realisation hit her with a truck and she grabbed the rope and tossed it out of her window, sliding down it as fast her hands would allow her to, the pain of the rope burn unregistered into her senses. Guards at this hour were most likely deployed to their stations within the towers hence allowing her escape all the more easier. Once her feet touched the ground, she ran with her bare feet and went out through the gardens behind the palace that leads her straight towards the seas.

Her bare feet carried her past the sandy shores, the strong currents of the sea breeze accompanying her speed. Coming across the huge rock that leads towards the sea stacks, she slowed down her footsteps, seeing bloody imprints on the sand, foot prints that belong to a human.

When she came to the sea stacks, the scene in front of her made her heart stopped beating for a good while. There laid Natasha, on the shore, with a pool of red replacing her shadow. Some parts of her blood on the shore were darkened, a natural occurrence of oxidation of the bodily fluids. The princess screamed for her maid, her friend, and ran towards her, tears uncontrollably rushed down her cheeks. She turned the maid over, only to find the young maiden was covered in stab wounds all across her torso. "Who did this to you?!" She shouted in agony, pulling the deceased into her arms as she cried, while cradling her friend.

"Y/N...." A voice cut through her cries and the nightmare does not end. "Y/N..." Just when she thought she had to suffer losing Natasha, she was met with the image of the God of the Sea, her beloved husband, her forever lover, laid on the sea stacks, blood emitting from the side of his mouth, his eyes losing their usual glow as he tried to call out to her. "RAFAYEL!" The princess cried, laying her friend down carefully onto the sand before she rushed over to Rafayel's side, stumbling her way up the sea stacks and having barnacles cutting into her skin. Yet again, her physical pain were not registered to her senses as of this moment. "RAFAYEL!" Her cries were unstoppable now, eyes turning bloodshot as she pulled her lover into her arms. "What happened?! I will go and get help..."

As she wanted to stand up to leave, Rafayel grabbed ahold of her hand and she regained the memory of the actual cause behind the happening.

...

The vision was murky but she could clearly hear a conversation taken place between two individuals. It seemed to take place within a cave, a female figure, with a singular eel-like tail and a merman, were having a talk. "If she remains untouchable, your kind shall perish." The feminine voice spoke, long, crooked fingers holding onto a round, translucent ball with spikes on it. She seemed to be studying the ball as she spoke. "Eradicating either one might be beneficial for you, as long as the heart is willing to be given."

"Does this mean I have to kill off the God? With my own hands?" The merman spoke, hesitation laced in his voice.

"Do not fret." The woman chanted a spell and a blue pearl appeared within her fingertips. "The mighty gem of Lemurians right? Infuse this with the crown that you would be making for her and the spell shall happen upon their kiss of rejoice, as husband and wife." She handed the blue pearl to the merman and added. "At least now, you won't get your hands dirty."

The merman kept the pearl in his pouch then placed a huge woven basket in front of the woman, a compensation of sorts for her 'service'. The merman turned to exit the caves and y/n gasped when she realised that the merman was Amund.

Her vision then flashed forward towards the moment when she wore the veil. Upon kissing Rafayel, she immediately got possesed by an unknown force, but an entity of evil origins. A dagger was summoned into her hands out of thin air and she stabbed Rafayel right in the heart with it. Y/n screamed out, but her voice was muted, playing the role of a bystander as the vision continued unfolding itself. The God of the Sea was taken aback as he had never thought he would be killed by his very own sworn lover.

His eyes looked into hers. Pupils blown out of the usual proportion before he spat out blood, splatters of it hitting her wedding gown and her face, but the possessed bride was unfazed. Merfolks were horrified as they hurriedly scattered into the seas. For an entity so evil that dares to challenge the God of the Sea, the merfolks know that they are powerless against this possessed individual, be it a mundane. So they chose to flee, hoping that the warrior amongst them, the longest friend of Rafayel's, would come to the rescue.

But Amund just stood by the shore, now in his human form, as he watched the blatant massacre happening right in front of him. A small smirk creeped up onto his face when he knew right then and there, the future of his people are secured. The foregone of a God shall mean one or two of the foretold endings. The princess willingly sacrifices herself to save Lemuria as she knew how much Lemurians mean to Rafayel. Or Amund shall dig the heart out of her if she chooses to be selfish. All with the end goal of him being viewed as the hero, salvaging Lemuria from its end days.

...

The vision ended, with y/n in shock, eyes staring blankly at Rafayel's body in her arms. The God of Sea finally letting his tears run astray, flowing down his cold and blanched face when his bride slowly came to her own realisation. The young god had once told his bride about the specialty of her heart, for he had given half of his heart to her when they made a promise during their first meet.

That moment, Rafayel summmoned a small blue fish within his palms, stating that blue fishes are emissaries of the sea, but he lied partially, knowing the moment she wanted to release him back into the ocean, he had fell in love with her and was sure that she will be the one. Hence, a bonding vow was made without her knowledge, and part of his heart was given to her as a contribution of his love.

The princess turned out to be the bait, the bait to kill Rafayel when he least expected it, just so Amund could gain the heart of either the God or the bride and to return glory to Lemuria. But Rafayel, although wanted to marry a mundane, had never once thought of abandoning his kind. His plan was to bring her to live with him within Lemuria, and with both of their hearts within the vicinity of one another, it could restore glory to Lemuria and no bloodshed would take place. And obviously, this plan was only known to the God of Sea himself. As a God only does what is best for his people and his actions shall reap what he sows.

"Im sorry!" Y/N's lips are only wired to speak these two words, body shaking and voice hoarse, mentally and physically pained, watching the dying God in front of her eyes. "I can't do this without you, Rafayel." Her hands cupped his cheeks, his blood painting her palms in red. "Please don't leave me..." She continued begging. "I could never forgive myself...Please don't go...."

"I am here...I will always be here..." The bride's cries would not stop, eyes avoiding his as she knew that he was stating the opposite of what he actually meant. Until her eyes landed on the dagger that was laid beside Rafayel. The same dagger that she had used to stab Rafayel in his heart, and the same dagger that Amund had used to kill Natasha as to eliminate any witnesses. Rafayel's eyes caught on eventually, but with him on the verge of death, he was physically unable to stop her.

He watched his bride, with eyes widened in terror while choking onto his own blood, trying to form words. "I love you." Were her last words before she stabbed herself with the dagger, right into her chest as well, where his and her heart lies. What comes afterwards was her choking and simultaneously spitting blood right out of her mouth, a sign of her haemorrhaging.

If nobody could take his heart, she shall not give up hers as well. A smile of relieve dawned on her face, the rosiness of her cheeks gradually fading as crimson tears replaced the redness of her cheeks. For she is a mundane, she could not hold on any longer like how Rafayel did, as it takes a while for a God to be fully bled dry.

Her whole body fell limply, like a puppet torn from its strings, and her face landed right in front of Rafayel, forehead touching his. The last breath the God of Sea took, was surrounded by the sounds of the clashing waves, basked within the warmth of the sunrise, his lifeless eyes stayed open, tear streaks are the only colours apparent on his pale face, just like his bride's.

...

Hundreds of years had passed. Linkon city's renowned museum held a grand exhibition, displaying all there is for one to know about the hidden city Lemuria, and its people, Lemurians. The exhibition featured paintings, artworks, artifacts and even 'theoretically-accurate' skeletal structures of the Lemurians. As this exhibition, does run on nothing factual but relying heavily on theories and legends arising from sea explorers.

Y/n held an information pamphlet in her hand, browsing the exhibition before she stopped at one of the large paintings with the title 'God of the Sea'. The painting featured a merman, a tail with two fins for the bottom half of his torso, while the upper is made of a man. Her eyes glanced over at the God of the Sea's face, a fish head that looked all too similar to a sardine fish.

"Don't you think this artwork is suspicious?" A voice travelled from beside her, the tone of the sentence laced with disgust. "In fact, I think this whole exhibition is a total scam." Y/n turned her head to face the source of the voice. A towering young man stood next to her, wearing a white V-neckline shirt and paired with a pair of black slacks and black dress shoes, his midriff secured with a wide belt. "What do you say?" He turned his head to face her, his dusky purple hair matching the shade of his purplish-pinkish-bluish eyes. A smile evidently plastered on his handsome features.

"Who are you to say that?" Y/n crossed her arms across her chest, raising her eyebrows.

"The name's Rafayel." He confidently spoke, eyes glinting with amusement. "Anyways, mind grabbing a cup of coffee with me?"

... DUN DUN DUN!

And this shall officially mark the end for the pain! The story although still had mentions of angst and still caused some evident damage to your hearts, but I made sure I shall give you guys a good ending okay! Do not confuse this timeline with Damnation and Retribution as those are coexisting with this current timeline. SO yes! If you paid enough attention the details, the sea stacks... the sea witch blah blah..... IT IS ALL INDIRECTLY CONNECTED (depending on how you piece it based on your understanding). But yes, my story is written in this specific manner because I purposely wanted the worlds to be connected!

I really really hope you guys had enjoyed this series as I shall be writing more series as such in the future, either with Zayne or Xavier so please stay tuned for that!

If you could, drop me comments on what you think about this story as well! Even if it hurts you, makes you wanna smack yourself (pls dont do that), or whether it leaves you unfazed, I am nosy and I wanna know how this series has affected you mentally! Check out my other works as well on my page!

Wardrobe Malfunction ft LNDS boys

You forgetting a date with the boys *gasps in horror*!

Thank you for reading this series of mine. LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCHIES, MUACKS <3

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #lnds #rafayel sfw #rafayel x reader #zayne love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel angst

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