𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡

sideblog of user moviecritc

[gachiaputa]

GACHIAKUTAPUTA

nora 8teen she/her side blog for @moviecritc

archived masterlist (more fics on my main blog) ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

© gachiaputa, all rights reserved. no translations, plagiarism, modifications; please do not feed my writing to ai !! (yes my user is a pun)

[yurinettee]

yuri bruno and abbacchio 👼🩷

[irisgrrl]

روحي (rouhi)*

stardust crusaders meet avdol's wife for the first time

fluffノslight angstノstand user!readerノestablished relationshipsノreader has wavy hairノparticular ethnicity isn't described, but it's implied that the reader may be egyptian or at least native arabic speakerノno use of y/nノmuhammad "i missed my wife" avdol and "i missed my husband" reader (they're both yearners)ノpolnareff speaks a little bit frenchノ 3.4k words (oops) *in egyptian arabic means my soul. in the fic also appears blue water lily, which in ancient egyptian culture (according to my research) symbolized rebirth, vitality and also love. a/n: my first jjba fic, hope the first impression will be good<3 i've never been in egypt so some things in the fic may be described incorrectly. lmk if something's wrong. edited on 25.07.25

streets of cairo were crowded with tourists, locals trying to sell their products, homeless people asking for money, kids running between adults. smell of spices and perfumes in the air.

the group was asking locals about the building on the polaroid photo hermit purple has made earlier. dio's hideout. kakyoin was still recovering, holly didn't have much time. the closer they were to dio, the harder it was getting. both physically and emotionally, each of them was on the edge.

polnareff and jotaro were asking another owner of the shop. muhammad was a little bit behind others, looking around. after hol horse's attack they needed to be more careful.

his eyes were wandering over people. looking at them living their mostly peaceful lives, doing daily routine. it made avdol both happy and sad. he was happy that people experienced their lives fully and it gave him motivation to fight against the evil. and he was sad, because they don't know about the danger that lies upon them. they don't know that among them live people with supernatural abilities that sometimes they use to harm others.

his attention caught glimpse of two teenagers in the gap between buildings, hid from people's eye. boy and girl around jotaro's and kakyoin's age, maybe a little bit older.

behind his back, boy held a blue water lily. shyly he twisted his hand presenting flower to a girl and she gasped in awe, covering mouth with hand. then she smiled by movement of her lips, muhammad understood that she said in arabic "it's so beautiful."

muhammad smiled faintly and almost on reflex covered with his palm place on his chest, where was the necklace with blue water lily pendant under his clothes. the one that you and avdol both started wearing as symbol of marriage bond, because wearing rings is quite inconvenient in your lives.

his grip tightened slightly. he closes his eyes, letting out heavy sigh.

last time you've been together was almost two months ago. one and a half to be exact. last time you spoke was, when the group reached india. then muhammad was recovering after being stabbed and almost shot and only mister joestar reached out to you to inform about it. later you and avdol didn't talk and the fact of it stung.

muhammad longed for you. longed for the feel of your touch as you trace fingers between his bantu knots and the feel your soft lips, when you pepper his face with small kisses on lazy mornings. your soothing voice still echoed in his mind sometimes. memories of your shared evenings — when he sometimes watched how you applied henna on your hands humming songs under your breath — kept him sane, they gave motivation to continue. you two were apart earlier because of work or stand consulting. but this journey is the longest since the engagement.

except mister joestar, no one in the group knew about your existence, because the chance, that dio could learn about you and use as a bait, was too high. avdol knew you were strong enough to fight and protect yourself, but he couldn't risk like that. and almost five months ago, when dio approached him late at night, you were in marrakesh and muhammad thanked all gods that you weren't in cairo in that moment.

and now it's around three days since group have arrived at cairo and avdol still didn't see you. it was unfair towards you, not letting know that avdol is near and okay. he tried not to think about it, to abstract himself and focus on the mission, but the guilt and anguish was consuming.

he pulled the pendant out of his shirt. the silver piece of jewellery glittered under the sun, slightly shimmering. suddenly heavy hand lays on his shoulder.

"why are you standing there like a loner?" mister joestar asks him, then his eyes glance at the pendant and his gaze gets calmer. "ahh, that's why."

avdol didn't reply, didn't need to.

"you still haven't called her or let know you're home?"

"this is complicated, sir." avdol murmurs.

"nothing's complicated about not seeing your wife for a long time and missing her." joseph's gaze softens more and he leans to whisper. "do you think she knows, where the building is located?"

avdol turns around to face him with widened eyes. "with all my respect, but sir may we keep her out of it? i don't want her to be involved."

"i understand, but after you she's one of the most knowledged and experienced people i know. maybe she noticed something speedwagon foundation couldn't." joseph replied, still quiet so jotaro and polnareff wouldn't hear them. "besides, you still would want to check up on her at some point. you're quieter and more thoughtful than usual since we've met on that island in red sea. separation hit you hard avdol."

avdol looks aside at the ground. sometimes he hated how after knowing mister joestar for three years, he could understand his demeanour. but he was right, you were one of the most intelligent and educated people. what speedwagon foundation and mister joestar knew about stands and their spiritual aspect they knew not only from avdol, but from you too.

they were stuck at one place, trying to find the hideout of dio and no one who they asked doesn't know where it is. but you might've.

mister joestar was also right that at some point of time avdol's self-control will come to an end and he will come to you after all just to make sure you're safe and sound and because his longing will reach its highest level.

after considering all aspects and possible outcomes, avdol nods. mister joestar smiles satisfyingly. "i'll go call jotaro and polnareff and we can head out to khan el-khalili. but we gotta find iggy first, cus she's the only he accepts." joseph retrieved to let jotaro and polnareff know.

avdol exhaled slowly, turning around. before hiding the necklace under his clothes, he brought pendant to his lips.

"soon, my soul. very soon." he whispers in arabic.

𓎢𓎠𓎟𓎠𓎡

"can someone explain where do we go?" polnareff asked for a third time. jotaro just grumbled under his breath as they were going. iggy was somewhere behind them.

"patience, polnareff." joseph replied.

bazaar was crowded as usual if not even more. the scent of spices, perfume and fresh smell of fabrics was way more perceptible here.

muhammad moved through the crowd first, muttering sorrys in arabic. and the closer they were, the more nervous he felt.

he stopped when he noticed familiar sign and colourful weave awning.

there you were, standing and talking to a tourist about something, smiling.

muhammad didn't notice how his breath hitched and his eyes widened a little bit. he stands there in a few metres from you, seeing after month and a half. you were still the same. still unmistakably you.

hem of your long skirt was brushing the ground, ball sleeves of your blouse flew a little bit. bracelets on your wrists crinkled against each other as you were gesturing. henna on your hands is bright brown with red. and fresh, always fresh. two strands of wavy hair fell out of your silk headscarf.

"why did we stop? wha…?" joseph shushed polnareff before he said more.

you noticed avdol after saying goodbye to tourists and froze at your place, lips parted.

muhammad. your muhammad.

alive and breathing, standing there in front of you with mister joestar and two other young men behind him. between legs of a man with platinum white hair appeared iggy.

you wanted to hug him, you wanted to scream at him, you wanted to cry on his chest, you wanted to kiss him breathlessly, you wanted to make him know how much you missed him and feared of never seeing him again, you wanted to do all of the above at the same time.

but not here, not with people around. you collected tarot cards and luck charms you were selling and put the awning down without any further words. then you send muhammad a look to go after you and also nod mister joestar in greeting and he does the same.

polnareff and jotaro still confused just followed joseph after his pointed look. iggy yawned, going after you.

avdol's fingers brushed your middle as five of you with a dog were coming in the building. just for moment, but still your skin still covered with goosebumps. you walked automatically, voices around you became background noise, unintentionally you held your breath as everything in you tightened. not in fear. excitement. the only thing you thought about was your husband behind you.

the moment you reach your shared apartment and everyone comes in, you toss everything on the carpet beneath you and approach avdol in a second. he loses a balance for moment as your arms are wrapping around his neck. that's when you let out a sigh, that almost sounded as a sob.

you didn't say a word, clinging to muhammad and savouring the moment. muhammad's scent was the same. mix of spices with wood and something that was unmistakably him. you feel his hand around your waist, the other is caressing your back.

polnareff and jotaro were caught off the guard because of the sudden close physical touch. french man looked joseph in a search of answers for his several questions, but joseph remained calm, gesturing to wait. iggy sat on the floor, looking at the scene bored.

you press your forehead against his, cupping his face. thumbs softly brushed scars on his cheeks. "i was so worried about you. no call since india and then mister joestar told me that you were…" you murmur in arabic.

"hey-hey, shsh. i'm okay, my soul. i'm here, with you." muhammad covered your hands on his face with his, pressing lips softly against your palm.

"don't frighten me like that ever again, you hear me?" you replied, voice still soft, but firm. avdol nodded actively.

the tender moment would last longer if polnareff didn't let out careful cough.

"i apologise for disturbing this intimate moment." avdol rolled his eyes at friend's words. "but may i ask who are you?" the last question was addressed to you. considering jotaro's look of face behind french man, he thought about it too. "and why are we in this flat, avdol?"

joseph rubs between his eyes, muttering something under his breath.

you huff, letting muhammad answer instead of you and giving him daring look.

with a calm voice, avdol responds. "my apologies, polnareff. let me introduce you my wife." he says your name softly, wrapping his hand around your middle.

"nice to meet you, i've heard a lot about you, polnareff." you smile, leaning closer to your husband. "and yes sorry our introduction is… quite chaotic." you glance behind french man. "and you must be mister joestar's grandson, jotaro kujo. nice to meet you as well."

polnareff froze glancing between both of you with wide from shock eyes. like he couldn't believe it is actually for real. jotaro behind him was speechless as well before muttering "good grief."

then suddenly polnareff barks out the laugh, placing hand on his stomach. "avdol, you bastard! you sneaky secretive bastard!"

you raise an eyebrow, looking at your husband sideways. avdol huffs a laugh, rubbing between his eyes.

then, as a gentleman he is, polnareff takes your hand and places a light kiss on outer side. "quel honneur, madame! tu es belle. avdol is very very lucky i must say." then he turns to avdol with still wide smile. "that's why you were so awkward and reserved when that woman in singapore tried to flirt with you. ha!"

joseph rolls his eyes, but still says nothing. jotaro lets out a sigh at his friend's theatrics.

not expecting such change in demeanour you let out astonished chuckle. "well merci, muhammad didn't tell me his friend was so rich on compliments. and also for confirming my husband's loyalty… not that i've ever doubted it, but still." you add playfully.

avdol tsked, shaking his head.

polnareff giggled. "oh, she's witty! incroyable."

you lower your gaze on the floor, where iggy nestled down on the carpet. you haven't seen him in such long time, maybe since he was caught by speedwagon foundation in new york. dog only let you to be near him without biting or attacking you. "you're here as well, little guy?"

his ear peeked a little bit and then he lifted his head to look at you. his tail started wiggling instinctively.

you carefully scooped him in your hands. "got so focused on muhammad i almost didn't notice you, buddy."

iggy licked your cheek in the answer and you giggled.

avdol looked at you with softened gaze, just happy to be with you at home. polnareff's eyes widened in surprise. "he doesn't attack you?"

"we don't know how, but iggy gets very calm around her." joseph explained, folding hands on his chest. "like he claimed her as his human."

jotaro hummed. "strange dog."

you glanced between four men, stopping at avdol. "you all must be hungry. i think i still have some cooked couscous and mulukhiyah. and then you will tell me everything."

avdol wrapped his hand around your waist going to the kitchen area. "i missed homemade food."

you lean into his touch, still holding iggy in your hands. though you were still a little bit mad at him, you let yourself to lean into his touch once again. your longing for beloved was bigger.

as all of you were eating and polnareff and jotaro trying your food for the first time, teen couldn't help, but kept glancing at you. you told them about your stand queen of swords and her abilities to learn about people through the physical touch or an object that's heavily associated with them. maybe not very suitable for combat fight, but great for building the plan and strategy.

jotaro studied your and avdol's interaction. how harmonic it looked, the way both of you were looking, when the other was talking, the way you understood each other without saying much. your rationality soothing avdol's impulsivity and avdol's politeness softening the edges of your straightforwardness. it looked like love and it felt like love in body language. jotaro didn't remember the last he saw his parents being like this. soft and in love.

teenager totally understood avdol's privateness. he thought that if he had such intimate relationships with someone, he would try to protect them at all cost as well. even if it meant that he should keep this person in secret from others.

after food was eaten and dishes washed, you all settled in the living area. muhammad took a polaroid picture and showed to you. "mister joestar's hermit purple made the picture of this building. this should be dio's hideout. we tried to ask people on streets, but they don't know and same goes for me. you might be our last hope, rouhi."

you gently took a polaroid from his hands and summoned queen of swords to find it. your mind started wandering between streets of cairo trying to picture the location, but it only showed you what was near, the district. after multiple attempts of searching for building, you gave up, exhaling sharply.

"i found in which district is it, but not the exact place. the polaroid is not strongly associated enough to find it. i'm sorry."

avdol caressed your back. "don't apologise, you actually helped a lot and reduced the perimeter."

joseph nodded. "avdol's right."

after some time of thinking you turned to your husband with an idea. "we can ask one of beggars. they know the city perfectly. we already got the district, the hideout will be found in a meantime."

"you sure about this?" avdol asks.

"absolutely."

he nods, agreeing with you and turned to men. "i'll arrange the meeting then and we'll met one of beggars tomorrow."

you stood up from the couch, going to wear a belt with small bags, where you kept small trinkets and money. "wait, i'll go with you. i'm on good terms with one of them. he will help for a good price."

polnareff, jotaro and joseph frowned and glanced at avdol. muhammad's lips parted a little bit.

"what?"

you turn around confused. "what? i said i'll go with you to arrange meeting. then tomorrow i will come with you, when the hideout will be found, by the way." your reply was like matter-of-fact. like it was obvious that you'll join them in a fight with dio.

avdol tensed. out of all things he didn't want you to be involved the most. yes, you were capable of protecting yourself and you weren't soft. but only one thought of you getting hurt or — even worse — killed was getting him feeling on edge and make his blood boil. if something will happen to you because of the enemy, he'll burn them down without hesitation.

he came closer to you and said with low voice. "no."

you looked up, frowning. "what do you mean no?"

"it means no. i would like you to stay at home. i came because mister joestar pushed me to this decision, because…"

"but that's not the only reason, is it?" you folded your arms, your voice was stoic.

avdol sighed. "no, it's not. i also missed you. a lot. the closer we were to egypt, the more other part of my brain was filled with thoughts about you. i'm sorry it may sound really selfish of me and now when i don't want to come with us only confirms it, but…" he took your hand, keeping it close to his chest. "i'm so scared that you will get hurt, my dear."

you softened a little bit, but your jaw was still clenched. muhammad's overprotective nature wasn't new to you, but sometimes it made you feel like he was underrating you and your capabilities. even if it's unintentional.

polnareff, jotaro and joseph stayed where they were, carefully listening to your conversation. iggy left the flat right after dinner, feeling "captured" in four walls.

you sigh. "i know, but… i can protect myself and fight too. remember the new ability of queen of swords i discovered?"

joseph perked up. "what ability?"

without saying anything, you touch muhammad's wrist. "queen of swords! double dagger!"

behind you in soft silver shine was a feminine figure in a long robe and a crown on her head. and it seemed like magician's red behind avdol started exchanging some sort of energy with your stand. when the exchange ended, you snapped your fingers and fire appeared between it.

joseph's eyes widened, polnareff and jotaro behind him seemed to be surprised as well.

"two months ago i have discovered that queen of swords can borrow other stand's power. she doesn't steal them, other stand keeps having their abilities. she's just able to possess it for uncertain period of time. the longest was two hours." you explained, turning back to avdol. "so if you, muhammad avdol, think that i will stay behind and wait for you — my husband — to return, then you married a wrong woman. i will fight next to you." you gave a verdict.

the room fell into silence. avdol lowered his gaze for a bit.

"sometimes i appear controlling. i'm sorry for underestimating you, rouhi." he admitted with soft smile, that spoke about his admiration of your courage.

"you're forgiven." you smile back and lean to leave a kiss on his cheek. "we have to go now, before the sun sets.

avdol nodded, following you to the exit. before leaving he turned to group and warned about be watchful. when the door closed behind you, polnareff hummed. "quelle femme! kakyoin will be so excited to hear about it."

joseph chuckled. jotaro muttered "good grief."

𓎢𓎠𓎟𓎠𓎡

late at night, when everyone was asleep in small flat and quietness fell over, you found yourself brushing avdol's scalp between his bantu knots. he lets out a heavy sigh, resting his head on your thighs, his hand wrapping around your waist. two of you were in your shared bedroom, aroma stick was slowly smouldering in the holder leaving ash on vanity table, spreading wooden scent with notes of spices across the room. for some moment you could feel peaceful and calm.

muhammad turns his head on your thighs and meets your wandering thoughtful gaze. a very familiar one.

"i know this look." he murmurs.

you snap out. "what look?"

"the one that says you miss my dreadlocks." glint of playfulness are in his eyes and you chuckle quietly.

"god forbid i loved how handsome you looked with them. i mean, you are handsome no matter what, but they suited you so much."

he hums. "didn't you say that bantu knots are good too?"

you roll your eyes with a smirk. "well, i liked dreads more."

muhammad chuckles, fingers squeezing your waist . "when this all will be over, maybe i'll switch back to dreads."

your fingers brush new scar in the middle of his forehead. "hold you on that, beloved."

a/n: they survived, avdol did dreadlocks again and later in the future their kids had amazing uncles </3 (i'm delusional, leave me alone)

thank you for reading! likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated

[4theloveoflotus]

— HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS ‧₊ ⊹

pairing: anbu!kakashi x fem!reader

content: fluff, hurt/comfort, reverse comfort, non-sexual intimacy, bathing/washing, sharing a bed, cuddling, undefined relationship, kakashi has attachment issues, flashbacks, ptsd symptoms, kissing, kakashi is slightly clingy, minor character study

w/c: 2.4k words

ˎˊ˗ art credit: @sso_s__ on twitter

the latch on your window lifted without so much as a click. the cool gusts of night air precede kakashi, as one of his hands settled against the windowsill, swiftly followed by the quiet sweep of his sandals. he lands on your floorboards. the wood beneath his feet never creaked when he dropped himself off through window with practised ease. the same way you never bothered to look up when the sounds of a shutting window that you never opened reacquainted themselves with your ears.

though tonight, he didn't veer any further than the spot he landed on. he simply settled, almost as if anchored to it.

the ninja in your room remained crouched, with his breathing slow and heavy. his mask and uniform were desecrated with dirt, and defiled with dried blood. whether it was his own or that of another's, you couldn't completely tell. kakashi seems more like a walking riddle than a man right now, with his eyes fixed to the floor, staring idly at the space between his feet. he lacked the piercing glances one might expect an anbu-nin scanning for danger to have. at best, he seemed contemplative, and at worst, he seemed dejected. your own feet meet the floor, sacrificing the warmth of your bed on a pursuit to conduct a more personal investigation.

kakashi indulges your curiosity. he doesn't move away from you, not a single inch. your sight is first greeted with tufts of white hair, stained with whatever the crude world decided to mark him with. he still doesn't move when you bend your knees slightly, reaching downwards to grasp his shoulders. you can feel him shiver at your touch.

he still makes a battle out of looking at you, still appearing insistent on staring at the floor. it felt like the dark circles painted under his eyes, with exhaustion rooted deep into his flesh, were weighing his own gaze down. it only ceases when your hand—as soft as ever—grips the underside of his chin and guides his head upwards.

neither of you spoke. you both didn't need to. and for that, kakashi felt thankful. he withdrew, and often made it a statement to push people away, should he suffer even more loss. he didn't want the weight of grief to grow heavier on his shoulders, as strong as they were. but even so, he couldn't help visiting you when the sun fell, and the moon rose. it felt natural. kakashi couldn't help but to be selfish.

you were his sanctuary. his comfort. his, and his alone.

he tried not to take advantage of your kindness. the time between each of his visits would grow longer and longer, but like a moth to a flame, he would always find himself at your place. he reckons it's some form of self-punishment, but it doesn't feel like that when the lights of your room entice him to come in and make himself feel at home. it doesn't feel like self-punishment when you show him a night's tenderness after a day's terror. the pilgrimages he takes to see you are wrought with pain and isolation, and yet, he doesn't have any regrets taking that troublesome trip.

"come." your voice falls like rain on parched soil.

his heart flutters at the sound of your command. he finally rises, revealing the full extent of his height. the hand you once had on his chin is now holding his hand, tugging it. you guide him to your bathroom, and he follows obediently.

kakashi's towering frame has become the centerpiece in your bathroom. his figure emanates strength and power, though the sullen energy that radiates from him tells you the opposite. you stand on your tip-toes to unclasp his mask, but your emergency inches of spare height simply aren't enough. in an act of mercy, kakashi leans forwards—his face coming closer to yours. he could have very well taken it off himself, but he finds pleasure in your care. he wants you to do it.

pale hair tickles your face. you can hear a tinny sigh held back by his porcelain mask. your fingers slip beneath the strap at the back of his head, and with a snap, the mask is freed from his face. it's merely one of many masks that kakashi has at his disposal.

this porcelain mask conceals kakashi, the shinobi.

and the additional fabric mask beneath conceals kakashi, the man.

he allows you to see him for what he is. he allows you to slide the cloth off his face and draw it away completely. in exchange, you allow him to live without the need to shield himself. you do not gawk at him, nor do you marvel over seeing the face that is the subject of conjecture. you let him be.

"may i?"

it's hard to say no to you. he nods his head without a second thought.

you continue to break him down, with your hands moving to the fastenings at his shoulders where straps kept his armoured vest in place. one clasp loosened, then the other. undone, the armour clinked as it dropped to the floor, next to the mask. it carried the weight of his job; of every mission he survived; and every order he had followed. and now, it was left on your floor.

holster. kunai. sword. arm guards.

one by one, they were all quick to accompany each item after the next into the growing pile of items that burdened kakashi, until all there was left were clothes.

the fabric of his suit folds in on itself as you pull it down. it reveals a muscular carving of skin that's bruised in some places, and scarred in others. he's stood in your bathroom, wearing nothing but his underwear. piece by piece, you had been chipping away at your anbu-nin until all that was left was a man underneath.

and that was the standard whenever he came over. the outside world didn't matter. his names, titles, responsibilities, everything. it got left behind on your bedroom window, and it would be waiting for him at the break of dawn. but for a few hours, but for now, he could be as close to normal as this world allows. he could seek comfort from a person with flesh, instead of talking to an unanswering, cold stone.

with the lightest touch, your knuckles smooth a trail against his torso as you look for injuries. a lot of the old bruises you saw on his last visit have healed, which brings you relief. you can hear your own voice in the back of your head telling him to be careful. maybe he really did listen to your nagging. it makes you smile a little.

"clean yourself up. you need it, kakashi. how about i prepare something for you to eat while you're here? you must be hungry." you suggest.

you have always offered kakashi the freedom to shower alone, but as he stands in front of the running shower, he almost looks pained at the offer. it's nearly comical. kakashi, crowned with the moniker of 'friend killer,' is looking at you as if you've kicked one of his ninken. the same anbu captain who could walk alone into enemy lines without fear, was finding the prospect of being alone more daunting than any mission assigned to him.

your heart aches.

"i know you don't want to be alone… but you know i won't be far, kakashi."

"will you come back?"

you're surprised at how easily that question comes out of his mouth. as if it doesn't go against his moral fibre. he spent years convincing himself that solitude was the safer option, and yet, he wants you to be around. even if it's just for a shower that won't last past a couple of minutes.

"of course i will, kakashi. always."

he doesn't break eye contact while you speak. you end up breaking it with the turn of your body anyways, but you can still feel his stare searing into your back.

"kakashi." your voice is firm. "i'll be here."

and he believes you.

blood, blood, blood.

without anybody to shield him from the danger that is his mind, it's easier for him to be swept by threats of the past trickling into his present. every droplet of water that falls on his trembling skin is red in his head. blood, blood, blood. he can taste the iron in his mouth, he can feel its ugly, warm viscosity seeping into his flesh and staining his skin. it won't go away. the blood he bears for the sins he committed outside have followed him into your fortress of sanity, and it's all his fault. it won't go away.

with his sunken head in his hands, and with the warm water falling onto his hair, kakashi doesn't even realise that tears are falling down his face. he thinks the sound of the shower is loud enough to conceal the sounds of him sobbing, but when he hears the bathroom door open, he knows that's not true, and he knows that he can't hide from you any longer.

his vision is obscured, covered by a film of watery saltiness that makes the world around him seem blurry. he can make out a shape that vaguely resembles you through the tears. he blinks once through his tears, blinks twice, and feelings of safety wash over him as you come into clarity.

cooking for him would have to wait. you don't care about the fact that you're getting your clothes wet when you reach out to him, arms outstretched. his soaking body clings onto you, with strong arms securing you with a brace that so tight, that it echoes his deepest fear: that you will leave him alone again.

"i'm here, kakashi," you whisper in his ear. "it's alright. i'm here."

you don't care how many times you have to repeat this consolation. it would be true each and every time.

the dried blood from the latest mission rinses off his skin, and pours into the drain. when you're around, the blood actually goes away. he feels absolved of his guilt when you're scrubbing it away with a soapy washcloth. his brain cannot bother him with the final screams of whoever he was tasked to kill, so long as your sweet voice continues to hum the tune that he's begun to memorise on each of his visits.

kakashi hated the smell of drawn blood. it was sharp, metallic, and invaded his nose until he could smell nothing else. he's come to relish in your scent, though. right now, it was your shampoo. it smells like sweetness, like comfort, like home—like everything he dreams of when he's out on a mission. a low, rumbling purr vibrates in his chest as your fingers scratch along his scalp. he could stay like this forever.

but when the warm water stops, and when he feels your hands leave his hair, he lets out something of a groan. a dissatisfied one. your lips pressing against the nape of his neck serve to soothe him.

“sorry, kakashi," you speak between soft kisses. "let's get up and get dressed, yeah?”

he doesn't speak, but you know he's listening because he allows you to pat him dry with a towel. his eyes had drifted shut in the shower, but he still doesn't open them, despite the fact that the shower is over. he didn’t need to see. not when you were there to watch his back.

"heads up." you warn.

for the first time in a while, kakashi feels himself smiling, even if it's just a small one. you're patting his face dry with the towel like he's delicate. maybe it's the sheer absurdity of it all. if anything, he should be handling you with such care. he doesn't think he deserves it, but he still lets you massage lotion into his skin like it matters—like he matters. when you're done talking him through every product in your cabinet, you both leave the steamy bathroom and return to your bedroom. you hand him a clean pair of clothes, just for the night, and he wears them, savouring the smell of freshly washed fabric against his smoothened skin.

your bed is soft.

the mattress mirrors your generosity with its size, with it being large enough to accomodate both of your laying bodies. it felt like a luxury to kakashi, but not compared to the warmth of your body. that was the richest luxury of them all.

his arms are wrapped around your waist, with his face pressed against your chest. the gentle heat of your skin sinks into his weary flesh, and it makes him forget about the light ache in his muscles. he counts the lengths of your breaths, and the metronome of your heartbeat in his ear lulls him into a state of near-peace.

it would've been complete peace if it weren't for the way this world functioned. kakashi starts to wonder about what life could've been like if the world was different. he starts to think about what life could've been if he weren't in the anbu; if he weren't a shinobi; if he wasn't born into a system that required violence. he could have this kind of peace every single day, and maybe, he could indulge in you without shame.

maybe, he could bring himself to tell you that he loves you. he could really get attached.

in this darkness, kakashi opens his eyes and shifts his irises to look at you. your sleeping face looks like it's found the peace he thinks about. he moves his eyes to look at your chest as it rises and falls.

there's blood beneath that precious skin of yours. warm, running blood. images of kannabi bridge and cold bodies flash through his memory like lightning, and kakashi, drunk on your warmth, holds your body even tighter to stave off the chills that run through his spine. he tosses, and buries his face in your chest like the past has come to chase him. the images linger for an awful moment, taunting him almost, before your hand runs itself through his hair. the visions then fade into a thick mist, leaving not a single trace behind.

"kakashi…" you speak softly.

he stops moving when you talk, and he holds his breath for a moment. he listens to your heartbeat. the sound of your blood pumping, giving you life. you're here. he's here. and finally, he releases the pent-up breath that relieves him on its exhale. 

"i love you…" the words come out in a sleepy haze.

kakashi leans in to the softness of your breasts, right where your heart beats. rather than tearing your heart open, he presses a kiss there instead.

he loves you too.

a/n: wow this is probably the first SFW work I've dropped on this blog... (😳) this thought has been itching my head for the past idk how many months. ugh kakashi ily

i seriously need to make this google form to see what characters you guys wanna be tagged for, but in the meantime if you wanna be tagged for kakashi works #LMK! i hope u guys like this!

🐾🏷️ - @t1track

[ryoride]

ꮼ HOW DEEP IS YOUR LOVE? IS IT LIKE THE OCEAN !

cw: est. relationship, suggestive, men who yearn, physical affection, PDA, gifts, kissing mentioned, high effort boyfriend, & not proofread

ⓘ Featuring 𝓑𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝓑𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐎 𝓚𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎

boyfriend!bokuto is a die-hard romantic, even though his primary love language is physical touch, he never fails to express his love in new sweet ways.

Buying you small trinkets from everywhere he visits, small sketches on napkins whenever you head into American buffets, & the sweetest of all, he writes love letters whenever he misses you.

boyfriend!bokuto loves showing you affection—after a long practice, he'll come home, wrap his muscular arms around your waist & start pressing kisses to your shoulder between telling you about his day.

Bonus dopamine hit when you let him rest his head on your stomach & scratch his scalp before bed.

boyfriend!bokuto is always so ecstatic after a win; he runs to find you just so he can pull you into his embrace & kiss you.

It's always so cute; the footage of him rushing to you, radiating so much joy & love always goes a little viral.

boyfriend!bokuto always misses you when you can't make it to one of his games, & after a win without you there, all his teammates get to hear how, the moment he gets back to his motel room, he's calling you to celebrate.

He'll stay on the line with you till his words are slurring and you ensure him it's okay to goto bed & you'd see him in a few days.

boyfriend!bokuto likes to shower with you, shampooing your hair, letting you put a hair mask in his hair & massage at his scalp, washing each other's backs, sharing quick kisses, & the peacefulness of the rushing water.

Every time he showers with you, he always helps with your haircare routine & finds your robe for you.

boyfriend!bokuto keeps everything you've ever given him—there's a box on his dresser filled with every love letter, polaroid, trinket, stickers, even one of your perfumes you gave him, nestled comfortably in there.

boyfriend!bokuto bought the prettiest matching promise rings within a few months of dating. He knows the saying "when you know, you know," and mid-date, it hit him, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

He went out & bought them right after dropping you off at your apartment & now proudly wears it around, only taking it off in matches.

boyfriend!bokuto is always making sure to be the best boyfriend he can be for you !

[lilithkleia]

sometimes you just need to collapse on a pretty girl!

“y/n it’s two in the morning, what the fuck are you doing.” shoko said, shuffling behind you half asleep, dressed in pjs that matched yours while you squinted at your textbooks under the dim lights.

“…studying?”

“you were supposed to be in bed three hours ago.” she leaned on the doorway, crossing her arms over while you turned over in your seat.

“i’ll be right there, i promise—.” you were cut short when she walked upto you, cupping your jaw, planting a soft kiss to your lips before grabbing you by your wrists and pulling you away.

“you said that hours ago, you need sleep to function.”

“says you.” you rolled your eyes, allowing her to drag you back to your shared bedroom, polaroids of the two of you on the walls with her med school papers scattered over the floor and the sheets messy with her hair sticking up all funny from rolling out of bed to find you.

“i’m the medschool student, you should be listening to me.”

before you even had the chance to start questioning all her habits she kissed you, lips movie against yours before she jumped back onto the bed, beckoning you over with her arms.

you slowly crawled over, hovering on top of her before—

thud!

you landed right on top, your head resting on her chest, your legs tangled together before she moved her hand up to pat your head—kissing the top of your head before patting you on the cheek.

“aww is my pretty girl tired?” she cooed, watching you curl up on top of her like the cutest weighted blanket, slowly nodding while you wrapped your arms around her waist.

“exhausted.”

“yeah, yeah i’m sure you are, nerd.”

this is my first time writing wlw but trust me there’s more to come 🙂‍↕️

all works belong to @lilithkleia, do NOT copy, translate or feed to AI. lest you wish upon toji’s worm to crawl up your ass.

[strangergraphics]

vintage dividers part six:

please like and credit if you use, reblogs are appreciated! thank you! 💕

[gyarujo]

gym rat gf! maki’s dragged you to the gym with her every single morning since you moved in together. it doesn’t matter if you’re dead tired, every morning starts the same way — with her nudging your shoulder, tugging the blankets off you, and pressing kisses against your cheek until you finally crack an eye open.

gym rat gf! maki lets you pick out all of her workout clothes. she’ll stand there while you hold up different sports bras and shorts, pretending she couldn’t care less about your opinion. but somehow, she always ends up wearing the set you said looked best on her.

gym rat gf! maki has somehow managed to turn you into part of her workout routine. she’ll pat the mat behind her for you to sit on while she stretches, drape your legs across her lap during her cooldown, or have you climb onto her back so she can knock out a set of push-ups, acting like you don’t weigh a thing.

gym rat gf! maki hovers just enough to make sure you’re working out safely without ever making you feel incapable. she adjusts your form with a hand on your waist, steadies the bar before you even realize you need help, wipes down your bench before you can reach for the towel. and if anyone stares a little too long while you’re figuring out a machine ? one look from her is enough to send them somewhere else.

gym rat gf! maki insists your recovery is just as important as the workout itself and gives you “massages” after every workout together. they’re always wayyy too deep, bordering on painful, and she’ll be digging into a knot in your shoulder while saying, “see ? this is why you need to stretch more,” completely unfazed by your pitiful whimpers.

gym rat gf! maki refuses to let you carry anything. groceries ? she’s already holding every single bag. heavy boxes ? moved before you even notice them. furniture ? don’t even think about touching it. the second you reach down to help, she gives you a look like you’ve personally insulted her. “i’ve got it,” she says, matter-of-fact, taking whatever’s in your hands before you can argue. at this point, you’re convinced the heaviest thing you’ve carried since you started dating is a gallon of milk.

gym rat gf! maki uses everything she knows about nutrition to cook for you. protein pancakes, high-protein pasta, healthy homemade snacks. she’ll never admit it outright, but she loves watching you enjoy something she made with her own two hands.

gym rat gf! maki’s cheat days are never really about the food — they’re always about you. she lets you drag her wherever you want, lets you steal fries off her plate even though you ordered your own, and caves instantly when you insist on sharing dessert. she swears she doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but she never turns down a bite if you’re the one offering it to her.

gym rat gf! maki gets really clingy after dragging you through a particularly brutal workout. curled up beside you in bed, she traces the muscles along your arms, your stomach, your thighs with absent-minded fingers, quietly pointing out how much stronger you’ve gotten.

gym rat gf! maki never has to tell you why she pushes herself so hard. she says it in the way she catches you before you stumble, the way she keeps a protective hand at the small of your back through crowded streets, the way she carries you upstairs after leg day without so much as breaking a sweat. every early morning, every aching muscle, every hour spent becoming stronger has never been for the sake of strength itself. it’s always been for you. so she can be the one you lean on, the one who keeps you safe, and the one who gets to love you for the rest of her life.

© GYARUJO 2026. please do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites. do not feed to ai

[rhekiki]

Hi mooti. Please please please. Can i request. One yasuho. One yasuho hirose. Just for me. I twirl my hair.

HI MOOTIE!!! !! hands you this. g..Gently. dont mind her gf in the corner,. he wanted to be included

[wiinterz]

⁺ ᩠᮫✿ິ ׅ aita…for teasing my girlfriend all day?

warning(s) - profanity, groping, ass smacking, slight fingering, exhibitionism, nipple/breast play, kissing, pet names (baby, pretty girl, good girl), praise kink. 18+ only, minors & men dni.

Your sweet, beautiful girlfriend, Yuki, who spends the entire day teasing you. She started the morning off today by doing her routine like always, but instead of getting ready in the bathroom like she normally does, she decided it was best to give you a little show. Standing in front of the edge of the bed, Yuki drops her towel, her pink nipples hard and deserving of kisses. Your eyes trail down to her bush, wishing you could kiss her clit till it goes swollen.

Yuki bites her bottom lip while staring at you, then she leans down to pick up her binki top. You sit there, on your side of the bed, as your mouth salivates at the sight while Yuki ties her top. Her boobs are pushed up now, while some of her hair lies on her cleavage.

She looks at you again and smiles, a soft shade of pink dusting her cheeks as she giggles. “You gonna sit there all day or get ready, pretty girl?”

You clear your throat and cough a little before speaking up. “Yeah,” you sigh, “It’s just us going right?” Yuki nods and turns around, bending in front of you as she picks up her binki bottom and shorts. “Yeah, just us.” She replies and looks back at you, seeing the drool accidentally spill out. Just the way she loves it.

It’s so mean, and she knows it. You tried to think nothing of it when you started getting ready.

Yuki, on the other hand, giggles to herself, knowing you’re going to struggle the entire day. First it was her hand on your hips as you brushed your teeth, and each time you leaned down to spit, Yuki would smack your ass and grip it. Then her left hand would drag down your spine as her lips would follow.

When driving to the beach, she would rest her hand on your thigh, leaving it there for a while to trick you into thinking it was nothing.

Yuki slowly dragged her hand up to your stomach and up to your right breast; her fingers would grip your boob and begin massaging it.

You whimpered and looked to the window, hating the way Yuki had that stupid smirk plastered on her face. “There’s my good girl.” She rasps. You let her touch you, feeling the way her fingers move back down on your shirt and to your shorts. Unbuttoning it easily, she leaves her hand resting on your crotch, not even bothering to push your bikini bottom against your shorts to actually feel your clit.

Making it to the beach, you could’ve sworn Yuki would be done with whatever she was doing. She teased you enough in the car to the point she pulled moans from you, all because she rubbed your nipples and called you her baby.

As the two of you set up at the area you found, you watch the way Yuki flexes her biceps for you, grabbing the attention of other women. She doesn’t pay them any attention because yours is the only important one, and it keeps going. “Come on baby, let me give you a massage, you’ve been doing so much recently.” She begs; you can see the twinkle in her eyes, but you listen, because she is right, you’ve been doing a lot nowadays.

Yuki sits on the towel, legs stretched out and open for you to sit in between. “You’re not sneaky.” You comment, Yuki smiles, and bites her bottom lip as she watches you take your top off and shorts off, putting them on the side before sitting down and pressing your back against her chest.

“I’m not even doing anything?” She mutters, and you hum. Yuki then picks up the bottle of sunscreen and pours some in her hand. You shut your eyes and lick your lips as the sounds of waves crashing and people interacting make you calm.

Yuki starts with rubbing your right arm, the warmth of the sunscreen and her hands mix. You sigh, then hum, “Oh baby, that feels so good.” You whisper, she smirks and bites her bottom lip as her pussy pulsates to your words. “Such a good girl, letting me make you feel better.” Yuki praises, you squirm as she leans down and feels her lips pucker against your cheek. Her thumb pushes into your skin as she pecks your skin, lips all down to your neck before switching to the left side like her hands.

“Feels good?” Yuki mumbles between kisses, you nod and whine, “Yeah, fuck, your hands feel good, baby.” She giggles and looks forward while whispering, “Careful, we’re in public.”

Yuki’s hands then travel up both sides of your shoulders and slide to your breasts, under your bikini top. Your eyes widen as you look around to make sure no one is watching. “Yuki!” You whisper-yell, earning another laugh from her. “Relax, I got you.” Then she swipes her thumb over your nipples, your back arches a little, and Yuki leans closer to you, making sure your skin sticks to hers.

“Yuki, what— hmm.” Cutting you off by leaning down and lapping her tongue against your shoulder blade before sucking on it slowly, you push your body into hers and sigh. “I hate you.” You mumble. Yuki chuckles and pulls her lips away. “Likewise.”

She doesn’t give you a chance to breathe, moving her hands down to your stomach and down to the middle of your crotch. You try to shut your legs, but Yuki’s left and right legs hook over your thighs, forcing you to keep them open as she rubs your folds over the cloth. You moan softly and rock your hips up to feel her better. “There she is.” Yuki coos, her lips brushing against your left ear as her index and middle finger tease over your folds and push your bikini in your pulsing hole a little.

“What do you need, pretty girl? Tell me what you need.” She lets out a moan with you, her eyes looking everywhere to keep you safe.

You press the back of your head against her shoulder and sigh. Opening your eyes, you stare up at the clouds. “Think we should go back to the car.” Yuki laughs at your request and nods. “And when we get back, what do you want? I can’t read your mind, baby.” She reminds you, and you tilt your head to look at her a little. “For you to stop teasing me and fuck me in the backseat.” You whisper and catch her earlobe between your teeth before letting go.

Yuki looks at you once you push her off and stand up. You lean forward in front of her, your ass in her face as you pick up your clothes. You stand straight and look down at her as you brush the sand off your clothes.

“Come on, we don’t have all day.” You state and pick your things up.

Yuki stares at you, stunned for a moment, and immediately stands up and helps you pack the stuff up. Trailing behind you like a lost puppy after having you be a puddle in her hands.

i really had this in my drafts collecting dust, what i am i doing. art made by cheeseboy382 on tumblr. also, yuki listens to young miko, that’s my other headcanon. alternative title: loser gets wet from feeling wanted by girlfriend.

taglist: @angel-stares @lonerslug @pinkfairylegobatman @beenathembo @requiemdesreves @alphabetically-deranged @h3avenlyglory

also a like, comment, and reblogs are extremely appreciated. please support your writers. we like to know how you feel as readers. your support pushes us to continue writing!! so thank you to those who have been supporting me, it means a lot!!

jjk m.list

[liahcharms]

all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter

In sickness and in health, Geto Suguru has promised, while tying your lives together. And thus, when death looms over his dearest wife, he's ready to trick it.

˖᯽ ݁˖ pairing: ꒰ Geto Suguru x Reader ꒱

˖᯽ ݁˖ content & warnings: ꒰ Inspired by the "Hamnet" movie and this one fuckass scene :: set in 17th century :: marriage :: fluff : HEAVY angst :: devotion :: sacrifice :: character's death :: family :: domestic life ꒱

˖᯽ ݁˖ words: 3k

˖᯽ ݁˖ notes: I do recommend reading it while listening to this song.

Suguru Geto has long forgotten the times when he didn't love you.

As he loved you always.

In the morning and afternoon. Springs, summers, and autumns, when the leaves turned yellow and clung to the cold windows of your cottage.

In the restless winter night, with your body close nuzzled into his, the biting wind seeping through the loose window shells.

He has loved you ever since you poured cold water on his yearning face one summer morning while he waited beneath your cottage. Dressed in his best creamy shirt, holding a bouquet of wildflowers tightly in his hand, with long hair flowing down his straight back.

A poet from a nearby village, seeing you every single day.

Seeing, as if solely from afar, inaccessible, rather wickedly beseeching, as he couldn't even truly touch you. Or talk to you, cherish the flowery scent carried on your skin.

He was neither rich nor poor, yet his heart was swollen with wickedness, cherishing a tenderness that seeped through his marrow. A feeling of the most cursed towards the only woman who hated him dearly.

A teacher, a witch, who'd rather spend her days schooling young birdies in magic and the tricks of nature than seek a husband!

A disgrace, truly, yet what could her poor folks do, since she didn't wish to marry any handsome gentleman from their village? How could they force their dearest daughter to marry any commoner, when none of them was worthy of her beauty?

And yet, Suguru Geto offered himself.

But for a reason that truly baffled everyone, you seemed to detest him. Cursing and turning your back on his kind of flirt whenever he tried to talk to you. Again and again, every single day, only to be met with a bucket of cold water you poured on him from your window or a dirty sponge you shot at him through the door of your classroom.

The kids giggled, seeing their beautiful teacher utterly furious at the handsome poet, who seemed bewitched by the gentle wrinkle that bent her forehead. But the way her eyes rolled and shot daggers as he waited and waited under her classroom, trying to take a single glance at the softness that bent her lips.

"He's just a silly poet. How could I ever take him seriously?" you muttered once during a conversation with your mother.

She glanced out the window of your cottage, seeing his dark locks glisten beneath the sizzling burns of the afternoon sun.

"But his heart seems kind." Her eyes turned back to look at your sweet yet tired face. "You deserve kindness."

"Kindness won't feed us," you muttered quietly, as you raised your gaze for a second.

Only to steal a glimpse of a man who didn't wish to leave you alone. Of his lavender eyes staring somewhere above the rolling hills of your village, fingers idling with a tall glass, bowing beneath the gentle, warm wind. His long hair, tied in a small bun at the top, shining like silk, as if threaded from the richest fabrics you've only read of in tales.

He's been haunting you for weeks now.

From the moment your paths crossed in the village next door, where you walked through the stalls and he sat leisurely in the local tavern, with papers and inks filling his bag. With lavender eyes that somehow caught your gaze, soft, with laughter from the past still twinkling behind your irises, before you quickly turned away.

He'd never packed up quicker, stuffing his bag without a care for his rather expensive things, before leaving the tavern in a hurry. To catch the last glimpse of an angel whose eyes had kissed his cheeks, before she would disappear forever.

He followed you all the way back to your village, eyeing the little footprints your feet left on the sand, the flowery scent clinging to your body and swirling in the air. As if showing him the way to the woman who seemed to bewitch his mind, body and soul with nothing but a single look into the poet's eyes.

And as he arrived beneath your cottage, a muffled, rather angry scoff escaped your lips. Seeing a strange man who seemed to walk behind you, in silence and holding his breath, all this time.

"What are you doing here?" Your brows furrowed, wild hair sticking softly to the warm cheeks. "How dare you follow me like a madman?"

But Suguru… Suguru couldn't even catch his breath.

Oh, how damned he already was, upon sensing his heart fall into the agonising clutches of a feeling so wicked!

"I–" The words could barely slip past his tightened throat. Almond-shaped eyes, oogling your face, twisted in wrath yet still looking utterly lovely. "I just thought you were beautiful."

You scoffed again, forcing another squeeze of his heart. "Leave. We're done here."

His fists clenched as he saw your body already turning towards the cottage. "Wait! Can you… do you wish to go out with me?"

Looking over your shoulder, you eyed his figure. Fingers painted black, a white shirt clinging neatly to his well-built back. Black trousers, rather simple, threaded here and there as if he had seen thread and needle too many times.

A poet.

A man of heavy words yet light pouch.

Someone you shouldn't even look at, even if you were an outcast yourself.

A witch, a weird lady who spent too much time in the woods, talking to trees, grasses, and animals, while teaching apothecary to local children.

Someone whom normal men avoided crossing paths with, as if in fear of even associating with a woman of your sort.

Utterly beautiful, yet of a wicked cheek.

"No," wasn't enough to force him away.

As it seemed, Suguru Geto was foolish enough to even beg and wait for a single glimpse of the softness that beamed from your eyes in the early mornings, just before your gaze caught his figure lingering beneath your windows.

He visited you every day, following you from sunrise until moonlight spilt its kisses on your lovely face. He sat beneath the window of your little classroom, a small house built on a hill, and scribbled his own poems. With a little ink he had brought from home, his forehead beading with sweat as he listened to your classes.

To the lovely voice that carried through the lush plains of the rolling hills, seeping into the creeks that ran past the scattered huts. The peaceful, almost idyllic view stretched before his eyes each day, yet he still seemed utterly lost in the softness of your hands on his skin.

After long weeks of tiresome begging, you've finally agreed.

Catching him once again asleep in the tall grasses by your classroom, a golden spill of sunshine casting a peaceful look on his handsome face.

And so, carried by an unknown, wicked feeling, you squatted next to him, with the edges of your dress brushing his body and your fingers reaching to push away a single raven lock stuck to his forehead.

Lavender eyes slowly opened, as if doubting whether the petal touch was real or just a projection of his lovestruck mind.

"I agree," you said, a soft sigh pushed past your lips. "One meeting."

He nodded, quickly, eagerly, already rising to his feet. "Just one."

"And if I still dislike you, that shall be it."

He didn't nod this time, and so you pinched his cheek gently. "Say it."

He chuckled, nuzzling into your softness. "And if you do not like me, I shall leave you alone."

Yet, as it soon would turn out – hating him was rather impossible.

After a year, you already gave birth to your first child.

Oh well, a woman in love can be quite wicked, but a man? Dear heavens. As soon as you agreed to his pleading to become his wife, Suguru Geto didn't hesitate to ensnare you with his deceitful feelings.

And you, utterly captivated by a foolish poet who sang of his beloved's sweetest smiles, couldn't deny the burning fire deep within you. The sensation of his skin against yours in the most intimate manner stirred your desire. To cherish him and be cherished in whispers, touches, and moans that escaped your lips as you hid atop your cottage roof while your parents were absent.

When he promised you forever, during the wedding vows, you knew he meant it.

Suguru Geto's life began only after meeting you. Everything that happened during the past twenty-five years of his life seemed to be nothing but a bleak, barren nothingness that filled his wretched soul.

Soon after the wedding, you moved to another cottage. Small and lovely, where your first child was born. A girl with the sweetest cheeks and rich, lavender eyes that mirrored the kindness your husband had shown.

His precious little daughter.

"And my precious, beautiful wife," he always added, while kissing both of your foreheads. "The lights of my life."

You would giggle before wrapping your arms around his back and drawing him into a longer kiss. You stood in the middle of your little, simple cottage, with candles scattered across the shelves and his ink-stained fingers smudged on your cheeks.

"Aren't you a flirt?" A sweet laugh spilt from his throat as he stole another kiss.

And another, another, another, which forced you to tumble onto the soft bed. The fog clung to the windows; the candles' warmth cast shadows over his handsome cheeks, hair spilling over his shoulders.

Your breath hitched as his lips wrapped around the sensitive point beneath your neck.

"You play a dangerous game," fell quietly, and he chuckled.

"And why is that, my dearest wife?"

His lavender eyes met yours. Love and fondness merged as he brushed away a few strands of hair that had fallen over your forehead.

"Because I may ask you for another baby."

He raised his eyebrows before curving them into a soft scowl. "You don't have to ask me twice for anything, my love. And especially for this particular thing."

And so, oh well.

Another year had passed, and you gave birth once again.

This time, to the sweetest boy, with the cheekiness of yours bubbling in his eyes and a big heart always yearning for his mother.

The life you had was almost idyllic, as if brought straight from one of the tales you always read to your kids. A life of profound serenity, filled with overwhelming love that spilt past your husband's fingers.

He seemed to carry your whole family, and even though he soon started travelling a lot – for he wished to chase his playwright dreams – there was never a time when you felt anything but taken care of.

Suguru wished it stayed that way.

A picture of you, humming the loveliest melody to your two children, strolling through the long plains of wildflowers as the sun kissed your cheeks. The picture that seemed to be stuck in his mind, the one he repeated over and over again as he went off to the big cities to earn a few more pennies.

Whenever the horse took longer than it should, or the carriage rolled over the bumps and mounds, he thought of you. Of the view that would welcome him home.

Of his children growing up healthy and his wife staying the wicked witch she always had been. Filling their kitchen with herbs of sorts unknown to him, yet carrying a special healing might. He would think of the lavender fragrance filling the kitchen and the mint bubbling on the stove. Of the cinnamon, ginger and cloves that, during the winter, carried all four of you through the freezing bites.

Your hands had healing power, your mind stayed sharp and kind, always aware of what to do in case of a sudden crisis, be it your daughter's sudden cold or your son's scratched knee.

Sometimes it was Suguru himself, lying beneath the heavy pillows and blankets, as if already half on the other side. At times like this, he would, in a rather melodramatic way, recite poems about the approaching end and stretch his hand towards you, as if mimicking death.

The children would always laugh sweetly, seeing their father utterly lost in his need to catch a glimpse of their mother's attention. Because they knew, oh, of course they knew, that love was hidden in their mother's purest smile and in the way their father seemed to live solely to hear her sweet laughter.

They saw the way their father looked into their mother's kind eyes. With affection difficult to describe, they only began to understand its true heaviness after they reached the age of six.

They knew that no one loved their mother as much as he did. No matter how often Suguru kissed their plump cheeks, it was with only half the devotion he showed their mother. He loved them, of course he did! For it was simply impossible for any other child to be loved by their father as much as Suguru loved his.

And yet, both of them knew that whatever it was between their parents felt most sacred.

Thus, when their mother fell heavily sick, it seeped through every soul living beneath their warm roof.

It happened one day, as you collapsed in the garden. Suddenly, falling straight into your slowly growing herbs, before the panicked children called for their father with tears swirling in their eyes.

He brought you back home with trembling hands, quickly lying you down on your bed by the fireplace. To let the flame give a bit of warmth to your cheeks, as he saw the life slowly slipping away, with sweat beading on your forehead.

The doctors said it's a simple cold. Nothing serious.

But the days were passing, and it seemed you were getting worse. Barely able to eat even the lightest food, turning from side to side beneath the heavy covers.

The fever clung to your forehead no matter how many times Suguru tried to fight it. He placed cold compresses on your forehead and kissed your temple. As if it could heal whatever sickness was plaguing your poor body.

He saw you grow weaker day by day. Sometimes, the strength would return to your body, only to leave it completely before you could walk to the front door.

Sometimes you laughed with your children, only to start coughing blood a minute later.

Suguru was slowly losing his mind, spiralling into madness, as he called for every doctor available in the village. Yet no one knew what sickness was holding onto his wife's dearest life.

He would lie by your side every single night, just to listen to your whistling breath. Watch the way your lips fell open and your chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. He would stay all night, just to make sure it wouldn't be the last.

Hand plastered to your cheek, though you could barely register his touch. His voice, soft, almost teary, sounded muffled within your sickness-spiked mind.

He prayed. Long and as never before, clinging to your body, just to feel the warmth of your breath on your skin.

He prayed for death to take him instead, to leave his dearest wife alone, as he was ready to bear all the pain she needed to endure.

He prayed in a pitiful voice that sliced his children's hearts as they saw their father in such a wretched state. And so they gave him time to grieve, alone, watching their mother's soul slowly wither away.

But then… then another night came.

Much worse than any other. As Suguru could barely feel your puffs on his fingers. A shallow, almost invisible breath slipped past your lips, and the smell of death swirled in the room. Fogging the windows, seeping with sickness and stealth, as Suguru felt the grim reaper's clutches slowly wrap around your body.

He could see it in the dim corner of the bedroom, staring at your sweat-beaded forehead.

"No," he mumbled, covering you both with a heavy blanket. "I won't let it take you away."

And so he did something foolish.

Beneath the veil of darkness, with material tightly covering your bodies, he changed your positions. Slowly, so death could not notice your body moving to the other side.

A soft cough escaped your throat, and your eyes opened for a moment, seeing your husband's gentle smile.

"Suguru," you muttered. "I–"

"Shh," he whispered, brushing your cheek. "It's okay, darling. It won't hurt any more. It's okay."

And because your husband he was – you believed him. Falling back into the light dream, where the world spun around nothing but the gentle, caring voice of your dearest one.

"I give you my life," Suguru whispered, yet it seemed you were long gone. "I give you my life, darling. For I cannot live in a world without your warmth." His thumb brushed the softness of your skin. "For I love our children so much, and yet my wretched heart forbids me to live without you by my side. You are much kinder than I am, darling, and shall take care of them for both of us."

As if losing you would damn him and nothing but the embrace of death itself would ever heal his woeful soul.

It was too dark to see anything, yet beneath the heavy blanket, Suguru could feel a slight warmth returning to your fallen lips. He smiled, sensing a fogginess creeping into his mind. The clutches cold and dreary, seeping through the marrow.

"I give you my life," he repeated, the heaviness pressing on his eyelids. "Be brave. Be kind. And please, don't ever stop laughing. For I'll be watching over you all and make sure none of you joins my side any time soon. I will love you, always, and I shall exist only in a world with two of us."

"For we are of one soul and one heart, thus no hills nor seas and mountains shall ever keep us apart."

And his children, listening to their father's crying whispers, knew that a man in love is truly of a wicked kind.

He was the one who deceived death to grant you a new life.

©liahcharms all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, feed AI, translate or modify my works.

Just a little something before I leave for a trip <3

art by @/kaoruartsss dividers by @uzmacchiato

[aliqqce]

My favorite endgame

[rengoatku]

Ovulation! ⊹ ࣪ ˖

ᯓ★ cw › mdni ⸝⸝ piv ⸝⸝ breeding kink ⸝⸝ softish sex ⸝⸝ pregnancy mentions ⸝⸝ creampie ꒰ wc — 0.6k ꒱

Suguru had been tracking your cycle for the past few weeks, waiting for the perfect moment. He had been doing it throughout your married life, tracking your period so he would know when to prepare the hot water bottle and a cupboard filled with all your favourite snacks.

But this time was different…

After finally admitting you wanted another baby, Suguru began to plan it out meticulously, starting with ovulation.

“You're so wet, sweetheart. All for me?” He ran his length through your folds, bumping the tip against your clit, causing you to whine out. Suguru had spent hours prepping you with his fingers and tongue, claiming that he had to make extra room so you could take every drop of his cum.

He had sent the twins to his parents’ house for the night, giving you two more than enough time alone.

“Sugu,” you keened, eyes glossy as you stared up at him, “Please?”

A low groan vibrated in his throat as he took in your fucked out expression. The way your eyes began to fog with lust, how your legs twitched every time his dick bumped your poor, sensitive clit. Leaning down, he nipped at your neck. “Yeah? Want me to put a baby in you, angel?” You nodded frantically, hands clawing at his waist in an attempt to pull him in.

Suguru chuckled, positioning your legs around his waist as he began to slowly inch forward into your waiting cunt. Your moans harmonised as his tip breached your entrance, sinking deeper into your velvet walls.

Your hips bucked impatiently, greedy for more. Suguru tsked lightly, rough hands pinning you down firmly as he pushed deeper into you.

When he bottomed out, he pulled your hand to his mouth, gently kissing the back of it. “My pretty wife,” he whispered into the skin, “Always so good to me.”

A soft mewl escaped you when he began to move, his fingers intertwined with yours as he pinned them down at either side of your head. His lips ghosted your own; you could feel the warmth radiating off of him.

Each slow drive into you was laced with affection and soft words of praise. You watched as Suguru’s face shifted into one of pure desire, violent eyes now darker.

He cooed into your ear, “I’m going to make you the prettiest mother; you’ll look so beautiful carrying our child.” You moaned softly, leaning forward to capture his lips in a slow kiss. His tongue swiped against the seam of your lips before pushing past and entangling with your own.

Breathy moans filled the room along with the soft clap of skin against skin. Your slick dripped from your cunt onto the bedsheets below as your heels dug into his lower back, pushing him further into you. Suguru’s hair fell around the two of you like an inky curtain, blocking the outside noise and leaving the two of you in your own intimate sanctuary.

Every drag of his cock through your walls had him breathing out your name in a symphony. Suguru threw his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing, “I’m not going to — ngh — last long, sweetheart.” You clung to him tighter as you felt your own orgasm near.

Geto’s pace increased, fueled by the determination to stuff you full of his seed. “Going to have you leaking for days, isn't that right? You'll be so swollen with my child,” his voice dropped to a low pur.

You cried out in pleasure; the thought of carrying your husband's and your child made your cunt flutter wildly around his length. Suguru’s groans echoed in the room, “Take it, fucking take it,” as he spilt inside of you. The feeling of his warmth spreading through your body pushed you over the edge, gushing around his cock as you sobbed his name.

He stayed buried inside of you, pressing wet kisses along your jaw and throat as you both came down from your highs.

“We'd better stay like this all night, angel. Don't want any to leak out.”

03 ⧽ 04 ⧽ 05 (tba)

I’m sorry if this is cheeks I’ve been in a tiny slump 🏷️ @kamislop @yourlocalcatscammer @louistxq @wutheringblossom @nayely45 @boooooo-bitch @valberryboos @xoimpurities @annaahzzz @dreamyreadinglover @qrxswan @hangenism @f4talf3mme @shy-guy927 @vanillaacreams @yourlocalcatscammer @minayans @arminsxseaxshell @starobsessions @palanggaaa @iheartgojos @m4aimm @marmaryu

[hunnismokah]

ugh i need to drink with post-graduate suga i just know it would fix me >_>

[fullwarmth]

as always

[swamelon]

Do you have any feral Jotaro headcanons??

-🦋

hmmm... feral jotaro.... feral jotaro. i'm specifically thinking about part 6 jotaro...

feral jotaro! would growl while he's inside of you. it's a lwo rumble in his voice, an animalistic-like growl that'd make your body shiver. he doesn't do it all the time, only when he's really into it. like when your body is capable of taking him completely, your legs pushed back until your knees are nearly meeting your ears as his pelvis meets yours.

feral jotaro! is the type to always want to be dominant in the bedroom. he wants to be the one in control, for you to not worry your pretty little head about a thing. he'll make sure to take real good care of you, because you take good care of him as well. rarely would you see him lose this position without at least a little squabble. but he'll find a way to pin you down.

feral jotaro! would so be into brat taming. he'd love a bit of a challenge, no matter how annoying and stubborn you can be. but he's almost the same way, so it makes it a little fair. he'll put some sense into your bratty self, do not underestimate him.

feral jotaro! is a biter and wants to mark damn near everywhere on your body. there isn't a part of you that hasn't been attacked by his teeth, the sting feeling so good but not enough for him to draw out any blood. he wouldn't purposely hurt you, after all.

feral jotaro! would go crazy about the marks you leave on his back everytime you two do it. the feeling of your nails dragging across his skin as he plows into you wouldn't leave his mind. he practically would beg for it, the second the tips of your nails trail down, he hisses in pain. might even take a picture of himself with his back turned, just to feel smug.

feral jotaro! is too overprotective for his own good. he's territorial about you. the grip he would have on your body is tight. he's slightly aggressive but that's only because how he feels about you is intense that he needs to know that you're still here.

[ranitas4rts]

Rockstar Oikawa??